Dragon Dodgers (Wounds in the Sky Prequels Book 1)

by V. R. Cardoso

  The Counsellor screamed, wriggling and trying to climb up Targon’s arm. The Captain felt like his shoulder was about to snap, then suddenly, he saw a shadow over him. It wasn’t the Dragon, it was Nasur, swinging a rotten meat bait over his head. He shot it through the air and the Dragon bit it. Swallowing the bait, the giant creature turned around at the last moment. It flew so close, Targon could almost touch it. So close, that his tail whipped over the mountain, but also the dangling Counsellor. Targon felt the weight pushing his arm down suddenly disappear, and Carn fell off.

  * * *

  “What now?” Nasur asked.

  Targon was squatting, his hands desperately clenching his hair. The rest of the Company stared at him in silence.

  They had crossed to the other side of the ridge as Balcazar had told him to, and were now on a different side of the mountain, facing south instead of north. The Dragon had been left behind, but they knew it wasn’t far, and there were many others nearby.

  “We keep going.” Targon said.

  “What’s the point?” Serak demanded. “The king is not going to pay us now.”

  “You don’t know that.” Targon said. His eyes bolting at Serak.

  “No. But you always know everything don’t you, Captain?” His arms opened wide. “Look at where you’ve brought us?” He said in a mix of disgust and disbelief. “I shouldn’t have agreed to this…”

  “We all agreed to this.”

  “Look at where we are!” Serak screamed. “There’s a reason Surface Runners never climb mountains.”

  “If what we’re here for was easy to find, everyone would have it, you idiot.”

  “Wake up, Captain. We can’t Run, can’t make a proper formation, have no food, no water… Not to mention we’ve never seen so many Dragons in the same place.” His eyes were wide. “And now, what faint hope we had of getting paid for all this, if we survived, is squashed some five hundred feet below us.”

  “We have gotten this far, we can’t turn back now.” Targon replied. He looked around for help. “Balcazar, the crystals… They can’t be far, right?”

  “They’re not far at all, they’re…”

  “Fuck the crystals!” Serak interrupted. “Who will be the next one to fall off a cliff, Captain?

  There was a silence.

  “We’re done chasing your fantasies.” Serak glanced back at the crowd. “Come on, guys, let’s get out of this place.”

  Serak spat on the ground and walked away. Yarek, Marek, Thaeus, Daviel and even Thamet followed in his steps. The others were exchanging glances and Targon could see in their eyes, they were about to do the same. He clenched a fist, feeling his stomach turn upside down. He spun around, ran towards Serak and grabbed him by the collar.

  “I’m not gonna let you take my men!”

  “They don’t belong to you.” Serak said, then punched him in the nose.

  Anweh squeaked, but quickly covered her mouth. Targon stumbled back a little, but used the space between them to kick Serak on his knee, forcing him down.

  “Stop that, you two!” Barked Nasur.

  “Let them sort this out, Lieutenant.” Said Thamet.

  Targon had put himself above his mutinous Runner, punching him, but Serak wrapped an arm around his neck and dragged him down to the ground. The two began rolling over each other, kicking and punching.

  “With all those Dragons out there? Are you insane?” Nasur told Thamet.

  Somehow, Targon untangled himself and got back on his feet.

  “Right, I’m ending this.” Nasur said. He stomped towards them, but Thamet knocked him out cold with a thud.

  “Thamet?!” Anweh yelled.

  “It’s their fight.”

  Targon was stepping back, trying to catch his breath, while Serak got on his knees.

  “You want a Dragon, Captain?” He asked, panting. “I’ll give you one.” He jumped up and rammed Targon.

  The Captain turned his head a little, to look back, and saw the ledge coming closer and closer, as if Serak wanted to throw them both off the cliff. At the last instant, Serak stopped, tripped Targon and pinned him to the ground.

  “YOU WANT A DRAGON?” Serak’s eyes were gleaming with rage. “Here’s a Dragon.”

  Targon struggled, trying to get away from Serak’s hold, but failed.

  “Hey! Hey, you beasts! Heeeeeeeeey!” Serak screamed.

  He’s mad! Anweh thought.

  “Thamet, do something or gods help you I’ll…”

  “Alright.” Thamet conceded. “That’s enough, Serak.” He yelled.

  But Serak wasn’t even listening, as if everything that was left of him was rage.

  “HEEEEEEEYYY!” He kept screaming. The veins on his neck popping out. Then –

  A raging roar swept through the valley. So loud and fierce it made everyone take a step back. The shape of a Dragon surged in the sky, shooting towards them.

  “Here’s your Dragon, Captain.” Serak smiled like a mad man. He got up, holding Targon by the neck. “I hope it chokes on you.”

  “NO!” Anweh raced towards Serak, screaming.

  It made his head turn and Targon took the chance to butt Serak in the temple, sending him staggering backwards. The Captain turned around, saw the Dragon open its mouth and his eyes went wide. He felt a shock and was knocked down by Anweh.

  They felt the heat of the gushing flames a mere few inches from them. Targon rolled over, trying to protect Anweh. He felt the heat go away and quickly jumped up.

  “A blind bomb. Someone hit him it with a blind bomb.” He yelled, helping Anweh to her feet.

  Around him, the Runners fiddled with their equipment, tripping over themselves with the shock.

  “We’re not taking orders from you anymore.” He heard Serak say, then felt a punch on his kidneys.

  Targon fell on his knees, grabbed Serak’s legs and swept them up, taking him down. Then, as he was about to pin Serak to the ground, he looked sideways, at Anweh, a few feet from him, and a scream froze in his throat. He saw a shadow cover her as she stumbled back and fell, then two massive jaws closed around her, sweeping her off the ground.

  Blind bombs quickly showered over the Dragon’s head, but the creature flew away, clutching its prey firmly between its fangs.

  Chapter 8: The Hunt

  “Come on, kid, faster!” Balcazar said. “We’re losing it.”

  “But I…” Enrig gasped. “I have a broken arm.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. I drugged you out of your mind. You can’t feel a thing.”

  Enrig did feel different, as if he was floating, yet tremendously aware, and despite having been Surface Running for the past several days, his feet didn’t hurt, his bruises didn’t bother him and his muscles were relaxed. It was like he could go on forever. So, he kept his arm tucked in his chest, but tried to ignore its condition and sped up. He was surprised when he felt no extra pain. Just the discomfort of using only one arm to keep balance.

  Balcazar, on the other hand, was climbing up the mountain like he had lived there all his life; chasing after the flying Dragon like a cat after a fleeting mouse.

  “He’s heading to that crag up there.” He said.

  “Maybe it’s tired.” Enrig said.

  “No.” Balcazar smiled. “I think we’re even luckier than that.” He turned back to face Enrig. “I think that’s his lair.”

  Enrig frowned; it did seem too good to be true. He raised himself up to a small boulder, finally catching up to Balcazar, and watched as the Dragon turned his body almost vertically to slow itself down. Dust, pebbles and twigs danced into the air with the gust of wind from its wings, and the Dragon’s hind legs touched the ground with a thump.

  “A Samehrian Jaggedback…” Balcazar uttered in fascination. He turned to Enrig. “You can tell from the…”

  “Thingy’s on its back, yeah.”

  “Triangular plates.” Balcazar corrected. “They're probably bone, growing from the spine, but who knows…” He sounded distan
t, as if he was daydreaming.

  “We should head back. We can still save Anweh.” Enrig told him.

  Balcazar stood motionless, admiring as the creature entered a black hole in the mountain.

  “Yes… We can still save her.”

  * * *

  “I ought to kill you right now!” Targon paced left and right, screaming in a fury.

  “Then do it.” Serak replied. He was kneeling down, hands tied behind his back; his green hair a sweaty mess spread across his face.

  “Don’t tempt me…” Targon squeezed his own fist.

  A sound of rolling rubble came from above them and they turned towards it.

  “Where the surface have you been?” Targon asked.

  “We followed the Dragon.” Enrig said. “We found it.”

  Targon stormed towards them and grabbed Balcazar by the neck.

  “You took the kid after the Dragon?!”

  “I… I thought you would be happy to know we found its lair.” Balcazar babbled.

  “It’s less than a mile away.” Enrig said. “We can still save Anweh.”

  “Stop it!” Targon yelled. “That’s enough.” He stood silent for a moment. “We’re leaving.”

  “But…” Enrig mumbled.

  “I’ve lost enough people, already. It’s over.” Targon shook his head slowly and let Balcazar go with a shove.

  “Captain… She might still be alive.” Balcazar insisted. “All we need is the Glowstone.”

  “What Glowstone? Where is it? We’ve been climbing this mountain for hours, I’m starting to think it doesn’t even exist.”

  Serak began to chuckle.

  “What are you laughing about?” Targon gnarled.

  “Now? Now you agree with me?! Gods of the grave, you are useless.”

  Targon punched him. A red stream emerged from Serak’s lower lip and he spat some blood.

  “Fair enough.” He said. “But we should get those crystals; and we should kill that beast.”

  “We?” Targon gave a short laugh. “You have a lot of nerve…”

  “It’s my fault she got taken. Let me help you save her.” He was serious. Dead serious.

  Targon felt like throwing him off a cliff, and probably would have if the rest of the Dodgers weren’t there to stop him, but if there really was a chance to get Anweh back…

  “Alright.” He told Balcazar. “Get us to those crystals.”

  Balcazar smiled.

  “This way.” He said.

  “And someone release this worm.” Targon said with a wave towards Serak.

  * * *

  Targon leapt after Balcazar; his fingers digging into the crooked rock so hard they became white.

  “Where is it, Balcazar?”

  “We’re almost there.”

  The Captain had received that same answer three times already.

  “Can we help? Tell us what to look for. Is it a cave?”

  Every moment they wasted was a stab in his chest. He couldn’t shake the thought of Anweh, trapped, wounded and in pain; desperately waiting for her own death in the dark, cold lair of the terrifying beast.

  “It’s not a cave.” Balcazar told him with a chuckle.

  “Don’t crystals grow on caves?”

  “Not these crystals. Don’t worry, Captain, we really are almost there.”

  He heard the crisp squawk of an eagle and looked up.

  “That’s a brave bird.” He heard Nasur say from behind.

  The whole Company stared at the majestic shape of the eagle gliding across the sky.

  “First time we’ve had a clean sky since we began to climb these mountains.” Thamet noted. “I don’t like it.”

  “Who doesn’t like a clean sky?” Marek asked in disbelief.

  “Ignore him, Marek.” Nasur sneered. “He left his brain in Saggad.”

  “I already said I was sorry, Lieutenant.” Thamet said.

  “Well, sorry is not gonna bring Anweh back; or take care of this lump on the back of my head.”

  “Be quiet!” Targon barked.

  “It’s just around that rock.” Balcazar said. “Are you ready?” He smiled.

  “For what?” The Captain asked.

  “The original Akhami tribes lived in these mountains.” Balcazar said. “And when the Dragons came and swept men from the surface, the Akhami left the Shamissai Mountains and looked for refuge underground. My Master was obsessed with studying these early events. He collected ancient tablets and papyrus rolls. You know, records of those times.” He stopped and grabbed the broken stone beyond which he was taking them. “Most of those artifacts were damaged, badly preserved or just irrelevant. But he did find something interesting. References to special warriors, armed with magic swords and lances, who bravely fought Dragons. It was hard to believe, of course. At first, we assumed those were just myths, campfire lore to keep the people’s hope alive. Until… we found a map. A tablet with a rough depiction of the Shamissai Mountains and warriors pulling their swords from it. So Master Kanuur sent me to track down this place, which the map called, the Elder Spires.” He smiled and crossed to the other side.

  Targon and the Dodgers followed him, only to freeze a couple of steps later. The sight before them defied reason. It was simply not possible. They were now on one side of a deep ravine that sank so far below them, that the ground was invisible. Springing up from it, as tall as the mountain peaks themselves, rose massive, three faced spikes aiming at the sky like a bear trap ready to be sprung.

  They stepped forward, mouths dropped, trying to make sure they weren’t in a dream.

  “It’s…” Nyssa mumbled.

  “It’s amazing.” Targon said. “What is it?”

  The spikes were made of some kind of gray stone, polished to a gleam, as if they were handcrafted. Blue crystals hued all over them, like dew covered tree branches in a cold winter morning. Each spike had its own inclination and they seemed to form a single file along the ravine.

  “The Akhamis believed…” Balcazar said. “That an ancient Dragon god once died and sank into the seas, leaving only its back above the water, and that our continent – Arkhemia – grew on top of it. This,” He indicated the spikes. “…according to the tablet map, was the Dragon god’s spine. The Elder Spires.”

  “Like the plates of a Jaggedback...” Enrig whispered.

  “Like the plates of a Jaggedback.” Balcazar agreed smilingly.

  * * *

  Marek and Yarek swung themselves into the nearest Spire. The Glowstone stung a little when they grabbed them, like an ice burn, but much quicker, like a jolt. The red headed brothers returned with a backpack brimming with crystals.

  “Here they are.” Marek said, dropping the Glowstone. “What do we do with it?”

  Balcazar picked a sharp piece of shale off the ground.

  “Everyone grab one of these and let’s start carving.” He said.

  To demonstrate, he put on his thick leather gloves, grabbed one of the Glowstone shards and hit it hard with the sharp end of the shale. The crystal shattered and a small piece of it came off. He kept hitting it until the crystal was shaped like a small blade.

  “Fit this on top of a pole, and you have yourself a Dragon killing lance.” He smiled.

  Targon grabbed and inspected it.

  “That was quicker than I thought.” He muttered. “This is like fragile glass… Are you sure it can go through Dragon scales? Because not even diamond can do that.”

  “Captain, you have seen the letter. I have done this before.”

  “That reminds me…” Marek said. “I’ve been wanting to ask this for a while. Did everyone in your team survive?”

  “Well… Not everyone, no.” Balcazar scratched the back of his head.

  “How many, then?” Targon asked.

  “Just me, I’m afraid.” There was a mournful silence. “The Dragon didn’t actually kill everyone.” He paused. “Most of them just didn’t resist their wounds...”

  The Runners exchan
ged uncomfortable glances, shifting their feet, until Serak broke through the crowd and grabbed one of the crystals.

  “I really wish you had remembered that detail, back when we met you.” He told Balcazar.

  * * *

  The mountain had become dark, lit only by the half-moon hanging in the sky. Forming a semi-circle, the Dragon Dodgers closed in on the lair’s entrance. Targon paced along the line of his Runners and stopped in front of Enrig, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

  The boy looked down, then back up.

  “I can help, you know? I’m small and fast, and…”

  “You have a broken arm.” Targon cut him off. “Besides, the only reason you’re here is because Balcazar brought us straight here. The plan was to leave you in Sandahar, always was.” He sighed. “Let’s face it, someone can get hurt in there trying to protect you. Besides, every moment we waste here, arguing, is another moment she is trapped in there.” Targon felt a huge lump on his throat.

  If she’s not dead yet…

  “Alright.” Enrig said. “I understand.”

  “You do?” Targon was expecting a lot more of a fight.

  “Yes. Just save her.”

  Targon smiled.

  “Right. Find some cover, then. You never know what’s out there.”

  Enrig nodded, then dashed away. Targon took a deep breath and rechecked his Glowstone dagger.

  This better work…

  “Are the torches ready?” He asked.

  Thamet and Serak reached around their back and showed him one torch each; the smell of fuel stung his nostrils. He nodded his approval and turned around. The Dragon lair stood before them; its entrance was like a wall of darkness where the wind danced, creating eerie sounds that chilled their bones.