บท 14: Arrows of Trurian Kingdom

The piercing cries of pain had filled the air as the arrows had found their marks. Qedren, the youngest and most vulnerable of the dragons, had shrieked in agony as the projectiles had pierced through his scaly body.

The Trurian forces had continued their relentless pursuit, closing in on Reeve and Uzana, attempting to corner them in the aircraft above the bay.

To make matters worse, on the shores of the bay, a contingent of Trurian ground troops had positioned themselves, readying their weapons to unleash a barrage of iron-tipped arrows and spears aimed at the dragons. Their aim had been true, and one of the projectiles had struck Qedren's neck, causing him to roar in pain and distress.

Without a moment's hesitation, Uzana had taken swift action, immediately directing Ryzzid, his dragon companion, to unleash a torrent of scorching flames toward the bay. The searing heat and billowing inferno had created a barrier, temporarily halting the advance of the Trurian ground troops and buying precious time for their wounded companion.

Meanwhile, Ragnar had understood the dire situation and had known that they had to divert the attention of the Trurian aircraft away from Qedren.

With a surge of determination, he had urged Ymat to soar towards the Trurian aircraft, becoming a target himself in order to protect the weakest among them.

Ragnar had maneuvered Ymat in daring aerial acrobatics, drawing the attention of the Trurian aircraft towards him.

The enemy had shifted their focus to intercept Ragnar, their attacks now directed at him as they had sought to eliminate the perceived threat.

As the Trurian aircraft had diverted their assault towards Ragnar, the pressure on Reeve and Uzana had eased momentarily.

It had been a risky move, but Ragnar's sacrifice had allowed them a brief respite to regroup and strategize their next course of action.

***

Clad in their armor, Cescil's troops had prepared for the imminent battle. The weight of their protective gear had served as a constant reminder of the vulnerability they had faced.

They had understood all too well that a single blow could have sent them crashing to the ground, their fates hanging by a precarious thread.

At the edge of the cliff, Lady Sophia had stood resolute, her presence commanding and unwavering. The wind had tugged at her cloak, as if echoing the tension in her heart.

Her eyes had narrowed, straining to discern the black dots in the vast expanse of the sky. Her hands had instinctively clenched against her chest, a silent plea for strength and guidance in the face of the impending storm.

The magnitude of the situation had weighed heavily on Lady Sophia's shoulders, yet she had refused to succumb to despair. Instead, she had drawn upon her inner resolve, summoning every ounce of determination to face the unknown with unwavering courage.

Her unwavering gaze had fixed upon the distant figures; she had become the embodiment of hope amidst the gathering darkness.

Time had seemed to stand still in that fleeting moment as if the world had held its breath in anticipation. Lady Sophia's unwavering spirit had radiated a quiet strength, inspiring those around her to stand tall and face their fears head-on.

Her presence had become a beacon of resilience, instilling a sense of unity and purpose among the weary troops.

As the two black dots in the sky had drawn nearer, their wings flapping with purpose, Lady Sophia's focus had intensified. A sense of urgency had swept over her, and she had swiftly lifted the hem of her dress, deftly tying it around her waist.

It had been a familiar gesture, a signature move that had signaled her unwavering determination to fulfill her duties.

The healers, well-acquainted with Lady Sophia's ways, had mirrored her actions, their eyes fixed on her every movement. They had recognized the significance of this ritual, a symbolic preparation for the tasks that had lain ahead.

With practiced grace, they had followed suit, each healer securing their garments to ready themselves for the impending demands that had awaited them.

"Qedren," Lady Sophia had murmured, her voice barely audible. The healers had remained oblivious to the fact that the small dragon with a tinge of green had been named Qedren.

With agility and speed, Qedren had soared through the air, heading straight toward Sophia. Not too far away, Ragnar and Ymat had diligently kept a watchful eye on him, ensuring his safety until they had reached the edge of the cliff.

As Qedren had touched down on the edge of the cliff, the landing had proved to be less than graceful. The small dragon had stumbled upon landing, losing balance and tumbling over the edge. Reeve, the rider, had been unable to hold on and had been sent rolling uncontrollably from that point.

The healer girls had rushed to their aid, assessing their well-being. Reeve had quickly recovered and sprung to his feet, chasing after Qedren without hesitation.

"Assist Qedren! He's but a youthful dragon, his scales yet delicate and vulnerable to arrows and spears!" Reeve had urgently cried out in a state of alarm.

Qedren had suffered severe injuries, with numerous arrows and an iron spear lodged in his neck. With great care, Roman had approached Qedren and carefully removed the iron spear, causing the dragon to let out a piercing cry of pain.

Blood had flowed freely from the wound, prompting the healer girls to intervene and do their utmost to stem the bleeding swiftly.

Before long, Ragnar had descended from the sky along with Ymat. Upon landing, it had become evident that two arrows had struck him.

One had pierced his back, but fortunately, it hadn't penetrated deeply, allowing Ragnar to remove it with relative ease, akin to plucking out a thorn.

However, the other arrow had lodged deeply in his chest, reaching through his back.

Fearful and hesitant, none had dared to approach Ragnar in his wounded state. However, Sophia had summoned her courage and swiftly rushed to his side, determined to aid him.

"Roman, outfit all the dragons with iron armor," commanded Ragnar, his voice filled with urgency. "Arn and Rast swiftly join Uzana. We must act without delay. Ostril has formed an alliance with Trurian for an imminent aerial assault. Approximately fifteen airships rain down arrows upon us."

The weight of the situation had hung heavy in the air as Ragnar had issued his orders, determined to rally their forces and fend off the impending attack.