The Island's Inhabitant

Dragons

Encouraged by the capture of Zoey and the removal of the hated Sword, the deceivers pressed in again to finish what was left of the demoralized party. Edward, still blinded by dust and tears, stumbled to his feet as the horrible war cries of the shapeshifters tore through the valley. Denver guarded the wounded boy while Edward and Orrick flanked him. They all knew it was a desperate last stand.

"There's just too many," Denver cried. His muscles were stiffening, and his lack of hearing made it far more difficult to sense attacks. Blood dripped down his arms from a plethora of scratches. His injuries alone were not life threatening, so he gritted his teeth against the pain and forced his limbs to move despite their exhaustion.

Edward also felt overwhelmed, but the adrenaline kept him moving. He was scratched and bruised, and he felt like every bone in his body wanted to break, but he had to keep going. He could not—would not give up yet.

"Dragons..." whispered Den hoarsely. He was half-conscious and staring up at the grey sky, his eyes glazed with pain. "They're coming..."

Edward didn't respond. Poor Den's love for dragons must have led him to see them coming to carry him off into the Land Without Time. Either that, or the angelics had come back to claim more of them. He spared a glance upward, then looked again. Den was right, something did move up there, and it was too big to be an angelic.

Denver still couldn't hear, but sensing movement overhead, he looked up. A grin cracked his bloodstained face. "Aurlin!" he shouted over the noise of battle. "I knew you'd come!"

A roar, terrifyingly deep, shook the earth as three dragons emerged from the grey clouds blanketing the sky. The first, a dusky red ground crusher, thudded to the ground next to Denver, the force of its landing scattering the deceivers and toppling the prince. Those he didn't crush underfoot scrambled away from the mighty dragon. The second dragon, an ashy green water whipper, circled once and landed gracefully next to Edward. The third, the perfect shade of grey to blend with the stormy sky, landed near Den.

"Denver the Merciful," rumbled the ground crusher, his voice deep and booming like an echoing cavern, "why must I always be pulling you out of these situations?"

The Guardian frowned and gestured that he couldn't hear anything. "Aurlin, you'll have to relay that psychically. I must be worse off than I thought." A brief moment passed, and he broke into a quiet chuckle. "You know you enjoy these adventures too, you old grump. Who's your friends?"

As Aurlin silently replied to Denver, the water whipper lowered his head to Edward and sniffed him, saying, "I am called Smoke. The elemental here is my hatching sister Serimus." His voice was fluid and calm, like a murmuring brook in the spring.

"I'm Edward," answered the prince breathlessly, still resting on his knees where Aurlin's rough landing had thrown him. He stared at the dragons. Smoke was about half the size of the hefty ground crusher Aurlin, his toes webbed and his tail split in two. Serimus was similarly sized, but instead of having the characteristics of a water whipper, she had a crown of spikes on the back of her head.

"Aurlin, this boy is wounded," stated Serimus abruptly. Her voice, though quiet, shook like thunder.

"I'm gu math!" Den shouted, having sat up, before keeling over in a fit of coughs. His wound started to bleed again. Edward rushed over to his side and knelt quickly, using his hands to put pressure on the wound.

"Gu math my foot," muttered Edward fiercely. "Stay still, Den. You'll bleed out if you keep moving around."

Serimus snorted fiercely. "We have to get him to a healer. The wound is deep."

Aurlin looked around at the remaining deceivers, many of which were keeping a respectful distance from the dragons, yet still poised to fight. "Begone, foul creatures," he hissed, swiftly turning to blast a jet of fire into their numbers. Many of them were incinerated instantly, but the unlucky ones fled with burns too horrible to survive. Any untouched threw their weapons to the ground and raced as fast as their legs could carry them away from the dragon.