Talos and Cyrus

Chapter 18 - The Race

With his heart thrumming painfully in his chest, Cyrus ducked between houses and leapt fences, steering clear of the ravenous pirates. The streets were bustling with people and animals alike. Fat elkorses littered the cobblestone roads along with Kezas, canine like creatures with badger heads, and what appeared to be domesticated bucains being led on ropes of gold. Cyrus couldn't spare the time to sightsee as he passed dozens of beautiful buildings. If he didn't act quickly, pirates would come thundering down upon Talos. He had to get the dragon away.

After what seemed like half a decade, Cyrus made it to the forest. He sprinted amongst the trees, searching in vain for the fallen tree the little girl described. Leaves brushed his cheeks and brambles caught hold of his trousers. It took several embarrassing falls for Cyrus to finally spot a jagged scratch carved into a nearby tree trunk.

Talos.

Cyrus ran up to the scratch and brushed his fingers over it, willing the dragon to appear to him. He looked about wildly, his eyes searching for more marks. He found them. Fifty paces away, more scratches cut deep into the bark of an ancient tree, a wound the plant would never recover from. He barrelled after the scratches as if they were running from him, taunting him to chase.

Finally, he came upon a fallen tree. There were no more scratches in sight.

"Talos?" Cyrus whispered as loud as he dared, the forest eerily quiet. Above him came the sound of quivering leaves. He snapped his head upwards, causing his neck to cramp painfully. He nearly gasped in astonishment but instead, he wheezed out a chuckle.

Cyrus had found Talos... in a tree. The dragon was nestled awkwardly in the branches of a particularly large oak, his body contorted in such a way as to stay completely out of sight. Talos did not laugh along with him.

"In no way is our situation amusing." the dragon growled, looking as if he were afraid to move. Cyrus continued to laugh, covering his mouth to muffle the sound. Talos growled again.

"Yes, chuckle all you want. Please, do take your time. I am sure you have heard about the small person who saw me dozing."

Cyrus nodded and forced himself to stop giggling, a smile spreading across his face.

"We have to get you out of here," he said quietly, staring up at the yellow dragon. "There are men coming for you, too many even for you to fend off," he paused to snort. "Can you climb down?"

Taloss rolled his eyes and let out a massive sigh, muttering something inaudible under his breath. Then, ever so carefully, he shuffled his feet in a way that made it easy for him to jump from the branches. He did so almost nonchalantly, landing with a loud thud as he hit the ground. Far off, came several shouts. Cyrus' heart jumped.

"Quickly, climb onto my back, and hold on tightly." Talos murmured, bending down and plastering his wings to his sides. Cyrus didn't protest, no matter how much he didn't like the idea of riding atop his companion. He pulled himself onto Talos' shoulders, fitting himself into the nape of his neck not a moment too soon. A man leapt from the bushes and Talos immediately took off at a heavy sprint, his pounding feet sending tremors through the ground. Cyrus clung to one of his neck spikes, willing his body to stay put and his grip to stay strong. Beneath him, the labored breathing of the dragon intensified as a blazing torch suddenly crossed their path. With it, came a bald man with dark skin. He shouted something incomprehensible and extended a steady hand towards the dragon, but he abruptly cut short. Talos rammed into him, snarling as he trampled the man beneath his claws. The bald man never screamed, never cried out in pain. After that, Cyrus closed his eyes and pressed his face into the dragon's hot skin, praying to whatever god there was for this to soon be over.

Talos ran on, letting out a wheeze as he crashed into a young tree and felled it, nearly losing his balance as it's thin branches fought at his feet. There were more shouts from men, but they were growing distant. Cyrus heard something whip through the air and whistle passed his head, embedding itself in the ground not too far off. They were throwing spears at Talos. Yet the dragon persisted, running for what seemed like ages before he finally stopped, his sides heaving and his head bowed. Cyrus opened his eyes and quickly slid off of the dragon's back, stumbling as he legs refused to hold his weight. They were exhausted from being tensed for so long. He fought the nearly overwhelming nausea in his stomach and lay down in the grass, staring up at the blue, cloudless sky. At his side, he heard Talos flop into his belly, trying desperately to catch his breath.

"We lost them." the dragon huffed, blowing hot air in Cyrus' direction.

Cyrus sat up and looked to his companion, drawing his hand over his forehead to wipe the beads of sweat away.

"Thank you, Talos." he breathed in response, his other hand searching and finding the leather satchel slung over his shoulder. The carcass of the rumwing was miraculously unharmed and still fresh. Pangs of hunger racked at Cyrus' belly, begging him to eat. He smiled to himself and got to his feet shakily, unsure of whether his legs were ready to sustain his weight. They were.

"I'm going to start a fire. We rest here tonight. Tomorrow, we set course for the Forest of Forbode. After that, Paelford."

Talos grunted acutely and Cyrus grinned, for it was a happy grunt.

Later that day, when the sun was descending and both of their bellies had food in them, Cyrus and Talos sat together, sleep slowly creeping their way.

"So, Talos," Cyrus said, his back against the dragon's side. "Did you actually growl at that little girl?

Behind him, Talos let out a groan.

"Yes... yes, I did." he replied, his voice hushed. Cyrus snorted.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

Cyrus threw back his head and laughed, his voice echoing off the trees.

"What were you thinking?" he cried. "She was just a little girl!"

"A little girl who disturbed my nap. I was right to be irritated." the dragon muttered, resting his head on his feet. Cyrus smirked, wrapping a blade of grass around his finger.

"Why were you sleeping in the first place? Anybody could have stumbled upon you."

"You rose so suddenly this morning that I didn't have the time to properly wake myself. I thought I was deep enough in the forest for no one to find me! Who was I to know a small one like that would find me, unattended mind you!" Talos growled.

Cyrus rolled his eyes and smiled, looking up at the hazy sky. Stars were starting to slowly peek through the deep orange hue of the evening.

"You really are a grouch," he teased. "A big, old yellow grouch."

"Watch your tongue, duckling." Talos goaded, a strange chuckle escaping passed his teeth. Cyrus' mouth fell open.

"Here was I thinking you had forgotten that terrible name. It isn't even a name!"

Talos snorted and flicked his thick tail towards him, the tip of it whisking passed his white hair. Cyrus hit it away, laughing.

"Of course it's a name!" the dragon exclaimed. "Didn't I already explain this to you? It's a joke name."

"There's no such thing!" Cyrus nearly shouted, fighting off Talos' tail as the dragon continued to try and hit him with it. Talos chuckled all the while, his tree sap eyes alight.

"Look who's being a grouch now!" the dragon laughed, letting his tail fall to the ground. "You won't even let me have a joke name for you."

Cyrus lay back against the dragon, putting his hands behind his head.

"It amazes me that you are well over six hundred years old, Talos."

The dragon let out a loud snort, his eyelids beginning to droop.

"I still feel as though I am a youngling. Sleep well, Cyrus."

"Sleep well, Talos."