Curse Uncurse - ONC 2020 [Completed]

Chapter 13: Flames of Desperation

The first thing he notices is the sounds of battle. Close enough to kick his brain into thinking. He guesses the rest of the Vanguards have arrived. That is when he realizes he'll have to cut his rest short. The Champions shouldn't be skulking around. But the dirt is just fine to lie on it.

He groans, rolling to his knees. It hurts, his back protests when he tries to maneuver, and he breathes through the pain.

The Castle is aflame with light, most of it originating from minor fires in different locations. Is there an enemy who uses fire? If so, should he go and try to find them? Too many variables, not enough answers.

Something erupts down the cliff, then he hears shouts, grunts, clashes of metal. He decides to crawl to the edge to see who's fighting. Getting up to his feet seems impossible at the moment.

He counts ten Armsguard officers facing off two Vanguards and...three Unnanturals? Oh, shit. There are still some of those creepy creatures alive.

His keen eyes study the two officers who stayed in the back while the remaining eight engage opponents using weapons and magic. Oh, entrapment magic, very similar to what Vid used to overpower that Unnatural, and... Is that an Enhancer? He has never seen Enhancing magic, only heard about it from Yana. No wonder those two keep out of the fight, their magics are perfect for support.

"Plamen!" It comes from the down there. "Plamen, where are you?" Vid's desperate cries are so faint that Plamen isn't sure he would hear them if he isn't concentrating. But if he hears him from up here which means the Vanguards down there can hear him too.

Fuck. You. Bloody. Idiot. Stay quiet! Just as he thinks that he sees Vid running out from behind an oak tree, frantically looking around. His long dark hair is swishing around every time turns, legs bringing him closer to the battle at the foot of the cliff.

Plamen searches his surroundings with his eyes. On his left, the slope looks good enough to climb down, though it will take him a few minutes, maybe more, if he doesn't want to slip on the jagged rocks. Dropping from his height would just end up with him injured, possibly even dead. Nope. He isn't going to be falling down.

He takes his eyes back to Vid...

He can see it clearly, one of his biggest fears forming before his eyes! That white-haired Vanguard is sneaking upon bewildered Vid from the shadows. Yet Vid doesn't notice him, the Vanguard is behind him, still afar, but closing in. He sees a long staff-like weapon in the man's hand, possibly a spear or... There's a light from one of the spells and Plamen sees that it's a spear, silver with white ornaments on the part for grip.

Plamen yells, his voice strained with pain.

Oh, gods. My warning is not coming through.

Too big distance separates them for Vid to hear Plamen's cries. Officers are shouting, the last few surviving Unnaturals screeching, clang of metal weapons; too much noise surrounds both of them for Vid to hear Plamen plead him to turn around while it's still not too late.

Is this the part that will make Vid's vision come true? Plamen can almost see it, his friend's unmoving, broken body on the ground. Scenes overlap, and his breath quickens and stutters, it feels like metal spikes dig into his throat making it hard to exhale. He flays around, searching, as a cold grip of fear settles in his chest.

A glinting silver of the spear raises high, and with a small and detached part of his mind, Plamen praises the perfect posture to impale a person.

The Vanguard is almost on Vid...

In the last, panicked attempt to be heard Plamen shouts with all his might and something shifts. The slight discomfort he's been feeling from his Dragon King mark amplifies, now burning with pain and he can see Vid flinching, raising his head to look at him as if he has heard him.

He doesn't ponder why he feels the connection growing stronger; it has been there ever since the mark settled on their skin, but now it's more, it's vivid and tangible, stronger than chainmail, lighter than air.

He seizes that metaphorical link between them inside his mind and yells a warning once more because the Vanguard advances.

Vid snaps his head around, sees the spear closing in and trips over his feet, accidentally evades it piercing through his heart by sprawling inelegantly on his back in the sticky mud.

It seems as if the time has slowed down. Plamen clearly sees it's not over yet.

A deep breath appears to steady his racing heart as he unsteadily brings his right hand up in the right angle to his body. The spell isn't one he likes to use because it's not strong enough, but it's the only long-range attack he knows. His flames form a bow in his outstretched hand, encasing his arm with an intricate pattern of orange-red magic.

He feels a slight discomfort at his back as he holds his position on his knees with right arm stretched out, the blood must have crusted, and now his caked shirt is pulling at his wounds. Great.

He takes another breath in, slowly, thawing the panic that tries to overtake him. Vid is still there on the ground, scrambling backward and slipping in the mud. The Vanguard follows him with a dark expression on his face.

An arrow forms, and with it, as usual, the same problem arises; it is made out of the ordinary flames. That won't save Vid. If he fires a regular flame arrow, there's a chance he'll piss the Vanguard off and fuck up all his chances of saving his friend. He knows he can condense the flame at the arrow tip, but will that be enough? No time to wonder, he needs to act now!

His left arm shakes as he draws the arrow solidifying from the abyss, scales already forming over his hands to shield the soft skin, and he charges the flame of the arrow tip to grow hotter. More and more, until a raging inferno burns his face. He's never been able to fully coat his face with an impenetrable veil of scales, only a few sprout out. He grits his teeth to stave off the pain. Good thing his nictitating membrane is kind of fireproof, just like the scales; he can see his target clearly.

The arrow transforms from orange-red to pale yellow. It's not enough! Can I even do it? He pushes more magic in, disregarding the fact that he produced the Flame of Conquest just a few minutes ago and may not be able to do it again.  

The scalding hot flames turn translucent blue with strips of green licking the arrow shaft and Plamen almost sobs from relief. He can feel it, the metaphorical pull of the tool he created, for the arrow stops being an object and starts existing as an extension of his will.

The Vanguard is raising the spear to impale Vid, and Plamen lets go.

His aim is true and nothing is left except melted parts of the metal spear dripping onto the dirt, steam rising into the air, hiding Vid's form for a few tense moments.

Hearing a faint, "Plamen?" in Vid's rough lilt, Plamen finally exhales.