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The Cost of Freedom

Written By: Skabaard

Valorie had never run so hard in her life. Icy dread the likes of which she had felt only a few times in her life crawled along her spine as she sprinted down the broad, open hallway of the Sanctum Arcanum. Her booted feet pounded on the smooth stone, her ever-polished Argentum armor jingling like fine chimes as she pushed her hard, muscular body to its limits. She didn't have time to weave around groups of other lancers, and she vaulted cleanly over the head of a shocked husky, who, a split second too late, dropped to the floor behind her.

Why did Daryn's home have to be so fucking big?! Even knowing where he was, it took forever to reach him. The innocent-looking piece of paper she had on her person was burning a hole in her pocket. She didn't know what to do. This was different than the others. She didn't know if Daryn would know what to do either, but he needed to know. Valorie hoped Clara was with him, as she usually was when she was in the Sanctum. She needed to be there too.

She practically kicked down the door to one of the Sanctum's spacious libraries, heaving a relieved sight when she saw the two dragons within. The Archmage was seated at a massive, wooden desk sized for a creature of his stature, and Clara was leaning heavily on him, peering over his shoulder as she watched him writing something with enraptured interest.

Daryn gave a start, and even Clara stood upright. A concerned expression stretched slowly over the Archmage's savage, draconic visage. He was enormous, a few inches more than fourteen feet in height, and his thick, powerful frame was heavily layered with slabs of dense muscle. The black longcoat he was almost constantly wearing couldn't hope to close over his broad chest, and it showed the black onyx scales that lined his front from just under his chin to the tip of his thick, muscular tail.

Overlapping scales the color of polished gold covered the rest of him, and he sat back in his chair as he peered curiously at Valorie with crystalline, sapphire eyes. "Valorie," he rumbled, his voice nearly powerful enough to rattle the glass of the windows lining the wall behind him, "What's the matter? You look... shaken." He cocked his head to the side, pushing his writing aside and rising to his robustly muscled legs, which were capped with wickedly clawed, digitigrade feet. "What's wrong?"

Valorie trotted wordlessly over and slapped the pouch that had been given to her down onto the dragon's sturdy desk. "I'm scared, Daryn. This was just given to me a few minutes ago. I don't know what to do. No one's done anything like this before."

Clara eyed the equine for a moment before sliding next to Daryn as he dumped the contents of the pouch into his palm. The dragoness was a polar opposite of the Archmage, Silver and white instead of gold and black, lithe and graceful, but powerfully muscular in a svelte, feminine way, with brilliant emerald eyes. Daryn tossed the pouch aside. It had contained a folded piece of fine parchment, a letter written to the Silver Lance, and to Daryn in particular, and something smaller and much more ominous:

A single scale of polished bronze, tiny in the dragon's fingers.

The Archmage frowned and leaned in to sniff the scale thoughtfully. "And who gave this to you?" he asked with forced calm.

The horse morph swallowed noisily. "Lancer Melana. She and Emma were going to Timbergrove to investigate a few disappearances. Mel was found a bit ago in the back of an unexplained cart, trussed up and unconscious." She gritted her teeth angrily. "The pouch was used to gag her. I made sure she was being seen to and ran here as fast as I could."

Valorie could see the tension in the dragon's jaw as he unfolded the letter with dainty fingers, reading it carefully. He remained perfectly still, but Clara, who leaned in to read it too, showed emotion enough for them both. The dragoness's shoulders rose as her lips peeled back from her savage teeth in a furious snarl, and her tapering tail thrashed through the air behind her. A growl rumbled through her chest, and her ivory clawed fingers balled into defiant fists.

The equine took a nervous step back when she heard as much as saw a thin sheet of ice spread over the floor from the silver creature's feet, spreading slowly over the stone in a branching spider web of frost. And then it hit her. Valorie's breath clouded in front as a glacial chill washed over her, making her warm, chocolate-brown fur want to stand on end, and she shivered in spite of herself. Before she had the opportunity to feel truly cold, however, she was abruptly shoved into a potter's kiln.

She immediately began to sweat, and it felt like that sweat immediately evaporated as the temperature climbed and climbed. Even Clara blinked in surprise, looking over at Daryn. The huge dragon peered curiously at the parchment in his onyx claws as it crisped and blackened, crumbling to powder and wafting away. "I think..." mused the Archmage, "that this might have made me a bit upset." He looked again at the little scale in his hand and heaved a measured sigh. With the released breath came a cloud of inky, black smoke the billowed from his nostrils, and the dull red glow of barely contained flame flickered between his teeth. "People..." Words spoken like he wasn't one.

He leaned down to rest his hands on his desk, the wood of which was beginning to scorch and smoke from the heat, appearing almost thoughtful for a moment. Straightening abruptly, he turned to Clara, taking her head in his hands and leaning down again to press thin draconic lips between her horns. "Don't worry, Love." he murmured with impossible affection, "I'll be back soon. I'll bring her back safely; I promise."

Clara pressed herself into him for a brief moment. "Okay." With that, and a quick hug that kept Valorie roasting in her armor for what seemed like an eternity, the Archmage whispered a few quiet words and disappeared with a thunderous crack of collapsing air.

The heat dissipated as the implosion echoed to silence around her. Valorie blinked numbly at the sudden absence of all sound, snapping back to reality as the dragoness shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot, scales rasping against the stone of the floor. "What the fuck, Clara?" Valorie cried, shocked.

An elegantly horned head angled curiously in her direction. "What do you mean, Valorie?"

The armored horse morph put her arms out like she expected more than that. "Okay...?" What do you mean, "Okay?!" You can't just let him leave like that. That letter didn't have any useful information on it! What if it's a trap?! It's got to be a trap! No one in their right mind would kidnap a dragon and then just send a letter like that!"

The dragoness raised a thickly scaled eyebrow and crossed her arms under her more-than-ample bust. "I think you underestimate the stupidity of humans, Valorie."

She just groaned and rolled her eyes. "Okay... even if I am, why would you let him put himself at risk like that? He's not some deathless demigod, damnit! He can get hurt! You and I've both seen it happen! Why... why not tell him to at least take us with him. I could go get Dawn, the whole Lance, everyone! Why did you let him go alone?!" She threw her foot into the scarred desk, scooting the heavy construction across the floor a few feet. "Damnit! She's a Lancer! She's my responsibility!" She jabbed her thumb into her chest viciously. "I should be the one going after her, me and every Lancer with me! This is my fault, damnit! I should have told them to wait for Tobias!" She wanted to tear her hair out in frustration.

Taking cool, deliberate breaths, Clara's eyes followed her as the equine began to pace up and down the room. "This is hardly your fault, Valorie. Every Lancer knows the risks they take by donning their capes, and I assure you, if they were able to subdue Emendata and Melana, another would have done them little good."

She rounded on the dragoness, "That's exactly my point! Why aren't you worried about this?! You can't have just let him go! She's your daughter, for Amara's sake! What happened to all that anger! Why aren't you doing anything-"

Before she could punctuate her sentence, the dragoness was on her. Her feet were swept off of the ground as clawed fingers gripped her upper arms with unforgiving strength, and the wind was knocked out of her as her back was shoved against a smooth stone wall. "Do not..." Clara hissed venomously into nervously flicking, equine ears, "Do not insult me by mistaking my calm for a lack of concern, you insolent whelp! There is no other creature alive I would rather take my place in seeing my child brought back to me than he, none other I would trust with her safety above myself! I am only containing a rage you could not possibly comprehend because releasing it would serve no purpose! What would I have to gain in grinding this place to dust around me and scouring every hill from here to the Ordis Mountains clean of life until my child was found and her captors pulp at my feet?! It would take me ages, and countless innocents would die by my mindless hands! The man I trust above all others is far better equipped to handle such a search, and you and I both know that he would have never taken us with him if he could have at all helped it! You do him a disservice by not trusting his judgment!"

Clara dropped her suddenly, and Valorie barely managed to land on her feet. She was thrown even more off-balance when the scaled mother dropped solidly to her knees and wrapped arms around the equine in an insecure embrace. "And I'm afraid, Valorie."

Returning the unexpected hug awkwardly, she mumbled, "That's my point, I th-"

"No." the dragoness interjected with a squeeze, "Not afraid for her. She could be in no better hands. I am afraid for him, not what they might try to do to him, but what he will surely do to them. I have felt it only a couple times before, Valorie, his rage. If they have done any more damage to our daughter than that single scale, he will destroy them, wholly and utterly, and I'm afraid that it will destroy him in turn."

The silver-scaled beauty sagged against her, and Valorie hugged her tightly and encouragingly. "All the more reason to find her first, then." She pushed the dragoness to her feet and jogged over to the door, throwing it open, "Come on. He may not have let you come with him, but you're sure as hell coming with me. We've got to get Dawn... or the Twins. Whoever took Emma may have used magic to hide her, but there's got to be a way around it. Nothing's perfect." Dragging Clara along behind her, she loped through the halls, gathering up every idle Lancer she saw on her way.

After a split-second of weightlessness, his spell deposited him where the letter had told him to meet his contact. He felt cold and numb, his reptilian visage nothing more than an emotionless mask. That was best. He could feel it roaring under his scales, indignant fury, disbelief at such foolishness. Part of him, a deeper part, urged his thinking mind to release his control over his emotions, let him rage, but that wasn't going to help anyone, and he kept it tenuously contained for now.

Daryn analyzed his surroundings. It was a warehouse, barely a mile from the Sanctum. He swept his eyes over it. There were few people nearby; that was good. Afterward, he closed them, taking a deep breath. Past the reek of the city, he smelled few unfamiliar scents. Casting his senses out, he found what he was looking for. There was a spell, a thin thread of magic that was bound to something in the structure. Frustratingly, it source was hidden from him, so he couldn't just skip this arduous step. He could tell what it did though, and it didn't much concern him.

He entered, stooping low to wedge his bulk through the broad-but-far-too-short doorway. Inside it was dark and grimy, smoky oil lamps providing wan, yellow light that would have barely been adequate for a cat. He wasn't a cat, and his sharp, draconic eyes easily picked out the only other person in the room, sitting casually, one digitigrade leg thrown over the other, on a wooden crate.

The arrogance in the smile that crossed his host's reptilian snout sickened him. Scales that were a muted green covered his thin, lanky body. "A pleasure to meet you at last, Archmage." he said smoothly, spitting the last work like an epithet. "I wish it could have been under... better circumstances." The dragon took a couple thunderous steps forward to loom over him before taking a knee to peer into his fearless, yellow eyes, pupils dilated from the darkness. "Yes, yes, dragon. That's all very intimidating. Just know that if anything... unpleasant happens to me, your pretty, little lady will be in even more dire straits."

Arrogant_and_ stupid beyond all comprehension, it was disgusting. "That's where you're wrong, I'm afraid." Daryn corrected, no hint of emotion touching his resonant bass; it was too dangerous to feel right now. "You see; you kidnapped a Lancer, an act of foolishness in and of itself I have trouble comprehending, but that isn't all she is. She's a dragon, and the daughter of dragons, but that still isn't all she is. She is my daughter, my daughter. You clearly know who and what I am. What, in all your vain pride, made you think that I, the Archmage, arguably the most powerful wizard alive, would be unable to twist that little monitoring spell back on itself, putting it on a loop?"

He let out a controlled breath, lowering himself to the ground in front of his host. "Yes, I'm sure, if you are anything to go by, that whoever cast that spell on you would be stupid enough to try... try to hurt my daughter if they felt you under duress, but that spell is now feeding whatever feeble sorcerer cast it you as you were a minute ago, perfectly fine, waiting for me to arrive. I could tear you in half, and they would be none the wiser until they thought to look for your body. I would make sure they found it." The skinny lizard swallowed noisily, and the dragon let himself smile in dull satisfaction. Fear was good.

He continued casually, calmly. "But I'm not going to tear you in half. Making such a mess would serve no purpose. Instead, I'm going to give you a choice between two options. One: You can tell me where you are keeping my child, and I can leave to collect her. I would much rather take that route, because it would be much easier on both of us, not to mention faster. But if you are so glued to your wasted arrogance not to see that, I will instead pry into your mind and tear the information out of you. It would be almost as quick, for me at least, but not so much for you. You see, the spell interferes with how your mind processes time. A few second for me would be hours, days for you, and the whole time, you would be able to know nothing but a sensation not entirely dissimilar to an angry farmer jabbing a pitchfork into your skull again, and again, and again." He laid a single clawed finger on the terrified lizard's forehead, above and between his eyes. "Maybe I'll take my time, spend a few extra seconds verifying that the information's good. I would hate to make a mistake. You wouldn't be able to move, blink, or breathe. It would be ages of pointless torture for something you can just give me now, under your own power." He pressed his finger forward for emphasis, his claw poking effortlessly through scaly hide to draw out a few drops of blood. "What do you choose?"

Finger's shaking almost too much to manage it, the lizard reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch, laying it hesitantly in the palm that Daryn extended. "Th-they said you'd... you'd b-be able to find her w-with th-th-this."

Emptying the pouch, Daryn hummed inquisitively at a rough cube of finely cut crystal. The lizard stuttered around a word, a word to which he likely didn't even know the meaning, and the dragon felt a small spell thrum to life in the rock. It was simple, nothing more than a set of magically inscribed directions, a landing point for a teleportation spell he would have to cast himself.

That was enough for him, and he rose back to his feet, looking down his snout at the panicked lizard. "I suggest," he rumbled with a frown, "that you do some thinking about the choices you've made that brought you here." The lizard nodded frantically without another word. "Good..." Sneering at the crystal, tiny in his palm, he shook his head sadly. With a few words and a surge of energy that tingled briefly along his form, he was gone with a cracking boom that likely would have left the lizard temporarily deafened.

She woke up with start as someone splashed a gallon of icy water over her body. Blinking her eyes, she uttered a hoarse curse into the metallic bit they had shoved between her teeth before they had muzzled her. She wished they would quit doing that. Grunting and giving her a salacious leer, her wake-up call left the cramped tent where they were keeping her.

As she did every time they had awakened her, she tested her bonds, pitting her overwhelming draconic strength against them. She let out a muffled snarl when they held stubbornly. Still secured, then. Ordinary metal she would have been eventually able to bend enough to free her, but she was chained and shackled by lengths and bands of unyielding eversteel, and even her powerful body was unable to break free, no matter how she struggled.

She regretted not waiting until later to take advantage of their sub-par fettering of her tail. She had managed to work it free once only, and she had wasted it to cripple one of her hourly suitors. Every hour, on the hour, someone would enter her tent, give her the same lecherous look, and try to pry their way beneath her scales. Or at least they had, until they had given up. She was not letting herself open for them under any circumstances. Instead they usually just stood near her, furiously jerking themselves off until they could hose her with their filthy seed.

She reeked of their sex; it burned her nose, and she couldn't get away from it. They had stripped her of her gear and already-tattered clothes, and her scales were caked with a thick layer of dried spunk. Her wings were chained behind her, her tail with them, and her bound wrists were likewise shackled behind her back. The whole mess of eversteel was secured to a floating cube, a foot to a side, which looked to be made of the same dark metal. Whatever magic was keeping it floating must also have been keeping it motionless, because no matter how much she had thrashed, it remained hovering in the same place.

That was back before they had likewise manacled her ankles, adding that to the mess of eversteel behind her. It had her bent painfully backward, lying on her side, and she lacked the ability to move even enough to rise to her knees without assistance, which she was certainly not about to ask for, even if she could speak through her muzzle.

While she waited for her next suitor, she idly wondered what this was supposed to accomplish, what they wanted from her. No one had come to question her; no one had even spoken to her. Surely the people she was "entertaining" had safer and faster ways to sate their disgusting lust. She supposed the chance to cum on a dragon only came around once in a great while, but she still couldn't fathom the uselessness of it.

She blinked when the mouth of the tent parted to allow the entrance of her next guest. She gasped past the eversteel between her teeth. This one she recognized. He was the same equine that had attacked her on the road with her partner, Mel. He was looking better than he had when she had left him bleeding to death on the road. She supposed the potion she had given him had saved his life after all... One more mistake she was going to add to her list.

He had a bloody bandage wrapped over his head over his left eye, but the crater she had put into his ribcage looked completely healed. The sight of his broad, bare chest didn't concern her. They were always naked, or soon were after their entrance. What did surprise her, however, was the sight of him dropping to his knees to look her in the eye. Few of them made eye contact. And he seemed thoughtful as he inspected her brilliant amethyst irises with his own, calm brown.

He spoke quietly, something else the others had never done. "They almost didn't let me come here, they were afraid I would kill you after what you did to me." She gave him a derisive roll of her eyes, and he smiled slowly. "I told them that I had to see you, that I needed it. I didn't tell them what I needed to do."

The dragoness groaned. She had a few guesses, but he just shocked her again. "I'm sorry for this." he said with stunning sincerity, "We were just supposed to capture you. This..." He gestured broadly to her cum-caked form, milky, off-white over bronze and blue scales, "This is them, not us. You're not supposed to be getting this treatment. I'm sorry. Here, I brought you what they should have been giving you this whole time."

From a pack he had brought in with him, he pulled a metallic canteen that sloshed audibly. The dragoness could have moaned. She had never been thirstier in her life, and when he bent over her to let a thin stream dribble over her muzzled snout, she did her best to drink it greedily. She would just have to rely on her draconic constitution to fend off the possibility of him poisoning her. She was too parched to resist the temptation. He gave her it all, and she mentally cursed herself for each precious drop she missed to splatter to the dirt beneath her. Now all they needed to do was feed her, and she could honestly claim she had slept at inns that had given her worse accommodations.

It didn't look like she was going to be so lucky, because he capped his canteen and bagged it with an air of finality. "Better?" he asked with genuine concern. She grumbled a rough affirmative. "Good. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to try to get some of this filth off of you, okay?" She eyed him for a moment, but eventually gave him a slow nod.

He smiled gently and went to the corner, where her wake-up bucket was. There was still some water in it, and he drew a rough cloth from his pack, dousing the rag in the bucket. He then turned back to her and knelt over her, using the cloth to wipe away the grim from the fine scales of her face, cleaning her off with slow, measured care.

Tender hands hesitated at her chest. The big, supple mounds of her bust had certainly seen the worst of her mistreatment. The sapphire blue scales that lined her front could barely be seen through the mess that had drenched her. He paused, his fingers fidgeting nervously. She rasped a quiet groan and arched her back more than it already was, presenting herself to him. It wasn't as if he was going to do any more damage than had already been done.

He moved as quickly as he dared, scraping away the dried slime that had crusted over her chest, eager to get his hands away from her bountiful curves. He was peculiarly shy for someone who worked with the same people who had done this to her. She sighed when his hands moved down to her abdomen. The water remaining in the bucket must have been growing murky and offensive, because he hurriedly finished cleaning her and dumped it out to the side, wrinkling his nose in disdain.

He tossed the cloth aside and rose to his feet again. "Okay. I'm going to see about getting you something to eat, but before I do, I'm going to post one of my own guards outside this tent. You won't be receiving any more unwelcome visitors, and if one manages to find his way in here, I'll cut his throat in front of you"

She didn't give him a muffled, verbal answer, just blinking confusedly at him as he bowed his head down to her before sweeping out of the tent. She grunted after he left. That was... rather unexpected, and she had trouble reconciling that with what she knew of the situation. She lay there for a long time, thinking very hard and wishing the chains that bound her had enough slack in them to let her roll onto her other side.

The captured dragoness must have fallen asleep again, because she was rudely awakened once more by another dousing of icy water. She growled angrily, looking up at the source of her ire. It was the same unpleasant-looking dog morph as before, but this time, the horse was standing behind him, frowning thoughtfully. Her waker tossed the empty bucket aside, and she shivered. He likely hadn't cleaned that out. The canine turned and looked deferentially up at the horse. "That's all I've done, I swear." he mumbled.

The muscular equine just hummed dubiously, glancing at her. She gave her head an incremental shake, he was telling the truth, as far as she remembered. She supposed his job was solely to wake her with the infuriating buckets. "Very well..." said the horse contemplatively, "Get her up and out to her spot, the time has come." He looked down at her with a sorry frown. "That dinner will have to wait. You are needed."

The dog nodded respectfully as the horse stalked away. The dragoness watched him walk behind her, taking hold of the chains that were clamped around her and hauling her to her feet after he removed them from their prison, leaving them bound together, but also leaving her able to hobble along. She felt a stiff finger prod her in the back and she stumbled forward, held up only by the dog's hand on her bindings. She blinked in surprise when the cube she was mounted to drifted along behind her, and she was slowly, clumsily goaded out of the tent.

There were other tents like it around, and people milled about almost casually. But Emma could feel the tension in the air, like everyone was expecting something horrible to happen; they just couldn't be sure when it would come. The horse had disappeared off to somewhere, and she was jabbed annoyingly in the back until she was standing in a small, open space between the tents. The dog left her there alone, and she casually tried to hobble away. The cube didn't budge... Damnit.

Sighing past her muzzle, she leaned heavily against her floating prison and surveyed her surroundings with a practiced eye. There were more than a dozen tents arranged in a loose ring around a central area, people walking seemingly aimlessly around. She could the trees of a lightly wooded area not too far away, and she gasped in shock as she turned. The familiar walls and spires of Southcliff rose up from the horizon. They were so close! She hadn't been taken more than a day's walk away from her city. Why?

She didn't have time to contemplate the question when she spied a pair of armed men walking up to her, one, a lanky fox morph, the other a massive bull almost identical to the one she had fried before she had been captured. They just stood a few paces away, eying her cautiously. She snorted disdainfully. Let them look. She continued to peer around, keeping her eyes and ears on her surroundings.

She was trying to find out if they had taken Mel as well. She prayed that her piscine friend had gotten away. If she found out her sharky partner was chained up in one of the tents, receiving the same treatment they had been giving her, no amount of eversteel would stop her from killing them all. She would find a way. Her concentration was broken, however, when she heard an abrupt commotion from the other side of the makeshift village. She spun toward it, watching with intrigue as she saw an attractive woman in an oddly formal-looking dress running out into the center of the space between the tents. The dragoness's guards stepped closer, framing her. She paid them no mind.

The woman had barely made it into the grassy clearing before the air was split by a harsh, thundering boom that made everyone, Emma included, jump in surprise. He appeared a few feet in the air, and the ground shook beneath her as his clawed feet struck the earth. Emma's stomach dropped, leaving her cold and hollow in shock. Surely they didn't. No one would be that foolish.

As the Archmage straightened, the woman sprang into action. She threw an arm out, crying a harsh string of words. The air suddenly tightened with an unseen pressure, condensing down toward the golden dragon. Emma tensed. She was just bait for a trap? Insulted frustration warred with her concern for her father. What, she wasn't enough?

To everyone's surprise but her own, the dragon murmured a word with a contemptuous wave of his hand, snapping whatever spell had just been cast and easing the tension out of the air. "Clever..." rumbled the dragon, "but I'm afraid not." He straightened his coat over his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back, the picture of calm but for the way the grass around his feet was beginning to curl and blacken. Emma could feel the heat pouring off of him from where she was. He glanced around him at the tents, and when his crystalline blue eyes met Emma's, he gave her an imperceptible nod.

His tail swaying slowly behind him, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, contemplating the woman standing defiantly before him. "What..." he began with measured composure, "could possibly motivate you to think that this was a good idea? What could you possibly get from this that would be worth the risk?" He sighed, not waiting for an answer as a cloud of inky black smoke billowed from his nostrils to scatter in the light, chilly breeze. He looked down at the sorceress along his snout. Shaking his head, he turned away from the woman, stalking coolly over to Emma.

The dragoness's guards didn't budge from their spots at her sides, and she admired their bravery. Taking a knee in front of her, the huge dragon inspected her. She smelled him, the scent of his strength. It smelled like home, security, anger, rage beyond knowing. When he reached out to touch her, there was a dull, concussive boom, and a streak of blinding, pale orange energy lanced out from the sorceress, striking the Archmage across the face. Emma's father grunted as his head was thrown to the side, and he nearly lost his balance.

When he regained his equilibrium, he blinked, lifting claws to his jaw. The dragoness before him growled angrily. The fine, golden scales along his cheek were scorched black. He hummed thoughtfully and returned to his feet, prowling back over to the woman who had so brutally attacked him. "An evoker then..." he mused, "I wondered why your other spells were so feeble. Your aura is strong, though. The Academy would have loved to have you."

She spoke up at him, anger plain in her voice. "The Order's Academy is what started all this in the first place, Archmage!" She growled the last word like it was an insult.

The dragon raised an intrigued, scaled eyebrow. "Is that what this is about, a grudge against the Ordo Arcanum, against the Council, against me, perhaps? What could have been done to you to make you do something so reckless?"

The sorceress thrust out her chest defiantly, her shoulders stiffening in resolve. "This isn't about me, Archmage. It's about someone so much greater. I'm sorry if I was a disappointment." She waved her hand at the dragoness, and Emma's vulpine captor stepped closer. She heard the metallic ring of a blade being dawn and felt cold steel press in on the delicate membrane of her wing. She mumbled a curse into her muzzle, grunting in abrupt pain as she felt it slice through her hide, tearing a ragged gash into her skin as the fox sawed his knife down her limb.

The Archmage stiffened at her pained outcry. He turned slowly to face her torturer, his lips a tight, emotionless line. "And what was the point of that?" he growled harshly. The fox didn't answer him, instead quietly apologizing to the dragoness as he set the knife to her other wing, slicing through it roughly. She squealed in anger more than pain as hot blood dripped down her back. She struggled, but her chains, held down by the fox's burly friend, kept her contained.

The vulpine stopped when an earthshaking roar trembled through the air, powerful enough to make Emma's head hurt. Her father's teeth were clenched in a snarl of rage, and she watched the normally round pupils of the dragon's eyes pinch inward, narrowing to bloodthirsty slits. The dragoness watched with frightened awe as the Archmage quickly lost all semblance of control over his mind.

Tongues of golden flame flickered between his teeth as he roared again. His body throbbed under his clothing, his scales, practically glowing with unleashed power. Before his coat could shred from his growing frame, it crumbled to ash, blowing away from him in a gust of arid wind that swept away from him, powered by the furnace of his body.

He was already enormous, but his prominent physique heaved and surged even further. It was happening quickly, but time seemed to slow down, people scurrying sluggishly as Emma watched the dragon lose himself. The dragon's formidable body thickened with muscle in slow, throbbing pulsations, and he grunted, his tendons crackling wetly as he grew taller and broader. His shoulders popped and widened, supporting the dense slabs of might that swelled under his scaly hide.

Spreading like thick tendrils beneath his scales, veins, pounding with blood to feed his growth, rose to the surface of his form. He shuddered, shaking the ground beneath his spreading feet as he took a threatening step forward. His lengthening tail thrashed behind him, and he let out an aggressive growl as several inches of new horn cracked and pushed themselves from his skull. Someone was foolish enough to run too close to him, and he casually swiped his thickening arm down, tossing the man aside with the brutal thud of impact that cracked bones.

The rest of his horns thickened with their longer brothers, keeping up with his head. This started a vicious chain reaction that rippled down his back, and a long series of bony spikes, as shining and jet black has his horns and claws, erupted from his spine, pushing apart his scales, growing long and sharp. They curved backwards, developing razor-sharp, serrated edges along their backs. They swept down his back, onto his tail, finally terminating at his tip. His thick, powerful limb twitched, writhing through the air, and as he uttered strained growl, two bony, black blades pushed out of the sides of the end of his tail. He swung it experimentally as the elegantly curved, axe-like blades thickened, growing to proportion.

He grew explosively, his normally fourteen-foot frame quickly surpassing the bounds of his previous proportions. The people that scurried around his feet were moving with a purpose, instead of the blind terror that any thinking creature should have been experiencing. Two ran up, carrying a thick length of eversteel chain. They heaved, hurling it over the mindless dragon's massive shoulders. When it looped over him, the sorceress, standing calmly to the side all those endless seconds, shouted a frantic word. The chains glowed briefly a pale orange, and suddenly writhed to life as more restraints of the impregnable metal were thrown over the Archmage's body.

He snarled angrily, heaving upward as the chains snapped taut, slowly forcing the dragon's enlarging frame to the ground. The Archmage fell forward, digging his hands and knees into the dirt, swiping his tail wildly behind him, trying to keep more of the links of eversteel from being thrown over him. Emma threw herself forward, screaming into her gag as her father was rapidly restrained.

The nearly indestructible metal held him firmly down, but couldn't stop the inexorable rise of the dragon's body. Thick, powerfully surging muscle held him stubbornly up, keeping his face from being shoved into the dirt. He clenched his teeth in a defiant snarl. He heaved and strained, working his huge body against his bonds. He smiled, letting out an abrupt laugh, harsh and cruel, full of unimaginable fury. He quickly filled the available space, his still-free tail thrashing through tents and anyone foolish enough to get too close, the blades slicing through everything with equal ease.

"You insolent creatures!" cried the enraged dragon as he struggled, slowly putting his foot beneath him. With a furious howl, he pushed upward, crying out triumphantly when one of the links of the chains that bound him groaned and snapped. "You cannot hold me!" He rose to his feet, levering his tremendous strength beneath him and shrugging off the eversteel wrapped around him as it screamed the screech of tortured metal.

The chains writhed and fought him, but he tore them off with titanic strength until only one remained wrapped hopelessly around his chest. He just flexed his titanic body, and the eversteel snapped with a weak whine as he outgrew it. His chest heaved as he panted in his anger, foot after foot, pound after endless pound of draconic might bulging beneath his scales. He took another step, his features growing hard and feral as his growth shuddered, slowing.

He snapped his teeth together as his body tensed, flexing against an invisible barrier. His nostrils flared, pouring a gust of inky smoke, shot through with glowing cinders. His muscle heaved, and the tension abruptly snapped, shooting his frame outward with hard, meaty popping sounds as his physique surged mightily with one final massive upheaval. He was forced to shift his feet as his stance broadened, and his tail whistled through the air behind him, finally reaching its full length and strength.

It had only really taken a few seconds, but it had felt like an eternity. The dragon had more than tripled in size, more than forty feet of heaving, rippling power. Crimson-skinned wings spread out beside him, air filling their hollows with thunderous booms as he lifted his arms above his head and bellowed triumphantly, shading everything beneath him a murky, blood red.

As his cry idled off, Emma could hear the massive breath the dragon pulled into his lungs. She could hear it rumble in his cavernous chest as he arched his back. Throwing his head forward, his teeth split open, energy flickering between them before he could emit a hundred-foot stream of roaring golden fire. He swept it in a broad arc, turning grass, tents, and those unlucky enough to be standing in front of him into charred powder, turning the suddenly barren earth into jagged, volcanic glass as it melted and reformed.

The earth below his feet shattered as he took a slow step toward the sorceress, who had protected herself from the inferno in a bubble of translucent orange force. The dragon just sneered and pulled his leg back, throwing a kick at her. Her shield flickered and buckled from the force and she was tossed backward a hundred feet to crumple in a motionless heap on the scorched ground.

The soil below him began to glow a dull red just from residual heat, and he turned toward Emma and her captors. He strode almost casually as people began to do what they should have done minutes ago, flee in blind panic. The dragon ignored most of them, not even slowing as he crushed flat the few who crossed his path or defiantly stood against him as if there was something they could do to stop him. The chained dragoness felt her guards hesitate, but they didn't make it very far.

The big one that had held her down was hammered into a bloody pulp by a fist as big as he was, but the fox just shouted in terror as he was plucked from the dirt and lifted to slitted, sapphire eyes. The dragon pondered him, oddly thoughtful. When he spoke it was with the voice of a roused titan, earthshaking in its terrible might. "Tell me, pathetic creature." he mused as the fox's fur started to smoke from the contact with the dragon's burning scales, "What compensation could you have possibly been offered that was worth your life? I would know before you die."

The fox just writhed and screamed as his flesh started to cook. There was a metallic ringing and someone had the stupidity to swing a sword against the dragon's calf. Emma blinked. It was the horse from before. He had put on a suit of dark, eversteel armor, and he called up the four stories to the infuriated Archmage, "Enough! You've made your point! Take her and go!"

The roused demigod slowly cocked his head, leering down his angular snout at the equine that stood fiercely so far below him. He brought his fingers together and idly tossed away the lump of seared flesh. "What of you, beast?" muttered the dragon, "What possessed you to do something so vile?"

The horse surprised Emma by actually answering. "Duty!" he cried, "I owed her my life, but it wasn't supposed to be this way! It wasn't supposed to happen like this! You don't have to do this!"

A thoughtful hum rumbled in the Archmage's throat as he bent to lift the equine from the ground up to his teeth. "Then consider your debt paid." he hissed. The dragon twisted, cocking back his arm, and spun, grunting with the strain of hurling the equine through the air. The horse practically flew into the distance crashing through the trees of the nearby wood. That done, the Archmage growled at the sight of the brave few who stayed. Emma groaned at the stupidity on display. They looked to be mounting an offense, weapons drawn.

Her father ignored them, stooping low, protectively, over the trapped dragoness. A massive claw reached down and effortlessly severed the chains that had held her trapped. She gasped in relief, tearing her muzzle off herself. Impossibly gentle fingers probed at her wings, lifting them and inspecting the damage. The bleeding had stopped, the wounds rapidly clotting and sealing, and it hurt little, but she would be flightless until they were healed. A mournful sound bubbled in her father's throat, and he wrapped fingers gently around her frame in a woefully oversized embrace.

She leaned wordlessly into it, trying to ooze confidence into the Archmage. She was free, and everything was alright. He needed to calm himself before he hurt any others. Instead, he tensed, another growl rumbling in his chest as the metallic clang of weapons deflecting off of his scales tore him away from her. "No!" she cried at his back as he turned to face his aggressors, "Dad! It's alright! They can't hurt me anymore! You saved me! Let's just get out of here!"

He was too far gone to hear her. He took a step away from her, shrouding her in his tail as he prepared to unleash another blast of searing fire. They were so clustered, they would all die. Didn't they see what had just happened? The dragon above her sucked in a heavy breath, but before he could release it, Emma gasped in shock at what happened.

Like a bolt of quicksilver out of the blue of the sky, another dragon dropped, slamming into the Archmage's chest and throwing him a step backward. "Daryn!" the shining dragoness shouted at him, "You have done enough!"

Daryn paused, hesitating, but the group of blind fools who rushed at them forced him to prioritize. Her pulled Clara from his chest and tossed her away, her icy blue wings catching the air. She growled at him and threw herself back into his face, and she started shouting. The distracted Archmage stumbled aside, his tail flailing to maintain his balance, and several armored assailants slipped past him, running at Emma.

She popped her knuckles, preparing to get her own revenge, but a silver-gauntleted hand on her shoulder made her spin. She looked up into bright green eyes smiling down at her from an attractive equine face. "Easy, squirt." Valorie said almost casually, "The cavalry's here. We've got you."

Emma blinked as the tall horse morph pushed her back into the arms of another Lancer and turned to face the oncoming warriors, pulling her sword in the process. She sidestepped a heavy blow and calmly bashed the emerald pommel of her blade into her attacker's face. The dragoness didn't get to see much more as she was forcefully spun around, coming face to face with Mel, back in her armor.

The wiry shark morph punched her roughly in the stomach. "You...!" she cried, outraged, "Fuck...! You... fuck!" The finned Lancer fell against her, sobbing audibly as Mel hugged her fiercely. "You... I was so afraid I'd lost you! When we get back... I'm going to... Augh!" With an angry, feral screech, she pushed off of the dragoness, dropped her spear, and threw herself teeth-first into someone who had managed to avoid Valorie's extensive reach.

Emma blinked at the sudden whirlwind of activity that surrounded her. She had no idea how so many Lancers had managed to sneak up on the makeshift camp, located as it was in the middle of a grassy, open field, despite the distraction of a forty-foot behemoth making a mess of it. The answer revealed itself as a small, shapely woman materialized out of the air.

"Been a while, Em" greeted Dawn just as casually as Valorie had as she glided over, the sun glinting off of the almost metallic fabric of her bright golden robes, "Here let me see your wings; I'll have you fixed right up. Are you okay?"

Numbed at the turn of events, she let the tiny wizard run gentle hands over her wings, sealing the rents that had been sliced into them with a few words and a pleasant tingling. The Lancers were chewing through the remaining offense, and Clara was currently pinned to the ground underneath the Archmage's arms, which seemed to suit her just fine. He was growling mindlessly at her, and she just stroked her slim fingers over his scales and whispered words that were difficult to hear over the din of the joined battle. The dragon slowly blinked, focusing on the dragoness held down underneath him.

"C-Clara?" he whined, his rumbling voice cutting through the clamor, "Clara, it h-hurts." The dragoness nodded, murmuring soothingly, just continuing to fondly rub the scales of the arms he carefully lifted from her body. With a loud crack the echoed off of the gently rolling hills around them, the Archmage's body began to recede. He grunted through the pain as the spikes and blades that had lines his spine hesitantly inched back into his body. With a harsh snapping of tendons, he bled off his extra bulk with a pained grimace, sluggishly returning to his smaller, if still impressive stature. He rolled over onto his back, pinning his wings beneath him, and Clara followed him up, straddling his waist and touching him gently as he lifted shaky hands to his face.

Emma ran over to him, throwing herself over his chest. "It's alright. I'm okay. It's okay."

He grunted with fatigue as he sat up, throwing trembling arms around his two dragonesses and pulling them into his chest. "I know. I know now. I just... Oh Gods, why? Why would they... why would I...? Why...?"

Clara rested her snout against his, wiping away his first tear with a tender thumb. "I don't know, Daryn. I don't know. But you don't need to worry about that now. Everything's going to be alright."

The bronze-scaled dragoness nodded against her father, watching with distant pleasure as the last of her captors was felled by a vicious blow from Valorie. Slow silence fell over the space, save for the groaning of the injured and the crackling of the countless brushfires that had been started by the Archmage. She shifted, shaking her head as she thought about it. Her father raised a good question. What was the point of it all?

The dark-furred wolf stormed in through the door, interrupting his mistress at her work. "I hope you got what you needed, because it was a fucking bloodbath!"

The woman looked up from her worktable, turning to the source of the interruption with a curiously raised eyebrow. "How many?" she asked calmly, in opposition on the wolf's furious pacing along the length of the room.

He threw his hands in the air. "Damn near all of them! The best of the best! Barely managed to hold him for a few minutes! The one's that weren't killed were captured or scattered!"

She turned and glided toward him, her skirt rustling softly. Her dainty fingers touched his cheek, and he stiffened, dropping to his knees like the obedient dog he really was, looking up at her face past the curves of her modest bust that filled out her simple blouse well. "None should have died. What went wrong?" she asked with genuine composure.

He whined weakly at her fingers. "It was Lissin, Mistress. He wasn't talking, and she was sure he wouldn't turn otherwise, so she gave the signal for Gren to... to clip the captive's wings. It set him off. He... he killed so many, Mistress. There was nothing I could do for them but gather the corpses they didn't burn or bury." His eyes were wet with tears. "There were so many, Mistress. Please tell me it was worth it, please just give me that."

The woman hugged his head into her stomach, petting him comfortingly. "It was worth it, Pet. I promise you it was worth it. I got what I needed. I am so close to having what we deserve. I am so sorry. Lissin was in the wrong; you made no mistake. Tell me; was her body recovered?"

The wolf nodded slowly. "Yes, Mistress. She was... thrown far from the site. Her death must have been painless. She was practically smiling." he spat venomously.

With a finger under his chin, she urged him wordlessly to his feet. "Bring her to me, Pet." she murmured, showing her fist emotion other than detached calm, sullen anger.

"Y-yes, Mistress." he said with a nod, "Wh-why, if I may ask?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Yes, I suppose you may." She scratched him fondly behind a triangular, lupine ear for a moment, pondering the question. "I distinctly remember," she began slowly, "giving specific instructions, to Lissin in particular, that the young dragon was not to be harmed under any circumstances. She should have found another way. Yet, since she didn't, she must be punished for her transgression. Gren will be allowed to rest in peace. I can hardly punish a man for obeying the orders of his mistress can I?" She gave him an affectionate pet for emphasis. "But Lissin... She disobeyed a direct order from me. That cannot be allowed, Pet."

"B-but mistress, she's dead."

"Yes..." she mused, "She is, but her suffering has yet to begin. Now go, Pet. Give me an hour here, and then bring her to me. I must prepare."

The wolf nodded, dipping into a low, servile bow before he backed out of the room quietly. She sighed heavily, shaking her head before turning back to her table. "I'm so close, Tyrin, so close." she said, addressing the lizard morph that was standing in the corner of the room, watching quietly. He stepped forward at his name, striding up to his mistress. She reached out to caress the curve of the crystalline sphere that sat in an ornate cradle on the worktable. "It's beautiful." she muttered, more to herself than to him.

"Yes, Mistress." he responded dutifully. Something bothered him, and she seemed to sense it, because she turned to him, fixing him with beautiful hazel eyes. She cocked her head to the side, sliding a gentle hand along his arm. Her touch tingled along his dull green scales. He liked when she touched him. She looked at him curiously, waiting for his unspoken question. Heaving a suppressed sigh, he spoke. "Mistress, why do you let him speak to you like that? He is so disrespectful." His clawed hands went protectively to hers. "It is upsetting."

"I know, Tyrin." she responded, "But he was just upset. It shows that he cares for the soldiers under his command, he takes each loss personally. I let him because he still shows the proper respect when it is expected of him, just as you do. He is a talented leader, Tyrin. I value him, just as I value you." His tail flicked happily at the praise. And his breath started coming short as she leaned into him. "I just value you for different reasons." He swallowed hard as she pulled his hands to her chest, leaving them there as she continued to caress him. "I need you, Tyrin. I'm so excited; it's making it hard to concentrate. Will you help me?"

"Yes, Mistress. As always." he hissed, beginning to let his hands over his mistress's flawless form. She nodded, showing him a small smile before she turned back to her work. That was expected. His mistress was busy. He didn't need help. He knew just what to do, and he dropped smoothly to his knees. He smiled at her back, running hands along smooth curves, pressing his snout into the swell of her generous rear, rubbing her through the fine cloth hiding her body from him.

She leaned hard into her worktable, feeling her excitement growing as her little lizard started to tease her skirt up her legs. It had little to do with the way his hands started to wander up her shapely calves and onto her thighs. She stared in awe at what she had worked so hard to retrieve. The Sanctum Arcanum had been emptied, not that it mattered. She had just needed the Archmage to be away. It had taken so much planning, time, and effort to sneak in, past all of the wards and traps that lined that blasted hilltop, but she had done it.

Her hand reached out to touch the orb. So many were such fools, but not her. When the Archmage spoke, she listened. She had found it sitting right where she had known it would be. It had called to her. It would take her countless hours of work to worm her way past the wards lining the sphere's fine, crystalline exterior, but she had the time. She needed what was inside. She needed the strength bound up within it. She needed its help. As a nimble tongue brushed lovingly against her loins, Tyrin having crawled between her legs to put him sufficiently close, she moaned.

"I'm so close." she hissed as Tyrin slowly increased the tempo of his ministrations, "I'm so close, I can almost taste it." The orb was bigger than her head, and looked to be filled with a thick, inky black liquid, protected by an inch of clear, flawless crystal. It was time.