Dragons Awakening
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Dragon Fight

Ezer’s eyes snapped open. Smoke hugged the ceiling of the lava tubes. Chill radiated from the wall farthest from his curled body. Foreboding punched him, the sensation that awoke him from his dreamless nap. A voice he hadn’t heard in centuries echoed inside his mind.

His muscles bunched when he pushed himself to his feet. A twinge behind his left wing needed stretching, but his personal discomfort melted in the fire of this dreaded moment. He swung his head into the smaller cave. Frost coated all the walls and hung over Jokul’s head like a cloud. In the black cave, the white dragon’s diamond-like scales appeared flat, almost chalky.

“It’s time,” Ezer said, pushing against the white dragon’s mind with more force than necessary.

A low growl shivered the slick floor.

“He comes,” Ezer said, turning toward the pinhole of light around a bend.

Clouds hung in the azure sky, blocking out most of the sunlight. The mountain rumbled, a hungry beast. Soon these lava tubes would refill with the hot liquid that formed them centuries ago.

In the valley below, an unseen hand of wind jostled the plants. The humans had done their job well, evacuating their species from the immediate area. He hoped it would be enough to preserve them. Ezer edged onto a protruding rock, stretching his left wing.

“Time to finish this,” Jokul said, bringing an unseasonal chill as he stood at the cave’s mouth. “It’s too hot for my taste around here.”

Another tremble beneath his claws nearly dislodged the black dragon. He pushed himself away from the ledge, spread his wings and floated for a moment, casting a glance toward the crater sprawling across the peak.

Rocks broke loose, tumbling down the side where Jokul still stood. He roared, snapping several chunks into his mouth. In the past days, the ice dragon consumed more fuel than any dragon should need. His centuries of hibernation must have taken more resources than expected.

Ezer flapped his wings, tucking his tail to keep it from altering his course or dragging him downward. Air swirled around him. He inhaled and concentrated on the smoke machine inside his belly. No soft attack with stunning gas. When Qwystanak emerged, Ezer would hit him with the full force of his stone-making arsenal. The longer this battle took, the more likely they were to draw the attention of the humans. And more importantly, the greater chance they would fail. Ezer banished those thoughts. Destroying the red dragon guaranteed him safe passage back to his family and home. Nothing else mattered.

The mountain shuddered, blasting rocks from its enormous crater. Ezer tilted his wings, flapping away from the sudden onslaught. Gaining altitude, he admired the molten rock that bubbled up from inside the volcano. It spilled over in every direction, but mostly toward the south where the sea could swallow it.

More shards of over-heated rocks spewed into the air. Ash and gasses swelled, swirling like a stirred pot, and jettisoned several kilometers above the mountaintop. Wind currents immediately pulled it in another direction. Ezer took a larger breath from the clean air and dove into the massive plume.

At the tail end of the fountain of ash, a red dragon emerged from the dark pit beneath. Only the four horns crowning his broad head resembled the dragon Ezer knew. The scales on his body had been molded into a smooth, shiny armor, so dark it appeared black. When compared to the blackened wings folded across the slick back, the body was obviously a dark burgundy. The eyes blinked open one instant before Ezer opened his mouth, forcefully spewing his most toxic smoke downward, directly into the face of his exiled brother.

Red eyes registered the attack. Ezer squinted to see through the competing ash shower and his own smoke, noticing something strange about those eyes. A silver curtain shuttered them against the onslaught of toxins. Had Qwystanak developed an inner eyelid during his imprisonment?

Before the smoke touched him, the red giant opened his mouth and spouted flames directly toward Ezer. Ezer rolled away, tucking his wings and waving his tail. An icy blast intercepted the fire, a sign that Jokul began his attack run.

Ezer flapped his wings, cocking his head to watch the ice and fire embrace each other. Even as the ice melted, evaporating before precipitation could occur, more ice formed, holding the flames at bay. Soon, though, his brothers would need to inhale.

Ezer twisted into the plume of ash, circling behind Qwystanak, who was suitably distracted by the blast of ice. He extended his talons, tucked his wings and dropped onto the red dragon’s back. The skeletal framing of Qwystanak’s wings, strangely devoid of protective leather-like membranes, sheltered Ezer from the evil red gaze.

His sword-like claws screeched across the shiny surface of the red back. Ezer felt the vibrations from the contact through every bone in his body. He unclenched his jaw, preparing to bite down on the sensitive area under the wings.

An unhappy reality greeted Ezer. His teeth found nothing tender beneath the hardened wings. Smooth metal shielded what would be a pocket of thick skin on Ezer and Jokul. Finding nothing to grip, Ezer slipped onto the red hindquarters. Qwystanak reared up, twisting his head away from Jokul to stare at Ezer. The eerie eyes squinted twice.

“ Behold the benefits of my punishment,” the red dragon snarled. “Your puny claws are no threat.”

The black-toothed maw opened and a blast of flame leaped toward Ezer. Qwystanak seemed heedless of his own wings which sat in the line of fire.

“Clan Metallica refutes your claim that its chieftain is puny,” Ezer said, retracting his ineffective talons and rolling beneath the super-heated belly.

Qwystanak stood a few feet taller than Ezer, and his body stretched ten feet longer from head to tail. The serpentine tail flailed toward Ezer, but he rolled out of reach, expecting to be pursued. This would give Jokul opportunity to engulf their enemy in his sub-zero breath.

Ezer felt the rush of cold air. Clearing the crater, he pumped his wings, glancing down toward the battle. The glacial blast from Jokul left a layer of white over Qwystanak’s slick back and wings. It continued to flow until the flames the red directed toward Ezer were snuffed out. For a moment, the entire angry visage of their foe was buried beneath a sheet of ice.

A menacing chuckle preceded the instantaneous dissipation of Jokul’s attack. Fire would always destroy ice. Physical laws demanded it.

“I didn’t even feel a drop in temperature,” Qwystanak said, opening his mouth and emitting another stream of flames.

Jokul wheeled in the opposite direction, rolling out of the fire’s reach.

“You have never felt anything but anger,” Jokul said.

Again, Qwystanak didn’t pursue the retreating dragon, but instead hovered above the crater. Lava still pushed its way from the volcano’s mouth. Ezer squinted again, focusing on the wings. They were unfolded but remained stiff, not responding to the air movement around them.

Ezer climbed higher into the ash plume. Jokul rocketed toward him. Their eyes met. Attack plan beta.

Beneath them, Qwystanak wheeled to the east, tilting his head toward the newly budded vineyards in the valley below him. Releasing a roar which vibrated through Ezer’s scaly chest, he unleashed his fire on the farmland. Rather than combusting, the plants wilted and smoldered. Eventually they would burn. Rage welled inside Ezer’s chest, and he whipped his tail behind him, preparing to follow Jokul in the next attack.

Jokul dove as only a Crystalline could, aimed directly for a collision with his larger brother. This time, Jokul dispersed his frozen breath so mist blanketed the wings and neck of the red. An icy sheen coated the red metal. Jokul rolled to the left, exposing the frozen back to Ezer’s plunging attack.

With as much force as gravity and his musculature allowed, Ezer chopped the icy neck with his spiked tail. The impact ricocheted beneath his scales, throwing him off course. Qwystanak lurched in the opposite direction. The red beast folded his wings as he rolled onto his side. With another thrust, the stiff wings widened and stalled his forward motion.

“Is that the best my fellow chieftains can offer?”

Steam sizzled in the air around him. Ezer felt the flaming volley against his back. Scorching pain crushed the air from his lungs. He plummeted toward the river of fire still streaming down the sides of Vesuvius. With a snarl, he refilled his lungs and popped his wings out, beating them against the humid air. The current stabilized him. He focused his mind inward, assessing the damage.

Minimal, but excruciating. Above him he heard Qwystanak roar.

“We will best you,” Jokul said.

Ezer pumped his wings, wheeling into position so he could launch another attack on the red dragon. Jokul’s ice stream stopped, and the smaller dragon twisted out of the way. Ezer unleashed a toxic puff directly into the face of his nemesis. It looked nearly brown in comparison to the silvery ash circling them.

“You think this planet hasn’t tried to poison me during my exile? Your breath is nothing compared to what I bathed in at the core.”

Another stream of fire shot from the black-toothed maw. Ezer shoved his wings against the air and propelled himself backward, away from the fiery blast. Qwystanak didn’t pursue. Perhaps the center of the earth had transformed the wings, as well. If he couldn’t move them to fly, perhaps Ezer could use them to his own advantage.

Ezer raised his wings, halting the wind’s resistance. He plunged straight down toward Qwystanak, talons extended. Jokul strafed his underside with an icy blast only a few moments before Ezer’s claws raked across the bony wings. Unlike the shell covering his body, the wings gave way beneath the sharpened talons. Ezer slammed against Qwystanak pushing him toward the bubbling pool of lava below them.

The yawning mouth of the volcano rushed toward them. Ezer pushed away from Qwystanak, using his own flexible wings as a parachute, slowing their descent. Not very slow. The red dragon’s bulk weighed twice as much as Ezer, especially with his solid armor. Ezer twisted his claws, hung up somehow in the black web of bones protruding from Qwystanak’s wings.

Acrid steam from the pooling lava stung his eyes. Pushing with his back legs and twisting his front legs, Ezer broke free of the wing’s entrapment. He wheeled in the direction opposite of Jokul’s.

Without Ezer pinning them, the deformed wings buoyed the red dragon for a moment before he settled on the lava. He floated on the fiery stream like a ship on the sea. Another flame-throwing blast chased Ezer’s retreat, but he dodged it with an agile twist. The edge of the flaming tongues heated the spikes on his tail, offering no pain or injury.

Jokul rose from the side of the mountain directly behind Qwystanak’s boat-like form. The ice dragon unhinged his jaw and rained thick spears of ice onto the red dragon’s back. Ezer pushed himself higher, wheeling about to take another run.

Steam rose from the lava pool, shielding both dragons from view.

“Ezer, we are waiting nearby,” the whisperer’s voice penetrated his thoughts. “We are watching. Are your attacks having any effect?”

With the swirling dust and ash, Ezer’s normally eagle-like gaze couldn’t see more than a half-mile beyond the base of Vesuvius.

“His scales have formed into some sort of metal armor,” Ezer replied, turning toward the other two dragons. The steam surrounding them dissipated.

Qwystanak laughed and spouted fire upwards, a show of strength rather than an attack.

“Perhaps we should gather and discuss a new strategy.” The boy again.

“You have ideas?”

“I think so. We are on the tail of the Apennines to your northwest.”

“Go to the peak,” Ezer said, turning his thoughts to Jokul who hovered out of range of Qwystanak’s heated breath. “We will come.”

Qwystanak spread his wings, a stiff procedure. They were like misshapen boards above him. Somehow, conditions of extreme heat and pressure in the core of the earth transformed them, as they had coated him with metallic armor. An unseen current from the crater pushed him skyward.

Ezer and Jokul turned toward the meeting place, winging higher when they emerged from the spiral of ash. It had finally stopped spewing from the volcano but the sheer volume of it would take the wind much time to disperse.

“Run away,” Qwystanak said. “If you return, I will destroy you.”

An angry retort welled inside Ezer, but he roped it tightly to his own mind. Part of him feared the vengeful red dragon was correct. Ezer felt no compulsion to hasten his demise.