* * * * *
With one arrow piercing her eye, Ar’ismal’tur rears back on her hind legs and spreads open her wings. She rapidly flaps them towards the five men re-notching their bows and releasing their arrows. The strong gusts are enough to deflect the sailing arrows and knock the men to the ground.
“You fools!” Ar’ismal’tur roars in the common tongue, “Do you even comprehend what you’re doing?!”
Puzzled that the dragon speaks their language, the warriors and thieves pause before regaining their composure and continuing their assault.
The second portal summoned forth by Amendal fully opens and a second magma colossus steps through to join the battle, ambling toward Ar’ismal’tur.
Meanwhile, near the cave, a frosty cloud of blue magic gathers in front and above Igan. Shards of ice take form in the cloud, about half the size of an average man. The cloud thins and icy shafts speed toward the dragon.
Seeing the magic, the female serpent quickly retaliates and lets loose a wave of fire from her mouth. As the ice shards race towards her, the fire from her maw meets them, and the magical projectiles turn to a vapor in the inferno. The flame quickly spreads toward the party and the advancing combatants hastily move out of its way.
Aron, Shen, and the thieves retreat to the southeast of the dragon and the now charging conjuration, close to where Igan had launched his icy assault. However, Grasil is not as fortunate as the others in his escape.
With incredible speed, the dragon fire engulfs Grasil’s body. The warrior throws himself to the ground, but is quickly consumed by the raging magical fire. He tries to scream in agony but the flames quench the surrounding air, suffocating and burning him in his final moment.
Seeing his spell thwarted, Igan’s eyes narrow at the dragon, who is now tightly engaged with the magma behemoth.
Amid an exchange of blows, the female dragon attempts to take flight, but the heavy creature latches on to one of her hind legs and pulls her to the ground. With one hand, the magma giant swiftly thrusts its strong arm down and backward, causing the dragon to crash to the rocky foothills. It further presses her to the ground with blows and grapples.
With this scene playing out before him, Igan closes his eyes and deeply concentrates on his next incantation, one which demands great control and magical ability. Red and pink magical particles swarm about in front of Igan’s outstretched hands as if he were grasping a giant ball. The light of the magic shines brightly in the darkened landscape, illuminating the area around the masterful wizard. Individual clusters take shape between his hands. The magical blots dance in circular patterns, leaving a trail of light in their wake, like comets in the night sky. Hundreds of individual concentrations of magic dance between Igan’s hands.
The wizard’s eyes flash open, staring directly at the struggling dragon. He takes a final breath of determination before unleashing a masterpiece of magical energy, of the likes he has never performed in such abundance. The wizard retracts his hands, then pushes them high into the air, causing the swarm of magical orbs to fly up and forward.
The armada of blazing magic races toward the dragon and its magmatic assailant. As it nears the dragon, the horde splits into four clusters. The upper two groups of orbs cross each other, perfectly missing one another. They reach a pivotal height and then crash towards the dragon, weaving around each other in a beautiful pattern. One after another they collide into the dragon’s exposed underbelly.
Screams of pain resound from the dragon as she reels in agony from the magma creature’s tumultuous crushing blows and Igan’s magic.
With his gaze tightly fixed on the scene ahead, Igan consciously commands the remaining orbs to weave in and around the two combatants; his brow furrows as he senses the impact of the projectiles. From his view, the orbs dance through the air like magnificent crimson fireflies, and one-by-one hurls them down at tremendous speeds.
Out of her injured eye, Ar’ismal’tur can faintly see Igan; tears brim in her lids from pain and sorrow.
In this moment, Ar’ismal’tur jars the magmatic conjuration loose with wild kicks and thrashing arms.
Still on the ground with the magical orbs impacting upon her body, the dragon stretches out her nearest claw towards Igan. Sharp and rigid vocals roll off her tongue, words of the ancient draconic magical language. A cluster of violet magic rapidly forms at the tip of her extended claw. Almost as soon as it gathers, the ray of purple light beams toward Igan.
The magical ray shatters the wizard’s globe of protection instantly and pierces his chest. At this moment, Xil’gault’nirl dies at the others hands.
Hagen and Hex turn and see their longtime friend in his final moment of glory as he masterfully controlled the hundreds of magical orbs. To their astonishment, and to the astonishment of the other men near the wizard, Igan falls backward. A hole has burned through his chest from the dragon’s disintegrating magic, leaving a trail of ash strewn behind Igan’s falling body. Igan’s face is frozen in the moment he realized his demise, and before he touches the ground he is gone from life to death.
“Igan!” Hex cries out.
“No!” Hagen gasps, looking to the now errant magic in the sky.
As Igan’s body collapses, so too does his control over the remaining magical orbs circling Ar’ismal’tur. The uncontrolled magic spirals off into various directions: Some of the orbs impact upon the ground, colliding into the stone surface of the mountains. Others fly into the two creatures on the foothills. Several stream across the sky, while the rest whiz by the conjuration rushing to the west to assist its magmatic sibling.
Staring at the horrific sight, Hagen and Hex utter the words to bring forth a dispelling magic. White particles of light gather in their hands and they quickly fling the dispelling magic toward the raining arcane orbs, doing their best to dispel the rogue magic with accuracy before more of their party are injured.
With the wizard vanquished, Ar’ismal’tur turns her full attention to the magma conjuration attacking her. Arrows fly at her from the warriors and thieves in the distance, but they are of little concern to her. She claws at the towering behemoth and kicks out one of its legs, causing it to stumble.
The dragon uses the opening to roll forward; her hind legs take hold of the rocky ground and she pushes herself up and on top of the conjuration. The advance causes Amendal’s colossal minion to lean back and fall to the ground, creating a tremor that shakes the area immediately around the magma monster.
With her foe beneath her, the dragon takes to flight, but is intercepted by the conjured magma golem who slew Xil’gault’nirl. Both collide in the air, and the weight of the summoned behemoth pulls Ar’ismal’tur to the foothills.
Recovering from the dragon’s push, the conjuration that had been initially fighting the female dragon leaps to its feet; it races toward the majestic beast, who has just been knocked to her back.
Pinning the dragon to the ground, the reinforcing conjuration stomps on the dragon’s left wing. The weight is enough to crush the muscles and bones of the dragon’s flapping appendage, crippling it. The fervent heat, coupled with the grinding motion from the creature’s foot, causes the dragon to cry out in pain.
Amid the screams, the dragon’s initial foe reaches her. The conjuration leaps upon her other wing, bearing its entire weight down on it.
Seeing this, Kalder shouts to the remaining members of the expedition, rallying them to follow him. The remaining four warriors, and the two thieves, Nemral and Nath dash behind Kalder.
The warriors and thieves ready their weapons as they rush toward Ar’ismal’tur, which has been knocked even further away than where she had been resting. Sounds of cracking bones and scales fill the air as the two magma monsters tower over the motionless dragon. Each of the men run around the debris created by the battle and eventually reach the scene.
Ar’ismal’tur looks at her attackers, too weak to retaliate and too full of sorrow to kill anymor
e of the humans. Her head rests against the rock and dirt ground of the foothills, gazing at the men coming to deliver her deathblows. The dragon’s expressions are completely un-interpretable by the rushing men, who only see a creature of immense size and power.
Kalder is the first to reach her, with his blade covered in the blood of her former mate.
As the warriors and thieves approach, the dragon closes her eyes and waits.
Sounds of grinding metal against Ar’ismal’tur’s scales fills the air as the blood covered claymore races into her skull. The other men surround her head, and strike similar blows. In her final breath, Ar’ismal’tur expresses her final excruciating pain in a deathly scream, but is abruptly silenced.
With Ar’ismal’tur defeated the warriors and thieves pull their bloodied weapons from her corpse. They turn to face the scene between Iltar’s former captor and their two leaders.
“Remember,” Kalder calls out, “We’re to subdue that one; not kill it.” The warrior points to Anken’mar battling Cornar, the third elemental and another strange creation of transmutive magic.