The Grimm Dossier

Chapter 54 - The Dragon of Manaton

England, West Coast
Devonshire, Dartmoor
Dyowl's Hollow - Woods of Dartmoor
5 November 1898, 11:08 pm

Benjamin stared. The gigantic firs full of sharp thorns lay torn down on the forest floor, broken branches full of pine needles scattered everywhere, as if after a merciless storm. Then suddenly hands grabbed him and he winced, only to look up into Crowford's tense face. The latter's chest rose and fell heavily from the strain as he struggled to his feet. "That won't hold him for long!" he groaned, his gaze still darting uneasily about.

The forest and the darkness were so thick that the trees seemed to have moved closer in the gloom. The ghostly fingers of mist crept closer again, narrowing their circle around the hollow. After all, they had been through today, both men should have been dead tired. Instead, they were exhausted and wide awake in equal measure. Adrenaline pumped through their veins, keeping them upright. Despite the effort, the constant hoping, fearing, and failing again. An ebb and flow of emotions. Ben could see the mage's left-hand tense. It was smeared with blood, but underneath he recognized an unhealthy, blackish tinge.

"What's wrong with your arm?" asked Ben, but when he tried to reach for the mage's hand to look at it, he pulled it away from him.

"I already told you, we don't have time for this!" the mage hissed tensely. But Ben thought he saw a hint of shame or panic in the blue eyes, which was quickly hidden again behind the tension of their situation. "You can't kill a demon that easily!" the mage continued as he pressed his own hand to the bleeding injury on his left. His nose wrinkled, then his gaze slid to Ben's side and the revolver. "Why didn't you shoot?" he asked, and Ben winced under the question as if he had slapped the seasoned soldier.

"I-" he put in, then his voice broke at the cold fact and his hands began to shake again. Kyle's gaze slipped and perhaps at that moment, he understood that the soldier had not returned unscathed from the distant land of sand and skirmishes. At least not in the way it appeared and Ben wanted everyone to believe. "We're out of ammo." Ben pressed out and his voice took on a rough sound. " I can't shoot anymore. I won't be much help anymore."

I don't want to die. Ben thought and the trembling spread to his whole body. I don't want to die again.

The blow hit him so unexpectedly that his head flew to the side. Kyle had lashed out, slapping him so hard that hot flames rose in his face, and now he stared at the younger man, stunned.

"Get a hold of yourself Archer!" the mage said and dragged the doctor to his feet where he bumped him in the chest. "You're a shit soldier! That monster tried to kill us so many times and we survived it all this time! Get a hold of yourself!" Kyle grabbed him by his coat and shook him. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the mage's features. "For fuck's sake! You said yourself you pray and it happens!"

As if the mage had given a go-ahead for something with that, all at once there was a deafening crash. The trees burst upwards and, as if in slow motion, they slid aside around the clump of black-hot mist, smacking bending flesh and red-hot eyes. The demon swelled, and spread its arms and the sound echoed from every direction, making every tree and stone tremble. The surfaces of the small puddles rippled, and a few stones from the steep, jagged rock faces of the hollow came loose and fell rumbling down into the bed of mud and leaves.

The hulking body fell forward, the spine bending at an unnatural angle in a noisy crack, and it looked as if every inch of the hitherto whitish-grey skin was now blackening with charcoal dust. The earth trembled, a few cracks dug loudly into the forest floor and some of the less firmly rooted trees fell over like matchsticks with a miserable roar. One of the colossi crashed to the ground not far from the two searchers, causing them to leap forward in their rising panic and stare at the image before them.