Fionn MacKerracher and Gertrude Jäger
Fionn cursed as Thrinax’s wing flicked slightly, on of the fingers knocking his blade aside with nary a scratch; it was all he could do in the moment after to draw it back in as Gertrude pulled up sharply, the both of them immediately buffeted by a hefty gust as Thrinax twisted in place. She dove again as soon as it was clear they wouldn’t lose control, throwing the broom into a tight, spinning turn, up and under the dragon’s jaw.
Even feeling his heart trying to rise into his throat from what felt like a free fall, Fionn still swung up as they passed under the dragon’s head, as much to harass him as anything else—maybe enough to force him to change his angle, and not directly bathe Renar in flames trying to climb upon him. In another moment he was upside down, clenched legs and hand keeping him held to the broom for dear life—and right side up again just as quickly, his teeth as clenched as everything else.
”Póg mo thóin!” he growled.
”Good flying, I think, but I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to it. I feel...chomh ciotach le muc i sciamhlann!” He nodded to himself, seemingly entirely unconcerned that Gertrude wouldn’t have the faintest clue what he’d just said. As always with the northern Veltish knight, sometimes nothing was better to express himself than his native tongue, listeners be damned.
Gertrude snorted, though less in derision and more in a facsimile of amusement. Of course she had no idea what that dullard had said, but she understood it. She’d nearly forgotten how it felt to train on her broom for the first time. If Fionn was anything like her, she’d get the opportunity to see him vomit his guts out when they hit the ground.
Gross, yes, but also funny.
“Not to your taste?” Gertrude taunted, the usual bratty sneer on her lips, “Well, I can’t blame you. It takes a certain caliber of mage to handle something like this, especially while casting and observing.”
Gertrude would frankly take any opportunity for self-aggrandizement, though she left out that soul partitioning made every aspect of her borderline insane feats that much easier.
They were safe for a moment, rounding around to face the great beast a second time as the others, saving themselves from the immediate reprisal, started to resume their assault.
Valour. Thrinax said he wanted to see their
valour, was that it?
Fionn’s fingers flexed along the haft of his weapon.
”Gertrude...you’re not worried about a little fire, are you? Someone as strong as you certainly knows wards to keep even dragonsflame at bay.”Gertrude couldn’t help but look back at Fionn. Dragonsflame? From one of the most powerful creatures in recorded history? Where the hell would she even get context for that? He had to be joking. His expression, however, told her that he was not.
That manic grin on his face might have been chilling enough to keep those flames at bay, if dragonsflame cared about metaphor. Gertrude returned his insane grin with her own.
“Are you
daft? You’re mad as a March hare! How the hell would I have the opportunity to know that?” she laughed uproariously, “Still…
maybe if I started a chant
right now and put as much magic as I could into a flame ward. But why would I risk that?”
Even as Gertrude said this, however, Gretchen had changed the chant into a defensive spell. If Thrinax wanted valor, then he likely wouldn’t be running away with his tail between his legs.
”There’s the confidence I was looking for!” Fionn exclaimed, his grin growing wider. It was nearly past the point that it could be likened to a normal human expression at all—a row of white shining in the starlight like a dog baring its teeth before a strike, or a shark smelling blood in the water. Whatever he’d come up with, he certainly seemed quite pleased with it.
Or, perhaps, he saw a shot at some sort of glory and he was ready to take it heedless of the consequences.
“
Confidence? Out-and-out
madness, more like,” Gertrude snorted. He hadn’t answered why she’d
possibly risk this, especially with how selfish she’d acted all along, but at this point he didn’t need to. They both understood what they were doing. They’d implicitly agreed on that much.
Fionn had his reasons, and Gertrude had hers. She hadn’t been able to make as good a showing as she would have liked so far, but her pride would
not go quietly into the night. She was
just aggravated, seething, young, and crazy enough to take that gamble.
He glanced over towards Thrinax just as the unmistakable, quiet
snap of Rolan’s crossbow sounded down below.
”Strong a shield as you can, Gertrude, and if you could get as low over this thing as you can that would help even more. Push it as fast as you can, too.” He hefted up his makeshift polearm, couching the butt end of it just under his armpit.
Like Renar had shown him to use larger Thalnish lances, not the light sort he was used to whenever he had to ride a horse in battle before joining the Iron Roses. Tightening his grip, he uttered—
”Grandesce!”—and the sword at the end of the staff once again became suffused with light, a spectral blade growing larger and past his sword’s actual blade, twice as large and wide as it was before, glowing like a new star in the sky. Back to the first spell he’d used in this entire test;
Sometimes, all you need is a bigger blade.“You don’t have to tell me,” Gertrude growled, swinging a leg over the broom. Side saddle was more comfortable, but if she wanted speed, she’d have to cut all the wind resistance she could. She clinched, and hung horizontal over the broom.
”Try to come at his head from the side first, and do it fast enough that he’d rather try to burn us out than just twist away—then just aim right for his mouth. I’ll keep this as steady as I can, but if I have to rest it on your shoulder to keep my aim, well, you’re strong enough that shouldn’t throw you off, aye?”“Don’t get shy now,
schweinehund. You’ve put those stupid paws on my shoulders enough that they might as well be a second home. Do what you have to, just make sure
we win.”
Gertrude didn’t tell him that she wasn’t strong at all. That she needed magical enhancement just to get around like a normal person. But being strong or not didn’t matter, as long as they got it
done. If she braced as hard as she could against the broom, she could support the weight.
Gertrde got Thrinax’s head in her sights, and went at him at full speed from the side. Fionn leaned down as well, bringing his feet up behind him to brace against where the bristles lashed to the broomstick, his blade still held high as they started to gain speed. As much as he didn't expect that the two of them would walk away from this charge, it still felt better to brace himself for the impact than to not.
”We'll put a hole in your hide yet, dragon,” he uttered grimly, the grin not leaving his face. They accelerated rapidly to a break-neck speed, far faster than any horse Fionn had ever rode upon. He lowered his glowing blade towards Thrinax, the fore end of the haft resting against Gertrude's shoulder as the committed to their fate as a giant missile.
As they streaked across the sky like a shooting star aimed at the dragon, he couldn't resist roaring out in challenge:
”Bás! Buaidh nó bás! BÁS AGUS BUAIDH!”
