Her blade cut through magic that was as strong as mithril, as adamantine. Traveller huffed a laugh as it felt the blow land, supreme confidence in its superiority over the humanoids that thought to fight a
god with weapons of steel and wood.
The blade struck belly scales and tore through them in a fiery lance of pain. In a lesser being, it might have been a critical wound. Given the size and the power of the dragon, it was still painful if for no other reason that it was completely unexpected.
The beast let loose a bellowing roar that carried the seeds of magic in it in an oppressive wave. It washed over the two women in a tide that the warding presence of Lorien could only blunt. The beast twisted its serpentine neck round and snapped razor teeth at Zephyrine. The strangely resonant voice of it hammered into their skulls without being bothered by such physical things as ears.
"One a traitor, the other an outsider," it said. The voice shifted between male and female, deep and soft and completely at random.
"The traitor should fall on her knees and accept the will of the Seven made manifest," it said.
...but they are not Seven, are they? Wry amusement in the voice within her skull.
They number but five. Five ungrateful souls bound together...
...to barely equal their mother.
"The Seven would not wish my end. I am faithful," she replied in her own native tongue. Anger edged the words, making the music of that language jagged and cruel.
"You are a base beast," she snapped.
Before it could turn to face her - preoccupied as it was with Zephyrine - the Seer shifted and darted forward. Like the Dreadlord, she was well trained in combat even if the means were different. Sensing her approach, the Traveller began to swing its horse-like head round, but she reached its great body first. Only a shifting of its leg saved it from having the spear driven into its chest. As it was, the wards it had wrapped round itself folded in like wet paper and the foot of steel sank into a foreleg until it was fully buried to the haft.
It screeched in abject rage, and spun round with a fleetness that belied its size. Its leathery tail connected solidly with
Aeyliea's side in a sickening crunch and sent the tribal rolling bonelessly dozens of feet to the side. When she landed, she remained unnaturally still.
The dragon ignored both the No'rei and the Dreadlord, snapping at the wooden shaft protruding from just below its shoulder and streaming iridescent blood down that limb, bellowing and shrieking in wordless rage as it did so.