Cowboys & Dragons

Part 8

"Run!" shouted Eddy over the rising turmoil of gunshots, naked feet hitting the ground, and the bubbling and gurgling that filled the cave.

The Dragongod rose, but not slowly as he had before. This time the lake was in turmoil, and his head crashed through the surface like a new continent rising from the ocean. Liquid gold cascaded down his primeval form and splattered over the platform as a growl so deep it made the ground tremble suddenly filled the air.

After a moment of shock, Isabella and the Marquis turned and started running as fast as their legs would carry them. Azrael, however, remained, calmly seeking cover behind the altar upon which the Black Diamond had rested.

"Azrael! Don't do it!" screamed Eddy.

The head of the giant brute rose over the platform, gold dripping from him like molten wax. Angrily he shook his head left and right, sending bucket-sized drops of molten metal everywhere. Baring his teeth, he opened his arachnid-like eyes, immediately catching sight of the two tiny figures racing toward the other end of the jetty.

Rapid gunfire filled the cave by now. Some of the shots were aimed at the golden titan and harmlessly bounced off of his exposed teeth or were sucked up by the gold still clinging to his frame. The Dragongod made a sound that reminded Eddy of a chuckle; then he opened his gaping maw, drawing a great breath and preparing to breathe fire on the two thieves who had dared to desecrate his temple.

Azrael acted.

With the calmness of a captain who had braved many storms, he stood and stared at the ancient beast. The gale tore at his clothes, sucking his black hat right from his head. Steadying himself against the altar, he brought both his hands up, each holding a sawed-off Buffalo rifle, a single-shot rifle so powerful that its cartridge could rip through the bodies of several men.

Eddy had seen Azrael kill dragons with these two rifles several times. Their deadliness and his skill with them were unquestioned, but Eddy doubted they would do much good against a horror such as this. In his heart, he bade the only friend he had ever known farewell.

Azrael aimed for a second and then pulled both triggers. The kickback was so strong that, while he was still standing, it sent him sliding back several feet, his boots not providing enough friction on the hard floor. In response, the Dragongod's left eye exploded in a shower of black ichor, and the world heard a sound it had not beheld in eons—the pain-filled scream of a god.

It was a scream that made the very mountain shudder, that cracked stone, rippled the golden lake, and sent stalactites falling from the ceiling like broken icicles. Eddy covered his ears and screamed, his frail voice countering the roar of the beast just enough to keep him from going deaf. The Dragongod's body twitched in a shudder of pain, a feeling long forgotten, and like a wolf howling at the moon, he reared his massive neck upward.

More stalactites fell from the shadow-shrouded ceiling. Like spears they plunged into the golden lake or exploded as they crashed on the jetty, turning the mad dash of the Marquis and Isabella into a death race. Dodging to the left and right, they miraculously managed to avoid being crushed by the falling stones. One of them, as large as a man was tall, crashed directly in front of the altar, mere feet away from Azrael, cracking the ground open.

The dragon killer did not even flinch. Instead he dropped both his rifles, pulled his revolvers, and started firing—at the ceiling.

Emptying both his revolvers in quick succession, he fired at a cluster of stalactites over the monster's head. Splinters of stone exploded from the stalactites, possibly due to the bullets, the deafening roar of the beast, or a combination of both; several stalactites broke and fell like spears. Most of them just burst as they hit the iron-hard bone of the Dragongod, but some lodged themselves into the softer flesh of his gums or maw.

And one of them pierced the right eye of the behemoth.

The Dragongod shuddered, and his mouth closed with a snap that sent splinters of his own teeth flying with the force of cannonballs. His head tilted slowly forward, revealing a man-sized splinter of stone jutting from the eye like the broken mast of a ship.

The stalactite had torn deep. Black ichor was already oozing down the compromised eyeball and mixing with the gold covering his face to form what, to Eddy, looked like a hideous death-mask. With a final shudder, the Dragongod slumped backward like a landslide falling into the sea, causing a huge wave to roll toward the other end of the cave.

There was a moment of shocked silence that seemed to go on forever. Even the firing had ceased.

Then Eddy screamed, "Yeeeeeeeeeehaaaaaaaa! That's my frigging partner!"

Azrael allowed himself a grin, and with a spin, he put his revolvers away. With the relaxed ease of the victor he picked up his rifles, slid them into the holsters on his back, and swaggered back toward the others. Eddy was cheering and the others fell in, the dangers of their situation forgotten for a moment.

Then a giant claw rose from the golden sea and crashed down on the platform behind the dragon killer, cracking and shattering it. The following tremor was so strong that Azrael was almost thrown over the rim. He stumbled to a halt, stared over his shoulder—and started running as he had never run before.