Baneck held his sword high, and shouted, “Diergon in Victory!”

The cheering turned into a furious thunder around him.

Then, suddenly, to Fawnlum’s shock, he slapped the flat of his sword against his shield, muttering a strange series of words, as if he was casting a spell!

Felldrake narrowed his eyes, and reared forward.  He was too late, as Baneck’s sword tip came up, and a bright light flashed from his shield, blinding Fawnlum for just an instant, and leaving behind a sight that left everybody speechless.

Nepta hurried past people to get to Fawnlum and Sienna.  Even if she could do nothing herself, her place was beside them.

She was circumnavigating the crowd, and running around behind the northern trees, when a pair of hands suddenly grabbed her, and whisked her out of sight, between two large trees.

Old Powerlave held her against the wide trunk.

Putting a finger to his lips, he quickly whispered, “I can’t interfere, but this is what you must do!”

Felldrake roared in frustration, as his whole body was pushed down, as if by a giant invisible hand, to the point he could not even raise himself up on his legs.

Fawnlum stared dumbly.

“What’s that?” Sienna asked, echoing Fawnlum’s bewilderment.

But Fawnlum had no answer.

Felldrake whipped his head around, and Baneck was tapping his sword against his shield again.  With a surge of anger, Felldrake bowed his head, and started a growling muttering under his breath.

“What’s he doing?” Fawnlum wondered aloud, seeing the beginnings of a spell, but knowing the kingdom’s protective wards kept a foreign creature from directing any hostile enchantment against their people.

“He’ll use non-combat magic!” Honee ominously replied.

Baneck’s incantation was faster, and the front of his shield glowed.  Small glowing balls, similar to those Nepta had cast, flew out of the face of the shield, sped toward Felldrake, and circled around his head, striking at his face like angry hornets made of light.

Fawnlum’s breath caught, as Baneck closed the distance, insanely running at Felldrake, right up to the mighty coat of scales, and thrust his sword into the massive chest, cleaving the wyrm’s armor, and spilling blood with one cut.

The dragon burst with a roar of such terror, Fawnlum flinched.  She steeled herself against the shockwave, and power of intimidation emanating from the mighty red.  With strength heightened by rage, Felldrake yanked his body back, despite the holding spell.

Baneck’s sword was caught in his chest, but he hung on, and was lifted off the ground.

He came down lightly on his feet, as Felldrake backed up, then wrenched his sword free.  He drew back for another strike.

Fawnlum, along with several others, screamed, “Move!”

He ducked and rolled, and just avoided Felldrake’s bite attack from above.

The glowing balls still pursued Felldrake’s face, and he struggled against the holding spell, squirming and roaring and waving his snapping jaws in front of him.

Baneck back-stepped as a forepaw gouged the earth next to him, and gobs of blood fell from the wound onto the churned sod.

He ducked under and slashed at Felldrake’s neck as it passed over, cutting through scales, but only hit the muscle underneath.  Felldrake whipped his head again with the speed of a garden snake, and struck Baneck, knocking him away.

With the fading of the glowing balls, Felldrake pushed through the last of the holding spell, and pounced.

Regaining his feet, Baneck faced Felldrake’s horrible jaws coming down at him, and thrust his sword out to meet them.  But it was a feint.  The jaws went to the side, and Baneck did not see the left foreleg coming until it grabbed hold of him, and knocked him to the ground.

His breath knocked from his body, but he hung on to his weapons.

Felldrake did not give Baneck a chance to recover, but held onto him, raised him up a few feet, and drove him down again.  The blow fractured some ribs, and if not for his trying to bend forward and cut Felldrake’s digits, the back of his skull would have been cracked.  Felldrake knocked his sword away with his other forepaw, then used a single finger to hit him once.

Baneck’s head drooped to the side in unconsciousness.

Sienna and Honee held Fawnlum back.  Sienna fervently whispered, “Not yet!”

Fawnlum’s cheeks flushed, as she could swear she recognized the voice of Baneck’s mother, among the people yelling out.

She turned, wide-eyed, as her arm was suddenly grabbed, and beheld Nepta, gasping for breath.

Felldrake gave Baneck a shake to make sure he was out.  Then he just stood there on three legs, as if he did not know what to do next.

Fawnlum looked up.  Sienna pulled her attention back to listen to Nepta, but they all suddenly shared a look of complete loss, as Felldrake started laughing.

It was as low as a cackling grumble, and built into an raucous echo.  Fawnlum stared dumbly with everyone else, wondering what the dragon was about.

Even with barefaced malice, his mirth rang out, as he sat back, his tail sweeping back and forth with delight, and raised Baneck’s unconscious form up.

“Good King Dregor,” he jovially roared out.  “Thank you so much for this gift, the likes of which has not been seen for hundreds of years!”

Fawnlum had gotten her instructions from Nepta, and now she was quietly getting ready, as Felldrake kept talking.

“All you did was defeat a young man not trained to fight you,” Dregor shot back.  “What ‘prize’ are you speaking of?”

“You do not know?” the dragon leisurely asked.  “Allow me to show you.”

He used his claws with near surgical precision, to carefully cut and remove Baneck’s heavy leather vest and shirt.

He twiddled the tips of his left claws together, hissing a series of arcane syllables under his breath.  A slight glow of yellow light appeared.  Then he brought the glowing claw-points up next to Baneck.

As Fawnlum carefully watched, in the shining magical light, strange blue marks appeared on Baneck’s pale skin.

What she thought was a big blue bruise, suddenly became something else.  She could see, even at this distance, it was an ornate and mysterious tattoo, with intricate lines and patterns that flowed together in a mosaic, like the decorative designs in a tapestry.

The tattoo grew, until it covered his left chest and ribs and part of his stomach.

Felldrake held Baneck to make sure the tattoo was visible to his human host.

“Behold!” he called, wincing as blood spurted from his wound.  He shook it off and continued, “This boy is an inheritor!  He possesses the Blood of Wintermore!”

A fresh burst of disbelief surged inside Fawnlum, through her chest, and pulsed all through her limbs.  But she kept her eyes forward.

“What does an old trinket in the lair of some forgotten wyrm matter,” he bellowed, “when I have the spell-blood of the Ice Queen in my claws?!

“With this magic, all creatures – human, elf, dragon, and soon the gods – will tremble at my name!  How fortunate he was the one who decided to play the hero!  With all these able-bodied warriors standing about, even!”

He set his free foreleg down, his posture becoming more hunched and feral.  “Take note of this day, mighty ant!  I’ll be leaving you in peace, yes.  There’s no need to menace this land, when all the planar worlds await!  You and all your subjects are free!  Free to be the first to sing songs for all generations, of the reign of Felldrake, and his supremacy in the mortal realm, and beyond!”

Then he cast his head back, and let loose a victorious roar and torrent of fire, lighting up the blue sky like a miniature sun.  He paused in his exuberance to cast one more look at Dregor.

“Put him down!” Fawnlum ordered.

He whipped his head around as she stood facing him, not two dozen paces away, holding her rune-carved, straight-edged saber, and a circular shield wrapped in blue cloth.

Fawnlum stood, not two dozen paces from him, holding her rune-carved, straight-edged saber, and a circular shield wrapped with blue cloth.

“What is thi- ?”

“Time’s up!”