The Queen of Dragons

It was once rare to see a single cloud gracing the sun-kissed skies of Branda. With the advent of Tiamat, the land had become barren and corrupted, cursed with everlasting dusk. The roiling clouds which pooled like a hurricane around the peninsula did well to hide the swarm of Dragons slinking in and out of the fog. Beasts of all colours, infused with elemental power, once worshipped as Gods for their knowledge and strength. Tiamat's minions were infants compared to the now-extinct species of Greater Dragons, spawned from the Queen's undulant womb with no desires beyond destruction. In a matter of hours, Branda had become their domain, and the ruins of mighty Shulm, their fortress. Only the hidden Elven Capital was spared from destruction.

As she stared in the direction of the Weald, Dorma's thoughts drifted towards Aelf'ahlnohma's silver spire. Although she was one of the few humans in the world to have visited the city first-hand, such knowledge couldn't be shared with her comrades. For the duration of their existence, no Elf had revealed the location of their homeland. It was only the Great Sage of the Lake, who resided deep within the Aelven Weald, who held the privilege of freely disclosing its secrets, and exclusively to the Hero of legend.

As one of the world's most proficient sorcerers, it was no surprise that Dorma had been chosen to lead the first of Tor's 20 Anti-Demon Leagues. Commanding a pair of field battalions, whose ranks consisted of humanity's finest soldiers, she had been sent alongside the 2nd and 3rd Anti-Demon Leagues to confront and assess the power of Tiamat. The alchemists of Tor who could be persuaded to aid in the war effort had devoted their efforts to synthesising a type of alloy which would surpass iron in terms of sharpness and durability. Though successful in their efforts, the resultant material required extraordinarily powerful furnaces to smelt, requiring both time and gold in excess. As a result, only Dorma's League had been equipped with such arms.

Even so, their eastward march across the thin strip of land connecting Branda to the mainland had proceeded well. The new material had proven effective at stripping Dragon scales and piercing the soft flesh beneath. As creatures born from more than darkness and fury, Dragons lacked the incredible durability of Demons, but made up for it with their evasive flying and deadly breath attacks, making them difficult to pin down. The 1st Anti-Demon League was staffed with a number of arbalest marksmen, who, given the opportunity, could accurately down and incapacitate a Dragon. While still powerful on the ground, the creatures were forced to trade evasiveness for raw power, allowing archers and knights to encircle and flank them.

"Lady Dorma!" As the push into the peninsula continued, a scout wearing the colours of Tor arrived on horseback from the west, saluting to Dorma as he spoke, "Lady Yula has requested that you relay orders to the 2nd and 3rd Leagues!"

"The attack is proceeding smoothly, so tell them to approach." She scanned the horizon, staring in the direction of Shulm, "Instruct the 2nd League to remain a few hundred paces behind ours, and the 3rd to proceed into the southern forest. The archers are less likely to be discovered that way, and the treeline will provide cover from Dragon attacks."

"Of course, my lady!"

Killing Dragons was all well and good, but the true threat--Tiamat, was more than another worldly creature. As one of the Four Heavenly Kings, her power soared higher than that of any Demon. Though it was only their mission to observe and retaliate if necessary, Dorma had faced the Queen of Dragons' fury in the past, and knew that without the Sword of Light, there would be no hope of returning alive if the creature decided to attack.

"It's time to get moving…" She muttered.

Mobilising an entire battalion was quite the feat, she had discovered. Dorma was a politician, to be sure, but didn't quite have a tremendous amount of experience leading armies. Even as the most experienced blend of soldiers in Tor, it was quite the hassle keeping an eye on their formation. Instructing them to move was like commanding a mountain with legs to march forward. Even so, their discipline as warriors was unmatched, and Dorma remained confident that their morale wouldn't be shaken easily, even in the presence of one as powerful as Tiamat.

It was impossible to tell just how many Dragons lurked in the maelstrom spinning above their heads as the League marched onward. Sightings of the beasts were quickly relayed to the arbalests, who with unerring accuracy sunk their heavy bolts into the creatures' undersides, causing great pain and inhibiting their ability to fly. When one arbalest missed and was forced to reload, another would fire a shot in their place. As the hours passed, few Dragons who engaged the battalion were able to stray close enough to unleash their fiery breath attacks. A disadvantage of the League's new plate armour was that it required plenty of time, as well as a second pair of hands, to don and doff. Many who perished at the whims of those Dragons were roasted alive within the very armour intended to protect them, and those who survived struggled to support its weight in tandem with the scorching pains running through their bodies. Dorma's healing magic could rectify most of those wounds, but for those who had perished too quickly, her only option was to move on. Resurrection spells were mana-intensive and costly in terms of casting time. While the League had its share of priests, their supply of magical crystals which were used to reduce the casting times of spells would only be expended in the event of Dorma's death. Until the peninsula could be retaken, those fallen soldiers were marked with red banners and left to rest until called on once more.

When Shulm eventually reared over the far horizon, it had already become a shell of its former glory. With destroyed battlements and street-sweeping fires which obscured the air surrounding the inner walls with smoke, it was difficult to imagine how a single human had managed to flee the city. Even with their target in sight, however, Tiamat was nowhere to be seen, and Dorma ordered a scout to gather the Leagues together. A half-hour later, the myriad footsteps of those soldiers were enough to shake the ground. Well over 1,000 were gathered into 3 loose formations, openly discussing strategy and resting while the three leaders of the Leagues stepped aside to discuss future plans.

"I must say, I was expecting to endure more resistance than this." A regal voice commented, "We may end up reclaiming the city within a day or two if things continue to proceed smoothly."

"Thinking like that is going to get you killed." Dorma replied, "We've done enough to assess the situation. It would be for the best if we started to retreat."

"I must agree with Lady Yula, Dorma." Adjusting his glasses, a green-clad sorcerer interrupted, "We can't pass up an opportunity to gain ground. If the Queen of Dragons is absent, it would be a good idea to reclaim and reinforce Shulm as quickly as possible."

"What makes you so sure that she is?"

"To answer your question with a question--how are you so sure that she isn't?"

"Just because we can't see her doesn't mean she isn't there."

"The legends describe Tiamat as a five-headed Dragon large enough to eclipse an entire city. If she isn't visible from here, then Shulm is most certainly empty."

"Lotte…" Dorma frowned, "Reclaiming Shulm was never the objective."

"How do we intend to emerge victorious from this war if we don't take advantage of every opportunity?" The aristocratic Yula pushed, "Reporting back to the King, even using magic, would lose us too much precious time."

"The peninsula won't be safe to operate in for as long as that maelstrom is above us." She answered, "...It's not as if there's much we can save, regardless."

"Taking the reins as usual, I see." Yula teased, "But it appears you're outnumbered, Dorma. It was never agreed upon that the commander of the 1st League would have the final say on this mission, after all."

"Even entering Shulm would be quite the accomplishment." Lotte supported, "-So unless you plan to desert, I don't believe you have a choice in the matter."

"You two…" Dorma's expression was a combination of fatigue and disbelief, "...Neither of you have the first idea of just what we're up against here, do you?"

"Humankind has come a long way since the last Demon Age." Lotte argued, "Just look at how many Dragons we've eradicated with so few men lost. And, I don't think you have any metric to determine 'just what we're up against' here, Lady Dorma."

"If only you knew…"

Just then, the attention of those three sorcerers--the strongest in all of Tor, was diverted by a hideous noise. It wouldn't have been correct to call it a 'screech' or a 'cry'. It was closer to a wail. The wail of a dying man, loud enough to cause deafness even if one covered their ears. For Lotte and Yura, it was difficult to discern just what sort of creature could create such an ear-splitting noise, but for Dorma, the mere sound of it invoked memories long-forgotten. Memories of death and endless chaos, and a fear she had never felt for over 500 years.

The soldiers of the League were quick to ready themselves for battle, but no enemy seemed to appear. That was, until a perceptive handful turned their eyes to the swirling mass of clouds above their heads, and could only manage unbelieving blinks as they witnessed a tremendous shadow emerging from the maelstrom--so large as to defy estimation. With a bloated, wrinkled body supported by two malformed wings, one would be called a fool for suggesting that it resembled anything close to a Dragon. It was as if some twisted angel had descended from Heaven. With serpentine heads twisting amidst the clouds, smaller shadows could be seen circling its engorged form. Hundreds of them, or perhaps even thousands, idling in the sky as if awaiting some divine order to attack.

"That-" Almost whispering, Lotte was close to falling over as he craned his neck to view the monstrosity in all of its bloated glory, "...That can't really be-"

"Pull yourself together, Lotte!" Screaming, Yula had already averted her gaze, "This isn't the time to be acting amazed! It's time for battle!"

"No."

With a quiet voice, Dorma, who remained the only one capable of enduring the skyward sight, nonetheless captured the attention of those two proud sorcerers. As she lowered her gaze, a sigh escaped her mouth. Not quite tired, or frightened, or furious, her demeanour was like that of someone who had already accepted the fate that awaited them.

"This 'battle' ended before it even began." She said, "From now on, this is just 'survival'."