Damiynn
Fantasy Author
Micah’s hand stretched out and stopped. Once more he had stated to reach out of the dragon magic. A weakness filled it, a feeling that echoed through his soul and he knew it had to be Noraxxis. There was no way that he could draw on the dragon’s power again. If he did, it might kill the noble dragon that had fought so valiantly.
Damnit! He cursed silently. There has to be another way.
Al’sonar and Taralas were way too strong now. He had let himself be led into their trap with the ease of a child being led by its parent. Both the dragonmage and his dragon had been way too crafty. Too cunning. Using the other Griegan dragonlords as fodder to soften them had been a brilliant plan. Al’sonar had thrown them at him like fodder and he had fallen for it. Al’sonar’s position now was superior and he had struck from it using strength.
Micah’s head reeled, whether from the weakness of his wounds or the serious of their situation, he wasn’t sure. He had to separate the pair. Somehow he had to divide the rider from his dragon. Only that would keep Al’sonar from being able to draw on the dragon power here. There was something in that. His mind spun, his last words echoing in his head, spinning like a top out of control. Here! Here where Al’sonar and Taralas were strong, here, where he was weakened and near defeat. Here! In this place Al’sonar had way too much skill and experience. Like the sun rising over a dark landscape, illuminating what lay below in faint light, it dawned on him what he knew he had to do. What had to happen here.
A sad smile curved the corners of his mouth, barely touching his lips. It had to be done.
“What are you smiling at,” demanded Noraxxis hoarsely, his hissing voice weak from his wounds. “We have to do something, I don’t think I have enough strength left to continue fighting!”
Micah directed the sad smile downwards and laid a gentle hand on one of the mighty dragon’s ridged eyebrows. “I am smiling at the answer,” stated Micah. Pulling the dragon’s eye out from under his armor and placing it where all could see, he strode purposefully out through the narrow opening that was too small for Noraxxis to follow.
Al’sonar had to come to him. He looked at the bone white claw glinting in his hand. He had to. He couldn’t do anything else before he did that and in his coming to him lay the answer. He had to be separated from Taralas, just like he had to be separated from Noraxxis.
Damnit! He cursed silently. There has to be another way.
Al’sonar and Taralas were way too strong now. He had let himself be led into their trap with the ease of a child being led by its parent. Both the dragonmage and his dragon had been way too crafty. Too cunning. Using the other Griegan dragonlords as fodder to soften them had been a brilliant plan. Al’sonar had thrown them at him like fodder and he had fallen for it. Al’sonar’s position now was superior and he had struck from it using strength.
Micah’s head reeled, whether from the weakness of his wounds or the serious of their situation, he wasn’t sure. He had to separate the pair. Somehow he had to divide the rider from his dragon. Only that would keep Al’sonar from being able to draw on the dragon power here. There was something in that. His mind spun, his last words echoing in his head, spinning like a top out of control. Here! Here where Al’sonar and Taralas were strong, here, where he was weakened and near defeat. Here! In this place Al’sonar had way too much skill and experience. Like the sun rising over a dark landscape, illuminating what lay below in faint light, it dawned on him what he knew he had to do. What had to happen here.
A sad smile curved the corners of his mouth, barely touching his lips. It had to be done.
“What are you smiling at,” demanded Noraxxis hoarsely, his hissing voice weak from his wounds. “We have to do something, I don’t think I have enough strength left to continue fighting!”
Micah directed the sad smile downwards and laid a gentle hand on one of the mighty dragon’s ridged eyebrows. “I am smiling at the answer,” stated Micah. Pulling the dragon’s eye out from under his armor and placing it where all could see, he strode purposefully out through the narrow opening that was too small for Noraxxis to follow.
Al’sonar had to come to him. He looked at the bone white claw glinting in his hand. He had to. He couldn’t do anything else before he did that and in his coming to him lay the answer. He had to be separated from Taralas, just like he had to be separated from Noraxxis.
