The Final Storm (Part 3)

Jaydon becomes his True Form

(Author's Note: This is unedited. Please please tell me if anything with the action does not make sense!)

“Jaydon, we’re being crushed!” Ralem hissed, poking up from behind the bush. His green eyes widened at the grisly sight.

            Jaydon frowned, his claws shooting out of his palms. “Not for long.” He lunged out of his hiding place when a soldier strayed too close, probably trying to cowardly escape from the throes of war. Before he could let out a scream, Jaydon snapped his neck and dragged him back into the bushes, swift as a hunting cougar. “Here,” he pulled the soldier’s scimitar out of its sheathe and tossed it to his Rider.

            Ralem was so shocked he almost didn’t catch it. “Jaydon..”

            “Ralem, you were trained for this, remember? We both were. Now ready for our final test?” Jaydon asked, a dark eyebrow arched.

            Ralem nodded, at first haltingly, then with more firmness. “Yes.”

            Jaydon grabbed his arm and pulled him out of hiding. “Stay with me and you’ll be fine, Rider.” With a steady loping run he charged headlong into the fray, his talons swinging madly. He tore the throat of the first man with his teeth, his talons impaling just below the breastplate of another. His wings snapped out to brain the men on either sides of him. Then he unlatched his jaw from the poor man, his mouth dripping with blood and leaped on his next group of prey, snapping their spines and slitting their throats. A few fought back, but their steel was met with razor sharp talons.

            One tried to push him back with his shield, as if he were an animal he was trying to ward off. Jaydon laughed and snagged the shield from his hands, jerking it back before thrusting it at his neck, completely decapitating him. Then he twisted around like a hurricane, throwing the shield straight at a soldier who had been trying to sneak up on him. The man looked down at it dumbly before falling sideways, lost to view in the frenzy of action.

            Although he would never admit it, Ralem felt sick to his stomach just watching his dragon fight. He looked away, trying to pitch in and help, his blade moving like a blur. He was glad Lauri taught him to fight with both hands, because it was extremely hard to fight with only his left hand and it left him extra vulnerable. While he was dodging a dark-haired man’s blade, he felt naked shoulders brush his own. “I told you to stay by my side,” Jaydon hissed. He had axes in both hands from fallen soldiers and they were inflicting ghastly wounds as he fought back-to-back with his Rider.

            “Kinda busy here,” Ralem replied, his blade meeting the dark-haired man’s with a loud bang.

            Jaydon laughed, splitting a man’s skull with his axe, kicking his body to the ground and jerking the bloody ax out of his body. “Ralem, I know you can do better than this? How many men have you brought down so far? Two?”

            “Three actually,” Ralem said before banging against his opponents sword, forcing him off balance. Before he could recover, Ralem sank his blade into the man’s stomach. “That makes four, but really it’s barbaric to count how many men you kill. We only kill for the salvation of a country, not for a stupid contest.” His stomach lurched as he pulled his sword out of the man’s gut.

            “I’m not saying it’s a contest, I’m just saying it doesn’t feel like your heart is into it. I’ve already taken down twenty five men,” Jaydon said, punching someone in the face with his talons.

            Ralem rolled his eyes. “That’s what I call a contest, Jaydon.” Suddenly a pike thrust out of nowhere. Ralem raised his right arm, not realizing that he had no hand to protect himself with. His mouth opened in a wide ‘o’ as the pike seemed to come at him in slow motion, the jagged end aimed straight between his eyes.