Mount
Kalthar, Arkaelus, Nirna - Continuous
Spartan
breaks into a sprint, snow exploding beneath her boots. The glow in
the drake's throat is building, molten light bleeding between its
teeth like a sunrise of fire. Red Baron is frozen mid-reload, his
visor reflecting the inferno about to be unleashed.
"MOVE!"
She
slams into him, interposing her shield just as the light peaks...
But
the blast never comes.
A
thunderous crack cuts the air. Ashurdan's shoulder cannon discharges
with a flash that turns the sky white. The projectile slams into the
drake's jaw, detonating against its snout. Bone and flame burst
outward as the beast shrieks, the inferno collapsing back down its
throat in a choking cough of fire and smoke.
Spartan's
ears ring. She lowers her shield slightly, breathing hard, eyes
locking on the beast as it reels.
"Rho!"
she screams, voice ragged. "Get up!"
The
ground trembles as Rho Voss shifts, buried beneath snow and shattered
ice. A low, mechanical groan rises from him, armor servos whining,
then growling deeper as he plants a fist into the ground. He moves
with the heaviness of a mountain forcing itself upright.
"Ghhrr,
" he growls, voice distorted through his vox.
Spartan
moves to cover him. The drake rears back, head swinging toward her.
She reacts first, sword flaring white-hot as she slashes upward, a
streak of light that carves a shallow line across the drake's lower
jaw. It howls, blood and fire spilling together.
Samayel
charges in beside her, spear thrusting in brutal rhythm, one, two,
three strikes that pierce scale but barely find flesh. The creature
roars again, wings flaring wide.
Then
it spins.
"Down!"
Spartan yells.
She
drops instantly, ducking low behind her shield.
The
tail hits like a battering ram.
It
slams through the air with a deafening CRACK, catching both Samayel
and Red Baron before they can react. They're lifted off their feet
like ragdolls, spinning helplessly through the storming snow and over
the edge.
Spartan
looks up in time to see their silhouettes vanish.
"NO!"
Wind
howls over the cliff, carrying a scream that's not fear but defiance.
Samayel twists midair, thrusters firing from his backplate. He
snatches Red Baron out of the air, one arm wrapping around the
soldier's torso as they plummet toward the jagged ground below. The
boosters flare again, struggling, stuttering, slowing the fall, but
not enough.
Then
they vanish into the blizzard below, two falling sparks swallowed by
white.
Silence
for half a heartbeat.
Then
the drake roars again, closer this time, angrier, wings snapping
outward as it bears down.
Spartan
turns, sword raised, positioning herself between it and Rho's rising
form. Ashurdan moves to her flank, claymore spinning into guard
stance.
Steam
curls from the drake's nostrils. Its chest rises and falls like a
forge bellows. It lowers its head, eyes burning through the snowfall,
and the ground shakes beneath its weight.
Rho
Voss straightens behind them, battered armor steaming, one arm limp
but the other gripping his reclaimed zweihander. The blade hums
faintly, still alive, still resonating with that deep harmonic thrum.
"On
your feet, brother," Spartan growls, setting her stance.
Ashurdan
cracks his neck, voice steady through the comms.
"Three
against one. I'll take those odds."
The
drake screams, wings spreading wide as the snow bursts upward from
the downdraft, and the three Vardengard charge to meet it head-on.
Snow
and ash whip through the air as the drake circles back around.
Spartan lowers her stance, shield half-raised, blade glowing in the
crimson light.
"Ash!"
she calls. "This isn't a fight. Not now!"
Her
tone is iron. The kind that ends arguments before they start.
Ashurdan's
voice crackles through the comms, rough and reluctant.
"Then
what, Spartan? Run? That's not in our creed."
"It
is when the Forge demands survival," she snaps. "We fall
back!"
But
the drake doesn't give them the chance. It rears, talons digging into
the ice, wings beating once, twice, and it dives.
A
blast of molten flame erupts from its maw, washing the plateau in
fire. The world becomes heat and fury and smoke.
Below
the cliff…
Snow
explodes outward as two bodies crash down through it, Samayel hitting
first, the impact cracking the ice beneath him. Red Baron rolls off
his back with a groan and a curse, armor hissing from the strain.
"...by
the Forge's hammer…" Samayel growls through grit teeth, trying
to move.
The
world is blurred and distant, muffled by the ringing in their ears.
Around them, Red Baron's Federalists rush forward, rifles raised,
scanning the white void above. Arturo and Liam lead the pack,
shouting orders that are half-swallowed by the wind.
Then,
the sound.
A
low, monstrous roar that rolls across the valley like thunder.
They
all look up. The white horizon glows orange.
"What
the hell, " Liam starts, and then the light hits them, a torrent
of fire spilling over the cliff's edge like a waterfall of molten
gold.
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"Back!"
someone shouts. The heat rolls down in waves, melting the top layer
of snow into hiss and steam.
Through
the chaos, the Insarii Medicae push their way through the soldiers,
white armor streaked with frost and ash. One kneels immediately
beside Samayel, scanning his vitals with quick flicks of his gauntlet
display.
Red
Baron groans, sitting up slowly, one hand to his head, the other
clutching his shoulder.
"Ah...hell's
teeth…"
He
looks down and realizes he's half-sprawled across Samayel's chest. He
jolts off him instantly.
"Shit,
sorry, sorry! And, uh, thank you."
Samayel
wheezes out a laugh, even as his helmeted head thunks back into the
snow.
"Heh.
A fall like that? I should've let you hit first."
A
few of the soldiers can't help but chuckle. One of them, grinning
wide, calls out, "Never thought I'd see the Captain playing
damsel!"
That
gets a short round of laughter, a brief moment of levity beneath the
roar of fire above.
Then
Decimus, cuts through it. "Quiet! He's got fractures. Stay
still, Samayel."
Samayel
tries to sit up anyway. "No time. It's a drake. Up there."
The
word alone kills the humor. Silence spreads like frost. The younger
soldiers pale; even the veterans stiffen.
Decimus
swears under his breath, locking his arm against Samayel's chest.
"Then you stay put. We'll handle it."
The
other two Insarii don't waste a heartbeat. Their wings unfold in a
cascade of silver panels, mechanical feathers humming to life.
Jetpacks ignite, spraying snow in molten plumes as they launch
skyward.
They
rocket up the cliffside, the wind shrieking past them, their HUDs
flashing temperature warnings as the next blast of fire surges
downward, so close the heat licks their armor as they crest the
plateau.
They
land in a skid across molten snow, weapons drawn, and what they see
stops them cold.
Spartan
is on the drake's neck.
She's
clinging to its scales with one hand, the other driving her sword
down again and again between armored plates. Each strike sends a
shudder through the beast, each impact splattering molten blood that
steams upon contact with the snow.
Below
her, Rho Voss and Ashurdan are still fighting to ground it, hacking,
slashing, dodging between its talons and wings. The drake screams, an
ear-splitting, metallic roar that echoes across the mountains.
Its
wings flare open, catching the wind, and Spartan tightens her grip,
teeth bared behind her helm.
The
air splits with a scream of metal and fury.
The
drake thrashes violently, molten breath bursting from its jaws as it
fights against the combined strength of the Vardengard and the two
Insarii Medicae. Snow and shards of stone explode under its weight.
"Hold
it!" Spartan shouts, voice gritted through comm interference.
Rho
Voss roars wordlessly in answer, his massive frame lunging forward to
seize the creature's wingarm. His gauntlet clamps down, not on the
full span of the limb, but on one scaled forefinger the size of a
man's torso. His servos scream under the strain as he anchors his
boots into the ice, shoulders locking like pistons.
The
drake bellows, wings beating once, twice, trying to tear free. Rho
snarls.
Ashurdan
rushes in from the flank, blade cleaving deep into the creature's leg
joint, molten blood splashing across his armor. The Medicae soar
overhead, jetpacks flaring, blasting its head with concentrated
plasma bursts that sear into its frills and eyes.
The
monster howls, enraged beyond reason.
It
whips its tail outward, once, twice, shearing chunks of ice from the
ground. Then it spins, its body contorting with terrifying agility
for something so massive.
"Move!"
Spartan yells.
Too
late. The drake's wings tuck, and it flips backward, its entire body
twisting in a violent, unnatural arc. It lands heavily on its
shoulder, snow and rock erupting like shrapnel as it scrapes against
the ground, dragging Spartan with it.
Spartan's
claws dig into its hide, but momentum wins. The ground tears her grip
loose. She's flung like debris across the plateau, metal meeting snow
with a thunderous impact.
The
beast's back rolls, its tail smashing into the air, and for a breath
it looks like it'll crush her outright.
Ashurdan
dives, gauntlet snapping tight around the carry handle of her armor.
He yanks her backward with brutal force, sliding her clear just as
the drake's weight crashes down where she'd been seconds before.
"On
your feet, Spartan!" he bellows.
Her
systems flicker, sparks crawling across her armor. She shakes her
head, vision recalibrating. Her hand reaches out instinctively, but
the drake's neck arches above them, her sword still impaled deep
between the plates of its spine.
Flames
lick from its mouth, blood hissing and steaming in the cold.
Rho
Voss, kneeling now, half-buried in shattered snow, looks up at it.
"Let
it go!" Spartan snaps. "It's already finished!"
The
drake's wings snap open, the gusts strong enough to throw dust and
embers across the plateau. Its talons dig in, pushing off the ground
with enough force to crack the stone beneath it.
With
one last roar that rattles the cliffs, the Skyforger Drake surges
skyward, fire curling from its wings as it vanishes into the blizzard
clouds above.
Spartan
watches it go, chest heaving. Her sword glints once in the stormlight
before disappearing into the white void with its captor.
"Damn
it…" she mutters under her breath, voice low, static-filled.
Ashurdan
releases her armor and looks up, visor reflecting the burning sky.
"You think it'll live long with that blade in its neck?"
Spartan
shakes her head once. "No. But I wanted to be the one to finish
it."
The
wind howls across the cliff face, carrying with it the acrid scent of
scorched stone and blood.
Spartan
places a hand on Rho Voss' arm, her gauntlet locking against the
battered plating. His frame sags under his own weight, the armor
groaning in protest with every small movement.
"On
your feet, Rho," she says. Her tone isn't gentle, but it carries
a steadiness that draws him back from the brink.
Rho
grunts, forcing his legs beneath him. Ashurdan moves to his opposite
side without a word, looping Rho's other arm across his shoulder.
Together, the two Vardengard half-carry, half-drag their comrade
toward the cliff edge while the Insarii Medicae watch their flanks,
scanners sweeping the skies for any sign of the returning drake.
The
clouds above rumble, distant thunder or wings, no one can tell.
Spartan
glances up once, visor flickering with targeting markers. Nothing.
"Move,"
she orders.
Then
they step off the cliff.
The
fall is a blur of snow and rushing wind. One hundred feet of freefall
vanishes in seconds. Spartan and Ashurdan ignite their jetpacks in
perfect synchrony, blue-white thrusters flaring bright against the
storm. The descent slows, armor stabilizers whining under strain as
their boots strike the ground with a thud that cracks the snow crust
beneath them.
Ashurdan
releases Rho's arm, steadying him as he finds his footing. A
heartbeat later, the Insarii drop from above, wings flaring open like
great metal seraphs before folding neatly against their backs.
The
battlefield below is quiet. The fires from earlier flicker faintly,
reflecting against the smoke-stained snow. The convoy sits at the
base of the cliffs, shadowed by the frozen walls.
Samayel
sits upright among the gathered Federalists, armor half-crushed,
laughing between shallow breaths. Decimus kneels beside him, the
multi-tool in his hand buzzing faintly as it seals a cracked joint
along the arm plating.
Spartan
strides toward them, Rho limping behind. "Report."
Samayel
looks up, his visor dim. "Damage?" he echoes with a
chuckle. "Just a bruise or two, boss."
Decimus
glances up from his work, tone professional and clipped. "He
landed poorly. Shoulder dislocation, minor structural breach in the
right pauldron. I can have it repaired shortly."
Ashurdan
folds his arms, towering beside Spartan. "You're lucky, Samayel.
Another ten feet and you'd be painting the rocks."
"Worth
it," Samayel grins, wincing as Decimus forces his arm back into
place with a sharp metallic pop.
Spartan
exhales through her comms, the sound static-heavy. "Next time,
try not to make it worth it."
Behind
them, one of the other Insarii Medicae approaches, visor flashing
diagnostic amber.
"Rho
Voss, your vitals read unstable. I recommend an immediate scan and
repair."
Spartan
lifts a hand, halting him. "Once we're settled into camp. You'll
have better footing, more stable readings. Take as long as you need."
The
Insarii nods, stepping back obediently.
The
storm around them howls, the world above fading into pale mist. The
faint roar of the drake echoes once through the peaks, distant,
receding.
Spartan
looks up toward the darkened sky, her expression hidden behind her
helmet.
"We're
not staying long," she mutters. "That thing's still
bleeding, but it'll remember us."
Ashurdan
glances her way, tone low but steady. "Then let it come. We'll
finish it next time."
Spartan
doesn't answer immediately. Her gaze lingers on the jagged cliffs
they descended, then turns toward the half-built camp where Red
Baron's soldiers move like shadows in the snow.
"Get
Rho stable," she says finally. "We rest. Dawn, we move."
