The Dragon Chase: A Tale of the Everburning City

Chapter 18: Gerald

The trick to using the Craft to generate a concussive force was in how quickly you could flash-heat the air. Any Crafter, and even most rejects, could make a fireball or a whirlwind of flame, given enough time. But a rapid explosion was the kind of skill that separated the masters from the hobbyists.

His master had taught him, in quiet defiance of both custom and the Shadows. Learning how to wield the flame in war was not a skill the Bureau of Oversight tolerated letting many Crafters learn. But Master a'Loria had felt, in what now seemed like sublime wisdom, that wielding the Gloam would demand a similar calibre of willpower to battling another Crafter.

And either his master had held back a great deal when she taught him, or this Rider was quite a bit better at it.

Gerald reached into his pocket with his left hand, as he held a Salamander shell between the fingers of his right fist, pointing the shell straight towards the Rider as it swung its firebrand at him again.

Two steps. First, ignite the shell. The will, sudden awareness, and the life of all that flame stretches out in a flash of blue fire. Once you have that flash of awareness, take it and lash out.

After that, in barely enough time to call it an instant, the flash of blue fire turns into a fierce inferno of heat that could reduce rock into ash. The concussive force of the flash-heated air was breaking apart the stone battlements, and even cracking the Causeway.

And it was barely enough to counter the raging onslaught of fire barreling towards him with each swing of the Rider's firebrand.

He had traded eight blows with the Rider, matching swing with Salamander shot. Each of his own shots, amplified with the shell, could have punched a hole through a building. Whatever the Rider was conjuring was at least as powerful, and wasn't taking advantage of an existing flame.

Despite his own training, he was already beginning to feel the scalding hot winds that rushed around him as he swept fire into motion. The stones beneath his feet were inhospitably hot, searing the bottom of his boots, and his coat had small tendrils of smoke rising from the sleeves.

His right hand clutched another shot while his left dropped the spent shell onto the stone. The battlements had been broken apart a few blows before now, and chunks had been hewn from the Causeway in wide rivulets almost deep enough to hide inside.

But the Rider, that eighteen foot tall creature of flame, did not stop as its horse continued its slow, unrelenting march forward. Each of its steps was slow and careful, and its head was held low to let the Rider's sweeping blows pass overhead.

Gerald nearly groaned aloud as the Rider swept its blade in another vicious arc over the horse, and the air ahead of him erupted into flame.

His right hand was pointed forward almost of its own accord, as he ignited the Salamander shot, and detonated it into a flash of blue fire that screamed into the night as it threw air and stone out of its path.

He followed up with another, before even the blue Salamander fire could fade, and another. He could feel his blows smash into the swirling fires of the Rider's assault, and felt it crumble.

Smiling, he poured more of himself into the attack, and threw the fires at and into the Rider itself.

He felt his fires hit another wall, and felt his attack recoil as if he were trying to punch a brick wall. He flinched back, stunned, and began to let the fires die off. But he felt, through the flame, something coming at him.

He threw himself to the side, and drew his sword.

The fire coming towards him was blade-thin, and astonishingly bright. It passed in a blur, just where he was standing, and tore a deep gash into the stone as it swept by.