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Lightning flashed above, as if warning the small band against venturing any closer towards the ill fated castle. The wet stone of the broken outer walls and ramparts lay scattered: the remains of a once prideful nation illuminated briefly by the flash of nature's wrath. Rumbling thunder cascaded over the ruins and into the lands before it, deep enough that the knights felt its tumult in their very bones.

"Not exactly a welcoming sight, is it sir?" Gallend took a moment to wipe the rain from his eyes as he peered through the storm at the muddied road ahead. The man was soaked, as they all were, by the torrential rains that never seemed to leave the place. The water searched for any gap in which it could wick through their leathers and into the padding below. It was a miserable land that only wanted to push its misery onto those foolish enough to trespass.

"No, it's not, but best not to dwell on it. We'll reach the outer walls tonight." Throughout all his years, Captain Kennith Fairmont only knew of the place as Rain's Fall. And as far as he knew, it had been known as such for generations. Whatever name originally belonged to the kingdom that flourished here was probably recorded in some dusty old tome in the capital's library. Maybe one of the historians that shuffled through its halls would be able to tell him after they finished their mission, if only so he knew what proper name to use as he cursed about this forsaken place once they were done and safely back.

What was known was that the castle stood at the center of a once mighty nation, some even went as far as to all it an empire, but that was at the zenith of its power. What wasn't known was how it all came to an abrupt end; how it transformed from a thriving castle and surrounding city-state into this devastated wasteland. Nor was it known how the sky was kept from ever relenting in its ceaseless rains. Both of these were what Kennith had been sent to investigate. If it were possible to gain a foothold here, his own realm could open trade routes long lost to the lands east. Ancient maps noted the existence of roadways that once ran through the mountains, but these were effectively blocked by the unnatural conditions set upon the castle and its lands. The potential boon for his country was enormous, though many had already perished in the same endeavor. It was the exact reason his team had been selected to undertake it.

In the past, lone heroes were sent. Sure of themselves and their abilities, they went in only to never return. Then came small armies, marching up the very same road his small band of knights now tread; these too were defeated. On one particularly bad instance, the rains increased so much that the corpses were washed down in a flood of mud and gore to a village in the foothills. The bodies bore horrific wounds, some torn completely in half, others exposed to such heat that the iron of their armor and flesh were fused together. These were things that happened well before his time, perhaps in his grandfather's grandfather's day, but the horrors witnessed were recorded and preserved within the library. The accounts were presented to him when the king himself summoned the captain for this task. If the realm was to prosper, and indeed remain safe, trade with the nations to the east would need to be expanded given the hostile posture presented by the lands west.

At the end of the day, it was politics that led his men here. Not that he was complaining about the task, whatever evils held sway here should be removed regardless, it was just that there were better ways for nations to conduct themselves than what he'd seen. Hostilities should be a last resort, not something you open with. It was a lesson the kings of the Alliance of Western Alsgrad needed to learn. Treaties and trade would make for better neighbors than war and lost lives; but military strength could bring foolishness on even the most sensible, and the ranks of their nobles held several such fools. Best not to dwell on it too much; these thoughts could be entertained after the skies above these lands were cleared. He had to believe such a thing was possible, to think otherwise would be to doom the mission to failure from the outset.

Nearly two hours had passed since Gallend's rather obvious evaluation of the castle grounds, and indeed they'd made it to the walls before what Kennith assumed was nightfall. The clouds fought back most of the sun's light so judging exact times was difficult. Not that his knights had any sort of trouble with the dark. They were of the kin after all, and their night sight was as good as most creatures which specialized in hunting under the stars. While some people feared them, most recognized their value in dealing with unusual creatures as well as enemies on the battlefield. Social troubles aside, Kennith was rather proud of his unusual heritage; having just a bit of dragon in your lineage carried all sorts of benefits and his own efforts to train and further develop these had paid off handsomely over the years.

With a sigh, the captain finally acknowledged what his senses had been telling him, "Alright everyone, delay getting the camp set, we've got a few guests to tend to first." It wasn't the first time he'd used that particular line during the trip. This place wasn't host to many living creatures, but it did hold a vast number of things that moved even without the pulse of life. An exasperated groan escaped his lips: a fair match to the multitude he heard from the corpses rising up though the mud.

With both shield and sword in hand, he looked over the soldiers he'd brought along for this mission. None showed even a trace of fear, their training had them capable of facing far worse than this. Kennith squared his jaw against the oncoming horde of undead. Let them rise now; his knights were far better at dealing with them than whoever would follow in the days to come. Soon enough, the dead would be given release from whatever bid them to rise from the earth; perhaps once they'd been granted eternal rest he could settle in for a few hours of sleep, at least until it was his turn at watch.

* * *

"It's good that the rain has yet figure out how to get through stone." Leave it to Gallend to find the positive side of the situation. The knight was a veteran of several campaigns; a stout fellow with strength that could see a sword clear through a man in the span of one swing. His brown, bushy mustache had finally dried, given the reprieve from the ever present rains. The man's observation rang true; in spite of their decrepit condition, the stonework of the castle walls and some stubborn beams of woodwork above were keeping the weather at bay.

The fight against the walking dead had taken longer than expected, mostly due to sheer numbers. Whatever had control of this place had used the fallen armies of past invasions to bolster its own defenses; it was a war of attrition that, under normal circumstances, only one side could win. If it weren't for their bloodlines, the knights would have joined their opponent's ranks. Having magical weapons was one thing, actually being one was quite another. Rather than getting overrun, they'd only been pushed to make their way further into the castle grounds than originally planned.

The only downside to their rapid progress was the rest they needed. True enough, they could make it far longer than any normal knight, but their mana stores weren't nearly infinite like the beings they shared blood with. As it was, they'd gone on for several days without a major stop. Once they were truly inside the castle, there may not be another chance to take one. Something had to be controlling the hordes, and nothing they'd come across, undead or alive, had come close to the power needed to raise and maintain so many.

Kennith looked onward towards the interior of the ruined castle. There were some sections of it that were still solid; the piece they were gathered in was one such area. "Gallend, see if this place is sound. Provided it is, I'd like it reinforced. We could all use a decent rest for once, at least before we meet whatever calls itself master of this domain."

With a brief nod, the man set to his work while the others of his squad fanned out in defensive positions. It was a simple task, one he'd done in similar circumstances countless times, but it was worth the extra measure. Gallend sat in the middle of the in tact remains and closed his eyes. Within moments he'd reached out to his Base, calling on Earth to check the stone for any fault, find any gap which may be leveraged to compromise the structure. With that done, the man opened his eyes, their rises still glowing, and gave another subtle nod before returning to his task. Once more Earth was called to action; this time to fuse the stones as if the walls and floor were carved from a single giant slab.

The working, while simple, was still time consuming; and it left the knight vulnerable as his concentration was entirely upon his task. It was for this very reason Kennith had gathered the knights into a permanent squad. When one was occupied using the unique skills afforded by their Base, the others would be their eyes, sword, and shield. There were enough stories of heroes meeting their untimely end by a single well concealed archer, or otherwise being taken unaware; no need to add another tale to that list. The captain remained on guard beside his knight, his eyes scanning for any threat, just as the rest of his squad was doing.

Gallend's body slacked for a moment, the tell tale sign of releasing control over his Base, before he gave himself a small shake to loosen up after sitting still for so long. "It's done," the knight said simply as he rose from the ground with a small grunt of effort.

Kennith nodded his thanks. Whatever else happened, even if a giant stood mere yards away lofting boulder after boulder, the walls of this place would stand. It'd take another of the kin, or a dragon itself, to undo the workings. Sure a man could chisel through the stonework given enough time, but he'd find no seam between the rocks to ease his work. The space was large enough, and it provided solid cover. They'd find sleep tonight, and should the situation need it, this was as safe a place as any to make a stand. It was their first foothold within the castle proper.

"Alright, set your wards. From here on out, this is now our land, part of the realm." Perhaps it came with being of the kin, but there was an instinctual call to lay claim to territory that was taken rightfully on the field. They hadn't bothered doing so until now, the muddied lands before the castle were hardly worth it; but here was a piece of the castle, still standing, and newly touched by their workings. That was something they'd fight with an unmatched ferocity to defend from any foe.

* * *

"Captain," Kennith roused himself at his knight's call, "we've seen nothing, just as when you stood watch, but I think you're right. Someone knows we're here."

The knight captain yawned widely, he always slept better when in a place he considered his. Small though it may be, this included the section of the defensive wall they occupied. Gallend had stood watch with him and was still sleeping soundly on his bedroll.

Kennith looked back at the third in command of his group. Of his knights, Rose had the strongest connection with her Base; the flame red hair just visible beneath her helm served as a visible testament to that fact. Her family, well it was its own clan within the realm really, had been working for generations to concentrate the dragonic bloodlines. They still practiced arranged marriages for this purpose; choosing pairings that had as many distinct kin traits as possible between the two in the hopes their children would inherit a larger number of these. To those ends, Rose hadn't lived up to her family's hopes.

Kennith had a much more practical view of things, and in some ways he felt her family was shorting itself in their aim. Rose may not have had scales, pupal slits, or any other classic signs of kin blood; but there were few, if any, in the kingdom that could match her mastery over the Flame. In dragonic terms, wasn't their Base the most important aspect of their being? Whatever the case, she had been chosen to expand the family's external influence rather than stay within their house; a decision which ultimately led her down the path to becoming a knight and valued member of his squad... A member that was waiting patiently for an answer while his mind wandered pointlessly. "Right. They aren't showing themselves yet, but someone's been directing the ghouls at us. I expect we'll hit only light resistance until they spring some sort of ambush. What we've met so far seems to be there to bog down and thin enemy numbers rather than form a solid line."

Rose nodded her agreement. "I came to the same conclusion. The..." she paused for a moment thinking of the right word to use for the undead masses, "troops we encountered so far may be numerous, but individually they're of little threat, to us at least. If the purpose is to delay and wear, then someone will be gathering and positioning the more capable forces to halt our advance at a time of their choosing." Rose shrugged, whatever they faced would fall by their blades, whatever the circumstances. "An ambush, then, as you said."

Kennith had risen during her musings on the topic, stretching a bit to fully work the stiffness from his frame. If materials could be found, he'd like to scavenge something a little softer to sleep on. As he peered through the thick veil of rain, he doubted they had the fortune to find as much. "Any word from Joseph?"

Rose did her best to hide the scowl that formed. His knights would defend each other to the very last of their breath, he had no doubt of that, but it didn't mean there weren't long standing disagreements between them. "No, not yet anyway. And no, he hasn't been seen yet this morning."

"It's because no one ever bothers to look," the man's voice could be heard well before he seemed to materialize out of thin air. Of all his knights, Joseph had the most questionable background, and his use of Shade did little to quell the misgivings that had formed as a result. "Reporting sir. They're massing in what I think would've been the gardens. It's a few clicks northeast. At least one with more blood than any of us and several lesser kin, plus more undead than we've seen so far. If I had to guess, he's the one commanding our opposition."

This was always a chance, though it never was good to hear confirmation. "Half then?"

Joseph gave a noncommittal shrug, "Half or more. Upright dragon with a human torso is about the best description I can say. Dull black, Shade most likely. I'm sure he sensed me, though not precisely so."

Rose gave a derisive snort, "So able to slink out without giving us all away then?"

With a mocking bow he countered, "M'lady, only your bright Flame could ever get me to reveal myself fully."

The comment was sidestepped completely as Rose flat out ignored the taunt, "It is a waste though, that someone so blooded should be one of the spawn." Though dragons were rare in the known world, the human kingdoms generally split them into two groups. Proper dragons were those amicable with other species or at least ambivalent. Wyrms, on the other hand, were the evil beasts of legend known to wreck havoc on those they considered as lesser species. Their attitudes didn't keep them from mixing freely, however, as a loyal half-breed was a better guard than most, and even at the zenith of their power, were still no match for a full dragon.

This division extended to those with dragon blood. The kin were those inclined to follow what society felt were good and upstanding principles. The spawn were those who harbored less noble ideals, and the line between these blurred at times. Given the Katari family's views, someone of half parentage would have been an ideal find by Rose, had they not commanded a legion of undead against the kingdom that is.

"Bloody well too early for bantering between the both of you." Gallend yawned widely as he sat up, "Woke me up after spending the time making the place safe to sleep in the first place. Daft hard headed..." The knight's complaints drifted off into unintelligible grumbles past that, but it was enough to get both Rose and Joseph grinning. After a stretch that included a few popping joints he continued in earnest, "So, what's this about a half blood?"

"It's what's been organizing our welcome so far," Kennith responded dryly. "Which means we're more than likely dealing with a full wyrm that's been roosting here for the gods only know how long."

"If it's just the half, Rose and I can take care of it while the rest keep the horde busy." The Shade knight ignored the fiery twin daggers glaring at him, "It's best if the captain keeps his own element hidden, at least until the wyrm shows itself." Shade would fight Shade on more or less equal ground. While the spawn may have more mana reserves than the knight and would win if left to attrition alone, he didn't have someone of Rose's caliber fighting in tandem. The plan was a good one; even if Rose and Joseph borderline hated each other, it was hard to argue against the results they produced when directing it at an enemy.

Kennith looked between his second and third in command, "Barring any better ideas, I think that's probably the best plan of action for now." His own element could be infused with his weapon's strike, it would be enough to disrupt the undead, but not enough to be discerned with Flame and Shade running wild over the battlefield. Leonard would also mask the smaller workings; swaths of the undead would be blown against walls and smashed or removed entirely from the battle by the Wind. Balas and Fara may not have the same grandiose displays, but Water and Lightning would prove effective enough against the masses. Gallend would maintain his own workings, disrupting the movements of the enemies and firming the footholds of his allies. "We'll deploy as we usually do, though covering Rose and Joseph takes priority over territory gains."

* * *

Regardless of how many fell, two more appeared for each slain. Centuries of the dead protected this place, some of them champions in their own right, and all fighting with the unnatural strength given to a moving corpse. What was worse, his knights had yet to truly engage the spawn; it was proving far beyond any they'd faced before, bordering on the strength of a full blooded wyrm when it came to its command of the Shade.

Gallend had been protecting his own position while extending his influence into the field. Fara and Balas flanked him on either side, leveraging the greater range of their Base to counter the archers' arrows and deflect the more direct attacks leveled by the half-blood. Leonard stood in the middle of the field, drawing as much attention as he could muster. The maelstrom of Wind working furiously against the enemy hordes.

With each move made by the spawn, Joseph and Rose moved to counter, only to be driven back by unseen foes lurking just beneath the surface of the mud or concealed completely in the shadows. It was infuriating, and to make matters worse, Joseph couldn't leverage his own workings with the Shade so completely under the control of the enemy.

The plan was to overwhelm their ranks with greater strength. This seemed an impossibility against these numbers and enemies which were far greater than expected. The clever bastard may have planned this all along; a smaller showing than what was truly available at his hand when their spy was about. There were no taunts, no laughter at his enemies driven by a wyrm's ego. This foe was deadly in his intent and focus.

Kennith drew back, in spite of his own presence on the field, relatively little focus had been placed on him. By maintaining lower level workings, he'd been seen as the least of threats, even with his own contributions on the field. Martial prowess would give him the advantage against the higher ranks of the undead; indeed he'd slain many, but in terms of the overall battle, the spawn was all but ignoring him. Perhaps this was the best course of action. Draw the half's attention away from the real threats. "Fara, Balas," Kennith motioned towards the eastern ranks and shouted the order with just enough mana injected so it'd be heard across the field, "Focus there, I want a clear path. Gallend, support for Leonard. We're taking that bastard out, by the gods. Joseph's not getting anywhere against that, his own Shade's useless here."

The captain of the knights charged brazenly in the direction he pointed. He held tight to his Base, forcing the mana to flow without focus. It was an idiot's move, wasteful in all aspects, but it lent him extra speed and strength beyond his own. Leonard shifted his focus as well, projecting the Wind with a narrow band to cleave its way through any standing in its path, redoubled by both Water and Lighting.

The effect was an instant gap that Kennith charged through, narrowing the distance between himself and the half-blood in mere moments. It was beyond foolish, enough to surprise the spawn in sheer audacity alone. With a disdainful look, the spawn gathered its Shade. Though useful in concealment and stealth, like any Base, a concentrated blow could kill; and the spawn certainly had control over enough of it to render such a strike.

Kennith could feel it coming, but his own gamble had paid off. Rising behind the spawn was a mountain of Flame, the point holding the shape of a primordial dragon's head as Rose unleashed her pent up fury from less than a meter behind it. There wasn't so much as a scream issued from the spawn, it's last effort a crushing blow of Shade sent in the captain's direction.

With his own element imbued in his blade, Kennith stood fast against the blow; his own body battered on both sides, though the strike was lessened by half with its bisection. As it was, the spawn would have killed him if it weren't for the efforts of his own knights. It's death marked the end of its reign over Shade and Joseph was able to disperse the torrent mid strike.

Kennith sank to one knee, but he kept watch over the hordes as they moved with increasing frailty until they too toppled over. The magics holding them to this earth were undone by the death of their master. Shade could be used for a great many things indeed.

With a bit of effort, the captain regained his feet. Rose was still standing, her sword plunged into the charred husk of the spawn and teeth grinding in unspent anger. Joseph had delivered Rose to exactly where she needed to be, and this was what galled her the most. His former life required highly discreet use of his Base; he could ferry just one person with him and move with a grace unmatched except by the highly skilled members of his former profession.

The knight of Flame kicked the corpse free of her blade, still seething. "How many times, Kennith? I do not wish to be used as an assassin's tool, damn you!" She rounded on Joseph, "And damn you too!"

"Following orders, m'lady," the knight jumped briskly backwards to put a bit of distance between himself and Rose. "But the call was the right one. I couldn't force my way through that, not in a million years. Best to slip us through, even if you don't like the means."

"A coward's way to end it, then?" The glare hadn't diminished in the slightest.

"A practical way given what we have to face next. The pride of the Katari can handle this small blemish if it saves the realm, Rose." Kennith looked to the castle walls beyond. Within those half shattered walls he felt the stirring of a much stronger Base. "The wyrm is awake, and it's figured out it's no longer guarded. As much trouble as the half-blood caused, this can best it ten, maybe a hundred fold."

With a hiss of annoyance, Rose gave her blade a single swing. Any blood had been reduced to the finest of ash and blew clean in the swift motion before she sheathed it.

* * *

His group of seven approached the walls after the briefest of delays to tend to any bothersome wounds and partake of a few mana potions. Kennith needed none, his own actions consumed only a small amount of his reserves as had been planned. Performing the needed healings was similarly trivial, he tended quickly to his knights, then set to work on his own body while on the move.

Time was of the essence; if the wyrm escaped to the open skies, it'd mean even more trouble. Confident in the vast number and skill of its guard, it hadn't made for the surface sooner; or perhaps it just didn't care if its guard fell. Anyone making it this far would be worn down, by its way of thinking, and most normal troops would in fact have such issues. The problem with such complacency was that the blood of the kin rose to meet the wyrm this time. Neither would back down, and the battle ahead would mean the end of his knights or the end of the wyrm. Kennith squared himself in determination that their meeting would lead to the latter of these outcomes.

Beyond them, the walls had been haphazardly broken, or at least it seemed so at first glance. This would have been a great receiving hall in its time, and beyond it, probably the main throne room. Two mana sources resided here, one held in the chamber beyond, and one rising quickly from the depths below.

Gallend nodded at the massive breach points, "These were widened so the wyrm would fit. It may seem arbitrary, but the beast knew enough to not weaken the structure beyond holding. The part that worries me is the way the walls have been made sound; it's like my own workings, but the scale is such that'd it take me nearly a week straight to do it."

Kennith nodded, the mana from below was nearing the ground level at a rapid pace. At his signal, the knights sprinted off towards positions best for their customary roles. Rose stood with Kennith at the fore, while Joseph seemed to melt with the shadows cast against the nearest wall. Gallend took a position at the east most corner of the vast chamber, while Leonard used the Wind to speed beyond to the space sealed ahead. Fara and Balas took the northeast and southwest walls and so the net was set.

Judging by the open flaunting of its Base, the wyrm was indeed of Shade. In the center of the tiled floor was a massive hole, scarred by countless journeys into and out of the depths by clawed feet. Perhaps this was dug by the wyrm itself, or maybe one if its allies. Gallend's words troubled the captain. This one was of the Shade; if another of the Earth was also present, and someone with the Earth had to have performed the workings his second described, he would lack the manpower needed to deal with it. Time, however, prevented the sort of caution to find out the truth of the matter. For now, only a single mana source was mobile, and that at least held some promise.

"Show yourself, wyrm." Kennith used the same technique he had on the battlefield as he boomed his challenge to the creature rising from the depths of the earth.

Such language, and from such small things indeed. No matter their Base, both dragons and wyrms spoke directly to the minds of their selected audience. The voice boomed in each knight's head as if shouted from mere feet away. A wyrm's fear started with such tactics and those untrained would often fall victim to the very first assault. To make demands in my own home of all places.

"Wrong aged one, this place is no longer yours," Kennith projected himself even louder, "By my own blood I claim it, and by your blood spilled the claim shall be sealed." It was an age old taunt passed down by the kin. If the thing was of sufficient age, he'd know the taunt was used originally between dra gons before humans and kin walked the lands.

Such words indeed, the wyrm's head rose beyond the threshold of the lower entrance. That the pit hadn't closed up was a sign that Gallend was still unraveling the intricate workings placed here. To circumvent these , his second was improvising as small layers of soil and sand flowed in from the plentiful mud outside. Its effective mass was much smaller than the stone here, but the working had to be small enough to not draw outright attention.

The beast's head alone was nearly as large as Kennith's torso. Many of the legends surrounding dragons and wyrms exaggerated the size of the creatures, but that wasn't to say they weren't massive in their own right. Scales as black as midnight gave rise to a multitude of horns projecting backwards from just behind the creature's small ears; a natural barrier in addition to the scaled armor that served to shield the more vulnerable portions of its neck.

True to its ego, the wyrm oozed Shade in every direction, threatening to drown out their own mana. Joseph was forcibly ejected from his cover of Shade with a none too pleased look . None of that mind you. That my offspring would fall to such cheap tricks... A gleam of hatred sparked in the creature's black eyes. The loss of its guard was a painful one then. It turned its head back to glaring at Kennith, But that you of all those here speak of blood, when yours is so painfully thin? Perhaps not as clouded as the half-breed; though related, Ice and Water should never inhabit the same creature. That this, the wyrm gestured towards Balas, thing, exists at all is troublesome; but your blood is even thinner still.

The captain added just a bit more bravado. It may not be the wisest of things, but finding a crack in the wyrm's mental armor was the first step in unraveling it. Even if it meant bringing the creature's fury to the fore. "Not as thin as your spawn's though. His evaporated well before it even reached the ground. Piss thin I'm afraid."

Any hint of taunting humor left the wyrm's features, replaced by a restrained coldness. And yours couldn't be any thinner, lest it runs from you by breath alone. In an instant the wyrm pulled itself from its hole. It struck with a speed unfitting a creature of its size; Joseph's training alone kept him from being split in two by the creature's tail as he rolled deftly to the side. Leonard tried to block the follow through with his Wind, but the strike was reinforced with a level of mana equal to what one of the knights contained fully on their own.

Gallend's own workings softened the blow, the sands reacting to the first movement by creating a cushioning against the wall behind each knight; it was this act which left his second vulnerable. Shade in a concentration easily four times what the half-blood had conjured pierced clear through the knight's armor. Though enchanted to resist such an attack, it did little more than slow the onslaught as a hole was bore clear through the man's chest.

Kennith sprang to Gallend's aid, attempting to block the remainder of the strike, even as Rose called forth her Flame. While the wyrm batted off the effects of her attack; Lighting, Ice, and Water struck in unison. The attempt to distract the beast needed to work for just a short while.

Any attempt at hiding his Base was abandoned. "Dammit," Kennith forced Light into the wound; a crude casting by any measure. Gallend's heart had been missed by the merest of margins, it was a small wonder the man still drew breath. Though gifted in the healing arts, there were limits to the captain's skills; and the dead, no matter how recently so, couldn't be revived by any means he knew of. Where tissue bled, the Light held fast, stemming the loss of blood and holding what the man had left in circulation. It'd have to do.

So that was the reason for your lack of Base, hiding it then? The wyrm smirked in satisfaction, a sickening gaze that lingered as Kennith rose from his fallen comrade. But what of it, your power is muted so much that you can barely hold his life anchored to this realm. Tell me, how thin is my blood then. Perhaps I shall be merciful and make the second strike pierce cleanly through his skull. Pity, being forced to follow one so powerless.

The captain had no tricks up his sleeve, no convenient ploy to use here save the Light itself. A quick glance around showed that Leonard was beginning to rise as anger flared in the man's features. Rose was equally enraged, as were the rest of the knights. Balas glared with a menace unfitting his usually kind demeanor, while Fara chanted something in her native tongue that sounded like more like a curse than he would have liked under normal circumstances.

Some part of his mind was distracted by the unique flow that battles with creatures of this magnitude took. Brutal, fast, and decisive; it made the protracted engagement with the half-blood seem trivial by comparison. The Light was spread thinly across the space now, taking in each feature and feeding it to his mind directly. It wasn't a unique casting, but rather something that happened each time he fought and released control over his Base. As such, it constantly drained his reserves, but it made him all the more effective in moments such as this as a captain.

Perhaps if he'd done this sooner, he could have intercepted the wyrm's strike, but that concern could be dealt with later. The sands moving slowly, each grain guided carefully towards the wyrm's feet, left little room for doubt that his second, bad as he was, was still working towards their aim. The wyrm wouldn't notice this; Shade concealed, even as Light examined everything, and sheer ego hid the rest.

The wyrm itself fell under the Light's gaze. Its massive scales coursing over its hide in interlocked patterns leaving no place unguarded. Even the creature's belly was heavily armored, though not perfectly so. Massive scars crossed the thing's chest, here where the pattern wasn't perfect...

Kennith blinked quickly. Less than a second had passed, and if the wyrm noticed this lapse it hadn't acted on it. Perhaps it thought he'd slipped into despair, though it didn't matter what the beast thought. Let it contemplate the issue in its dying breath. Kennith rallied his reserves into a single point, holding it at the pommel of his blade and glancing back into the hated depths of the wyrm's eyes.

"Piss thin, wyrm." The captain added no mana to his answer as the extra volume wasn't needed, "Warm, salty piss thin." Each word was said with a cadence that dared the enemy to act.

The deafening roar that echoed within the stonework walls was its answer, and also the signal for the knights to spring into action. Earth worked against the thing's feet, holding it firm. Ice and Lighting pelted its hide from above while Flame shot directly at the wyrm's face blinding its view and Wind buffeted the massive wings. Joseph's command of the Shade was tested as he strained to just keep the blow meant for Kennith at several inches above the tiled floor.

The captain shot forward and slid, aided by what sands could be spared by his second's workings. His team worked in unison, each a vital cog in their machine that ground relentlessly towards their foe's demise. Kennith knew where the point was, and in a final act, forced his remaining mana into the tip of his sword as he thrust upward.

Of each Base, Light has the most flexibility to be cast wide, or narrowed to a point that can find a mark smaller than anyone gives it credit for. The wyrm probably didn't even feel the initial strike, but blow left a gaping wound clear through to the creature's back, blowing the armored scales loose as the hide was torn apart in ragged chunks from beneath.

The roar of challenge twisted into one of fear and pain as his knights instantly focused on the exposed flesh. In a twist of irony, Balas shifted his Base to that of Water striking deep into the wound. What the wyrm saw as a weakness became the linchpin of its death; Flame entered the space, carried by the fury known uniquely to the Katari family which caused the water to vaporize instantly. The wyrm's torso ruptured like a tightly lidded kettle under too much pressure.

* * *

Leonard was the first to Gallend's aid after the fall of the wyrm, practically pouring the healing elixir down the man's throat. Thankfully, the knight avoided choking and the potion was able to do its work under the watchful eyes of Balas and Fara. He would need proper treatment, sooner rather than later, but the initial danger to his life was rapidly diminishing.

Kennith barely had the strength to maneuver himself from under the gore left behind by the wyrm's entrails, though he was aided by Rose pulling on the exposed portion of his left boot. Joseph sank to the floor, exhausted by the effort to deflect the killing strike that would have ended his captain, and remained there taking rapid breaths as if he'd just run a marathon in a minute.

Rose's clean hand reached for Kennith's bloodied one and pulled him into a sitting position. "Whatever manner of madness brought that one on, don't do it again. There's easier ways to earn forgiveness, Captain, but with that show I suppose I can let the half-blood's end go."

Joseph managed a forced laugh in between breaths, "Well if that's all it takes, bring on the wyrms. I could get myself into plenty of trouble, then out of it again." After a longer breath, he continued his jest, "Up for it?"

Rose shot the knight a warning glance, thought it was halfhearted at best. She fished out a mana potion from her own stores and handed it to Kennith while mumbling about a shadowy bastard lounging against the wall.

With a nod of thanks, the captain drank the pungent liquid, then forced himself to his feet. "Alright, enough. There's one more thing we need to look into, but first I want to check on Gallend myself. Half-assed job I did back there couldn't have held too well."

Leonard shook his head, "Kept him alive, no thanks to me." The knight blamed himself for his compatriot's injuries. The man's control over the Wind was nearly on par with Rose's command over Flame. That the wyrm could so easily break through it was as shocking to Kennith as it was to Leonard in the first place.

The captain gave the knight's shoulder a quick pat as he passed by, "That's on me as well. Didn't know any of them could move like that, but we watch out for each other. Gallend's fast when he needs to be, and so you're both here; count it as something learned."

With some of his mana stores replenished, Kennith was able to quickly ascertain Gallend's condition. The wound was healing at an advanced rate, and the rush patchwork was holding. With a bit of fine tuning to the initial working and another elixir or two, he'd be able to move about, but he'd need the services of a well trained healer to look everything over. Being of the Light and from a family of famed healers to begin with, the captain at least had some level of field grade skills. He had to use these a few times too many for his own comfort as of late. The jobs were getting ever more dangerous, and his own luck would eventually fail to hold.

Gallend, for all the man had been through, managed a weak smile from under the ever-bushy mustache and a slight nod. He'd make it, as they all would, at least this time.

* * *

The throne room had been sealed using the same workings that were preformed on the rest of the structure. The knights made camp within the remains of the receiving hall, the chances of the undead rising were slim to none with the death of their master, but the rains remained a constant fixture drumming against the stonework. This gave Gallend a chance to recover even further, but it still left the group without proper bedding or a properly dry space to call their own.

Rather than unraveling the entire workings completely, Gallend spent most of the next two days slowly prodding the southwestern facing wall that Leonard had been flung against. The rest of the knights took turns between watch duties, removing the wyrm's carcass, and securing provisions from the floors below. A treasure horde could contain anything from valuable bobbles to exotic food stuffs and in the same space, worthless trash. Wine, along with other less potent drink and preserved foods, were what the knights were after.

On the third day, the final working on the wall had been undone which allowed a large portion of the stonework to be removed with relative ease, under Gallend's strict oversight of course. The chamber had been sealed tight for centuries and it reeked of long stale air. By the time the wall was mostly cleared away, the space had aired out, at least to the point of being bearable to stand within. Kennith had set simple cantrips to work by; several stones set in the ceiling gave off a bright glow which illuminated the space with a slightly bluish tint.

Sitting in front of two long decayed wooden thrones, backed by ancient tapestries, a single red orb sat neatly on a stone pillar some four feet in height. Of all the castle remnants in Rain's Fall, this room alone had been spared the moisture brought on by the constant barrage. The stoic faces of what one could only guess as long passed monarchs adorned the fabrics, each seeming to keep watch over the pedestal and its single occupant.

Kennith reached towards the orb, using his Light to carefully examine the mysterious sphere. The orb was the second mana source he felt; indeed, it seemed to be the very thing powering the torrential rains above if he read the flow correctly. The sphere wasn't a uniform color; instead, it swirled in various shades of crimson with an occasional streak of gold here and there.

He had no doubts that the orb was some form of seal: a work of several combined Bases that had been molded into this carefully worked construct which siphoned mana from whatever it contained. Light, Wind, and Water were heavily used; Shade was also present, as was Earth, and even a touch of Lightning. Of the Bases, only Ice and Flame weren't present in the seal's creation. That such a thing could be made in the first place was astounding. Great care had been taken in the making of this orb, and if he guessed correctly, unbalancing the working would cause the seal and the whole system supporting the rains to fail.

By the start of the fourth day, Gallend was far more mobile; though he'd still need the services of a healer to see that everything was as it should be. The rest of the knights were also fairing better without the long marches through great swaths of the undead. If they wanted to avoid drudging back through the near bogs, the simplest way would be to solve the issue of the rains; and that meant breaking the orb's seal.

Kennith hadn't physically touched the thing, nor had he let anyone else do so. After ordering his knights back outside, though they were stationed just beyond the entry, the captain entered the space. He lifted the orb from it's spot, noting that the change in position hadn't caused a disturbance to the rains outside or the mana's flow. Whatever had been done to craft the thing, chances are it was created elsewhere and secured in the throne room afterwards.

Choosing discretion over valor, the captain set the orb carefully back on it's pedestal and moved back to the wall line. The working he was about to perform would merely remove the Light's presence from the seal, which should bring about the end to the perpetually foul weather. It'd also probably unleash whatever was sealed within. If there was some sort of explosion or a massive mana discharge, he'd at least be thrown back through the opening, or so he hoped.

"Alright. Here we go." With those words Kennith shut his eyes and forced his Light into the workings encasing the orb. These were complex things, far beyond his own knowledge and he failed to even guess at what each component was doing. He could see the effects well enough, but the underlying system was well past anything he had ever encountered. Whoever had set this in motion had planned it out with a meticulous hand, bordering on madness.

Wherever Light was present, Kennith marked it, tracing each strand throughout the construct. Even this small bit of interference disturbed the workings in ways that manifested themselves beyond the walls. The rains would shift between lessening to suddenly intensifying with gusts of Wind intermixed. At taking hold of the final strand of Light, Kennith pulled them all out in one swift act. It took almost all of his reserves to do so, but the task was done.

In less time than it took for his eyes to adjust after opening them, the orb cracked violently with spider web like fissures surrounding its surface. Kennith felt the mana surge a moment before the seal completely gave way.

A roar echoed within the throne room as a full grown dragon, red as crimson with golden horns, staggered forth before collapsing in a pool of its own blood. Deep wounds covered nearly every surface of its hide. Claw and tooth of various sizes had wreaked havoc across it, leaving no space unmarked. The creature's wings were shredded and broken, the tip of it's snout was torn nearly in half from whatever had assaulted it.

"Gods, what was done here?" The captain heard the exclamation from his third even as he rushed towards the dying creature.

"Mana potions, now!" Kennith worked furiously to pull and sort every last bottle in his stores, even as he reached out with his what was left of his Light to staunch the bleeding. "Healing too. Save me three, no four of the mana. Nothing else spared, it all goes in on my mark."

How the hell had this been done? Shit, she's loosing blood too damned fast. "Rose and Balas, clean then cauterize everywhere that's not entering her chest or abdomen." At their shocked looks he added, "Now!"

Damn it, you've made it out of that blasted thing, fucking fight! Live! "Leo, vent the smoke. Gallend, pack anywhere that's oozing that they haven't gotten to, quickly and tightly!" Kennith hefted the dragon's head onto his knees, gravity would work if swallowing was beyond her. "Fara, I've got her throat closed enough, potions, now!"

The captain rattled off instructions as fast as he could think of them while casting his own workings. He downed the first of his four mana potions just minutes after starting as he felt his reserves begin to waver. " Joseph, quickly, bind her wings. Use Shade until we can find something more permanent, but keep the bones straight as you can ."

Half lidded eyes blinked while the knights worked. The whole scene had to be odd looking, like insects pouring over a larger animal's carcass with the aim of stitching it back together rather than dismantling it . Each motion must have been agonizing, but was it any worse than being kept in such a state for so long? Would it even be sane or recognize their actions as trying to help? Each stray thought was pushed aside as t ime wore on. He'd given no less than his full efforts in putting the wyrms and their ilk down during hunts such as this one; d id a dragon deserve no less when it came to saving it , regardless of the outcome?

With the most critical of the wounds tended, he spread Light over the dragon's length once more in search for any spot he may have missed that needed to be treated with urgency. How long had they been working, and how long would the dragon persist? Gods only knew how a body could be so injured; the amount was staggering. Even at fourteen feet long, there was little more than a few square inches of hide separating the horrific gashes and punctures where scales had been ripped free. The only saving grace in all this was that little internal damage had been done. In spite of the sheer viciousness of the attack, none had landed a decisive killing blow. Yes, he'd pushed a few organs back in place and stitched the whole thing shut with Light, after fusing sections of her digestive track back together; but everything else at least... He let the thought trail off as he found another small area of bleeding to mend.

* * *

With the stoppage of the rains, Kennith had ordered for flares signaling the need for healers, supplies and transport; along with the green of a successful mission and red that indicated their urgency. Gallend seemed in good health, the dragon considerably less so, and the rest of his knights had only minor scrapes and bruises which would heal well enough on their own thanks to their heritage.

Of the dragon's limbs, the left hind leg had been broken clean at the thigh. The right was shattered just below the knee, though her foot and ankle seemed mostly in tact. Her front limbs faired no better; a crushing bite had done extensive damage to the right, while on the left, her shoulder was pulled out of its socket and her arm broken at the elbow. Her wings were held fast against her body, the bones kept straight and held in place directly with his Light and casts crafted by Gallend from the Earth. Kennith had taken extra care in this task; if the dragon were to recover, the wings needed to be correct. The flight membranes could be coaxed into healing later, but a badly set bone would cripple her beyond being airborne.

Kennith downed the last of his mana potions as he worked well into the night; for once with a clear sky and drying ground just yards from where he pieced her limbs back together. This perhaps was the most painful of tasks, each fragment of bone was slowly aligned and painstakingly moved back into its proper place before moving onto the next. Through it all, the dragon only blinked; it's flank twitching as bone traveled back through muscle until Kennith moved to work on the next piece.

Hours later, the captain slumped down to the floor. He'd nearly exhausted all his reserves, and he could ill afford to deplete his mana entirely. Recovering from that would take a full two weeks, and it was the same reason he'd ordered the majority of the potions given to the dragon. She'd been drained for centuries, to the point of near death even excluding her physical state. The orb kept her sealed with no means to recover and no means to escape. Suspended for what would seem like an eternity to a human, even one of the kin, was cruel beyond measure. If the wyrm had anything to play in this, it'd gotten off lightly compared to what it truly deserved.

Gallend formed the final casting over her front leg. The man's physical strength was beginning to return, his stout constitution was probably better than any other two knights combined. The dragon had been laid on her side against the polished stone floor, gently shifted that way to facilitate keeping her limbs aligned as best they could. It made for a sad picture indeed; the proud creature held fast by shackles crafted of Earth, as if stuck in some daft way of holding livestock without a pen.

Throughout everything, the only sound the dragon uttered was her initial roar after being released. Even now it held its peace, the slits of her golden eyes trained on the captain's every movement but remaining steadfastly silent. Her crimson snout was at least back in one piece, more or less, though Light was binding it until her own healing process could fully mend the tissue.

Perhaps it was near madness on his part, but the worst was done. Most would have spared the dragon such pains, choosing perhaps what was a mercy in ending her life; but the dragon had fought to keep herself within the mortal realm, and Kennith couldn't deny her every effort in aiding her to do so.

He pushed himself upright, stiff and sore, but in severe need of answering nature's call. He briefly knelt beside the dragon, his hand resting on her head just above the golden horns, "I'll be right back. Rest as best you can, but let me know if you need anything when I return."

It'd take a while before the paths dried into something of a passable state. Until then, horses would need to carry supplies into their camp while foregoing any sort of cart. Muddy though it was, a stout farm horse could plod its way into the center of the castle grounds carrying a rider, healer, and some basic supplies. Even with this, he didn't expect any support until morning. Having relieved himself some distance from the camp and taking a moment to wash himself, he returned to the throne room carrying his bedroll and a tray with both suitable drink and a selection of meats brought from the stores below.

Balas and Joseph had both checked over the supplies and removed anything of questionable content. This was mainly beef with a variety of spices applied during the preserving process that gave each piece a unique flavor. It wasn't bad, but fresh would have been a far more substantial meal to their bound guest.

"Alright, can I lift your head? The bedroll will be far more pleasant than stone, even if it smells a bit like me."

The golden eyes shifted from the tray to the roll and back to the knight. A single blink was given in answer, followed by a very slow, and undoubtedly painful, lifting of her head. Kennith slid the bedding under as fast as he could and gently pressed against her horns so she'd know it was ready. Her head dropped instantly, earning a small exhale at the released tension of her neck.

The dragon's mana hadn't recovered in the slightest, though the captain hoped this was due to an excess of it being spent on the critical task of healing. The potions could do much, but they only had so many in supply, and even fully stocked, they wouldn't have enough to account for the extent of her injuries. This was probably the reason for her silence; a dragon's snout, even uninjured, was ill-shaped for anything resembling what humans spoke.

"The water was made by Balas, so it's about as pure as you can find. The meats were plundered from below and checked for anything fouling." Kennith stroked behind the dragon's ear, it was the least injured place and would hopefully be seen as a reassuring gesture. "Sorry for the indignity here, but I'll be handling your feeding as best I can until we get more supplies in. Should be here by mid morning."

Wit that, he pulled the tray over and shifted himself beside her. It certainly was an indignity, but he lifted her massive head, with no small amount of effort, and set it down across his legs. Her neck was at a odd angle, but her snout was pointed more upward than before so he could at least get the food in her mouth; she'd need to do the rest.

* * *

Kennith wasn't aware of dozing off. He had every intent to stay awake beside his charge until the supplies arrived, but the previous day and long night had worn his energy down beyond the ability to fight the hold of sleep. "Captain," Rose's voice sounded through the fog, pulling his mind back to a waking state. "Horses have been spotted, ours of course, about a half hour out. Runners too, from the east, but those are holding distance." His third wrinkled her nose, "Not that I blame them mind you; with the spell broken, the ground's littered with dead baking under the sun."

"Better than them running around. Have Gallend make pits outside of the castle grounds. Move them there and burn them. We'll mark the mounds." It was the safest way he could think of dealing with the remnants of the horde.

Rose barely contained her look of disgust at the appointed task but answered in kind, "By my Flame, we'll see it done."

He'd left the knights pretty much to their own devices and so they'd taken to the castle grounds, mapped things out, and formed their own plans accordingly. They knew well enough what had to be done, and his own time was better spent monitoring the dragon's progress as well as just resting and rebuilding his own mana stores.

A small movement caught the corner of his eye. The dragon had shifted her crimson head so she could meet his gaze. It was faint, but she was finally able to project her thoughts clearly. Your name, little one. Tell it to me.

He couldn't hide his smile at the sign of improvement in her condition, "Kennith Fairmont, Captain actually, at your service."

Her golden eye blinked in satisfaction, the clear inner membrane closing slowly before the outer lid, Then you can finally hear me. This is good. Slower than I'd like, but good. The pain was evident even through her mental sharing.

"You're able to speak, though. It's slow, as you said, but progress." He reached his hand out, tentatively, and received what amounted to non-verbal approval in his thoughts. The dragoness did enjoy the spot behind her ear rubbed, as she felt it worth the effort to move her head to grant him better access. "While we're in the way of introductions though..."

Hmm. A deep purr like noise built within the dragon's body and she held her eyes closed as she answered, In times past, long past, my arrogance led me to the title of Wyrm's Bane. Perhaps one day I will be led there again. For now, though, Azia will suffice.