Akira Rides

by Robyn Wideman

  Dimitri looked up at his dragon-riding warrior. Their eyes locked for the briefest of seconds. Dimitri smiled. It was a goofy, exhausted smile that went straight to Akira’s heart as Spirit carried her past him. Zane and Tazir cleared away more enemy warriors from around Dimitri. Dimitri, looking surprised, took a few seconds to gather his breath. He looked reenergized. Akira breathed a sigh of relief. Akira caught his gaze for just a moment. He blew her a kiss. The escape route path the mages and Akira and Spirit cleared for Dimitri exposed him to the Dark Lord’s view. A powerful lightning bolt flashed. Akira was blind for a moment. She blinked and looked back over her shoulder. What she saw stunned her. The air went out of her lungs as if she had been gut punched. Her eyes had to be wrong! She blinked to clear them.

  A large hole, where Dimitri’s chest had once been, looked like a gruesome window to the battle raging behind him. His knees were buckling. Cronus caught him, gently lowering him to the ground. “Cover us!” he shouted. “Cover us!” His gravelly voice broke into a sob. Another lightning bolt came perilously close to Akira and Spirit. The clap of thunder on the heels of the powerful bright light vibrated through Akira and the dragon. Akira lost sight of Dimitri and Cronus. Spirit valiantly pushed her wings hard and fast against the air. She shook her head as if to clear it. She faltered in the air. Akira’s body jerked sideways. The tethers went tight. Spirit righted herself, rose high then made a dive to hide in the smoke from the dying wall of fire.

  Akira suddenly drew breath into her tortured lungs. A keening sound came from deep within her throat. Then came a scream. She raised her sword, the beautiful sword Fern had given her for a wedding gift, she raised it high, urging the dragon towards the dark cloud. Rage kept her from going into shock. Nothing had prepared her for the gore of war. Nothing had prepared her for what she had just seen. She felt as if her heart had been ripped out of her living body. Her face turned white as snow. It was as if the blood in her body raced to her broken heart to keep it beating strongly. She drew her old sword out of its scabbard with her free hand. Her body shook, pulsing with a release of energy that physically hurt. Miniature lightning bolts raced over her body. Akira screamed in pain. She closed her eyes and in her tortured mind she saw Dimitri falling again. Her rage built as she entered the dark cloud on the back of the dragon. Rage consumed her fear. The air crackled. Akira saw the shadowy faces of dead souls that made the dark cloud. She screamed again. It wasn’t fear that made her scream. It was boiling rage!

  I will not let Kalifar have Dimitri’s soul! I will die first! She raised the gifted sword high and willed the lightning in the death cloud to herself. Spirit breathed fire in to the darkness. A red glow lighted the edges of the dark cloud formations. Shards of lightning, sheets of lightning raced towards the sword so hot and hard Akira nearly dropped her sword when the first bolt made contact. The loud crack of thunder deafened Akira. The sword turned a brilliant white.

  Akira and the dragon circled inside the cloud getting struck by lightning so many times in a few seconds that Akira could not keep count. When she was certain her body could tolerate no more energy from the lightning bolts, she willed more energy to herself. When she thought she couldn’t hurt any more, she hurt more. She glowed like a thousand candles.

  It felt like she and Spirit had been immersed in the cloud for hours. It was only seconds bordering on minutes. Time seemed to stand still. Akira felt the dragon tiring. She willed energy into the dragon. She felt her power rushing through Spirit’s muscles. The cloud of black was fading. Akira had sapped the strength of the eerie cloud. Souls escaping the pull of the weakening cloud, swirled past Akira. Where they broke through the clouds rays of sunlight pierced the cloud. Some ascended, others descended.

  Sky Spirit roared and snorted flames as they flew out of the shrinking cloud. Akira could feel where the Dark Mage was before she saw him. He had dismounted from his black stallion and stood his ground, startlingly handsome, staring menacingly, arrogantly, at the dragon rider daring to challenge him. He threw a lightning spear at her. It flashed through the air, striking the sword she held high over her head. The energy from the strike sent sparks in every direction. Kalifar’s nostrils flared. Unfazed the dragon rider kept coming towards him. He threw another bolt of lightning. Still she came. Rider and dragon flew circles around him. Each time he expended his magic energy it was weaker than the time before. Each time he threw a lightning bolt the sword would absorb it and the bright aura around Akira became larger. The sound of thunderbolts filled the air.

  The battle around them came to a grinding halt. All eyes turned towards the mage battle. All those present knew this was the battle that would win or lose the war. There was no point in continuing to hack each other to pieces. As small brained as the ogres were, they stopped charging. It was an unscheduled, unbelievable truce at the climax of a war that teetered in each direction. Bloodied warriors stood, panting and bleeding, eyes transfixed on the black mage and the glowing white dragon rider. Exhausted warriors dropped to their knees to watch the spectacle.

  Akira gritted her teeth. The pain was unbelievable. She welcomed it. A red tear escaped the corner of one eye. She burned inside. She burned outside. She harnessed her deadly rage. She sensed the black mage weakening. She couldn’t take any more hits. He knew she was in danger of going up in flames. It was time. When the Dark One mustered the last of his energy and threw his last bolt at her, Akira held the one sword high and pointed her other sword at her enemy. The last of the lightning bolts from the dark cloud streaked through the air to Akira’s high sword just as Kalifar’s lightning bolt also struck the tip of Akira’s high sword. The blazing white traveled down through the sword, though Akira’s arm, across her breasts, down her other arm and into the sword pointed at the Dark One. Warriors watching had to shield their eyes. Every bit of rage, every bit of energy she had magically absorbed, every bit of pain was loosed, was channeled in an instant into the downward pointing sword. A massive bolt of lightning smashed into the Dark One.

  Akira fainted. Her swords slipped from her hands. The charred tethers held her precariously on the back of the dragon. Her body slumped over. The aura around her dissipated. The dragon roared and those watching in fear and awe knew the war was over. A hush fell over the battlefield. The Dark One was no more. A pile of ash was all that remained where he had made his stand.

  No one cheered, for the beautiful brave dragon warrior was slumped over in a death-like pose. The ogres, and what was left of the Dark Mage’s army, turned and retreated. The allied warriors and warlords watched the remains of the Dark One’s army back away.

  Rain fell from the now faded wispy grey cloud over the battle ground. The rain fell like overdue tears. Cronus cradled his commander’s body. With calloused muddy fingers, he closed Dimitri’s lifeless eyes. The great warrior who never cried, sobbed. He reached for Dimitri’s shield and placed it over the hole in his commander’s chest. The sound of his sobs stirred the hardest of hearts. The rain masked many tears on many faces. Cronus looked up and saw the dragon circling overhead as if unsure if she should land. Akira was slumped over in her saddle. Her long black hair had come loose. It hid her face. Blood from her thigh stained dragon scales brilliant red. “Bring her here, dragon!” he shouted. “Let them go to the spirit world together. Bring her here!”

  Spirit landed. She looked at the warrior named Cronus, friend of Akira. Her eyes were sad for him. A warrior looked at Cronus, then started towards her. The dragon snorted and shot a warning flame. She stepped backwards. The warrior stopped. He knelt in respect of the fallen dragon warrior. Other warriors followed suit. When all were bowed, the dragon turned and pushed herself with one giant leap into the air.

  “Damn you, dragon! Damn you.” Cronus bowed his head to his chest. When he raised his head, he whispered. The warrior beside him thought he heard him say, “Take good care of her. Build her pyre high, in a beautiful spot.” Cronus watched as the dragon flew towards the distant mountains with Akira.

&nbs
p; Spirit felt physically and mentally exhausted. Her wings lifted slower. She searched for updrafts to glide on. Being bonded deeply, having a mind connection with her rider, she had felt her rider’s pain, experienced her rage, her anguish and fear. She felt Akira’s mind go into a bottomless pit as she fainted. Akira’s thigh wound, as deep as it was, wasn’t as serious as her broken heart. Sky Spirit sighed. As much as Akira had denied it, to herself and others, she had loved her mate. The dragon sighed again. There was much healing to be done.

  The dragon turned her long scaly neck to sniff at Akira. She smelled burned flesh. Alarm made the dragon’s eyes widen. Bending her long neck sharply, she laid her ear opening against Akira’s breast. Reassured by Akira’s heartbeat, the dragon looked towards the mountains. It was time to go home. She hoped humans valued scars as much as dragons. Scars were badges of courage among dragonkind. They were costly to those who wore them. Those who wore them needed to wear them proudly, be honored for their sacrifices. Spirit hoped Akira would stay unconscious until they got to the Order of the White Rose’s sanctuary. Through Akira’s thoughts, Spirit had felt only a fraction of the pain Akira had suffered as she harnessed the power of the Dark Mage’s black cloud of soul powered energy. Tired as she was, the dragon couldn’t stop to rest. Akira needed the healers, needed the healing pools.

  Spirit was proud of her human. Akira had fought well. Spirit resolutely lifted her wings and pushed hard against the air. It was good to be alive. It wasn’t their day to die after all. Akira would live to fight another day. If the fates were kind, Akira would find another mate. If Spirit had her way, a mate for Akira would be far in the future. Their world needed peace. The world of different beings and creatures needed a leader, a strong leader that mages, witches, humans, ogres, orcs, elves and dwarves could respect. That leader would need wisdom and courage. Spirit looked back at her unconscious rider. Akira had courage. Spirit wondered if Akira had knowledge of the elves and dwarves. Few knew of their existence. Spirit remembered how animated Akira’s face was when they had first met, a humankind and a dragonkind. She remembered the curious way Akira’s lips curved when happy. The dragon’s lips curled. It was as close to a human smile as an exhausted dragon could make. She practiced the forced lip curl again.

  Akira was alive. The Dark One, Kalifar, was back in the seventh hell. The future was brighter. As the dragon approached the monastery atop the volcanic mountain, the dragon glanced over her shoulder. Akira was still unconscious. The dragon was thankful. Akira’s burns were going to be painful when she became cognizant. In the fading light, the dragon couldn’t see the extent of Akira’s burns. Her long dark hair fanned over her face and shoulders. The healers surely would have some concoction to reduce the pain of her rider’s flesh. They would have no medicine to heal the brave dragon rider’s heart. Spirit wished she could enter Akira’s unconscious mind and tell her broken hearts heal, that time was a great healer. She wished she could tell her human there was more to the Sarcenian prophecy than just a dragon rider saving the world from an evil mage, that dragons had prophets too.

  Suddenly Spirit read a thought from Akira. Hurt, Dimi—.no, no, no! Akira moaned, then drifted back into unconsciousness. The weary dragon wondered how much time would be needed to heal a heart and teach a future queen. Akira didn’t know it, but she had a destiny to fulfill. It was foretold in the songs that were passed from generation to generation of dragons. A dragon queen would arise at the same time as a human queen. Together they would change the world. Spirit let out a sigh. Right now, that knowledge, the prophecies, would not comfort Akira. The healing hands of time needed to gently embrace the brave young woman.

  Akira’s eyes opened. She had the strangest dream. She almost remembered it and it was gone. Something about a queen. She felt a searing pain in her thigh. The dream was forgotten. She felt herself being lifted. A sharp pain in her thigh made her moan. One side of her face felt like it was on fire. The fire ran down her arm. Familiar voices drifted in and out of her consciousness. She struggled to see where she was. Many hands held her still. Voices made no sense. The pain was overwhelming. She stopped struggling, slipping back into unconsciousness, the safe cocoon where pain could not touch her, where memory wasn’t allowed.

  Spirit felt a measure of relief as Akira blacked out again. Spirit had heard Akira’s chaotic thoughts. She could almost feel Akira’s pain. Spirit cried inside. The monks of the mountain dismissed the dragon with bows of thanks. As she turned to leave, she heard her father’s voice. Her dragon heart lifted. Her sad eyes brightened.

  “Come daughter. Come with me to the cavern above where I wait for Morgan to awaken or pass from this world. We are bonded to these humans. The bonds demand that we stay with them until we are released by their deaths. Duty demands this of us.”

  Spirit’s eyes followed the sound of her father’s voice. He was perched on a high rock wall looking down into the courtyard where she had landed with her wounded rider. Spirit jumped, took wing, and landed on the wall beside him. The wall served as a walkway into a large cavern. She followed him into the cavern, wrapped her tail around herself, falling into a much-needed deep sleep. She dreamed of a new world, where creatures of all kinds were kind and tolerant of each other. In her dream, she saw Akira. Spirit woke up. The dream was fresh in her mind. The dream weaver was kind to wake her, for often dreams disappeared upon waking. Spirit closed her eyes knowing Akira was in good hands, knowing their destiny held greater things for them, knowing Akira would rise again from the ashes of her pain and sorrow.

  Sky Stalker stared at his dragon daughter as she slept. His chest swelled with pride. Spirit had done well. She had survived her first battle, and brought her rider back alive. Another verse of the dragon song had come to pass. Sky Stalker started softly singing in dragon tongue. The sound of his voice was like a soothing soft vibration in the night. He gently nudged his daughter’s nose. It was a dragon kiss. It was time to make a new song for the events unfolding. History would be recorded in song as it always had been, and always would be. He drifted into sleep, dreaming of the dawn of a new age. Akira would need protection, need wisdom. Her song was not finished.

  Author’s Notes

  Thank you for reading Akira Rides. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did please leave a review on Amazon.

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