Another day, another raid, or so Nysid had thought when he and the riders of the eleventh wing had set off from the base camp they had established on the west side of the Ashenge mountain range that morning.

They had gotten away with no casualties and only a few brief brushes with the slower, but still formidable forces of Marilderland’s dragon legions thus far, though now it seemed their good fortune had run out. Or, rather, King Yisin’s demands for more and more stolen supplies to feed their people had forced Nysid to push further and further inland, putting them at greater risk of being caught, and now they had been. He’d hoped that striking along the coast would afford them some small advantage—  having the sea at their backs at least limited the directions Marilderland’s retaliatory forces could strike from, but that hadn’t been enough in the end.

It would have worked if not for this First-forsaken storm, Nysid thought bitterly to himself as Ephinea banked hard and he leaned into the turn as he drew his bowstring back all the way to his cheek then released in one fluid motion. The arrow struck a legionnaire dead in the chest hard enough to make the man lurch back in his straps despite the formidable crosswind between their dragons, but bounced ineffectively off his heavy armor. Unsuccessful, Nysid and Ephinea disappeared before man or dragon could determine who had fired the arrow.

It’d been a difficult few months and the prince would be hard pressed to say it had been worth it. The supplies he and the riders under his command had managed to divert to Rodshyom had brought some relief to his people, but not anywhere near enough to justify the risks taken in the process or the inevitable political fallout in Nysid’s opinion. His repeated pleas to his uncle to reach out for relief through diplomatic channels had gone ignored and prince though he may be, his uncle was still king regent, and orders were orders.

Resentment sat heavy as stone in the pit of the prince’s stomach—  a festering resentment that became more and more difficult for Nysid to rein in by the day. He was nothing if not loyal to his homeland, however, and desperate to bring what relief was in his power to bring its starving people, Nysid continued to lead the raids across the border in spite of all his personal objections.

One in particular began to dog his every move, though it had taken time for Nysid to realize this was the case. The dragon, glittering and golden even in the timeless, stormy twilight that had enveloped the battlefield, was the largest he or Ephinea had ever laid eyes on. That the creature and his rider seemed intent on chasing them down had seemed laughable at first, even in those dire straights… but their persistence had proved formidable. Frightening, even, as slowly but surely, they gained.

“I can’t shake them,” Ephinea finally admitted, though Nysid knew it stung her pride to say so. He could feel the truth of it in the subtle straining of her dark wings and the ragged edge to her every breath as his partner’s ribs heaved beneath him. “We’ll have to go on the offensive.”

“My bow won’t do much against that armor,” Nysid observed with a scowl once he’d had a chance to get a better look at the enemy. The reinforcements that had relieved Marilderland’s initial attack force had arrived last for a reason: they were heavy cavalry.  The prince was an archer of particular skill and even he knew he’d have to get incredibly lucky to land any sort of hit on the enemy rider that would be more than a temporary annoyance thanks to the heavy armor he wore. Ephinea would have struggled to carry the prince very long or at speed if he’d worn the same, but it appeared to make little difference to the largest dragons clan Torsay had to offer.

Ephinea banked hard and dropped out of their pursuer’s line of sight, though Nysid knew that wouldn’t be the case for long, and disappeared into the cloud cover. “Save your arrows, my prince, we’ll see how well he fares against my talons,” the dragon growled.

Trusting his partner to do what needed to be done, Nysid renewed his grip on the riding straps and hunkered down low against her neck to minimize on drag and leaned his weight in time with her so they moved as one being through the sky. Blinded by the clouds, Nysid relied on Ephinea’s superior senses to carry them through and knew they must be nearing their target when his dragon leveled out briefly, then tucked her wings and swept in hard and fast.

Faster than the golden behemoth of a dragon could track, but not faster than his rider as it turned out. Ephinea threw her rear legs forward, talons fully extended with the intent of snatching the man from his dragon’s back and crushing him in her grasp, but instead of steel her attack met a magical barrier and glanced off, unable to penetrate. Nysid squinted against the brilliant flare of sparks Ephinea’s talons threw up and as such saw the moment his enemy swung his glaive and struck his dragon across the flank with the flat of the blade. A clumsy attack that did nothing but further sting Ephinea’s pride, but Nysid was reluctantly impressed all the same. The man’s counter attack had failed miserably, but the fact that he had managed to counter Ephinea on pure instinct was a stunning achievement.

Pushing the thought aside, Nysid leaned forward and called, “Are you alright?” to his partner, worried the barrier might have scalded her.

“I’m fine,” Ephinea insisted tersely, clearly irritated but unharmed. “I’ll lose them and try again,” she added grimly and adjusted course to do just that.

But she didn’t—  couldn’t, even. Where as before they had managed to lose the golden dragon and his rider for a time before being spotted again, the enemy continued to follow them everywhere now, despite having grown no faster on the wing and Ephinea no slower.

“It’s like they can─” Nysid began as yet another attempt to disappear into the cloud cover failed, then stopped as a dawning sense of horror overtook him. The ‘clumsy’ strike the other rider had landed on Ephinea hadn’t been an attempt to cut the dragon; he had tagged her with some sort of tracking spell.

He relayed his suspicions and Ephinea said, “Impossible,” though he could hear the doubt in her voice even over the roar of the wind. “Could such a spell exist? To enchant a dragon is a feat worthy of a legendary spellcaster.”

“I don’t know of one, but hypothetically he wouldn’t have to enchant you so much as possibly wrap his spell around you…” Nysid hypothesized. Normally he would have brushed off such an idea as impossible, and yet their enemy's ability to trace their every move when they could not manage the same before their brief physical encounter…

“Then this game of hide and seek does nothing for us,” Ephinea growled as she accepted the unlikely scenario and as one, they turned their energy to a more straightforward approach to deal with their enemy.

Anders could tell when the Black Prince and his partner figured out their persistent enemy had some way to track them directly when they gave up on disappearing and changed tacts yet again. The other dragon dropped like a stone towards the earth, wings clamped tight against her sides and Ghain followed. When the larger dragon had committed to the direction, though, momentum taking hold of his bulk, she spread her wings with an audible snap as wind filled their sails and carried her up and behind them, leaving Ghain and Anders wide open to attack. Realizing what was coming next as the smaller dragon inhaled, the captain threw up a second, much larger magical barrier and braced himself for impact as a direct stream of dragon fire howled across the narrow distance between them.

The large shield was difficult to maintain against such an onslaught, dragon fire being no friend to spellwork of any kind, and Anders found his vision tunneling as he forced himself to hold his ground while Ghain tried to duck out of range. Larger and slower as he was, the golden dragon couldn’t, but luckily for the both of them their enemy was tiring and couldn’t maintain the assault. As soon as it broke off, Anders sagged forward, bracing himself with a hand between Ghain’s shoulders as he weakly sheathed his glaive before he could drop it into the sea below.

They were still in the middle of a fight, however, and the captain forced himself to take a breath then glance back, only to find the black dragon and her rider were gone. Frantic, he looked around just in time to spy them drifting beneath Ghain’s belly as they slid into a smooth barrel roll that brought them directly overhead. Awed, Anders’ gaze caught on the Black Prince as their heads came within a few scant yards of one another and the other man pulled his bow back to full draw then sited down his arrow, form flawless despite hanging upside down from his dragon’s back. He loosed, and Anders’ body reacted faster that his mind, twisting sharply to one side so the arrow struck his pauldron and bounced away harmlessly into the night before the Black Prince and his dragon drifted away once more.

Heart pounding against his ribs, Anders fought to catch his breath, shaken by the encounter but deeply impressed by his opponent all the same. Ghain, however, shared none of his partner’s awe and darted his head to the side, teeth snapping alarmingly close to the other dragon’s throat, making her hiss and jerk away on reflex. Tired and overworked, the black dragon’s wings faltered; an opening—  and from the way the Black Prince tensed on her back, he knew it too. Ghain reared his head back, teeth bared and ready to strike again, but as the entire scene slowed to a crawl before Anders’ eyes, he heard himself shout, “Wait!”

His partner hesitated, confused by the objection and in the span of that brief moment the storm that had been trying valiantly to drown them all midair since their arrival struck with renewed vigor. The rain died down almost entirely, but a sudden, violent wind grabbed them all up as a child might an ill-favored plaything, and cast them out over the open water away from the shore. The black dragon disappeared almost immediately, her lighter build leaving her helpless in the face of such intense weather, and even Ghain was tumbled about like a fledgling, struggling to remain upright as his partner held on for dear life.