Lightning & Fire

 

It was a balmy night for Zeldris. The wind sang loudly, louder than on the plains of his childhood. High up on the obsidian mountains he'd been surveying since dusk, where dangerous creatures had been roaming since the dawn of time, he was carefully studying every movement the local fauna produced. But the mage only had eyes for one of them: a dragon.

The noblest of reptiles. Dragons sat atop the world, proud and imperious. A rather expected confidence when you consider that a dragon's breath naturally carries with it the arcane mysteries of magic. No natural flame could compare.

Legends tell no lie when they recount the exploits of knights who have brought back the head of one of these creatures, but they are careful not to mention the hundreds, thousands of other dreamers who have ended up roasted alive before even managing to scratch one of the scales of their supposed prey.

Zeldris crackled lightning between his fingers. The electric current tickled the metal levitating around the mage and sang a sweet melody to the wind. The hour was drawing near. Soon, the great lizard would return from its hunt and go back to its den to digest its meal.

At least, it would try, for the mage intended to fight on terrain that did not restrict his movements. A necessary parameter if he was to escape the legendary breath.

He felt it in his bones, he felt it in his flesh: tonight, he would slay the beast. No matter if he bled, no matter if he lost a limb, he'd have its head.

The clouds in the sky suddenly parted, giving way to a massive silhouette that left no doubt as to its nature.

Finally.

As the dragon strode serenely towards the entrance to its cave, Zeldris brought his artifact to life. A very special weapon he had unearthed from a ruin years ago. It was a weapon worthy of ancient times, as mysterious as it was masterful in its capabilities. The mage had partially tamed it, but it still hid more than one secret.

The artifact's many metal parts were shaped like dozens and dozens of needles. Each one independent of the others, yet intimately linked.

They linked together to form a floating steel wheel on Zeldris's back. As soon as they had formed a whole, electric sparks began to flow through the structure.

The mage took a deep breath and closed his eyes. With his slender fingers, he wove an arrow of lightning, powered and amplified by his metal wheel. The energy crackled, ready to be released.

Time for action.

With a shrill whistle, the arrow was launched at the unsuspecting creature. Zeldris wasn't counting on its inattention, however. Draconic races, even inferior ones, were generally able to sense mana alterations in their surroundings. And this one was on top.

The dragon sensed the attack coming, and began a dodging maneuver with a swift, powerful wingbeat. The lightning projectile skimmed along its flank, ripping off a few scales in the process, before continuing on its way to the ground, causing an explosion on arrival.

Zeldris let out a small sigh of frustration. He had hoped that this first attack would inflict greater damage. Gaining an advantage early in the battle was one of the best ways to ensure victory.

I should have used a Spear of Athyr directly, he chided himself.

The dragon was now heading in his direction, and there was nothing calm about its attitude. Even at this distance, Zeldris could see the raging gleam in the reptile's crimson eyes as it flapped closer.

The creature was impressively large. Its protruding belly, however, somewhat belied the dragons' legendary poise. This one had made a name for itself with its uncommon appetite. So much so, in fact, that he had been awarded the title of Gourmet in the region.

Not wanting to find himself within range of the dragon's jaws, the mage took to the air, his feet leaving the ground, carried by the wind. The sky didn't just belong to birds and winged reptiles; Zeldris had made it his own with years of relentless training.

The mage quickly reached the first layer of cloud and checked the distance separating him from his pursuer. The dragon was a few hundred meters away, still raging.

Where other dragons might have given up the chase, this lizard had a reputation for holding a grudge. He wouldn't let such an affront go unpunished.

And that's what will be your undoing.

Moving further and further up the sea of clouds, Zeldris split his metal wheel into a thousand spikes that shot off in all directions at once. He then cleared his head, channeling his thoughts and projecting his will through the artifact. Through each needle, he manipulated and altered the atmosphere around him.

The mage's psyche perceived the surroundings of all the scattered parts and spotted his target entering the perimeter he had just established.

The beast was even more impressive when seen through arcane senses. Blessed with an extraordinary mass of mana, its body shone like a star in the infinite void that was the sky.

Zeldris sent another arrow to betray his position. It would be a shame if his prey escaped because he was too well hidden by a misty environment. A silly thought given the senses a dragon possessed. No, the mage just wanted to irritate him a little more.

The tactic worked perfectly and the big lizard accelerated. Zeldris felt the trap he was weaving being set.

Through his artifact, he influenced the sea of clouds, changing it by charging it with electricity. He was making it his own, appropriating it a little more with each breath.

Small shocks stung the intruder's scaly skin as he came into contact with the white mantle of the sky. A further affront.

From simple clouds decorating the sky to bearers of lightning and storm, their color changed, darkening into a hue worthy of the days when no one in their right mind sets foot outside.

The Plains of Thunder, a peaceful and welcoming place, nestled between two broad mountains. A valley like few others, and it was here that Zeldris had grown up.

During the summer, the plains' location beckoned a strange phenomenon: lightning-laden storms like no other. Thunder and flashes of lightning were particularly present neighbors.

Lightning would sometimes strike for hours on end, without any real interruption.

Pylons of iron and steel had been erected by his people outside the village to draw nature's fury away from their rooftops. Only the insane and suicidal kept metal utensils or similar targets in their homes.

The clouds that populated his native region, he had studied them as a mage. He had tamed them. And today, he was recreating them for his own benefit.

The storms that had so fascinated him as a child were now dancing in the palm of his hand. The mage allowed himself a satisfied smile at the thought. Once the simple son of a farmer on the Thunder Plains, today he hunted dragons.

Speaking of the beast, it was getting dangerously close. Seeing his environment change so drastically in such a short space of time obviously didn't alarm him any more than that.

The preparations were complete. The stage on which Zeldris would perform was in place. His scattered artifact remained in position, maintaining the link between the mage and his new personal territory.

"Domain of Storms," said the mage.

In this new stormy theater in the middle of the skies, the wind picked up. Zeldris inhaled deeply and felt the air move in response throughout his domain.

The dragon was close. He'd reach it in seconds. But he would be up against a formidable opponent.

Zeldris waited for the last moment. When he perceived the shadow of a gigantic mouth open through the thick cloud cover, he tugged at the wind and let himself be caught by its force. His frail body disappeared from its position and the Gourmet's sharp teeth closed on the air.

The mage, still carried by the wind, retaliated with a lightning spell that viciously licked the wound left by his first attack.

The dragon roared in pain as the electricity passed through his body, and his behavior changed accordingly.

The human who had attacked him was no longer a simple insect that had forgotten its place in the food chain. He was now a big, annoying mosquito who deserved to be squashed. This chase had just gone from a simple hiccup to a real hunt.

 

***

 

Anton ran through the forest, dodging branches with agility and leaping over roots and other obstacles without slowing down. Night had been gaining ground on daylight for the past hour, and his keen senses were gradually picking up on signs that the nocturnal life of the area was beginning to awaken.

It had only been a few weeks since he had passed with flying colors the exam his instructor had imposed on him before being allowed to patrol alone. What a joy it was to finally be rid of that man's grumpy, paranoid presence.

The ranger felt the wind brush against his neck. A sensation that unsettled him somewhat, for he had been convinced that this evening would be accompanied by a cruel lack of movement in the weather.

Perhaps he had misinterpreted the signs that nature was communicating. He was already sighing at the thought of having to question his teacher, who would be sure to point out his silly mistakes due to his lack of attention.

Then came the sound of lightning. A sharp sound that reverberated down the mountainside and travelled throughout the valley.

Okay, this isn't normal.

The rising wind was one thing, Anton could have ignored it, but a thunderstorm had no business being there, and no amount of carelessness could have justified it.

The ranger didn't hesitate for a second and turned around, running away from the source of the sound. A series of fainter, more scattered noises were heard over the next minute, until another thunderous echo ripped through the night.

Anton didn't understand what was happening until a third sound of lightning erupted, followed by a thunderous roar that chilled the young man's blood. He instantly recognized its nature.

A dragon.

Despite the hours of training he had undergone to manage his stress and fear, Anton couldn't keep up his running pace for long and began the greatest sprint of his life.

More roars followed regularly, accompanied by the cacophony of a thunderstorm the likes of which Anton had never experienced.

As his heart raced and his legs began to ache, the ranger came to a glade with an unobstructed view. Halfway across the treeless expanse, Anton made the mistake of turning around.

And he witnessed a scene that would mark him forever.

In the skies above the mountain, a swirl of dark, stormy clouds was lit from time to time by flashes of lightning that pierced the darkness. During these faint moments of light, two silhouettes danced in violent pursuit: one human, the other draconic.

The human harassed the most feared creature in the world with a barrage of lightning and wind, stopping only to dodge and put distance between himself and the beast. His opponent executed impressive aerial maneuvers in an attempt to tear his frail body apart, but failed again and again.

The sight of the two opponents in repeated flashes of darkness added a mystical touch to the scene that stunned Anton beyond words. His legs slowed down without him even realizing it, and he finally came to a standstill, staring at the legendary battle he was witnessing.

His keen senses and ranger training enabled him to follow the fight despite the distance and its extraordinary speed. He had never been so blessed by his superior eyesight.

The cloudy maelstrom surrounding the two combatants seemed to respond to the mage's will, assisting him in his attacks and tormenting the dragon with gusts of wind that destabilized him. Anton was fascinated. To be able to tame his environment to such an extent with magic was a feat that testified to absolute mastery.

The battle continued and the forest remained silent in response. The deafening clap of thunder had silenced all creatures rising at dusk, monopolizing all the attention the night world had to offer.

Anton hesitated. All the principles he'd been taught as a ranger demanded that he leave as soon as possible, but for all his willpower, he couldn't take his eyes off this mythical battle.

A human facing a dragon.

A story normally told by Anton's grandmother by the fireside on long winter nights. But he wasn't dreaming. In fact, he'd perhaps never been more awake in his short life.

A howl ripped through the night, turning it into day.

A breath of fire was spat out by the dragon towards the mage. The torrent of flame shone brighter than any bolt of lightning had ever done, and drove out everything in its path, the heat even reaching Anton despite the distance.

Wind whirlwinds of unprecedented violence were instantly summoned between the fire and the mage as he tried to move away, but the suddenness and power of the strike crushed the attempted obstruction.

For a moment, the ranger thought the mage had disappeared, annihilated by the dragon's breath, but he spotted him again a few seconds later, through a flash of light, with a right arm as black as coal.

The human had just escaped certain death and paid a high price.

Anton regained awareness of where he stood, his fragile nature and his lack of means to survive if the confrontation moved to him.

As another thunderclap sounded, the ranger resumed his run through the woods. His pace was not frantic and fueled by desperation this time, but controlled and steady. The trees passed by, the shadows thickened, and the thousand eyes of the forest watched him as he passed, but the young man didn't care.

His head was filled with lightning and fire.

 

***

 

Zeldris felt nothing but the burning pain in his arm. The flames had licked up his flesh to his shoulder and grazed his ribs. He would have reacted a moment too late and the thread of his life would have been cut.

As simple as that.

Blown away by a single attack.

The dragon, on the other hand, had taken his lightning multiple times, and he was only now observing a real decline in the reptile's abilities. Numerous marks crisscrossed his body, his flesh flayed and blood flowing. Red blood, like any other beast around.

He's just starting to wilt and I've lost an arm in the blink of an eye, the mage summed up bitterly. What cursed god had the idea of giving birth to such creature?

The monster's eyes scanned him from a distance. Zeldris perceived in them a certain satisfaction at the sight of his charred arm hanging limply, as well as, to his surprise, a hint of respect. This breath of fire had obviously acted as a reminder that the Gourmand had changed his mind and judged the mage to be a serious threat.

Zeldris caught himself smiling.

Gaining the respect of this adversary was not on his agenda for the day, but he couldn't deny that it felt good.

What followed promised to be interesting.