The Order of Dragonfire

Prologue

The few surviving members of the group scrambled to escape the approaching flames, fighting to stay upright as the mud shifted beneath their boots. The roar of the downpour fought to drown out the constant thunder, and yet the inferno continued unperturbed. Thick smoke obscured their vision with only occasional flashes of illumination from fire and lightning. Breathing heavily and choking through the fog, Anselm steadied himself atop the hill and tried to identify any figures around him.

"This is where we shall make our final stand!" Anselm bellowed, though he could only hope his friends would hear him. He readied his staff and held it aloft. The jewel atop it glowed red, responding to his defiance and acting as a beacon for those around him. The cohort was the fragmented remains of a much larger fighting force. A few short minutes earlier there had been as many as seven still standing, but that was before the abrupt arrival of yet more beasts. Since the weather had suddenly worsened and the surroundings filled with smoke and flames, Anselm had never seen more than one at a time. He had little doubt that some of his friends had already fallen.

"I'm ready." Estrild appeared besides him, struggling to announce her presence as she coughed up the smoky air. Her crimson robes, once beautifully maintained and ornately decorated befitting someone of her stature, had been stained with dirt and blood. His own were much the same, waterlogged and heavy upon his aching bones. She was accompanied by another figure, someone Anselm had only met recently. Whereas Estrild was a senior sorceress and an old friend of Anselm's, the younger mage was a recent recruit. It seemed that these were all who remained of the Order of Dragonfire's expedition.

Anselm nodded as the three of them formed a circle looking outwards. Silhouettes of their opponents appeared against the smoke and seemed to dance amongst the flames. The recruit gasped and staggered backwards as a dark scaled limb emerged from the smoke and grazed past them.

"They're circling us..." Estrild muttered, knowing what was soon to come. The group had held their ground well up until this point, but the attacks had taken their toll and Anselm knew that they could not survive another fight. The dragons were clearly still hesitant to attack the powerful sorcerers directly; it was the only reason the mages weren't dead already. During the group's quest the dragons would attack regularly and kill a few stragglers, but were always driven off eventually. Alas, now that their numbers were so low it seemed that their demise was all but certain.

"This is it!" The lord shouted, raising his staff higher still into the air. Burning crimson light burst from it, matched by the jewel of Elstrid's sword and the recruit's ring.

"Now!" He yelled with all the strength he could muster. Flames roared outwards from each of them, billowing into expanding rings of fire. The roars of a nearby dragon told them they had struck one of their targets, which was the best that could be hoped for. Anselm knew their predicament was hopeless and assumed Estrild shared this view. As for the recruit, if he still thought there was any way back home then he was sorely mistaken. Anselm saw little point in trying to disillusion him of any naive hope that might remain even if there had been any opportunity to do so. All that remained for them to do was to cause as much damage to their enemies as possible in defence of the Mienolite Empire. 

The three fought back pain and exhaustion as circles of fire pulsated from them. It was when Anselm caught a glimpse of a shadow moving towards them at great speed he gravely realised that the Order of Dragonfire's final noble act of defiance was at an end.