(Wretha, the northern border)
Both sides seemed to pause and draw back. The rigid men and elves dressed in deep blue uniforms reformed their units and stood at attention. General Valadar and Princess Ralaeri, commanders of the two forces, rode up and down the rows, inspecting and preparing. Ralaeri's horse stepped heedlessly over the dead bodies of the soldiers. Today had been a day of death.
On the opposite side, Generals Coriander and Ballistang, humans both, glared across the stretch of field that lay bare of all but the dead between them and their opponents. The battle had been going on all day and neither side had the advantage over the other.
"Would now be the appropriate time to call for the seether?" Coriander inquired of Ballistang. The other man nodded and beckoned to one of his captains. The man approached, his dark yellow tunic half-covered by a short black cape.
"Captain Leharris, it's time to bring out our new weapon."
"Yes, sir."
They waited.
Princess Ralaeri watched the sudden hustle in the ranks of the enemies. She shaded her hand against the pale sunshine and beckoned to her comrade Valadar. The noble human lord moved his giant black horse to stand beside her equally tall roan mare.
"They are doing something," she said. "What do you think it is?"
"Our spies report something they call a seether. I don't know what it is, but it sounds like magic."
"Magic," Ralaeri repeated. Her side had mages, elven and human, but so did their enemies. "What do you suggest, then?"
"Your pardon, Highness, but our king has a creature of magic of his own. We could call for it?"
"A magic creature?" Ralaeri said, raising one brow in inquiry. The chill wind whipped pale brown hair around her shoulders.
"The mages control it, so it will not harm us. It is a dragon," the general explained. He watched in surprise as the princess's dark green eyes suddenly flashed and her lips pressed together in what looked like an attempt to hide her anger.
"Highness?"
She did not reply, for the enemy was beginning to shift and she heard a screaming roar across the battle field. A roar of something large and terrible.
Ballistang watched his mages bring out the dark creature from its crystal. It was a daemon, a creature as tall as ten men standing one on top of the other. Red as blood with leathery, spiked wings and a gruesome, horned head and its hideous heavy mouth filled with red fangs, the daemon had needed two hundred mages to capture it, and once contained, it took fifty of them just to control it.
The Doran Alliance had saved the daemon for just such a time. It would destroy the army of the Sindari, first by smothering their courage and then by attacking and killing any who had not already fled. Then the mages would call the beast back into its black crystal, a cut gem the size of a horse. A swift end to this war which had been so deadly for four long years. And the Dorans would win.
Ralaeri watched the massive red creature being brough out. It jerked its ugly head as if pulled by an invisible cord. The mages flocking around it gestured and called out. The daemon unwillingly followed their orders and began stalking toward the Sindari host. Men began to shift. Elves stared, riveted, at the monster, unable to move at all.
"Here comes the dragon," said Valadar a moment later. The army parted, giving wide berth to twenty men who tugged and pulled at something- someone- in chains. Ralaeri sat still as a stone and watched the man being brought forward. His dark blond head reared back and he struggled against the mages, snarling and lunging at any who got too close. It took twenty of the mages, all holding onto chains connected to manacles around his wrists and ankles, to drag him forward. A collar of silver, decorated with black magickstones, gleamed around his neck. Ralaeri could sense the magic which bound the silver thing to him. The manacles also had stones around them.
They reached the front of the armies and moved a distance away, allowing fifty meters all around the struggling creature, who looked like nothing more than a wild young man in chains.
Then as one the mages dropped the chains and stumbled back, shouting commands laced with magic as they struggled to get away quickly enough. The man threw back his head and roared. Then he was on his knees and writhing, the chains twisting around him like iron snakes. Black shadows surrounded him and grew and thickened and darkened. Ralaeri could feel heat from them. Then the shadows melted away and there stood the dragon, a massive creature as black as the magickstones with scales that gleamed almost blue. Huge silver bands with black stones encircled his neck and all four of his legs, tiny chains dragging from them. He was at least as big as the daemon, if not larger, with wings that spread out and blotted the sun. Silver fangs were exposed as the dragon roared again and began to stalk toward the daemon.
The red creature walked on two legs, its long arms taloned and swinging at its sides. The dragon slid toward it with reptilian grace, black eyes focused on the blood red ones of his opponent.
The Dorans were shocked at the sight of the black dragon. It seemed that both armies had hidden their magic weapons for an opportune moment.
Ralaeri clenched her leather-encased hands on the reins of her horse. She watched the dragon with a fierce expression that Valadar thought, in confusion, looked hopeful, fearful, and even desperate.
The great creatures met with roars and fire. Long claws and teeth raked the scales and skin and flung black and red blood across the already soaked field.
For a while, neither seemed to be triumphing over the other. They grappled and tore at each other's flesh. Then the daemon let out a piercing howl that caused everone in both armies to clutch their hands over their ears. The dragon's teeth seared into the throat of the red daemon and he breathed fire into the wound. The daemon's throat turned black and it collapsed in the dragon's grip.
For a short while all was silent. The stench of the dead daemon swamped the field and then the dead monster erupted in flames and was left nothing more than a pile of blood-red ash. The dragon stood still, teeth dripping with daemon blood. Then he turned and began to come back toward the Sindari. The Doran army began to retreat, moving swiftly back to their camp and the Sindari people let out a brief cheer.
Ralaeri watched the mages circle the dragon, speaking words of power. The dragon reared back and was encased in shadows that shrank slowly and flowed away to reveal the man once more. He lay still for a moment on the singed ground, bleeding from wounds which had shrunk with him, and then he sprang up and tried to attack one of the mages. They took up the chains immediately and he was jerked back. He flung himself again and again against his bindings, but the mages held hard and dragged him struggling and snarling back to a tent which covered a steel cage.
"Jessin," the princess whispered and her head dropped to hide the tears.