The Sage's Vow

13.2 || Tzanach

Cale didn't think; he only moved. Even if his energy was lacking, he still had the natural enhanced speed and agility from his bond and years of training. He hopped down, varying between large ledges and platforms, before touching down at the base of the cave and diving for his sword. Ignoring his shoulder's protests, he grabbed the hilt, rolled, and came up with both of his blades in his hands. He didn't wait to assess the dragon's reaction. He darted for the cover of a large stalagmite and pressed his back against it.

From his position, he couldn't see Mara. Good. That meant it was unlikely the dragon could, either, and they wouldn't give that area much attention with Cale armed and down here.

Now for him to figure out how to not die. Once again, he instinctively reached out and then flinched away from the nothingness he found. Something panged deep in his chest. As much as he'd appreciate the assurance and assistance his dragon would bring, he also just wanted Ezraim to be there for the sake of his presence.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Cale shoved those thoughts away and reconstructed the scene on the other side of the rock. The dragon had yet to move based on the lack of tremors. He didn't like that. What reason did the dragon have for inaction? He'd seen the black energy the dragon—a female if he had to guess from the voice—had emitted. Had it been darkness? Was this a Phoenix Dragon?

His head throbbed from all the unknowns, but all the while, his mind raced, picking at bits of potential plans and trying to piece something sane together.

I'm curious, the same feminine voice mused in a quiet hiss, what kind of human must you be to have found your way here? Quite a long way from where you should be.

Her tone carried the undercurrent of a taunting challenge, and even if Cale couldn't quite puzzle out the meaning of it, he knew he didn't like it. No dragon on his side would speak like that. On Earth, he may have tried diplomacy. Here, away from any form of allies, he didn't have much choice.

Settling on one of his riskier plans, Cale sheathed one of his blades and began to reach toward his magic. It resisted, already at its limit and hidden deeper than it ever had been before, but he forced it to rise. Once he had it within his grasp, he spun around the cover of the rock and held his hand toward a space above the dragon's head.

"Dragon's quake!" The magic language exploded from him with the force of a train, and his vision flickered black. When it cleared, he felt the secondary sense of controlling another object—a large chunk of the cave ceiling. Dragging his hand down, he willed the ceiling to follow. The air wrenched out of his lungs as the same force seemed to rebound into his chest.

Cale hit his knees, but he wasn't alone in tumbling down. An avalanche of rocks detached from the surrounding cave, fully burying the dragon beneath it. The skylight above had expanded by at least another five meters. He had grabbed even more earth than he'd intended. That would explain his still-gasping state and the stars bursting across his vision.

He'd pushed past his limit many times in the past. It was a common way of expanding one's magic supply, though Paladins did it in more controlled environments. It had never hurt like this, though.

Needles replaced his blood, dragging their sharp tips across his insides as they flowed through him. Yet it wasn't a physical pain. It was deeper, and that was both more painful and more terrifying than if a monster had him pinned and ripped into his flesh.

The rock pile ahead rumbled as the rocks shifted. Gritting his teeth to the point his jaw ached, Cale forced himself to his feet. Regardless of how much he hoped for it, he knew the dragon wasn't dead. His best hope was that an enormous chunk of earth knocked her out, but based on the amount of movement, even that was too much to ask for.