The great dragon looked down at the girl, his horned head cocked to one side inquisitively. A wisp of smoke escaped from his right nostril. Who was this frail creature who dared intrude so boldly? Her scent was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.
She started to stir and weakly moved her hand to brush her curly black hair away from her face. Her eyes remained closed as she lay on the stone floor of the ruined room.
The wyrm knew she wasn't dead. His intent had been only to incapacitate her with his tail whip, not crush her, as he so easily could have done. There would be time for that later. He needed to find out her reason for being here - and if there would be others coming.
A low moan escaped her lips and she grimaced. He knew he'd broken her ribs. Her eyes fluttered open. She grasped her side and took a pain-filled breath, but froze when she saw the beast standing over her.
He was hunched over. The fourteen-foot ceiling was too low for him in this part of the throne room. Further back he had destroyed the roof; the hole being his only means of exit from the old castle. His great bat wings were folded on his back and his silver-black scales gave off a metallic sheen, reflecting the early morning light that fought through the tall, narrow windows. His red eyes glowed dully.
She didn't scream. He was slightly disconcerted, because he didn't smell any fear. With lightning quickness, he reached forward with a clawed talon and snatched up her delicate figure, pulling her close to his face. She almost fainted from the pain in her side. He snarled at her and spoke in a gravelly, ancient voice. Oddly enough, his breath smelled like roasting beef.
"I will suck the marrow from your bones, little one," he paused and she felt him smell her hair, "Your flesh will be sweet... " He suddenly placed her scent. "...like your sister's was. You shall join her." A drop of steaming saliva dripped from his jaw and fell onto her thigh. She screamed as it charred her flesh, rolling past her knee, leaving a black scar. Now he smelled fear.
Fiona knew that those who were consumed by the dragon were damned. Their souls were trapped inside him until he was killed, and dragons did not die of natural causes. The trapped soul's fear and despair were what fueled his terrible breath-fires. She tried to steel herself and concentrated past the pain.
The dragon's eyes rolled back in his head and then in a sweet, scared girl's voice he spoke.
"Sister! Fiona! Oh why did you come? How could you?"
The dark haired Fiona was shocked. The beast was channeling her sister from within himself. Hearing her sweet sister's voice was too much. She started to cry.
"Phoebe?" she whispered painfully.
"Oh, Fiona, it hurts... "
"Phoebe... " she could say no more. Fiona closed her eyes against the hurting.
The dragon's eyes refocused as he banished Phoebe's soul back within himself. Revenge? That must be the girl's motivation for coming to him. Strange though, she was unarmed but for a small knife. She was no threat physically. A wizard, perhaps? She was awfully young to have any magic that could affect him. No, he didn't sense any magic in her, no power. Then, what? There had to be others with her. The dragon lowered her slightly and raised his head. Perhaps she was simplyS bait? He focused his senses and quickly picked up the scuff of a boot sole on the flagstone behind him.
He dropped the girl and whirled around. She fainted when she hit the floor. Steam huffed from his snout.
Hanging from the hole in the roof behind him was a thick rope, and standing a few feet from him was a large man in chain mail. The man carried a large shield protectively and grasped a large axe in his strong right hand. His hair was wild and red. Partially concealed by his full beard was a burn scar on his cheek
The dragon, ready to let loose a blast of white hot death, paused. A look of recognition glimmered in his eye and he said, "I know you, human. Your scent permeates this land. You are Duke William of Voxmoor. I would have thought more from you than to send a girl as a decoy."
The man said nothing; his eyes narrowed and he readjusted his grip on the shield.
The beast started to glow, and seemed to get blurry, but he continued to speak.
"Rest assured, Duke William, I am familiar with your city, and when I have finished with you and the girl, I shall travel there posthaste and destroy your holdings and your family. Your kind will learn not to meddle in the affairs of dragons."
The Duke fumed at these words but remained silent, watching in amazement as the beast underwent an astounding transformation. By the end of the speech, the dragon stood with the appearance of a man.
Tall and handsome with black and silver hair, his eyes glowed the same red color as when he was in wyrm form. He wore ancient-looking plate armor of the same color and sheen that his scales had been. In his hands he held a vicious-looking claymore.
"I shall face you as a man, so when you attempt to run, I shall be able to follow."
The Duke roared and charged, swinging his axe. The dragon met his charge with sword held high and parried the downswing off to one side. He then slammed his shoulder into the Duke's shield, unbalancing the man. The dragon brought his sword around from behind him and attempted to cleave the Duke shoulder to groin, but the man recovered his balance enough to turn the blow aside with the large shield. The inhuman strength of the dragon cracked the shield and staggered the Duke yet again. He dropped to one knee. The dragon spun, swinging his large blade in a flat arc. The Duke saw that he would be decapitated and ducked even lower while raising his axe to ward off the attack. The sword's blade cut through the handle, sending the axe head skittering across the floor. The man fell to his back.
Fiona began to regain consciousness. She opened her eyes to the battle and watched with horror.
The dragon was wise enough to know that this was no time for speeches or gloating. He quickly raised his sword and stabbed downward towards the man's belly. The Duke rolled and managed to avoid the full blow, but still received a painful and deep slice in the side. He grunted, and then kicked out at the dragon's knee. His boot connected and caused the dragon to stagger back in pain. William quickly rose to his feet and swung the shield, hitting his opponent in the throat with the edge. The dragon fell back further, dropping a hand from his sword's hilt. The Duke pressed the advantage, although his vision started to blur from the wound he had received. He knew this would end quickly, one way or the other. The dragon swung his sword with one hand and the Duke did nothing to avoid it, choosing to press the offensive. He took the blow on his armored thigh; a deep cut, but he saw his opening. With all the strength he had left, he thrust the splintered axe handle deep into the dragon's red eye. Both opponents fell.
Fiona propped herself up against the wall and watched. She felt a cool sea breeze come through the tall window behind her.
The Duke moaned and rolled, dizzily pushing himself up to a sitting position. He looked at the body of the dragon, with the axe handle sticking up out from its face. He scowled and reached out to touch it.
The body of the dragon flickered and faded. The axe handle dropped to the stone floor and clattered noisily. The body was gone without a trace. It had all been an illusion.
"I told you not to meddle. Fool."
The gravelly voice came from the other end of the long room. The Duke and Fiona turned and saw the dragon in his fearsome wyrm form slink from the shadows there. He reared back and there was a rumbling in his chest.
"Oh no," whispered Fiona.
The Duke scowled but said nothing. He knew he was done.
The dragon belched forth a liquid fire that instantly incinerated the warrior. He couldn't have possibly felt any pain. Fiona watched as the Duke's flesh melted away from his bones and then she had to cover her face, the heat and horror were so intense.
The flame died quickly. There was a scorch mark on the floor where the Duke had been sitting. The dragon sniffed indifferently and then turned his attention to the girl.
"And now you. What to do with you?" He started to move towards the girl.
She watched the wyrm crawl towards her.
He drew closer to her, passing the black mark on the floor.
Fiona gasped back tears and suddenly drew forth her small dagger. She scowled fiercely at the beast, tears running down her cheeks , and then plunged it into her own heart. The dragon stopped short surprised at her action. He watched as she died, drawing short breaths, blood spilling from her chest.
"No matter," he thought, "Sweet meat."
The beast moved to eat her warm body.
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Dusk fell over the old castle. A group of five individuals approached the front gate cautiously. Four were obviously soldiers, wearing tabards bearing the crest of the Duchy of Voxmoor, and large broadswords at their hips. One had a large black mustache; he seemed to be in charge. The last person seemed to be an old woman wearing a tattered black cloak. She walked with a cane. There was a chill wind blowing in from the sea.
"I'm sure we should have waited. This is crazy!" whispered one soldier. The mustached leader scowled at him, but said nothing.
The old woman laughed.
"You fool. If there hasn't been retaliation yet, the dragon is surely dead."
"How can you be sure, witch?" another soldier asked.
"Out of my way," the old woman said pushing to the front of the group and walking boldly through the gate. The soldiers hurriedly followed, egos touched when she stepped first through the door.
The small group quietly searched through the castle and at last came to the throne room. The carved double door was standing open. The leader motioned them to stop and cautiously looked through the door. They watched him, and saw his posture relax. He motioned them forward.
"What do you make of that?" he asked the old woman, gesturing into the room.
There in the room lay the huge carcass of the dragon. The sheen was gone from his scales, and his body seemed stiff and bloated. Fiona's body lay near his head, a large bite mark on her torso.
The old woman was grave as she walked over to the scene. The four soldiers hung back, just inside the door, still unsure. She nudged the dragon's head with her foot and then squatted down next to Fiona. Without turning to face the soldiers, she spoke.
"This girl came to me and asked for revenge against this beast. It killed her sister. I provided her with the means."
She reached out and pulled the dagger from Fiona's chest.
She continued, "When she coated the blade with my poison, I told her such a small knife would never penetrate the dragon's scales.
The witch sheathed the dagger.
"She told me it wouldn't need to."
Bio: Heath, 33, is married and has two daughters. He is currently working towards his bachelor's degree in Secondary Education/English at York College of Pa.
E-mail: hmhallman@desupernet.net
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