That One Time I Went on a Quest

Dragon Fire (2/2)

The rain that had fallen so persistently over the last few weeks is nowhere to be found, and though the night is cold and starless, it is not dark. The grasslands to the west, east, north, that grove of trees on that ridge, those vine in the low groves – they're all on fire.

Hundreds of winged shapes circle the sky like vultures, their bellies blazing red in the crimson light.

Oon'Shang is slowing down. Two more little dragons have sank their teeth – no, their whole faces – into her back, thickening a cape of blood. She is crushing two, three necks at once with every swipe of her hand, but more are coming, an endless flock.

She needs a weapon. I look down at the sword in my hand.

No, not this little toothpick. She needs a giant's weapon – Oon'Shei, he's got javelins, blades.

But how am I supposed to –?

A horn-studded head – so many horns, all stuck together like some kind of malignant growth – materialises out of the orange gloom and rams Oon'Shang square in the gut.

The little dragons do not flee; they turn to shreds.

Wait.

I appear to be flying.

The world turns upside down. Oon'Shang's flailing arm zooms past an inch from my nose. A slitted yellow eye looks up from below; the dragon's. This one's not cute at all. Those horns look absolutely disgusting, like someone had shoved a half-decayed carcasses into its skull.

That eye, it's following me. It's turning all the way around; what excellent peripheral vision.

Something soft and leathery breaks the fall. Feels...warm, hot even, and ridged by feather-like bones. Slippery too.

Then it moves.

Airborne and spinning again. Beneath me the ground seems to be a bristling membrane of pale yellow.

Splat. Crunch. This is the ground, unyielding and cold. I make the mistake of trying to break the fall and witness my right arm fold back on itself with a cheerful pop, like snapping a twig in half.

Before the pain even registers someone's already pulling me up.

'On your feet! Hurry!' Haylis yells. Not a scratch on her.

She pulls me by the broken arm and I instinctively recoil, bringing her down with me. At that exact moment a massive tail, ridged with three bony lines of pain, swings over her head and tears off a swath of her hair by the roots, drawing blood. The ensuing wind feels like a skinning blade, pinning our faces to the ground.

Neither of us get back up; Haylis because she's in foetal position and shivering all over, me because she's clutching my broken arm.

The dragon, the big one with the disgusting horns, is turning around. Pieces of smaller dragons are stuck to its head, their blood running rivers down the lines of its jaws as its tongue slips out and licks them up.

The yellow eyes move closer. They're full of hunger and malice, hunger and malice, hunger and malice and nothing else. It looks at me, tilting its head slightly to the left. A moment later it turns into a blur.

It move so fast oh Maker how is that even physically possible how can anyone fight them what am I doing rambling in my head I'm about to get eaten –

Its jaws snap shut two inches from my face. Vile spittle, thick with gore and sulphur, spews onto my face and oh it burns, burns like alcohol on salted wound. Purple veins bulge in angry radials on its neck as it strains forward, almost tearing itself apart to get at its prey, but that last bit of distance is for some reason impossible to close.