92. The Battle of Eight Dragons II

Drehemia wasn’t used to fighting someone who could see her. It made her skittish and prone to skulking around the edge of the valley, attempting to see who she might be able to sneak up on and pick off in a moment of vulnerability.

Galen might have been able to perceive Drehemia. Talea wasn’t entirely certain if his ability to see in darkness also translated into being able to spot Drehemia when she was invisible.

Talea certainly couldn’t see where Drehemia was.

She was just taking lucky shots.

Senera’s story

Raenora Valley

Fighting Rol’amar

Irisia’s portal closed behind those going to Atrine. Senera looked at the erstwhile Goddess of Magic and said, “You ready for this? I know it’s been a while since you … Excuse me? Where are you going?”

Irisia was already flying toward Rol’amar, weaving rainbows of energy and launching them in oddly beautiful streamers of destruction. One detonated a large stone nearby, another drifted on the breeze and lashed Baelosh, who hissed in pain, but the majority found their way to their intended target.

The dragon of bound souls made a hissing sound that probably would have been a scream in a creature with a fully-intact throat. Ribbons of coruscating energy burned the rotting flesh from more of his bones.

Sadly, that didn’t slow him down. He leaped aloft and began circling, snapping at Irisia, who was forced to dive under him, perilously close to the ground.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Senera muttered. “I see where Janel gets it from. You’re not a Guardian anymore! Conserve your tenyé!” She took off into the air, directing the wind to buffet and pelt Rol’amar from different directions, making it harder for him to fly. Hard, sharp gusts laden with pebbles and snow tore at his wings and slammed him sideways, down, back, and down again.

Rol’amar landed hard; a leg bone snapped. And then he was aloft again, shooting up and out of the wild winds faster than Senera would have expected. Some two or three hundred feet in the air, he let out a warbling keen, evidently having healed his vocal cords.

“What was that?” Senera asked rhetorically.

Veils, but she missed the Name of All Things.1

A plume of steam rose from the ground, obscuring her vision. Senera flew to the side only to see that Rol’amar had used the brief distraction to track her and was heading her way with his mouth wide open.

“Don’t let him breathe on you!” Irisia cried out.

No, really? Senera thought. She focused her energy on teleporting above and behind the dragon. She followed that up with a spell to break bones. She’d turned a particularly annoying Yoran into jelly with that one once.

It cracked all the bones in Rol’amar’s right foreleg, which hung limp. But even as she watched, the leg began to repair itself.

“Hey, you said he was vulnerable to magic!” Senera yelled at Irisia. “What exactly does that mean?”

But the former Tya wasn’t paying attention to her; she was staring across the battlefield and casting spells to help someone else. Senera turned her focus back to the battle at hand.

And was hit by a flock of undead crows.

Oh, she thought, that’s what that was. Rol’amar had called for reinforcements.

The crows buffeted Senera. She cried out in pain as beaks pierced her flesh. She made a gesture and dumped more tenyé into it than was strictly necessary; the flock exploded. Some of the crows shredded, others merely pushed aside.

Senera searched for Qown, saw he was busy with Morios, and decided she didn’t need him all that badly just yet, after all.

Besides, Rol’amar was heading her way again, trying to breathe on her once more.

Senera teleported. It was amazingly easy with the power of the Guardians at her disposal. I might never walk again, she thought. This time, she arrived on top of Rol’amar’s back. “Very well,” she said, “broken bones and burned flesh don’t bother you … Let’s try something else.”

Senera considered herself a competent healer, although Qown was superior in skill. She knew enough; Senera set a hand on the dragon’s putrid flesh and began to heal him.

Rol’amar screamed.² And then he did something Senera hadn’t expected: he rolled upside down and fell, attempting to crush her with his body.

His actions made sense in retrospect; most creatures wouldn’t pull a stunt like that because it would hurt them too. But Rol’amar was, perhaps, the one creature in all of creation that preferred to be broken and torn.

If she hadn’t been the new Tya, that might have been the end for Senera. Opening portals took time she didn’t have. Luckily, with all the power at her disposal, avoiding her potential fate as a piece of Doltar-flavored sag was simplicity itself: she wished herself elsewhere.

And was nearly squashed by a falling ice mountain. Aeyan’arric flew somewhere up above, dropping glaciers on the battlefield.

Rol’amar righted himself. The fall had undone the small amount of healing Senera had managed to pump into him, and he was back to his full, gross glory. He threw back his head and warbled again.

“Oh, just stop that!” Senera said. “Irisia, we need to … Irisia?”

“I’m here,” the former goddess said from behind a wall of thorns incongruously growing out of the snowy mountainside. She stepped out, Mithros with her. He looked like hell; covered in blood and bruises.

“Okay,” said Senera. “We need to … duck!” She threw herself flat as another flight of half- and fully-skeletal birds flew past. Irisia did the same, but Mithros was made of sterner (or more overconfident) stuff than that; he stood his ground and surrounded himself with a barrier of shimmering energy. Each bird exploded into dust and bits of feather on impact.

“As I was saying, we need to heal Rol’amar,” Senera said.

“Because that’ll interfere with his undead nature.” Irisia nodded as if that were obvious all along. Senera resisted the urge to throw something at her.

Progress!

“Let’s grab that Vishai priest while we’re at it,” Mithros said. “He’ll be useful. I left him right over by Morios.”

It was all somewhat anticlimactic after that. With three healers and Mithros to distract the dragon, they made short work of Rol’amar.

Then Talea started screaming.