Part 1
The rage commander stepped out into the heat and marched to his dragon. Desert sun beat down, reverberating off the stone of the launch way in angry waves. His mount—a desert Levanter—was the only beast out of the shade of the hangar.
Major Arndt ignored a snap of greeting from the jaws of the creature. He climbed up into the seat of the cockpit and settled into the leather, his feet finding the stirrup pedals while he gripped the steering bar with one hand and adjusted the comms board in a quick movement with his other. The crystals crackled to life. A red one flickered and Arndt’s earpiece warmed as it connected and emitted the low murmurs of the marines loading into the transport Anthemions underneath the hangers.
“Team One loaded… Two loaded… Three complete momentarily… Dragons ready.”
The relays all ran together, only the last voice coming from a pilot. The rest were marine officers, shuffling into the dragon-forged steel boxes attached to the underbelly of massive carrier dragons.
Arndt’s Levanter, a much lighter and more agile breed, shifted his shoulders impatiently underneath the major. A white crys on the comms board brightened.
“All mounted, all mounted. Mission go. Confirm?”
Arndt hunched forward and pressed a rock in its mounting.
“This is Rage Leader. A-Firm. I repeat, A-Firm for go.”
“Raiders go. Load now.”
Arndt glanced back to the hangers as the larger of the two emitted its first Anth. Its wings were nearly as wide as the doorway and stretched across the entire runway as it flapped heavily, bouncing in the air, and gained altitude.
“Carrier lifting.”
“…Two away… Three… Four…”
The great beasts climbed and headed north in a line over the desert dunes.
“Let’s keep the ride smooth today, eh, Anth Leader?”
“Always.”
The marines were crammed in a metal box being jostled against each other with each flap of the dragon’s wings. They were loaded down with gear—swords, arrows, helmets, and explosive crystals—and they flew toward enemy territory to attack a hostile position.
“Thank the Savior I’m a pilot,” Arndt said to the simmering air around him.
The Levanters were next to launch. They were fitted with two seats on their back just behind the base of the wings. Shadows moved within the hangar doors, Curulane Raiders filing across the open building and moving quickly to the mounts. They wore green cloaks with hoods and climbed into their seats quickly.
“Launch,” Arndt ordered the group.
The dragons took off in a group, each carrying their pair of warriors plus a pilot. They were silent darts shooting skyward. The raiders on the back had their bows out and ready and their twin sword hilts poking over their shoulders. Arndt waited a flap before adjusting his steering bar to garner his mount’s attention and pressing his feet into their paddles and easing the beast off the ground.
“Anth Leader airborne. Levs forming.” Arndt dropped his head below the windshield of the comms board to be audible.
“Comms check.” This request came from the white channel. The voice was a western Curulanian drawl, long and slow and full of nostalgia for their distant home.
“Loud and clear, Whit,” came the reply.
“Raiders?”
“We’re here.”
The last words were gruff and level. Raider rarely used eloquent language or raised their voice though always made their point clearly.
Arndt pushed his steering column into a neutral position. He flipped the catch in the middle, turning the bar into dual controls for turning and pitch. His Levanter fell off his rise and they banked to circle the base once.
They passed over the sprawled out complex of barracks and supply warehouses for the units stationed here. Flat desert surrounded the buildings. Majestic dunes rose to the north but the rest of the world was dry and cracked and dead.
In the south, there was the glimmer of the ocean. Its sparkle was like a diamond found among thorns, nothing but a distraction on this day, if also a powerful draw to home in Port Curulane. The rage put their tails to the water.
The other Levs formed into wedges of three. They angled northeast and caught the Anths just as their target broke the flatness of the desert.
Kir Sargath.
Orc stronghold.
Most dangerous city of the eastern expanse.
For this mission, two Levanter flights would insert raiders alongside the marines within the city. A third Lev group would circle above in reserve.
Arndt drummed a fist against his wind guard. The Anthemion formation flapped slow and violent below him now, displacing air like a horde of some terrible leviathans out in the deep sea.
The High Elves of Caelum unleashed their minions—orcs and other foul creatures—against the stalwart human factions. General Shaftsberry and the Curulane army aided in shoving them back. The Haregarth region was the far southern end of the battle line and had quickly becoming the war’s focal point after Avador had been retaken.
“Two signal fires,” one Anth pilot said.
“Sighted,” Arndt said.
The columns of dark smoke—a third and fourth joining now—confirmed the orcs knew they were coming. They’d be drawing swords and knives and donning armor. Arndt shuddered.
“Stay on target. Insert quickly. Get in, get out,” he said on the rage frequency.
“Yes, sir.”
Arndt pressed a red crystal on his board.
“Marines, how you feeling?” he asked.
“Swell.”
A disingenuous reply, Arndt knew. Taking a breath, he replied, “Get on the ground, set up your perimeter, and hold.”
The force was to establish a bulge out from a line bordering a central road. The goal was to pull orcs to them and create a distraction while the army infantry stationed in a forward base bordering the city pushed deeper into orc territory from the southeast. In effect, the marines were bait.
“Twenty flaps until drop,” the Anth commander said over the main channel.
Arndt settled in over his Levanter’s neck. The city grew larger as they approached, stretching from a single pocket of glimmers to a disorganized rabble of shacks stacked around each other and larger, blocky sandstone structures in the center.
The dragons flew in from the west, banking as a formation. The carriers dropped first. They slowed to a hover and spread out and lowered to the tops of buildings in near unison. Marines slid down ropes to deploy into the city. No explosions or arrow volleys greeted them.
Arndt kept his own altitude and leaned into another turn, his three wedges of Levs tight with him. Black smog drifted across the city from the signal fires. After the fourth Anth flapped away post-insertion, he tapped a white crys and spoke a single word:
“Release.”
Six of the trailing Levanters peeled away to each side. They hooked around and cut across to the north flank of the marine insert.
Arndt’s crystal board sparkled with activity.
“Eagle One advancing.”
“Troops deployed. Lifting clear.”
“Eagle Two contact.”
“One breaking east.”
“Where’s Three? Get them here now!”
The tone was frantic, befitting operating in a hostile city with no firebreathers overhead.
“Anth One, Rage Leader.”
Arndt shifted a hand to his red crys.
“Go Anth,” he said.
“All marines deployed. Returning to hanger.”
“Thank you, Anth. Safe travels.”
The last of the Anthemions passed Arndt’s dragon as the Levanter flights inserted their raiders. The latter dragons fit between buildings down to street level, each pair of warriors hopping off and advancing on foot into the city.
An explosion erupted from the northeast. The blast flashed between two building, narrow alleyway funneling the force and fire and debris shooting skyward.
“Barricade ahead!”
“Ambush!”
“They’re behind us!”
“Roll right, roll right!”
“Flank!”
“Get back, n—”
The last call was cut off by a primal roar.
A desert orc was a large beast, most a head taller than a human. They were lighter in color than their cousins of the mountain or jungle. Each was deadly with a bow and carried long, flat swords that could cleave a marine in two with one swipe.
“Raiders on the ground,” came a message from one of the Levanter pilots seeking to calm the marines.
It didn’t work.
“Contact! More contact!”
“There’s a lot of—”
Another message was cut off, this time by multiple roars and the crack of a second crys explosion. The blast rocked directly underneath Arndt’s dragon, heat rolling up and shuddering the beast in his flight. He pulled them to a safer altitude. Below, flames licked out the windows of a building, marines in the street scrambled away from the location, and hulking enemy shadows bounded after them.
“Where are those raiders!”
“They took Greer! We can’t—”
“He’s gone. Retreat!”
“Fall back now!”
Arndt pulled on his left steering bar. He scanned the southern streets, already predicting the next request that would come from the panicked soldiers.
“Eagle Marines to Rage,” an officer said, breathing heavily into the comms channel.
“Here.”
“We need those raiders, sir.”
Another pilot spoke up from his aerial formation, as designated by normal battle procedure. “They’re on the ground and advancing, marine.”
“How far?”
“Thirty tails.”
While that pilot sought to calm the soldiers down, Ardnt flipped to his white frequency and spoke to the raider warriors.
“Marines need your help immediately. Heavy orc contact,” he said.
“Confirmed.”
Nothing else came back.
The marine crystals were still alight with panic. They retreated, line crumbling.
Arndt spoke slowly into the crystals, keeping his head low and seeking to exude the same calm and control as the raider leader.
“They’re en route from the north, marines.”
“Where are they?” The marine commander yelled. An explosion blasted through the comms.
“Contact left! Contact left!”
“Right too! On the right!”
“Where’s Greer?”
There were clangs and more explosions. Arndt dipped his reins forward and took his Levanter lower. They passed directly over the main fighting. Taller buildings hid narrow streets. Brief images of what each alleyway held flashed below him.
Empty. Empty. A pile of bodies. Dense fighting. Empty. Swarms of orcs.
Arndt snapped his head back to focus on the last street but they passed too quickly. The next street over held even more of the beasts advancing freely on the flank.
The pilot shifted his weight, pressing on his pedals, and pulled up and left in a tight turn. They soared parallel with the streets he’d just passed and spotted the full marine position. The troops backed down an alleyway, fighting off orcs leaping at them. The humans hid behind cover to protect against long black arrows and tried to parry hacking swords and swiping claws. They moved too slow. The flanking orcs would surround them.
“Marine. Rage Leader.” Red glowed from the comms at Arndt’s activation. “You need to move. Enemy on your southern flank. Repeat. Enemy on your southern flank, gaining fast.”
The response came back fast, words all strong together.
“Give me the reserve raiders, sir. Give them to us now. Put them right on top—”
A crystal exploded and cut the warrior off. The flash blinded Arndt. His dragon let out a frustrated roar and tossed his head as smoke billowed over the scene, blocking out the alley.
“We’re all going to die!”
“There’s too many of them!”
“Retreat!”
“They’re behind us!”
Arndt gripped his controls, prepared to shove forward and dive lower across the roof. He couldn’t attack with fire, but a low flying dragon always gave the orcs pause in their attacks.
That move wasn’t without danger, though. He scanned the open tops of the buildings. Many had tents or other shades for solace against the sun. A tattered line of drying robes flickered with the wind. An orc could be concealed anywhere waiting with explosives or a crys-tipped arrow for him.
Arndt dipped lower anyway and held his speed. They circled and he monitored the fighting.
“Rage to Eagle,” came an update from another pilot. “Orcs on your flank. Repeat. Orcs are on your flank.”
“Retreat!”
“My arm!”
“Drag me! Help!”
“Run! Get into the houses!”
The updates from the sky couldn’t get through all the crazed noise.
“Marine—”
“Arrrrgh!”
“Here they come—”
“Run!”
“Watch behind you!”
Arndt cleared a cloud of smoke and caught a clear view of the battle. But opposite the swarm of orcs feeding out against the marine rear at last appeared a new figure. It was a lone shadow stepping in front of the dark and hulking enemies. The warrior was smaller in stature, green cloak waving, holding two short swords at the ready.
The din of battle changed.
“A raider!”
“We’re safe!”
“Thank Oleum!”
Arndt slowed to a glide. The figure stood still as four orcs rushed him with long, menacing, barbaric swords. A tall building blocked Arndt’s view momentarily. The last movement he saw was a twitch from the raider, his swords flashing, one high, one low, spinning into a fighting form.
Arndt sat up in the saddle but couldn’t see around the blockage. The building passed and the pilot blinked in amazement out the other side. Four orc bodies now lay stacked on the ground almost as if carefully lifted and placed one of top of the other. The warrior stood in his previous posture with swords out to the side, low and waiting. More enemy rushed him, though further raiders had arrived as well.
A volley of human arrows ripped down the street. They struck the orcs in the neck, placed perfectly above their thick leather armor and just below the chin guard of metal helmets.
Ardnt had seen orcs take multiple arrows from marines and still continue a charge. He’d witnessed seemingly dead orcs arise from the ground to hack at allies. Not here. Not against Curulane Raiders. These beasts fell and stayed down, limp forms clogging the alley.
“Forming line on our location. Red crystals flashing for mark,” the marine leader said through the comms, cadence much calmer now.
“Confirmed. We’ll relay,” Arndt answered.
“Marines still requesting additional raiders be put down on the flank. There’s too many orcs down here.”
“Raider Lead?”
“Agree,” the warrior answered.
“Will drop shortly.”
“Confirm location.”
“White crystals. Raiders will be inserted south.”
“Thank you, Rage. Oleum bless you,” the marine said.
There was no commotion behind the comms anymore, though fighting still roiled around the humans. The orcs in the rear had been all but cleared out by the raiders, who now advanced on a tight flank, dropping enemies as they navigated.
Arndt shoved his reins forward. His dragon skirted over the city’s higher rooftops. To the south, the buildings fell away, devolving to huts and half-collapsed shacks. Those lower areas would be better for insertion but farther away from where the extra raiders were needed. Arndt pulled his dragon around, searching for the square he’d seen on the maps drawn up before this mission.
They circled. Arndt’s eyes stayed wide and alert, watching for threats. He didn’t dare slow his speed any further this low over the city.
Between the hanging clothes over an alley, he spotted a troop of orcs pressing north. All else was deserted and tightly confined. Then he came upon the square—a flash opening—and banked sharply for fear he’d lose the location. Pulling a small crystal from his vest, he cracked it open, waited for a flap from his dragon to swing down, and tossed it down in the square.
“Blue flashing. Square south of marine position.”
“A-Firm. Blue flashing.”
“I see it. Leading in.”
The remaining Levs cupped wings and descended out of the glaring sun. Their wings flared for stability on final approach as they dropped below the rooftops.
“Raiders inserted.”
This confirmation was relayed to the marines as well. Arndt allowed a relieved breath to escape his lungs as the Levs returned to altitude. He straightened in the cockpit. But before he could reset his hands on the steering bar, a new movement caught his eye.
A lone orc on top of a three-story building.
The creature raised an arm, holding the unmistakable glow of a crystal in its fist. Arndt let out a croak of a yell. He slapped the steering bars apart and his dragon buckled but they already passed directly over the beast.
It hurled the explosive and the rock spun in the air, glow radiating outward, brighter and brighter, closer and closer.
The blast struck them. A shudder racked his dragon and Arndt jolted upward, his grip staying tight to the controls but his body flailing. The mount rolled, tumbling tail over head, wings twisting outward. They smashed across a rooftop. Something slammed into Arndt’s back. Air fled his lungs. They rolled again and his hands slipped from the bar and all contact with his dragon was lost. His vision went black with a final, resounding crash.
Read on for Part 2 and finish the story: