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Heresy-Online's Expeditious Stories 14-05: Laughter

1K views 4 replies 4 participants last post by  Dave T Hobbit 
In the Face of Fate

Flames lit up the sky around Eldran’tyr, licking at his robes and hair. The aura of protection generated from his armor protected both from the searing heat around him, but even without that, fire was the elf’s element. He was at home in flame, and did not fear it. Beneath him, the bronze-skinned sun dragon banked in the air, a perfectly executed dive that took it out of the way of the worst of the offending flame. Vorastrix feared flame even less than his rider, but one did not foolishly tempt fate with magic.

Eldran’tyr was smart enough not to tempt fate. He did, however, often laugh directly at it.

In one hand, the mage of Caledor brandished a half-staff, longer than wand or scepter but not too awkward to be used as a weapon from dragonback. In his other hand wielded an elegant sword, curved in Elvish fashion, made entirely of living flame. As his mount twisted around their prey, Eldran’tyr lashed out with his blade, the flames seeming to twist more like a whip than a simple blade, completely under his control. Nearly as fluid, Vorastrix dove and lashed out, tail and wing and claw all moving as one weapon against their foe.

The great demon before them cried out in pain, snapping back its own leathery, bat-like wings, trying to get some space from dragon and rider. It’s skin was a leathery hide the color of old blood, sometimes black and sometimes dark crimson in the fire and moonlight. A monstrous battleaxe, larger than Eldran’tyr was tall, swung in wide arcs that nearly bisected the elf. Only the expert skills of the sun dragon kept the mage in one piece. Eldran’tyr would never suggest this was luck, however. The elf and his steed were a team, a partnership. They were, in a way, creatures of fate, bound together since Eldran’tyr first woke the creature in the mountains of Caledor.

Eldran’tyr had laughed that day too, as the sun dragon opened its eyes, stared down at the ‘puny’ elf, threatening to roast him alive in fire. The two were suited to each other; they both had short fuses.

Neither knew what had caused the servant of Chaos to fly so close to the elven homeland, nor how it was able to hold itself together so close to the great vortex. If either mage or rider had thought about it, they would be concerned about the strength of such a beast having dared so close. But to give thoughts or concerns to such an issue would be to worry about fate. These two acted, they did not ponder. They did not worry. They laughed.

Eldran’tyr was laughing now. Ducking benath an axe blow as the dragon dived, he lashed out again with his blade. It seemed to shift and writhe like a living thing, a serpent striking against a larger foe. The demon roared and bellowed, the smell of burning flesh accompanying a sizzling sound. In response, Vorastrix suddenly cried out in pain as the demon’s claws lashed along its hide. The dragon wavered in its flight, but the blow was superficial and Vorastrix quickly levelled itself out, coming around for another pass. It opened its mouth and released a mighty roar in challenge. In Eldran’tyr’s mind, he heard the ‘voice’ of his mount, its laughter echoing through his mind. Finally, true sport!

The mage couldn’t help but agree. As they made another pass at the demon, he raised his staff. The crown of the weapon, sculpted like the draconic Caledor sigil, flared to life, and a bolt of flame flew from its tip to crash into the demon’s chest. Once again it bellowed in pain, and seemed to slow in flight. It responded with a bolt of magical flame of its own, which surged around the pair, absorbed by Eldran’tyr’s magical wards and armor.

Again and again the pair clashed, twisting around each other in midair, a ballet of violence and savagery as each one lashed out with weapons forged of raw magical energy. The roaring ocean was far beneath them both as they circled, waiting to swallow whichever pair lost the confrontation. The demon constantly roared out hate and frustration, unable to defeat the mage and rider that had stopped it from hunting and feasting on the elven lands below. Part of its frustration came from the lack of a kill after so long, with so many wounds and scorches accumulated from fighting the pair. Some of its frustration came from the blonde elven lord before him, laughing in the face of each blow, shrugging off unholy flames and shifting just enough to avoid each blow of axe and claw.

Demons knew how to deal with fear and rage, but it seemed at a loss against a foe that didn’t care. That was so eager for battle that all it wanted was to laugh in joy of being able to let loose with its full strength. In the end, it was that frustration that did it in, as much as spell or steel. The battle wore on, and the demon pushed further and further, growing more eager for killing blows with every passing heartbeat. The mage, knowing that for all his power he was only a mere elf, was just the bait.

Dragons can’t laugh, but they can enjoy the hunt just as much as their riders can. As the demon swooped in, hoping for an opening to end its frustration, Vorastrix lashed out. Massive jaws clamped around the demon, and it breathed its own flame. A roar of pain dissolved as the demon began to melt, returning to the aether and drawn into the Vortex once more.

The pair were left alone in the middle of a stormy sky, high above the sea. Both were covered in small wounds, but nothing truly significant. Eldran’tyr made the sword disappear from his hand as the spell ended, and he leans back in his saddle, running a hand affectionately over his steed. One last chuckle escaped his lips. “Most fun I’ve had in weeks.” He offered. Vorastrix rumbled his acknowledgement. Remember that at lunch time. We’ll both be bored again by then.
 
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