Fog turned to smoke.
Feet ridden with ash the party's footsteps became softer, though it was impossible to breath without coughing.
Though they had their masks, Willbress had nothing, and the old father gagged every few paces. Peter cut off a piece of the father's robes to use as a hasty mask, and the gagging seized.
"Any further from here," Willbress said, cross in hand dimming, "and you'll enter the nest mother's keep. The High Lord will be there."
"Good," Peter said, twirling his dagger, "lead on."
"I, don't think you understand, if we keep go-."
"I know perfectly well father where we are father, we all do. You'll be with us, you'll be safe."
Willbress scoffed, but kept going, cross up with a dim white beam.
Peter leaned closed, letting Victoria stay close to the old father.
"Let Vic and I take care of the dragons. Save your strength for Alrieon."
He snarled, "I've killed nothing but piss ants in rusty armor. Taking the brunt of the forces is what you've me for."
Peter smiled. "You're a salty old fuck and I admire that, but just trust me on this. We won't get too many chances."
"Aye," he sighed, steam rising from his mouth, "don't miss."
Vibrations froze Willbress, who let the cross fall.
Pebbles rattled, low hums becoming growls with a wispy echo. Fiery green and blue jewels appeared, several pairs of eyes, blackening air, and gusting breaths.
He stomped up to Willbress, picked up and put the old father behind him, then let the stones take point.
Arrows flew, loosing so fast he didn't see them nock between blinks. Bright sparking steel raced between eyes, plunged into throats, and skewered tongues open. Through the smoke, a horn snouted drake belched flames, scorching the ground for no more than a few seconds. An arrow, from Victoria's quiver of what could've been javelin's, drove through its nostrils.
Wyverns whined overhead, their hisses leaking black drool upon the party.
Fire rained down, he raised his shield with Willbress beneath him, and it was all blazing winds for over a minute. While the old father wailed, he peaked from behind his shield. Black wings spread on either side, blotting out the faint glimmer the sun was. He snatched up the father and dove out the way, a twitching wyvern slamming beside him.
Red beaming eyes ignited behind him, and a drake stood upon its hind legs. It was round in the belly, and its arms were small, though its jaws were thicker, more square than round. It dove towards him, leading with its mouth full of lance sized teeth. He led with his shield, stunning the beast in place, shattering its front jawbone. It swept with a palm, and he slammed it with his flail. Another swing brought it down, then he slammed again, and again, crumbling its skull, caving in its cheeks.
Willbress stood with an open mouth, eyes wide. He clouted the father, beckoning him to keep up.
"Lest you want to be a father of ash!"
They kept pace with Peter and Victoria, the two's robes shining against dragon fire.
Nocked on their bows were massive fire darts, loosing straight through scales. Dragonborne hatchlings, round eyed, shiny without scales, plopped out the ground from tiny firepits hundreds of meters deep beneath the earth. At the sight of their elders being shot down they wailed, tails wiggling while burrowing back below ground.
Roars erupted, enough to shake even the stones off balance. He stayed upright, though kept a hand on a whimpering Willbress.
Three sets of eyes, white smoldering coals, appeared above. As though a whirlwind were touching down, winds forced the party to stand firm, though dust kicked up so much it shrouded the atmosphere black.
Victoria loosed, three arrows at once. All light streaming steel heads incinerated upon grazing the dragon's scales.
All its heads, three with a crown of horns, spiked beards on their chins, inhaled. Air sucked inward, towards the beast, as it landed before the party. Its wings were vast, covering over fifty meters in both directions, scales like gold, and its talons were black jagged, digging into the earth.
One breath incinerated Victoria and Peter.
Willbress in hand, he dove to the nearest pit, though the old father screamed.
Slippery rocks jabbed his sides and bottom, as slid down. Fire razed overhead, and the three headed dragon's gaze shined above before everything faded black.
Not until he reached the depths, hatchlings squirming atop one another to face him, could he see. Brimstone with heated orange rocks laid wide as a field, for so long he couldn't see the ends of it, baby dragon snorting and puffing smoke about the hot caves.
The little critters yelped, some taking small bites and him. With his shield he squashed them, dozens of bug-eyed scaly rodents, and the rest scurried away.
Above roared the three headed dragon, cursing and snarling smoke, filling the air.
"I can smell you, cursed soul! If it means laying waste a generation of nests, so be it!"
With Willbress in under his flail arm, he ran through the hatchlings lair.
Darkness took the fields, the dragon above sucking in air from every crevice. An exhale filled fire above, racing down from all pits. He hurried across scorched rocks, tossing over hatchlings, splattering eggs open, until he reached a dark passage.
Flames engulfed the fields, and whining dragonlings didn't stop until their shelly scales melted away.
It was dark and, for what must've been an hour to have passed, it was cold. Just as it was in the foggy burning battlefield, his breath frosted his lips. Light appeared upon turning a corner, though with came a frigid breeze forcing him to breath into one of his palms.
He'd never been so cold before, and he checked on Willbress, who fell unconscious.
Upon reaching the cave entrance, fog filling everything beyond a one-meter slope down, he laid the old father against a wet wall.
"Stay awake," he demanded, though Willbress was on short choking breaths.
He offered what little water he had, and the old father promised to stay awake until sunrise.
"Just until…you lot make safe the…"
No ale, just his fiery flask, nothing an ordinary man could enjoy.
Though as the night went on, and Willbress stayed upright listening to war horns and rider screams, he knew the stones would awaken.
So it was, at first light, the old father stiffened, giving into death's grip.
He laid the cross in the old father's hands, then stepped out to search for the stones.