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He was gone. The Wyverns stared. They couldn’t really blink, but their minds processed the empty space where Teriarch had been for a second. The Wyvern Lord, for lack of a better title, paused. Had he won?
No. Of course not. The Wyverns hesitated. The Dragon had gone back inside his cave, refusing to duel with breath attacks again. The Wyvern Lord swooped lower, as if thinking to dare the cave’s entrance. But that would bottleneck the Wyverns. He elected to shriek instead, a pure challenge. His weyr flew around him, screaming, hoping to draw the Dragon out.
The Wyvern Lord saw the flash of metal. Forewarned, he desperately dove—and the trident missed him by inches. But it still went through three of the Wyverns flying behind him. Like a dancing arrow, it shot through the skies. Each time it hit a Wyvern, the tips of the magical trident vaporized what it hit. Wyverns fell, parts of their heads, chests, and wings missing. The rest shrieked and fled, avoiding the magical death.
The Wyvern clutch was in full disarray. And as the reeling Wyvern Lord saw more Wyverns falling, it made the smartest decision since it had decided to oust Teriarch from his territory. The lead Wyvern opened its maw and screamed.
He bellowed up at the fleeing Wyverns. The Wyvern Lord shrieked a note of fury in the distance as a reply. They did understand each other in a way, Dragons and Wyverns. Teriarch snorted a bit of smoke and coughed. He was still breathing hard. He looked around.
The Dragon never thought about what the Wyverns might do after losing their challenge against him. He didn’t consider the ramifications of a growing weyr, or the impact of so many hungry Wyverns on an ecosystem like the High Passes’, or the natural implications of his defense of his territory. Or where the Wyvern Lord was leading his clutch now. Teriarch was, in large, a selfish creature.
And here they came. An army of Gold-rank threats, descending from the heights of the mountains. Enraged, driven out of their territory, led by the furious Wyvern Lord. And what should meet them but a city, a place of Drakes? And as before, the monsters descended. Lower and lower. The Wyvern Lord drew breath as Bird looked up, staring at faint specks in the distance.
And here they came. An army of Gold-rank threats, descending from the heights of the mountains. Enraged, driven out of their territory, led by the furious Wyvern Lord. And what should meet them but a city, a place of Drakes? And as before, the monsters descended. Lower and lower. The Wyvern Lord drew breath as Bird looked up, staring at faint specks in the distance.
The Wyvern Lord stared down at the city and the small oddity on the hill next to it. His sharp gaze spotted the Antinium, the milling Drakes and Gnolls. He snarled and dove.
—After a second, the Wyvern leader changed his mind. He stared down at Liscor. And his feral mind did some busy calculations. That was a rather small city. And bugs? He wasn’t about to eat bugs. He rose, shrieking at his companions. The weyr flew after him. No, for a clutch this large, the Wyvern Lord needed a proper place to make his nest, not some titchy little place like this. He flew on, affronted.
Not fleeing. Not exactly, but they had been bested. A certain Dragon had forced them to abandon their challenge to his territory and in the way of such monsters, the Wyverns had to go. They weren’t happy about it. And the Wyvern Lord, far larger than his smaller clutch, was angry.
The Wyvern Lord glared down at the tiny figure of the Antinium crawling over the inn, the Drakes and Gnolls on the walls not quite yet aware of his presence. He snarled. Not enough! There were nearly a thousand of his kin behind him. Wyverns! The average adult could be anywhere from thirty to sixty feet from head to long, serpentine tail, and he was larger still. He wanted proper quarry, not this tiny city!
The Wyvern Lord was angry. It had been a bad day for him. Not only had the flight been long, but it was hot! Too hot for a Frost Wyvern who had lived in the reaches of the High Passes. He was far from home and lost. His home in the High Passes called to him.
The Wyvern Lord had known his clutch needed to expand, so he’d led his entire flight out. The Frost Wyverns had challenged the Dragon whose territory was vast and took many of the spots his weyr would hunt. And they’d lost, so they had to go. There was no more food.
