Flight of the Dragon

Berendar the Mighty, Crusher of Mortals, Eater of Souls, stirred. His great golden eyes slowly opened, his nostrils inhaled a first, shuddering breath. Cold, it was cold, his muscles stiff, but it was warmer than before his slumber. Slowly, he got his limbs to move, painful as it was.

Finally, after hours, he unfolded his great, leathery wings and pushed his body up from the ground of the big cavern. Icicles broke from the ceiling as his wings touched them. 
Berendar looked around the cavern that had been his lair and grave as the ice fell outside. How long had he been asleep? He did not know.

Sunlight fell through the mouth of the cavern, as he crawled outside. He looked around - the valley was still full of snow and ice, the small brook still frozen solid. But there was spring in the air, the promise of warmth and Berendar finally left the cave. 

He took wing, perching on a rocky spire high above the valley and looked south, where the city of mages stood - had stood. There were only ruins now, frozen over and thawed again, the skeleton of a city. Like an eagles, his eyes could see far, and he saw mortals fighting over spoils in the ruins. 

His slumber must have been even longer than he had believed for a city like this to fall into such ruins. But then a new thought made its way into his mind: If the mages were all dead, their treasures were ripe for the taking!

With a triumphant roar, the dragon took wing again, gliding on the winds southward towards thr ruins, the mortals called Frostgrave.

***

Master Borgenicht scratched his head. He had been brooding over the piece of parchement for hours now and Nathaniel knew when to keep to his own studies.
"That's it!" the old Chronomancer exclaimed with an exitement that belied his age.
"Assemble the crew, we leave for the northern district within the hour!"

 ***

In the old days, when Felstad was still the center of an empire, this district had been the heart of craftsmanship. Crafters and Enchanters alike had lived and worked here. The Guildtower rose like a finger in the middle of the district, amidst the ruins of workshops and laboratories.
The roar of a snowtroll sent shivers down Nathaniels spine. "There are trolls abound, master!"
"Yes, yes, that's what Gnorrik and his men are here for. We are looking for an ornament gateway near the tower, boy."

Gnorrik sniffed the air, his hyena-like snout held high. The gnoll towered over the wizard, his yellow eyes under the black mane sparkling with bloodlust. 
"Gnorrik smell giant. Gnorric smell humans. Gnorrik hear voices."
Jakobus Borgenicht frowned. Giants were no easy foes. 
"What humans, Gnorrik?"
"Master of Death, Master of puppets and bitch of light."
The Chronomancer cursed. Could he not pursue his leads without running into those people? 
Antark, the Cold, the Necromancer had snatched treasure from him before. But the Thaumaturge and his captain held a deep grudge since their last meeting - Gnorrik had almost killed her apprentice and she had blinded and knocked him out afterwards. The Enchanter was a nuisance, nothing more.

"Gnorrik, take some men and kill this giant." Borgenicht concentrated and cast a spell on his captain to make him faster. The gnoll was strong, but his heavy mail and shield slowed him down. And of course the heavy halberd-head he used for a battle-axe ... 

 ***

Master Borgenicht had left Nathaniel in charge of most of the men, only taking Thain, the new archer, as cover with him.  He moved cautiously over the plaza, where the magical fountain bubbled despite the freezing cold. Across the plaza, at the side of the tower, he could see the form of the gateway, a door leading nowhere - his goal.

He ducked behind a statue, well aware of the sniper and archer an a ruin nearby. The Enchanter had moved a chest from the top of the tower by means of magical transport and now his men quarreled with the women of the Thaumaturge over it. A barbarian with a sword as tall as herself tried to get inside a ruin, defended by a knight in plate armour.

Taking in his surroundings, he wrapped time itself around him. Time slowed down around him, and he moved faster then everybody else. He got to the gateway, his fingers touching runes, invoking their magic. The gateway shimmered, forming a tall, vaguely humanoid form. And then it stepped forward, a giant made of stone, bowing its head to its new master.

***

The damned Enchanter did not want him to leave with his prize! He had tried to get it under his spell, but so far, the Contruct had withstood his weak magic. So, he had ordered his men to fire on the Construct, already damaging it. 

Jakobus fumed. He would not let this stand!

The screams of panic from the north made him look over the plaza, locking his gaze with Nathaniel, who pointed north, his face white with fear. He followed his hand with his eyes - and froze.

A dragon was swooping down from the mountains, his wings blocking out the weak sunlight.

***

Nathaniel used his magic to get some treasures away, leaping Yorick up to the second story of the tower - only to have the chest snatched away by Antark. 

Greybeard the dwarf had fallen under the club of the Frostgiant, Gnorrik and Hrothgar were wounded, but an arrow from afar had finally taken the life of the blue giant. The gnoll and the barbarian had raced to the magic fountain, drinking deep from the holy water. It had healed their wounds, as Master Borgenicht had said it would. 

"Wilhelm! Take out the Necromancer!"

The crossbowman nodded, took aim and shot. The bolt nailed Antark against the wall, piercing his shoulder. The Necromancer screamed, cursed and spit, but could not keep Yorick from taking the chest across the plank over the street. Finally, his head sank to his breast, unconscious.

Yorick looked to the north and screamed. "A dragon! There!"

His scream broke off, as an arrow hit him high in the chest, taking him off the narrow bridge and to his death on the frozen cobbles below.

The dragon flew over the ruins, searching. His golden eyes locked on something, then swooped down. Magic crackled, as a thaumaturgic spell formed, glancing off the dragons will like rain. But his focus shifted.

Nathaniel gestured to his master, seeking guidance, but Borgenicht seemed occupied. 

"Gnorrik, Hrothgar, block this beast from getting to the Master if necessary. The rest, make haste - we're leaving."
The gnoll and the barbarian obeyed and made haste to the other side of the plaza, while the rest of their warband made ready to leave.

***

The Construct dropped the chest it was carrying, then sank to its knees. The magic left the body, leaving a humanoid puppet without strings.

Master Borgenicht felt rage rising in his breast. He shaped the elements around him, his mind creating matter. With eyes blazing with rage, he pushed himself from the statue in his back, turning in one, swift motion, his staff pointing towards the Enchanter, lurking behind a low fir tree.

"Incendo!"

A bolt of white fire shot from his staff towards his opponent, crashing into his breast, lifting the Enchanter off his feet. He looked much like a puppet himself, as he hit dirt, smoke trailing upwards.

"Never mess with Borgenicht, scum!"

He gave Nathaniel a sign, and felt himself drawn into a leaping motion, carrying him high over the ruins. He landed softly behind a thick wall, safe from arrows.

"Good work, boy. Let's leave."

"What about the dragon?"

"What about it? Obviously, dragons aren't legends anymore. If it kills some of those fools, good for us."

The roar of rage reverbrated through the ruins, as the dragon took wing. Dark blood dropped from deep wounds on his belly. The great beast was seriously wounded and turned to flight. 

"Let's get away before those idiots turn on us."