They fired repeatedly till they ran out of arrows only to exchange their empty quiver for a full one from non-combatants who formed lines of a sort leading down the stairs on the backside of the wall. These young men and old women served in their own way against an enemy who threatened their extermination.

  Amidst the ranks of the standard troops, bannermen stood tall and proud. Their sole responsibility was to bear the standards of Forlay. Brilliant blue and bright silver, the banners were held aloft on long poles, which served as rallying points. I watched their teamwork and remembered again what it was that I wanted to learn from humans.

  Their lives may have been short, but they took pride in something greater than themselves—it was their honor and legacy they defended.

  Trumpeters, distinguishable by their bright brass instruments and rich blue cloaks, stood ready. They sounded off with different trumpet calls to relay commands across the expanse of the battlefield. Where voices were drowned out in the cacophony of war, their trumpets weren't simple instruments, but lifelines that ensured coordination and cohesion amongst the troops.

  I supposed that when you couldn’t roar, trumpets would have to do.

  The knights of Forlay were a class apart. Clad in polished plate armor that reflected the weak sunlight brilliantly, they exuded an aura of indomitable strength. Their helmets, adorned with plumes in Forlay's colors of blue and silver, marked their status. Each knight, armed with a broadsword and a kite shield, stood as the final barrier to any monsters who made it to the top of the wall.

  The most intriguing figures, though, were the mages. It was human magic, after all, which had drawn my interest and kept me in Urgoi. Dressed in flowing robes ranging from white and black to deep purples and midnight blues, they were interspersed throughout the ranks of both archers, soldiers, and knights.

  They were few in number and bore no mundane weapons, but I could see the magic as they wove it. I could also see the arcane sigils and glyphs that were embroidered onto their robes, pulsating with a soft light. Here and there, the glow of an enchanted bauble or jewelry flared from where they stood.

  Their hands moved in intricate patterns, drawing from the very essence of the world, preparing to unleash spells of devastation and defense. Some had staffs, from which the raw mana in the air seemed to be drawn, channeled, and refined, ready to be cast upon their adversaries.

  Below the forces of Forlay, an ocean of monstrosities surged and seethed, each wave more ferocious and relentless than the last. Dominating the horizon were mountain giants, behemoths that rivaled the height of the wall. Their massive silhouettes were like moving mountains, with skin that resembled rugged stone covered in patches of coarse, matted fur. Their deep-set eyes, filled with an ancient and cruel intelligence, glinted like malevolent stars, surveying the battle below.

  I remembered these foes from the dragon dream. Individually, they were no match for any but the youngest dragons. But in groups, they were capable of taking down dragons of even my size. I would need to be careful when dealing with them.

  For the moment, they stood still as statues, observing the chaos as the winds tousled their hair and whipped the primitive loincloths that hung from their colossal frames. A chilling thought struck me then—I wondered if they were being held in reserve against reinforcements… reinforcements such as myself and Cami.

  Amid the shifting tide of the battlefield, trolls prowled menacingly. Their grotesque forms were highlighted by warty hides that seemed to ripple and shift, reflecting the meager light at odd angles. Their limbs, long and gnarled, ended in talons that scratched and dug into the ground as they moved. The trolls' faces were a portrait of malice—wide nostrils flaring, bloodshot eyes darting about, and mouths filled with jagged, yellowed teeth that seemed perpetually twisted into sadistic grins.

  The ogres were bulging masses of muscle and rage, twisted parodies of humans. Standing almost ten feet tall, their thick skin had an ashen hue. Their brutish faces, with sunken eyes and flat noses, were a display of gleeful malevolence as they launched shrieking goblins skyward to the top of the wall. The sounds of goblin laughter and terror mixed as they soared through the air, their wiry bodies a stark contrast to the hulking forms of the ogres.

  Goblins, creatures of chaos and mischief, seemed to be everywhere. The ground seemed to roil and shift as they moved, a turbulent sea of green and brown. Their beady eyes sparkled with malevolence and excitement, as their jagged mouths seemed to be in a perpetual state of motion, either shrieking in anticipation or snapping at allies and foes alike. Their numbers must have seemed overwhelming and vast to the humans, prepared to drown them in a relentless tide.

  I knew their danger to the wall. But to me, I could only dream of the DKP they represented when I saw them clumped together so closely.

  Sprinkled amidst both the ogres and goblins were the shamans of their ilk. Their dark souls, twisted by contact with the horrors, were the driving force in this army. I remembered the oni who had caused us so much trouble recently.

  They raised their hands and threw out occasional spells at the wall, only for their magic to be repulsed by the runes carved into the stone itself. It was fascinating to see how the runes pulled upon the power of the earth to fuel the defenses. Amidst this disarray, the orcs stood out.

  Moving with a deadly grace that belied their rough appearance, they were the epitome of organization. Clad in dark, gleaming armor, each piece intricately designed and decorated with symbols of their clans, they moved in tight formations. Their tusks, protruding from their heavy lower jaws, glinted menacingly as their red eyes scanned the field with calculated precision.

  Above the tumult, a thick, almost palpable scent of anticipation hung heavy. The tang of blood and metal, mixed with the musky odor of so many monsters, filled the air. The sounds of war—the clang of weapons, the cries of the injured, the shouts of command—all combined to create a deafening symphony.

  The trolls, with their remarkable regenerative abilities, seemed almost invulnerable. Arrows that pierced their flesh were soon pushed out, the wounds closing up in moments. Even the mighty ballistae’s spears which pinned them to the ground, were ripped out of their flesh by their comrades. Even those grotesque wounds quickly closed.

  The ogres hurled the smaller goblins up over the wall. Most died, their bodies battered and broken from the ogres' throws, but a few managed to surge forth after landing on the parapet with a horrifying resilience. Their numbers and frenzied determination could prove more deadly to the humans than any blade.

  As unsettling as I found this panorama of warfare, what disturbed me most was that the mountain giants had yet to join the fray. The defenders of Forlay, though tenacious and determined, contended only with the lesser threats.

  Their ambivalence towards the battle shifted as we flew overhead. A chorus of terror erupted from their ranks—a symphony of dread that filled the frosty air. I felt an electrifying tingle down my spine, a visceral reaction to the sheer force of the collective fear emanating from below.

  Both friend and foe had ceased their struggles, their gazes locked on the formidable silhouette of dragon and rider. A chilling truth hit me then—the defenders, the very people we intended to aid, were unaware that we were there to aid them. The humans were prey and knew only that the world’s most powerful predator soared over their heads.

  In retrospect, it wasn’t surprising that they should know terror.

  Cami's legs tightened against my scales as I dove. I opened my mouth and roared a challenge directed at the monsters and sent my Dragon Fear out in a concentrated arc—careful not to target the defending humans with its effects. This caused many of the goblins to fall over, dropping down and cowering in fear as they tried to dig their way into the frozen ground. Anything to flee from the death which came for them upon blue wings.

  With a rush of wind and power, a devastating lightning bolt tore from my maw. It crackled with radiant blue-white energy, illuminating the battlefield as it struck, vaporizing scores of goblins in its wake. Even the ogres it struck were ripped in half. It might not outright kill them, but they likely wished they were dead in the moment.

  The air sizzled around me, as from the ground a chorus of hisses and pops rose, accompanying the distinct smell of ozone and burnt flesh.

  Below me, lesser monsters looked on in awe and terror in their futile attempts to reach me. The ogres, normally so ferocious, looked like lost children. The trolls halted in their tracks and gazed skyward, their famed regeneration nullified when I switched to acid breath and sprayed a fine mist over the seething horde that winter winds swept up and carried into hundreds of pairs of monstrous eyes, blinding my foes as it ate into their flesh.

  On my next pass, I swept over a dense cluster of trolls and ogres, exhaling a wide electrical storm. Though not as concentrated as my initial lightning bolt had been, its impact was equally devastating. Electrical tendrils danced and arced below, making these stronger foes' muscles spasm uncontrollably.

  Feeling the rhythm of the battle, I let out a roar and spewed forth a billowing poisonous cloud. This blanket of death caused the weaker goblins to drop lifelessly, while larger adversaries staggered, weakened and gasping for breath. Again, the winter winds worked to spread the gas through the horde, reaping more lives at the cost of dissipating quickly.

  In the thick of it all, my tail descended with brutal precision, crushing enemies beneath it. The sheer force my massive body could bring to bear reduced stone to dust and adversaries to pulp. My claws, comparable in length to the great swords of men, tore through clusters of foes, leaving behind me a wake of death and destruction.

  From my back, Cami showed her might. Her hands danced, casting spells with incredible precision. She pulled DKP from me with each spell as she enhanced the power of her attacks. Lightning bolts, mage missiles, and fireballs descended upon the monsters.

  Every spell she cast was meticulous and accurate, ensuring maximal devastation. In a climactic moment, she invoked Shori's Hand and her soul-bound spear detached from her grip. Like a dancer in a deadly ballet, it sliced through the air, cutting effortlessly through the monster’s ranks. Spasming victims of my Electrical Storm were particularly vulnerable to the wielderless weapon.

  Feeling the surge of my deep mana reserves, I cast Tripping Vines, ensnaring many foes below, rendering them helpless and trapped for my next pass. The stronger monsters could break through the vines, but they were still delayed. It was all about positioning them where I wanted them to be. My mind followed the ebb and flow of the battle.

  When I felt the sting of an enemy spell as it tried to break through my resistances, I laughed. Mage Missiles caused a barrage of force darts to strike those shamans, disrupting their spells. Those that Cami’s spear didn’t finish, I got on the next pass.

  The mountain giants had started moving, hoping to close with me, but they were too far away. I purposefully ignored them as I made sweeping passes over their army, wreaking destruction with both Dragon Fear and the power of our combined attacks.

  Then came what felt like my ultimate spell: Malcor's Wings of Darkness. The sky above darkened, as shadows merged to blanket the battlefield. From this abyss, spears of necrotic power pierced both flesh and armor. Goblins aged in moments, turning to dust, while larger foes felt years weigh heavily upon them.

  At some point in the battle, three groups of adventurers had appeared on the wall. They healed, blasted spells at the enemy, or jumped down to push back at the horde of monsters. Those monsters tried to hang on—all but the orcs, that is. My guess that they were mercenaries was supported by the way they turned tail and ran as soon as a true foe appeared.

  I saw Galbrecht slay a pair of ogres and, for just a second, I wondered how he felt without Modessa there watching his back. I had enough to do, though, so I paid no more attention to the adventurers and focused on killing.

  The horde of monsters eventually broke, as much from my Dragon Fear as anything else. They cast down their weapons and tried to flee. The trolls were too dumb to flee, but the adventuring parties and an army of mages descended on them—covering them with fire spells that incinerated even their regenerating flesh.

  The tide of battle had decisively turned in our favor. Now, though, I had giants to slay.

  Chapter 40 - Giant Slayer

  As the battlefield below emptied, the massive forms of the mountain giants came into sharp focus. There were eight of them, each as tall as a tower, barreling towards me with their tree-sized clubs raised menacingly. The ground quaked with every step they took as their eyes focused on me with malevolent intent.

  I scanned the battlefield and made a quick decision. I wasn’t going to pit myself against eight of these monsters at a time. The strong dragon wins the battle, but the wise dragon realizes before the battle is fought which fights he should take. The trick to it was that wisdom was the true path to strength, not pride.

  If my time with the humans had taught me anything so far, it was that. Not that the humans didn’t have their own issues with pride, as quaint as it was for such limited creatures to be proud of anything.

  The adventurers flashed into action. I saw Galbrecht tanking one of the giants while Lisella healed him. Liam’s arrows must have carried a fierce taunt because the giant he shot in the leg turned and was chasing him. Ethereal chains responded to the ranger’s call and tangled the giant’s feet, slowing his movement to a crawl and he was kited along. Serius remained behind the others, gathering weaves of magic around him for some devastating attack—an attack which I didn’t have time to focus on, I had to remind myself.

  The other two adventuring parties each grabbed one of the giants. I snorted. Three parties of humans took four giants and left the rest for me. Oh well, I guess if you wanted something done right, you had to get a dragon do it. Eight giants would have been insane—even for me. Four was just a challenging fight.

  Cami and I exchanged a quick mental note and realized that challenging was something we’d do. She seemed to get bolder by the day, and I loved every bit of it.

  Despite their size, there was an uncanny swiftness to their movements. The four remaining giants all headed right for me. I laughed and then beat my wings as I flew up higher. I had to put some distance between us for what I wanted to do, but I didn’t want them to think I was leaving the battle. That would only cause them to turn on the humans, who had already demonstrated they weren’t prepared to take on more of the walking mountains.

  Looking down, I took stock of the situation. Three of the giants had massive clubs which seemed more like medium sized trees. With their great strength, they swung them around as a human might swing a slender rod—which is to say that they made it appear effortless. A lingering memory from Wasnera through the Dragon Dream, told me that they could throw those clubs with unerring proficiency, too.

  Wasnera had been particularly passionate about killing giants, but I figured every dragon deserved a hobby. Those memories also told me that an impact from one of those clubs was capable of breaking a dragon’s ribs or a wing. Anything short of a great wyrm should avoid a direct hit, and even they couldn’t take one without injury.

  The fourth didn’t wield a club. Instead, he held a large metallic ring as some sort of weapon. I half expected to see him hurl it at me, but then my focus was pulled away as both Cami and I began buffing ourselves and our partner. We’d never prepped this thoroughly before, but we’d been rapidly chain casting spells, and even on a couple of occasions I’d used my DKP to boost Cami’s spells.

  I felt the first of Cami’s spells take hold.

  Haste

  My movement accelerated as the world seemed to slow around me. I could definitely get used to this. I joined in, casting my own spells.

  Sphere of Controlled Speed accelerated both Cami and I while it would slow any of the giants who came within sixty feet of me. I hadn’t been sure if it would stack with Haste, but it most definitely did. It wasn’t a multiplicative effect, though—that would have made things too easy. It didn’t even seem to have a straight additive effect. Instead of being four times faster than normal, I was only three times faster. But that was still incredible, especially as also applied to my rate of attacks.

  Not to be outdone, Cami followed Haste with one of her new Valkyrie spells—War Horn. She even pulled DKP from me to boost the spell to the 6th Tier. Immediately, all our enemies within 1500 feet had their physical and magical resistances dropped by 30%, while all allies had their stats boosted by the same amount.

  I almost felt unstoppable as I finished casting Call the Charge and felt the electrical current building up around me. It stacked with Shocking Aura, one of my draconic abilities which I activated instinctively. Anything that got close was now going to take doubled electrical damage and would be slowed—which meant they’d have difficulty getting out of range, while also being less resistant.