Chapter Four: Good Timing

Cress's heartbeat was pounding in his ears, the ship's control shaking under his hands as he tried to hold his craft airborne. Both the spikers were hot on his tail, spewing more of their quills at him every few moments. He would dodge each barrage, spinning to the side or dipping the defender down around. He'd covered almost all the distance to Finelle, seeing the behemoth of the city looming on the horizon. He started sounding the radio immediately, certain he was now within broadcast range.
"Finelle Air Command, This is Defender Bravo Seven! My wingman is down and I have two spikers hot on my six. Guns are dry. Requesting immediate assistance!"
He spun the ship again, avoiding another volley of spines when he heard the voice of his commander on the line.
"We Copy. Alert fighters prepped and beginning launch, hang in there Bravo!" the voice came back, fuzzy with the range. Cress was about to breathe a sigh of relief when his ship shook violently, a terrible grinding noise sounding from his engine. It was damaged before, and now it was done. He watched smoke billow out of it over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing in frustration. Of all the times for his engine to die on him, this was not the one. Both dragons almost immediately closed the distance, their wide yellowish eyes gleaming with their imminent success. They arched their necks and both fired a barrage at the slowed and falling ship.
Cress had only a split second to react; his hand flew to the side of the seat, grasping and yanking on a switch there.
The Defender was struck by the spines, the reactor inside it being breached and instantly exploding, the blast violent and bluish colored. Cress flew from the wreck, having yanked the ejection mechanism just before the impact. The seat he was in quickly fell away and Cress found himself in free fall over the dense woods below him. After only a moment, his ship was past and well out of view, he falling much faster. Cress pulled down his flight goggles, the wind from free fall temporarily blinding him before he had them on and looked to his side. Both the dragons circled around having already spotted him and no doubt feeling their stomachs rumble at the sight of the exposed pilot. Cress cursed and looked back down, knowing the dragons were coming down after him. He straightened his body, trying to get as much downward momentum as possible to get away. If he pulled the ripcord to his parachute then he might as well present himself to the hungry beasts precooked. He would have to wait, his plan formulating. He'd have to pull the chute just above the trees, knowing the canopies were nearly 200 feet from the ground. He'd be counting on the branches to catch the chute and save him from the painful death by fall.
He could hear the beat of the beasts wings as they flew after him. He glanced to the side to see the monster coming hard after him, but he could only see one. He looked back down and saw the second, his silver eyes widening at the sight. It had flew beneath him and was now flying upwards toward him, maw gaping open.
The world seemed to slow down for Cress, realizing now that inaction would mean certain death. He hadn't kept his survival rifle when he ejected, but he reached to his side anyway, feeling the weight of a uniform standard piece. Strapped to his thigh was a tiny pistol like flare gun, used to flag down for rescue or for signaling. He took it from its side and pointed it down into the maw of the coming dragon, pulling the trigger with only feet between them.
The flare flashed when it left his gun, burning into the dragons mouth, making it choke for a moment. It was all he needed.
The maw closed for just a moment as the beast flinched, Cress tucking his shoulder as he hit into the side of the creature's face, rolling straight down its body and landing his feet at the back of its head, pushing off back straight down the body. He heard the two beasts crash into one another for a moment, recovering quickly, but not fast enough for him to make it into the parachute zone.
Cress pulled the chute, feeling it inflate right away. He felt his body jerk at the sudden pull of the chute, slowing his fall drastically before he suddenly broke the tree canopy. He shielded his eyes for a moment as he fell through and his chute caught on the branches. His fall came to a sudden stop and he was left hanging where he was. He looked up, hearing sudden gunfire and watched the two dragons attempt to turn and flee as the alert fighters from Finelle arrived, chasing the dragons away, probably bringing them down.
Cress let a breath out and picked up the radio, finally smiling, relief in his voice.
"Good timing guys."

~

December hated combat magic lessons, hated the methods, hated their purpose, hated how hard they were, and most of all she hated her teacher.
Which is why she was so glad that Lord Gareth was away today, off on some battle or something. She sat in the combat room, an open book in her hands as she finished a fairy tale about a silver-eyed castor-knight that saves a princess from an evil Kahmmon warlord. She smiled at the contents of the writing, so much of her childhood made up between the pages of books just like this one; love stories and dramas and fantasies about worlds without the complexity of magic. They were probably written by Kahmmonors themselves but she liked them non-the-less.
December closed the book after flipping through the pages a few times and looked back up to the empty training room, sighing softly.
She was a princess, the wonderful life she read about should have been hers to claim, and maybe four years earlier that would have been possible. She only began taking the combat courses on the request of Prince Cast himself.
. . . He seemed so happy when she said she might, she couldn't say no.
She tried to push that thought away, knowing where it would lead to. She kept telling herself that it was just a hard time, that the war would soon end and then when peace was restored, the prince would be himself again. Then, she felt certain, everything would be like it was supposed to be.
She put the book into her bag, a tiny purse sort of thing she rather liked, and stood up. Gareth was more than an hour late, so she could justify her leaving.
She was just out of the room when she heard some activity going on toward the entrance hall. Curiosity peeked, she made her way there, coming to find an odd procession moving into the palace.
A couple dozen people, dressed like Finellians and being guarded by several of Gareth's men. Even the Prince was there, talking to the black armor-clad figure that December couldn't mistake as anyone but Lord Gareth.
It took her mind only a few moments to comprehend what was going on. They were prisoners. The shock of what was happening hit her like a hammer, and without even really realizing where it came from, she was furious.
Red faced, she stormed to the prince and dark knight, barely keeping herself from yelling in front of the other guards and nobles that were watching the spectacle.
"What are you doing?! You brought Fells inside the city? Inside the Palace??" she hissed, uncommonly calling the Finellians by their shorter name.
The prince turned to her and smiled soothingly. "They are prisoners, Princess. We-"
She cut him off. "It is abomination!" her hiss growing harsher. "How can you do this?"
Gareth cut in, his voice velvet to the ears and making unpleasant goosebumps appear on December's skin. "Do not be alarmed, dear December." he said softly, using her name when the Prince wouldn't. It bothered her more than she thought it would. "The prince, in his wisdom, has decided to make an exception, purifying these Kahmmon for our use before bringing them inside."
December's eyes flashed to Gareth, the Dark Knight removing his helmet to bow to her. His hair was silver from age; well groomed, and long past his shoulders, it was the only part of him that gave his age away at all other than his skin, like paper in texture from so many times having unnaturally restored his youth. His eyes were a deceptive bright blue, his face fair and attractive. Yet for his fair features, there was something indescribable about him that seemed to radiate darkness and filth. Being around him made December feel as though she needed to bathe, despite not having any physical reason to do so.
She was about to speak further when the Prince cut her off. "I have given it my permission. For the first time, we have captured one of their flying warriors- We have much we can learn from him."
December listened and slowly turned to look at the procession, most of the people looking like ordinary Finellians, but one of them appearing to stand a little taller than the rest, wearing a uniform. She noticed that his head was bleeding rather badly, or at least had been only a moment ago.
Before either the prince or Gareth could stop her, she stepped away from them, walking to him.
The man's eyes flashed to her, mistrust mirrored heavily within them. He tensed, but could do nothing being bound as he was. Gareth began to move after her, the Prince shouted, but she ignored them, moving right up to the pilot and raising her hand to his bloodied forehead. She was awful at combat magic, but since she was young, December had always been hailed as a gifted healer. It made her happy to use magic in such a way. Her fingers glowed gently as she pressed them to the man's forehead, the slight feeling of vibration there for an instant before she took her hand away. The bleeding stopped altogether, the pilot's young features relaxing as the red and swollen wound faded away.
Gareth stopped where he was, watching curiously, the prince doing the same. The pilot himself seemed stunned by what happened.
December smiled gently to him, trying to reassure him. She was famous for her smile after all. "What is your name, warrior?"
The man hesitated only a moment before he answered. "Jake, Jacob Farr." he answered softly.
December's smile took warmth. "I am Princess December." she answered in return. "You have fought well, and have nothing to be ashamed of. I'm sure your people are proud of you."
Jake just watched her before the Prince took her shoulder and made her look up.
"That's enough, Princess." he said softly, beginning to pull her away. She let him lead her, turning back to look at Jake for a moment longer, he watching her go with a stunned expression at the kindness he was shown.
Prince Cast took her a short distance away before stopped and smiled to her unconvincingly. "We'll take it from here, December. Why don't you go back to what you were doing before?"
December frowned. "Why don't you want me here?"
Cast's smile slowly faded and he shook his head a little, his voice softening. "December, it makes me nervous to see you in such proximity to the Fells, I just want you to stay safe."
December was stunned by the answer, even more so when he called her by her name. She felt a smile appearing before she willed it in place at the kindness in his words. She couldn't remember the last time he spoke to her that way.
"A-Alright..." she agreed softly, smiling genuinely to him.
His smile returned in place. "Ok. I'll talk to you later then." he promised.
He turned and began walking back, his royal cloak billowing behind him.
December stood there smiling as he went and suddenly called out. "I love you!"
The prince stopped and looked back over his shoulder and smiled to her.
She smiled right back at him.
After a moment, he looked back to where he was off to, returning to the main hall.
December kept smiling.