Dragon Dodgers (Wounds in the Sky Prequels Book 1)

by V. R. Cardoso

  How many souls have lost their lives in that place?

  “What about you?” Targon asked Balcazar. “Sure you want to come with us? This is not your fight.”

  “On the contrary, Captain.” He smiled. “This has been my fight for much longer than it has been yours.”

  Targon nodded.

  “Alright, let’s go.”

  He saw several of his Runners wipe sweat from their faces; a couple of them were praying in silence. At his command, they all stepped forward.

  Targon went in first, testing the ground before him. Soon, he couldn’t see a thing. “Thamet,” He whispered. “Torch.”

  He heard him strike a flint with his regular knife and sparks lit the tunnel momentarily, until the torch caught fire. At first, it looked like any other cave. Uneven walls, stalagmites rising from the ground and stalactites dripping from the ceiling. Until Thamet lowered his torch, lighting the ground – There were bones of every shape and size scattered across the tunnel. Decades, maybe centuries worth of death, piling on the ground.

  Targon drew his Glowstone dagger and felt its weight. It was a poor excuse of a weapon. Badly balanced and fragile, but it would have to do.

  Treading as lightly as possible, they crossed the tunnel, making sure even their breathing was silent. The sound of the wind, howling from the entrance, quickly faded away and was replaced by a deep, drumming roar that came and went like waves crashing against the shore.

  It’s a snore. Targon thought. The Dragon is sleeping.

  If it was, then maybe they did have a chance of pulling this off.

  The tunnel kept going for a little longer, until, all of a sudden, it gave way to a massive hollow.

  Targon’s arm shot out, blocking his men. He signaled them to back away and peered into the opening.

  There it was, lying in the middle of the cave, with its palace sized chest, rising and falling with long breaths. From the back of its head, down through its spine and tail, it had a ridge of triangular bone plates, some of which as large as a door. Its folded wings wrapped around the base of its drawn out neck like a blanket. And above its forelegs, rested a vast head where horns twisted and nostrils flared with each snore.

  “I’m going to look for Anweh.” Targon whispered. “I’ll try to get her out before we attack.”

  Thamet, still holding the Torch behind him, nodded in agreement.

  “Stay here.” Targon added.

  He stepped out from their cover and involuntarily kicked a small rock. It rattled across the ground, echoing through the cave as loud as a thunderstorm. Or at least so it seemed. Targon froze. His heart pumping so hard he thought it was about to shoot out from his chest.

  But the Dragon gave no sign of hearing it. It was still snoring as steadily as before. Thamet appeared behind him, handing Targon a torch. He took it and nodded back.

  Now able to see where he was going, the Captain hurried across the cave, swinging his head left and right, searching every corner of the bone covered ground.

  He circled an entire half of the cave, but there was no sign of her.

  Did that idiot follow the wrong Dragon?

  He was on the other side of the cave, now, behind the Dragon, right beside its tail. And then, he saw her. The tail curled protectively around Anweh’s body. She was lying on one side, her arms lifelessly spread out as if she was a doll casually dropped by a child. He gasped. Was she alive?

  He hurled himself over the tail, probably far more carelessly than he should have, and kneeled beside her. He held her gently by the shoulder and rolled her onto her back. Her skin was cold and pale.

  “Anweh…” He whispered.

  Her chest moved up, ever so slightly, and Targon felt air coming out through her nose. A smile grew on his face. She was alive. If only barely.

  Targon felt a pungent smell of iron. There was blood trickling down from the corner of her mouth, but the smell came from her blackened clothes. He lifted her shirt and discovered a horrible gash across her belly.

  He cringed with the sight. It was bad, he had to get her out. Thamet could certainly stop the bleeding and stitch her up. And maybe Balcazar knew of some healing potion that could help, but she didn’t have much time.

  Targon placed the torch down and slid his hands under her, but, when he was about to lift her up, she gave a small whimper. In a panic, Targon covered her mouth, muffling the sound. Her eyes opened, wide with fear and wet with pain. She recognized him and her face creased in a silent cry; tears rolled out of her eyes. Targon pleaded her to shush without a sound, when –

  He saw it out of the corner of his eye. A small whisk from the tip of the Dragon’s tail. It was like a punch to his gut. Was it waking up? He had to hurry. Trying to be as gentle as he could, Targon lifted her, but it was still too much for her. A sharp scream of pain escaped Anweh and then, everything fell apart. The Dragon thundered, the tail swirled and its body rose. The whole cave seemed to move. Targon tried to run, hoping to reach the exit before the creature could see them, but its tail whipped back down and slammed them against the wall.

  He was almost knocked out. Cringing from the pain, he tried to get back on his feet, quickly, before the Dragon squashed them both. The Dragon, however, was too busy to notice them. Screams filled the cave, challenging the beast. His men were attacking.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, Targon moved to the fallen body of Anweh next to him. She was out cold. He tried shaking her, screaming at her, but nothing worked. He put an ear to her chest, searching for a beat, and heard one, then another. It was faint, weak, but there nonetheless.

  The Dragon Dodgers were forming a semi-circle in front of the Dragon. Those holding a lance tried to keep the monster at some distance, while the archers fired a shower of Glowstone-tipped arrows onto the monster.

  There were no questions that the crystals worked. Targon had never seen something go through a Dragon’s scaled hide, but all those arrows were digging themselves deep into the creature, sending it reeling backwards, roaring in pain.

  There was no way he could get Anweh past the Dragon, at least not safely. He tucked her against the wall, making sure she was still breathing and then kissed her.

  “I’ll be right back.” He told her.

  Then, he drew out his Glowstone dagger and charged against the Dragon. He stabbed its thigh, hoping to get the monster’s attention away from his men, giving them a chance to strike with the lances, but the Dragon just casually kicked him away.

  The kick sent him flying backwards, and he crashed against the wall. It took him a while to tell up from down and he had trouble breathing. He reached around the back of his head and saw blood on his hand. When he finally tried to get back on his feet, a sharp pain shot up from his foot and his body crumbled to the floor. He looked up, to where the fight was, but saw only a blur. He tried dragging himself forward and the image became sharper. He saw Nyssa attempting to stab the Dragon’s neck with her lance, but she wasn’t fast enough. It yanked the lance from her hands, then closed its colossal jaws around her torso, snapping her spine with a single bite.

  The Runners took a step back, watching the Dragon toss Nyssa’s lifeless body aside.

  “How do we kill it?” Daviel screamed, panicking.

  “Aim for the head and the heart.” Nasur replied. “Wait, watch out! Fire!”

  The Dragon’s head recoiled as it took a deep breath, then its mouth opened and flames burst out from its throat. Targon saw Nasur pushing Runners behind stones and boulders, leaving his back exposed to the inferno. The flames quickly cloaked him. He fell, screaming, and rolled across the floor. Thamet jumped to him, trying to put the flames out with his cloak, but ended up getting caught by the relentless gush of fire. When the Dragon’s mouth finally closed, the two of them had been burned to a crisp.

  Targon choked a cry and wiped tears from his eyes. He forced himself up again, ignoring the mind twisting pain in his leg, and limped towards the Dragon’s tail. He jumped on the Dragon’s back
, hoisting himself on its triangular back plates.

  The Dragon must have felt him, because it began to squirm violently. Targon hugged the Jaggedback’s jerking plates as if he was about to fall off a cliff.

  “Distract him!” He screamed. “Quick!”

  His men were still hiding behind cover, too afraid to come out.

  “Come on, you worms!” Targon heard someone say. “Shoot it!”

  It was Serak. He was shoving the remaining Runners away from their hiding places, spurring them forward.

  As the new onslaught of lances and arrows fell down on the Dragon, its back became stable again and Targon dragged himself along its spine, towards the beast’s neck. He heard Samir squealing as he was flung into the air by the beast’s massive paw. Then, an arrow struck the Dragon, right in front of Targon’s eyes, missing his head by an inch.

  Gods of the surface!

  He pulled the arrow out of his way and heaved himself up the Dragon’s neck; his leg tormenting him with each push. This time, despite the attackers in front of it, the Dragon didn’t ignore Targon. His head curved sharply, trying to bite on the tiny man scaling its body.

  “HEY! Hey ash breath. Yeah, you, you huge bat!” Serak was screaming and waving his torch like a mad man, picking up rock and bones to throw at the beast’s head. “Come on, you ugly lizard.”

  The display worked. Serak took a step back as the Dragon roared and charged after him.

  “I need a weapon.” Targon screamed. “Throw me something.”

  Serak couldn’t even hear him. He dived and rolled to his left, barely escaping a jet of fire. Targon’s hands were getting sweaty and he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. He would slip at any moment.

  “A blade!” He screamed. “Something!”

  He looked below and saw Balcazar sliding beneath one of the gigantic fore legs.

  “Here, Captain.” He said, hurling a dagger. “Strike between his eyes.”

  The weapon circled upwards and Targon caught it in midair, leaving only one spare hand to hold on to the Dragon. His fingers were slipping; his weight was too much for his tired arm. The Dragon lunged to Serak once again, its mouth open wide. Targon raised the dagger as high as he could, clenching his teeth and screaming from the effort. His hand came down at the same time as the Dragon dived for Serak, and the Glowstone blade buried itself deep into the beast’s skull.

  The Dragon’s head jerked backward with an earsplitting scream, yanking Targon away. The creature squirmed, its wings wavering aimlessly; another growl echoed through the cave, fainter than the previous; its legs moved uncertainly to the left, then back to the right; the monster’s mouth got stuck in a silent roar – until its body collapsed onto one side with a thump that shook the whole cave.

  The Dragon was dead.

  Chapter 9: The Hero

  “How is she?” Targon said through his gritting teeth. “How is Anweh?”

  “Serak is checking on her.” Yarek told him. “Take it easy, Captain.”

  The Dragon’s inert body stood between him and where he had left Anweh. Around him, the survivors were picking themselves up, tending to each other’s wounds. Thaeus was kneeling besides the smoking corpses of Nasur and Thamet, weeping, his body shaking.

  “Get me to her.” The Captain insisted. “Let me see her.”

  Yarek signaled his brother, Marek, to help him. Together, they lifted Targon up with his arms over their shoulders. He was in bad shape. Each step he gave was like being stabbed in four different places at the same time.

  “I think you broke a couple of ribs, Captain.” Marek told him.

  “Just take me to her.” He said, fighting through the pain.

  Serak was kneeling beside Anweh, inspecting her motionless body.

  “How is she?” Targon asked him. “Is she alright?”

  There came no answer. Serak simply stood back up with his head low.

  “Serak…”

  “I’m sorry.” Was all he said.

  Tears flooded Targon’s eyes and he dived to her.

  “No…” He hugged and kissed her as if that could somehow bring her back. “No!” He screamed. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “My little blossom…” He whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t worry, Captain.” He heard a voice say, somewhere behind him. “You won’t be apart for long.”

  Before he even realized the meaning of those words, he heard a loud crack and suddenly the world vanished as his eyes began to burn. He heard a cacophony of screams, punches and what was unmistakably the squelching sound of stabs.

  Disoriented, he felt his way out of there, ignoring the pain of his wounds. The screams continued. He could clearly distinguish the agonizing voices of his men. Yarek, Thaeus, Liora, Shayllah. He had to do something, help them somehow. He tried opening his eyes, but it only made the burning worse, so he crawled, patting the ground, looking for someplace to hide, hoping his Runners could do the same.

  He found a small boulder and slid behind it, then reached the canteen in his belt and poured its content on his face. As he expected, the water reacted with the blind dust still sticking to his face, making it burn even harder, but it also washed the dust away. He blinked his eyes repeatedly, wiping them with the back of his gloves. Slowly, shapes formed in front of him. He turned his attention to the noises in the cave – the screams were dying out. Was everybody in his Company dead? Who could have done such a thing?

  Serak…

  There was a thump of a last body falling down.

  “Where are you, Captain?” That voice… it wasn’t Serak. “You’re the only one missing.”

  Balcazar!

  “Your Runners are all gone, Captain. Time to finish this.”

  The bastard! He had just murdered them all. Why?

  “Come on, Master Runner. Come out!”

  The reward. Targon realized.

  “I just killed all your men. Surely you want revenge. I even killed your pretty girl. While you were climbing the Dragon’s back, right before I passed you the dagger. Impressive job, by the way.”

  Targon clenched his fists so hard they turned white. It took all his self-control not to jump out and lunge towards him. He put his head out and sneaked a peak. His vision was still fuzzy, but he could make out Balcazar’s figure lurching near the Dragon’s head.

  “You should have seen the idiots I brought the last time I killed a Dragon… Had to do it all on my own. You on the other hand… I’m almost sorry I have to do this.”

  Targon took another peek. Balcazar had circled around and now had his back to him. He took the chance. With a searing pain jolting up his leg, he dashed across the cave, his regular skinning knife aimed at Balcazar’s back. At the last instant, the Alchemy apprentice, if he really was that, turned around, grabbed Targon’s arm and punched his broken ribs. The Captain collapsed as the pain almost made him pass out.

  Balcazar laughed sadistically.

  “Oh, you are brave, Captain, I must say.” He said. “Oh, come on, don’t make that face…” He grabbed Targon and lifted him up against the Dragon’s head. “You should be proud of yourself. How many people have done what you have?” Balcazar indicated the handle of the Glowstone dagger that Targon had used to kill the Dragon, still sticking out of its skull. “Oh wait, I can actually answer that. Only one – me!” He laughed again.

  “I don’t get it…” Targon said with blood spilling out of his mouth.

  “Of course you don’t.” Balcazar told him as he put his knife to Targon’s throat. “And you’re not supposed to. This is much bigger than you can imagine.”

  “Just tell me, then finish me off.”

  Balcazar sighed and put a hand to his heart.

  “You know that I have a soft heart, don’t you?” He quipped. “And I do like you, so let’s just say that the secret of these crystals has to be kept, well, secret.”

  “What, are you some kind of Dragon lover? Why would you let me kill the Dragon in the first place, then?”

>   “Captain…” Balcazar shook his head. “In the grand scheme of things, the life of this Dragon is as insignificant as mine and yours. And besides, a fresh Dragon corpse for studying is too good of a gift to refuse. When you and your boys showed up on my doorstep, so eager to help…” He chuckled. “I knew the goddess was smiling down on me. Not that human shaped blasphemy they worship in Saggad these days. The real, Dragon goddess.”

  “Ah… goddess… We have a lot of those where I come from.”

  “Alas, none of us can choose not to be born in the midst of barbarians. Goodbye, Captain. It really was a pleasure.” Balcazar’s knife moved backwards, taking balance.

  “One last thing.” Targon interrupted. “You did not kill all my men.”

  “Hmm?”

  “You forgot my apprentice.”

  Balcazar’s eyes opened wide and he spun around; Enrig was right next to him. The boy pulled the Glowstone dagger out of the Dragon skull and shove it into Balcazar’s gut.

  The Alchemy apprentice stumbled slightly and grabbed the dagger sticking out from him. Gritting his teeth and spitting blood, he pushed it off with a squelching sound. He held the dagger up, blood covering the Glowstone blade, and lumbered towards Enrig. The boy faltered backwards, tripped and fell. He saw Balcazar’s knife diving for him, then a shape covered his sight – Targon’s shape – he had slid himself in front of Enrig, receiving the blade on his own chest. The Captain screamed, but held on to Balcazar, making sure he couldn’t remove the Dagger.

  “Finish him off, kid.” Targon mumbled.

  Enrig crawled, patting the ground, his heart about to explode in his chest. He felt the handle of a knife, grabbed it, jumped back up and jabbed down, stabbing Balcazar’s neck.

  There was a gurgling sound as blood poured and bubbled from Balcazar’s mouth. His body jerked twice, then it stopped and fell, lifelessly, over Targon.

  The Captain pushed the murderer’s body away from his, then pulled the dagger out of his chest.

  He felt so tired, so cold. His whole body was a mess of pain and blood. He was having a hard time focusing his eyes. The world was spinning and fading. Enrig kneeled in front of him.