Draconic Sphere Ω

Chapter 34: I'm So Sober It Hurts

Brunhild ran to Chekhov and fell to her knees.

"Hurry, hurry," said Kaergat, ushering the group towards Feenschwanz. He grabbed Brunhild by the wrist and pulled her to her feet.

"I —" started Brunhild.

Kaergat picked up Chekhov's corpse. It was shockingly light. "Come on," he said, running for the guild.

This time, Brunhild followed.

They reached Feenschwanz. In his hurry, Kaergat bumped into Andromalius as he stumbled in.

"The tortures that await you at the hands of my brethren in hell –" boomed Andromalius, turning around. His expression went blank, seeing Chekhov's corpse. A slow, evil smile seeped onto his face. "Ah," he said, in apparent delight.

"CHEKHOV!" screamed Wintergreen, running to Kaergat. Verano looked up from a table, and went white. Invisible Bob spat out his beer in shock (or at least, a little spray of beer seemed to materialise out of the air near Verano).

Shock and grief was everywhere.

"Oh Chekhov, Oh Chekhov," cried Wintergreen, checking in vain for a pulse. She looked at Lacrie. "We might be able to cast Revivify," she said. "Can you see his spirit cord?"

"The cord is cut," said Lacrie in a small voice. "It's too late for Revivify."

Brunhild drew her sword and brandished it. "Friends!" she yelled to the hall at large. "A black dragon is on the loose! Chekhov told us, 'All hands on deck!' and to 'Fire up Valentina!'"

There was silence for a long moment. "Me and Bob will get her started!" cried Verano. "Andromalius, open the gates!"

Andromalius stared at Verano in hatred. Verano froze.

"No," Andromalius said slowly.

"Andromalius, this is not the time for quibbling!" yelled Verano. "I know that I'm not your master, but Chekhov said —"

"Chekhov is dead," rumbled Andromalius, like a building earthquake. "He died with no heir. That means my contract has ended. I may begin my long-awaited revenge."

"Chekhov forgave Nightingale!" said Wintergreen quickly. "She is his heir again!"

Andromalius looked at Wintergreen in disgust. "Prove it."

"N– Nightingale has the document!" said Wintergreen.

Andromalius stared at Wintergreen for a very, very long time. "I am obliged to give you seventy-two hours to come up with legally-binding proof of your pathetic lie. The extra time will not do you much good."

There was a boom outside.

"What was that?" someone yelled.

"I'll check!" yelled Bob. Brunhild heard him run past and saw the door open and close at his passing.

The door opened and closed again a moment later. "The dragon hit our forcefield! He's casting some kind of Dispel Magic!"

"We've got maybe five minutes!" yelled Wintergreen, surprisingly commanding. "Get into teams, remember your rank, form a command structure! Verano and Bob, go! Wizards, bolster the forcefield! And Andromalius – do your job now!"

*

Wintergreen showed the party a map and indicated a spot in the street outside, within a circle indicating Feenschwanz's forcefield. She handed them each a single, magical arrow, along with a bow and a quiver of regular arrows.

Brunhild observed the blue-glowing tip of her arrow.

"These can hurt him," said Wintergreen. "The dragon doesn't know we only have twelve. When Valentina launches, we hit him hard and fast, on my signal."

Half the guild ran to the basement to board Valentina. Wintergreen briefed the others in the meantime.

"What the hell is going on?" mumbled Brunhild to no-one in particular.

"Right? I keep wondering if this is a bad trip," said Dandelion. "But then I remember that I'm so sober it hurts. I wish there was a drug that was for battles. Like a potion of strength but more fun."

"It's time," yelled Wintergreen, far too soon for comfort. "To your positions! Await my signal!"

The party hurried out. Feeschwanz's forcefield was visible as a yellowish tint in the air. The black dragon perched on top of a crushed building, mouthing the words to some complex spell. Three of Feenschwanz's wizards stood on separate rooftops casting their own spells. The air shimmered with magic.

Several things happened all at once.

There was a mighty boom as the dragon's spell completed. A section of the forcefield glowed bright, then shattered. Two of the defending wizards screamed and fell down.

Ezra appeared, leaping from rooftop to rooftop at a shocking, supernatural speed. She brandished a flaming warhammer. "Forgive me! I came as fast as I could!" she yelled.

Valentina burst into the sky, a lurid, almost painful shade of pink, with great white wings. On her deck, Verano, Bob and others roared a battlecry.

"Fire!" yelled Wintergreen at the top of her lungs.

Brunhild's heart sang. This was glory. She pulled her bowstring, staring down the green eyes of the dragon, and loosed.

Four magical arrows shot forth like blue thunderbolts. From other positions, eight others fired —

The dragon roared and leapt —

And Valentina seemed to roar too, her magical cannons blazing with dazzling light —

The dragon deflected the cannonblast with some kind of magic shield —

Ezra leapt impossibly high and slammed her warhammer into the dragon's chest.

The boom of the impact was heard throughout the city.

Shards of dragon scale went in all directions, shattering windows and splintering doors.

The dragon let out something between a roar and a scream.

There was a terrible silence for a moment as the dragon hovered in place. Before it, Valentina's cannons shone with a building magical light.

The dragon let out a terrible hiss.

It retreated.