Tag: dragons

I hold a hand over my mouth in horror as Vladykar Eder’s purple-barbed whip snaps at Ward Mortimer. His right eye still drooping, the heavy-armored man steps to the side and uses his gleaming shield to deflect the whip. Still, he’s wearing down—the venom from Vladykar Eder’s Dragon Weapon is badly affecting Ward Mortimer.

Undabouclier, like his bonded human, is also struggling. The purple liquid goo that Velenosever breathes has seeped into the dark blue-plated dragon’s wounds, and Undabouclier favors his front left leg. Astralux is doing everything she can to keep Velenosever away from him, and narrowly avoids getting blasted by the orange dragon’s breath. Undabouclier swings the heavy bulb at the end of his tail, but Velenosever jumps over it, chuckling.

“Is that all you have?” Velenosever asks. “I thought this might actually be a challenge.”

I can feel the fear from the Wards around me as we gaze up at the Vladykar pair hovering in the night sky. The rider has shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair that contrasts with his rich tan skin and the dark armor he wears. Despite the youthfulness of his face, I feel a sense of hidden power from him, like I did with Ward Mortimer and Vladykar Lochan, and there’s a malicious glint in his eerie purple eyes.

Then there is his dragon. While Undabouclier is larger in build, this dragon is almost as big around and half again as long, his spiked-tipped tail curling in the air behind him. His shield-sized scales are a vibrant orange with purple at the tips, and his eyes are the same eerie purple as his rider. The long thin spike on his tail is followed by a series of similar spikes all the way to the bridge of his nose, and he has three pairs of short horns that arch along his brow just above his eyes to his temples. Somehow, it reminds me of the eyebrow piercing that his rider has in his left eyebrow.

“Ward Mortimer!” the Vladykar rider says, his voice smooth. “Undabouclier! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

I’m still reeling from the smell of troll—which lingers on us despite hours of walking through the forest—when Ward Mortimer calls a halt to our day’s walk.

“We made some good distance from the trolls, and I think rest would be best for everyone.” Ward Mortimer has Undabouclier lie down on his haunches, just like a dog does, to check the wound on his left shoulder. “Just to be sure we can fly tomorrow.”

Astralux inhales deeply, stretching her wings out, and I feel a dull pain in my back. “I can’t wait to fly again!”

I fight from screaming in fear as Undabouclier charges forward toward the trolls. I also fight not to throw up.

These trolls, who are easily three meters tall, have sickly green skin covered in hairy, yellow-green warts that bulge out all along their shaggy bodies. They are clothed, barely, in loincloths made of animal skins that are crudely sewn together. Long, yellow, cracked nails protrude out from their thin fingers, and match their strange rectangular shaped teeth as they open their mouths and roar at the dragons. The troll that Undabouclier is headed for has beady yellow eyes with black irises and pupils. He wipes his bulbous nose with the back of his left arm and then raises a club in his right hand, made of what looks like a tree limb that was broken down into something more wieldable.

But it’s the smell that I can’t get over. The trolls literally smell like they’re carrying rotting meat. Maybe the trolls themselves are rotting? I’m not sure, but it’s revolting.

“…And that’s when you showed up,” Astralux says. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you both.”

Undabouclier, who has one massive dark blue wing over Astralux, nuzzles her neck. “I’m glad you’re okay.” His deep voice, even gentle as it is, causes the needle in my hand to vibrate and I pause.

Of course, I’m having a difficult time stitching up Astralux’s wound on her back leg, because every time I do I feel like I’m pricking myself. Blinking back tears of pain, I press my lips together as I insert the needle, digging in-between Astralux’s blood-stained white scales. My leg twitches at the sensation, feeling the needle. Astralux does a better job holding still.

My heart is racing as I watch the new dragon and rider circle above us against the blue sky. Then the dragon swoops down, and my eyes widen.

This is the fourth dragon I’ve seen in the last few days. And this is the largest dragon I’ve seen yet, both in size and in build, its wings beating with a rushing wind as it lands with a heavy boom. I have a suspicion, based on the three prior ones that I’ve seen, that this dragon is male, though all I have to go off of is that Astralux beside me has a feminine appearance and slender look to her that the others don’t.

This new dragon’s scales, which are as large as shields across his neck and back, are a deep blue color that becomes turquoise at the tips of his four paws, his tail—which ends in a strange bulb—and along his short spines. He has a pair of horns that curve back over his head, protecting his skull, and his large blue green eyes glance between myself, Astralux, and then across the small stream to where Vladykar Lochan and Pesokvlgazu are.

I flinch as a bolt zips past my head, so close I feel the wind off its black vanes as it passes by. It hits Astralux and digs between two of her gleaming white plate scales on the back of her neck. She growls as a trickle of bright, glittering blood runs down her neck, and I clamp a hand to the back of my neck, sharing in her pain through our bond. The dragon still has a bolt sticking out of the back of her right leg, somehow running despite the agony, crashing through the forest.

Behind, the sunlight glints off the light bronze scales of Pesokvglazu as he grins with long, sharp teeth, snaking his way between the trees in pursuit. On his back, Vladykar Lochan is calmly loading his crossbow with another black-vaned bolt, his gaze locked on us.

“I can’t outrun them, and I still can’t fly,” Astralux mutters.

“Fire,” I say.

“Fire.” Malik, the leader of the tribal people who have taken Astralux and me captive—and yet, treating us like we were guests—looks back at the flames on the pile of sticks between us. “Fire,” he repeats.

I nod, smiling. Since this morning, Malik and I have been slowly trying to understand each other. It’s hard to have any actual conversations, since we’re still learning the words it takes to describe the world around us. But between that, the gift of animal skin clothes like what these tribal people wear, and being provided plenty of food, it’s gone a ways to calming my nerves.

A man comes rushing into our midst, hurriedly calling to Malik. At the same time, I hear a throaty roar from beyond the animal skin tents all around us, and I rise to my feet.