The Seventh Stone

Chapter Two

Three-pronged claws pierce earth as the creature turns toward us, with its wings fully extended, and hovering low to the ground. Tufts of light brown fur brush against the edges of metal scales that ripple with every movement, and the scales cover nearly half the creature's body and head—save for two, long horns protruding from its forehead, and curling toward its backside.

Icy terror steeps within my limbs as a red, metallic eye whirs back and forth between us, and the creature lowers its head menacingly as it stalks toward us. Meanwhile, Loki jerks his left hand out beside me, while a sharp, gleaming dagger instantly materializes in it. The creature immediately snaps toward the movement, and bucks its head forward with a blood-curdling screech.

With a quick, calculative glance at the creature's wings, Loki takes off toward it, kicking up dust with every step. The creature turns as he gets close, and its right wing slices through the air—sending a ring of forceful wind out into the space. Loki leaps over the wing effortlessly, turning mid-air, while the air that burst forth from it hits me like a wall, and sends me tumbling back against the ground.

With a swift landing just beside the creature's body, Loki grabs hold of the creature's shoulder bone and and hauls himself onto its back—while I haul myself back onto my feet.

My arms swing about me clumsily as I rise to my feet and stumble backward, wincing as the rough surface of a rock clashes sharply against my spine—the prelude to what I'm sure will be a big, beautiful bruise.

I straighten up against the rock as my attention jumps back to the creature thrashing violently, with Loki on its back, bucking its head in an effort to impale him. With one sharp movement, he grabs the creature's left horn and lunges toward its neck, using the the momentum to drives the dagger deep into the creature's skull. I cringe as the beast whines painfully for a moment, and slowly drops to the ground with a heavy thump.

Still pressing against the rock, my chest heaves as I stare intently at the metal eye, and watch its bright red glow fade with lifelessness. Meanwhile, Loki's eyes dart about the corpse briskly—searching for signs of movement—until finally, his lips thin relaxedly, and he slowly draws the bloodied dagger from the creature's skull.

A nervous gasp escapes my throat as it flinches one last time, and I prop a shaking hand onto the rock to steady my quaking limbs. Loki drops to the ground with a thud as I sink to my knees, and place a hand over my tightening chest. His footsteps are heavy against the loose soil, and... shit, I'm struggling to control my breath.

Shit, shit... The racing heartbeat, the hyperventilation... I know what's happening—and now's just about the worst time for it to crop back up, after years of control and management.

My breathing grows more labored by the minute, while thoughts and images spin inside my head, and spiral into a buzzing little ball of tension inside my breathless chest.

I start looking around for something I can touch, something I can smell, something I can taste... But the thoughts don't focus. I can't bring to mind the sensations, and every surface I look at—the dirt, the rocks, even Loki's leather boots—they're all just meaningless surfaces that do nothing to stop what's coming.

Loki's steps slide to a stop in the sand next to me, and at this point, my hands are getting too weak to grasp the rock firmly.

"Oh, dear... Please don't tell me you're going to faint." Loki's voice trails off into the distance, and my vision begins to fade.

The rough edges of the rock slide against my palm as my knees finally collapse from underneath me, and the last thing I hear is an exasperated groan, before sinking down to my side and fading out of consciousness.

[to be continued]