Down on His Luck

Chapter 2

Dagur plunged deep within the frozen earth, landing with a scream on a patch of sharp, hard stone. The berserker felt something break with a loud snapping noise, and his right leg immediately sent a surge of agony through his body. He lay dazed for several minutes before slowly sitting up and getting his bearings.

"Haha, huh, this is bad." Dagur chuckled nervously as he began to see how serious his situation truly was. "Mala is going to be so annoyed." A glance around showed that Sleuther was gone, likely spooked back to the surface by the earthquake. The lantern had landed a few feet away, dented from landing on the rocks, but it was somehow still glowing faintly. Dagur reached for it and gasped when the movement jarred his injured leg, sending shooting pains all the way up into his chest. "Okay then, leg first."

The berserker chief carefully maneuvered himself so that he could see his leg well, the lantern being close enough for him to see by its light. The leg was twisted at a strange angle, and Dagur groaned as he realized it was broken. The berserker used his knife to cut his pants away just below the knee, leaving his boot on to keep his ankle straightened. It was going to be freezing and miserable, but Dagur knew that his leg would swell up and it was easier to get clothing out of the way before it had the possibility of cutting off blood flow.

Pulling the severed pant leg over his boot proved impossible, so Dagur slit it along the side seam and sliced it into strips, only to discover that he had nothing long and stiff enough to use as support- he did have a spear, but it was far too thick and tall to work. It also didn't help that the spear lay at least 20 feet away, even more frustratingly unreachable than the lantern. The redhead's leg was still twisted awkwardly, and he wondered if he should try to set it. This idea quickly fizzled: even if Dagur could get past the pain, he had nothing to keep the leg straightened out, and if he set it wrong it might not heal properly and he would be left with a permanent limp at the best.

Suddenly Dagur realized something- if he could get Sleuther to return, he could ride his dragon out and get his leg taken care of on the surface. The injured viking propped himself up against a large chunk of ice and whistled, shuddering at the strange way it reverberated off the walls. Dagur waited, then whistled a few more times, but there was no sign of his triple strike dragon. "Just my luck." Dagur grumbled, uncomfortably aware that he was shivering violently.

Somewhere in the darkness beyond the light of the lantern, something stirred, barely registering in Dagur's sight. Thinking it was Sleuther, Dagur felt a wave of relief and waved a hand at it, shouting, "Here boy! Come to Dagur!" The thing lurched closer, and Dagur's happiness quickly turned to fear: it was definitely not his dragon. But what was it? And more importantly, would it see Dagur as a friend- or food? 

*Dun dun duuunnn!!! Haha cliffhangers are great. :D How's it going? Any suggestions, criticisms, advice? I love you guys, thanks for reading!*