Fight and Flight (Magic 2.0 Book 4)

by Scott Meyer

  The ghost pain from the talons and the genuine pain from their own swords led the warriors to assume that a toenail or two had gotten past the shields. When the last dragon flew past, the men had a moment to look at each other, and saw plenty of blood to reaffirm this belief.

  One of the men said, “The dragons did their worst, but we’re still standing, and we gave as good as we got!”

  The men stopped groaning long enough to cheer at their own courage.

  Brit said, “They gave exactly the same as what they got, because they gave it to themselves.”

  The dragons came back for another run. The militia started groaning again, but they faced the dragons with their shields and readied their blades.

  Roy said, “If this keeps up, those poor fools are going to kill themselves.”

  Phillip agreed but didn’t waste time saying so. Instead, he flew into the air and said, “Ĉi tiu iras al la dek unu.” The Esperanto phrase triggered a macro of Gary’s that amplified the speaker’s voice to near-deafening proportions. Gary used it to make embarrassing noises at inopportune moments, but the other wizards often used it as a sort of public address system.

  “Friends,” Phillip said, “Lay down your weapons and find cover. Don’t attack the dragons. You’ll only hurt yourselves.”

  * * *

  Runt easily outran both Honor and Sonny, because Runt had the advantage of not having to stop occasionally to wriggle free of the grip of her older brother, or of having to repeatedly grab her little sister. The only thing slowing Runt down was having to stop, turn around, and bark at her two human companions to hurry up.

  They were nearly to the edge of town now, and Honor had just torn herself free of Sonny’s grip for the umpteenth time when she heard the voice. She recognized it instantly as belonging to the wizard in blue, the one Bishop Galbraith considered a friend. He said, “Friends, lay down your weapons and find cover. Don’t attack the dragons. You’ll only hurt yourselves.”

  “See! He’s telling them not to fight the dragons,” Honor said. “That proves the wizards are behind this!”

  Sonny grabbed her by the arm again and said, “Maybe, but that’s even more reason to stay away from the whole thing!”

  Honor kicked Sonny in the shin. He cried out in pain and let go. Honor took off like a shot, shouting, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but our neighbors are in trouble! I need to warn them!”

  Sonny shouted, “Believe me, they know!”

  * * *

  The dragons swept down the street the opposite direction from the way they’d come before.

  The militia had turned around and was ready for them.

  The dragons flew over the men, bathing them in searing flames and slashing at them with their claws. The men hid behind their shields until the fire passed, then stabbed wildly with their weapons at the passing creatures’ bellies as before. This time Martin saw arrows shoot in from the distance, striking the dragons in the flanks, bouncing off uselessly, and falling point first onto the heads of the swordsmen below. When the fifth dragon had passed, the men were badly bloodied and seemingly still unaware that their wounds were inflicted entirely by their own efforts.

  Martin said, “They’re killing themselves, and it’s our fault.”

  “No,” Gary said, “They’re killing themselves, and it’s Jeff’s fault.”

  “I’m sorry, okay?!” Jeff shouted. “What do you want me to do, go throw myself between them and the dragon?”

  Gwen said, “That wouldn’t do any good.”

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t want it,” Gary said. “It’d be really satisfying.”

  “This bickering isn’t helping,” Phillip shouted.

  Gary said, “But it’s also really satisfying.”

  Phillip barked, “Shut up! Does anybody have an idea how to stop this?”

  Brit mumbled, “They seemed spooked by Martin as a giant. Beyond that, I dunno if it’ll stop it, but I have something that might help.” She floated in the air, swiping her finger back and forth in space. She and Gwen were citizens of Atlantis and had access to a different interface program. It still linked to the mysterious repository file, just like the program the Leadchurch wizards called the shell, but it had a different set of macros preprogrammed, and used a visual interface instead of verbal triggers.

  Brit glanced up and saw that the dragons were turning around, lining up for another run. She quickly looked back to the menu of options only visible to her, muttering, “Don’t look at the dragons, look at the macros. The dragons won’t help you, Brit. The macros will. Don’t . . . got it!”

  She stabbed her finger at an option only she could see and pointed her other hand at the men with their shields raised. She spread her fingers, and a cone of shimmering white light spread out and bathed them. They took on a glow, which quickly flared, held its blinding intensity for three seconds, then subsided. The bright light seemed to spook the lead dragon into aborting its attack. He veered up and away. When the flash faded, the men were slumped on the ground, unconscious. They would have looked rather peaceful, if not for all of the armor, and weapons, and their various injuries.

  Brit looked relieved. The militiamen lay where they had stood, ready to face the dragons again despite their wounds. She found it odd that she could be so deeply impressed with the valor they displayed while making a mistake.

  Roy asked, “So you knocked them out?”

  “Much more than that,” Brit said, “But there’s no time to explain now. Gwen, look up a macro called Medevac-Experimental. It’s something Louiza and I’ve been working on. It’s meant to stabilize injured people and send them to Atlantis.”

  Gwen said, “Where there’s a real, modern doctor instead of a barber with a pet leech.”

  “Exactly. Everyone else, your job is to get these dragons out of here.”

  Everyone agreed, or at least nobody actively disagreed, so the wizards got to it. They all had their jobs to do, and the unspoken task of figuring out how to do it.

  * * *

  Sonny had given up on stopping Honor from running into harm’s way, and now just hoped to be there to protect her from harm when she found it. Unfortunately, harm made itself easy to find.

  They ran up a narrow side street, more of a footpath by modern standards, just wide enough for a single cart to traverse. The street emptied directly onto the main road, the one on which the militia confronted the dragons. In the distance, Sonny saw a wall of flames, followed by a dragon flying just above the roofline. Then he saw four more walls of flames, followed by four more dragons. As the last dragon passed, Honor reached the junction, ran out into the street, and stopped. She stood, bathed in orange light, watching the dragons with a look of amazement and horror on her face.

  Runt caught up to Honor and jumped around her feet, yapping. Honor didn’t seem to notice.

  Sonny got to her a second later. He slid to a stop, grabbed Honor’s arm, looked for some cover to throw her under and, in the process, glanced down the street himself.

  The dragons flew in the distance, soaring up and to the left in an orderly line. On the ground, he saw a group of men, townsfolk Sonny recognized, though he knew few of their names. Men who lived in town and had clearly come out to defend their homes. They looked like they were taking a pretty bad beating, but he couldn’t quite tell through the white glow of the spell a female wizard cast on them. Honor recognized the she-wizard as the one in the mask who seemed so friendly with the wizard leader, Phillip. The lady wizard floated in midair, shooting her magic from an extended hand. The light from her hand faded, but the men glowed brighter for a moment, before they stopped. After that they just lay on the dusty ground, unconscious or worse, while the she-wizard moved on to other nefarious things.

  Sonny scanned the area behind them, saw an oxcart parked in front of a hut, and starte
d toward it, dragging Honor as he went.

  “She bewitched them,” Honor shouted.

  “I saw,” Sonny said quietly.

  “They were just defending their homes, and she bewitched them!”

  “Yes, I saw.”

  “Then why aren’t you upset?!”

  “I am very upset, but I’m being quiet, because I don’t want her to notice that we saw it! Now get under this cart and hush!”

  “We need to find the bishop!”

  “No, we need to hide from the dragons.”

  As he stuffed his struggling sister under the oxcart, Sonny noted that Runt had seen where they were going and was already under the cart, waiting for them.

  The small don’t survive long unless they learn when to avoid attention, Sonny thought as he dove under the cart next to his sister and her dog. I hope Runt can somehow teach Honor that lesson. I sure seem to have failed at it.

  * * *

  Brit and Gwen had a clearly defined task: to find the injured and hit them with Brit’s medevac spell. It stood to reason that any fresh injured would be in the vicinity of the dragons, so they simply fell in behind the last dragon in line and kept their eyes open.

  The rest of the wizards fanned out, flying above the rooftops, looking for the archers who had added their friendly fire to the previous attack.

  Any hope that the dragons might just leave died when Gwen said, “The dragons are coming back for another run. They don’t know the swordsmen are neutralized.”

  Martin, still in his giant form, hovered in midair and watched the dragons settling into the same flight pattern as before. The horned dragon in the lead opened its mouth, but stopped short of breathing fire. Martin waited, planning to rush the dragons when it would startle them most. He watched as the lead dragon cocked its head to the side and studied the unconscious men in the street as it approached. The dragon continued its trajectory, but it closed its mouth, swiveling its head from side to side looking for a new threat, rather than raining fire on the old threat.

  Tyler obviously saw the dragon’s behavior as well. “Maybe if nobody attacks them, they’ll leave on their own.”

  As if on cue, Martin saw a flash of light in his peripheral vision. He spun in the air, and saw five men with bows standing in line near the large stone trough. The light came from the oil-soaked rags wrapped around their arrowheads, which they were hastily lighting with torches.

  The urge to communicate shot through Martin’s brain so quickly that the proper words couldn’t keep up. “Arrow guys!” he said. “Arrow guys with fire!”

  Most of the wizards figured out what Martin meant only in time to clarify what they were seeing. As the dragons drew even with the archers, five balls of flame flew in graceful arcs toward the horned dragon in the lead.

  Martin attempted to throw up a barrier to stop the arrows, but he had too little time and too much adrenaline. The barrier went up just after the arrows had passed. Martin heard some shouting below, but the arrows monopolized his attention as they struck the dragon in the ribs, bounced off uselessly, and fell to the buildings and people below.

  The lead dragon didn’t seem to feel the arrows, but the sight of them spooked the four follower dragons. They scattered while their leader continued down the street.

  Phillip’s voice was still being amplified, and he knew it. “Flaming arrows against fire-breathing dragons? They won’t do any good! You’re just going to burn the town down!”

  Martin looked down. He saw two more injured men, but Gwen would deal with that. He had to prevent more injuries, which would not be easy. At least one arrow had landed on the roof of a hut. In an instant Martin understood why people seldom fireproof an item by thatching it.

  He never liked it when Phillip was right, and this time was worse than most.

  * * *

  Honor pressed in close to Sonny, holding Runt near. The buildings and the oxcart above them restricted their view, but they could see enough, and they heard plenty.

  One of the wizards shouted, “Arrow guys! Arrow guys with fire!”

  “He’s warning the dragons,” Honor muttered to Sonny, “or his friends so they can protect their dragons.”

  Across the street a door opened a sliver, and Bishop Galbraith poked his head out, looking up to see who yelled.

  Honor shrieked, “Father! Father Galbraith!”

  The bishop squinted across the street, then shouted, “Honor? Sonny? What are you doing here?!”

  Honor cried, “I need to talk to you!” Before Sonny could stop her, she had run out from under the cart, into the middle of the street. He and Runt both clambered after her, shouting her name and yapping madly.

  Galbraith flung open the door to the hut and dashed out to meet Honor. Behind him, a man, a woman, and a little boy crouched in the darkness. Galbraith grabbed Honor’s arm and started to pull her back to the hut. Sonny and Runt were only a step or two behind and were more than ready to follow Honor and Galbraith into the building, but they all stopped when a shadow fell over them.

  They looked up and saw an immense horned dragon gliding directly overhead, and the shimmering form of a wizard, made large and radiant by the power of his magic, doing nothing to interfere with the dragon in any way. Then several flaming arrows bounced off of the dragon and fell directly on top of Honor, Sonny, Runt, and Galbraith.

  To Honor’s lasting shame, she dropped to the ground and curled into a ball.

  To Honor’s lasting regret, Sonny and Bishop Galbraith both threw themselves over her.

  She heard their grunts of exertion, and the bishop saying some very un-bishop-like things after his head and Sonny’s head collided, making a sound like two rocks banging together. She heard both of them make pained noises, and felt them crawl off her. She rolled onto her back and crab walked backward several feet to get some distance. Galbraith had a flaming arrow sticking out of his leg. He beat at it furiously, trying to put out the fire and grunting under his breath as he repeatedly slapped himself at the site of a fresh arrow wound. Sonny had two flaming arrows protruding from his back. He made no effort to put the fire out. He spent all of his energy rising to a crawling position.

  He asked Honor if she was hurt. She didn’t answer. He told her to get under the cart. She didn’t move. She felt a light tugging on her cloak and heard Runt whining through clenched teeth. Later, she would remember angrily that, in that moment, even Runt showed more intelligence than she had.

  Father Galbraith barked, “Move girl! Under the cart, now!”

  Less than a second later she was under the cart, but would never have any direct memory of how she got there. The bishop’s tone of voice had managed to get through to her nervous system by going around the middleman of her conscious brain.

  Honor heard the lead wizard, the bishop’s friend, say, “Flaming arrows against fire-breathing dragons? They won’t do any good! You’re just going to burn the town down!”

  Honor whispered, “He’s taunting them!”

  The flame from Galbraith’s arrow had died, but tendrils of smoke still rose from the wound. He scuttled over to Sonny and attempted to beat out the flames on the boy’s back. Sonny winced in pain and Galbraith slapped as furiously as he could until one of the female wizards, the one with the brown hair who sometimes worked as a tailor for the local farmers, flew by and cast a spell on them. Galbraith and Sonny froze in place, bathed in white light. Then the light flared and subsided. Sonny and the bishop both seemed to be asleep. Aside from breathing, neither of them moved.

  Honor saw that the fire on Sonny’s back was out, and the arrows were gone. She thought, The wizards are trying to hide what they’ve done.

  * * *

  Martin turned his attention back to the archers, and saw to his horror that they each had a fresh flaming arrow nocked and their bows draw
n.

  He yelled, “Stop, you idiots! It won’t work! I’ve blocked your arrows anyway. Just go hide somewhere!”

  The men didn’t listen, instead aiming at a point somewhere off to Martin’s left. The archer on the end shouted, and they all released their strings. The arrows flew gracefully for ten feet, then struck the invisible force field. They bounced up and over the backs of the archers, into the buildings behind them. Not one of them seemed to notice. The horned dragon, which landed on the roof of the hut opposite them and looked to be preparing to breathe fire on them, had their undivided attention.

  The men dove for cover behind the stone trough. Giant Martin spun to face the dragon. He had little time to think, and instinctively resorted to the first menacing action most people learn. He made jazz hands at the dragon, and yelled “Booga-booga!”

  The dragon seemed spooked by Martin’s display, but instead of fleeing, it attacked. It bathed Martin, every building in sight, and the archers in fire, or at least tried to. The force field Martin had created to block the flaming arrows also blocked the dragon’s flames, creating a flat wall of fire where there would have been a roiling, turbulent cloud of it. Of course, the archers would never know that the force field saved them. They were hiding their faces for protection from the fire that wasn’t hitting them.

  The dragon blew its lungs out, then paused to inhale. One of the archers peeked out from behind the trough, looked at the dragon, then looked behind them.

  Of course, behind them was another row of closely spaced huts with thatched roofs which, thanks to the deflected flaming arrows, were now smoldering.