Enter Abyss

Chapter 38; The dragon races.

Tension hung like a thick cloud in the air as the dragons were brought forth.

Magnificent beasts they were from the days of old; their lizard-like bodies were covered in scales that shone like polished armor and their eyes blazed like embers from a dying fire.

They were bigger than those that generally slept in the caves of the Abyss-- being roughly the size of a large horse.

'Or an elephant.' Archer thought and he and Cogs saddled up the beast with a strange looking contraption that was akin to a saddle. Indeed, this creature was nearly the size of a full grown elephant-- or so Archer supposed, since he had never actually seen an elephant outside of the pages of a book.

"Blimey," Cogs said as he helped Archer adjust the straps on the saddle, "A real dragon. I thought these felllows had died ages ago, back when people used to live in castles and didn't have steam to make anything work. And to think, you'll get to ride one."

Archer sighed, patting the blood red scales of the beast reasurringly before replying to his friend. "I only wish it was under better circumstances."

The dragon hummed in agreement.

"I think it likes you." Coges pointed out, buckling the last strap into place.

"He. The dragon is a he."

"Does he have a name?"

"The dragonmaster told me is was Ardistan."

In response to its' name, the dragon nuzzled Archer's shoulder gently, making him grin, despite his general uneasiness.

In truth, his stomach seemed to buck and roil with every moment that passed; his body was taught as whipcord, his nerves frayed.

Just what, exactly, had he gotten himself into? 

It was no secret that Mordren was more experienced in the art of combat than Archer was. If anything, Archer would be lucky if he lived past the first round. And supposing that Galen didn't wake up by then? Would Archer have to fight for him for the entire duel?

What was worse was that Archer did not expect Mordren to fight fair, thus, in case something went wrong, he was planning on wearing his flying machine as well, just in case. Thus, he had Cogs strap it to his back just before he climbed into his dragon's back.

"Pip should have been here," Cogs remarked, giving Archer a hefty boost up onto Ardistan's back, "To this day I don't know why she still stays with Mordren, helping HIM get ready rather than you."

"If anything, she can give us information if he's planning to cheat."

Grabbing Ardistan's bridle, Archer urged the dragon forward, into the amphitheater. And casting a glance behind him, he saw Cogs wave.

Hopefully it would not be the last time he would see him.

Guiding Ardistan to the center of the dueling grounds, Archer waited till Mordren drew up beside him on a dragon the colour of amythesist, its teeth and claws glittering malevolently. 

Mordren sort of matched his dragon, Archer thought.

"Strange armor you wear," the dark haired king said briskly, gesturing to Archer's flying machine, "It's rather bulky, do you not think?"

Archer frowned, wanting to tell him that he sounded stupid, but refrained from doing so, since it was Pip's job to be rude anyway. Instead, he simply gave Mordren a charming grin, turning back to face the crowds that lined the edge of the battle grounds.

Soon, an advisor clad in thick dark robes approached them, carrying a leather bound tome in his weathered hands.

In a creaking voice, the old man explained the rules of the race, which were straightforward enough. The goal being to simply cross the finish line first, much like a normal race.