November 6
Word Count: 1,888
“Oh my,” Iber said.
“I think someone should teacher the villagers how to count,” Malek growled as another dragon slithered down the tree. “I think this officially counts as more than three.”
“A lot more than three,” Lasser agreed. One of his arrows bounced harmlessly off a dragon’s hide.
“One, two, three,” Iber began to count allowed. “Nine!”
“Nine we can see!” Lasser shot another arrow and a dragon fell with a fiery burp. “Eight!” he shouted triumphantly. Another dragon appeared.
“Nine.”
“I think it may be time for a strategic retreat,” Iber stated.
“To where? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re surrounded.” Malek aimed and shot again, managing to maim one, it still crept closer. They were all getting closer. They were all ignoring Pylon whose tail was lashing back and forth in a fury.
“The last time we fought them, Saratin said they were afraid of water. They ran away when they were doused with wine… the brothers wine.”
“Yeah, I doubt the few sprinklings from our cantine is going to fight off a small army of the buggers.”
“We’ll have to make a run for it back to the stream.”
“That’s at least a mile!”
“Got any better plan.”
“Never be talked into something like this again.”
“Then I suppose we run,” Iber replied. “You’re going to run out of arrows sooner or later.”
“Right,” Lasser stated. “Watch your back and on the count of three, fight our way out of the dragon circle and run for the stream.”
“One,” Iber shouted.
“Two,” Lasser replied. Malek took a deep breath, and pulled back his bow.
“Three!” He pivoted and shot a dragon cleanly. Iber raised his sword above his head and sounded a battle call. He ran towards a dragon and swept the sword towards it’s head. Lasser followed and shot at a dragon about to attack Iber from behind. Iber’s sword sliced the dragon’s neck, sending blood in every direction. He yanked at the sword, trying to free it from the middle of the oozing flesh.
Malek winced from the sudden sharp smell of acrid smoke and turned just in time to be roasted in a stream of dragon from his knees to his elbows. He felt the heat of it, but upon inspection, he noticed the dragon cloth had held. His trousers were practically ash, but the grey cloth held without fail. The dragon launched itself at him. Malek ducked and it sailed over him, crashing headfirst into a tree before laying still. Not taking any chances, Malek withdrew his dagger slit its throat before moving on.
Iber was on his third dragon, and completely covered in dragon muck. He was roaring at anything that moved and almost whacked Lasser when he got too close. Lasser was picking off the dragons that Iber couldn’t handle and Pylon had his jaws wrapped around the neck of a dragon, his claws marking red paths in the dragons’ skin.
“Go!” Lasser shouted when he saw the way was fairly clear of dragons. Iber began to run, still swinging his sword wildly. Malek followed, bow in hand, ready for more attacks.
The three of them ran at top speed towards the stream, only pausing to assess the speed of the dragon’s pursuit. Malek had seen at least three of them skulking along behind them. He only had three arrows left in his quiver. Pylon caught up, unharmed and lopped happily at Malek’s side. They spared no breath for conversation, and ran pausing only once to dispatch a dragon that got too close.
They made good time back to the stream and Iber in the lead splashed wildly into the center before turning to face the remaining dragons. Malek cursed the coldness of the water as he joined the lordling in the stream. His chest heaved from exertion. Four of the dragons emerged from the forest.
“So what’s the plan?” Lasser asked. “I’m out of arrows.”
“I’ve got three,” Malek stated. A fifth dragon appeared. Iber kicked water at them with his foot. They scattered for a moment, then began closing in again. Malek stilled himself then withdrew an arrow. He could still feel the quick pulse beat of his heart throbbing through his veins. He had to make every arrow count.
His first shot hit true, knocking the dying dragon into the one next to it. The second arrow sliced and pinned a dragon to the tree behind it by the throat. The third he shot down the open mouth of one just about to breath fire. The dragon’s dying breath set the leaves around it alight as the dragon’s head exploded.
“Nice shooting.”
“Never carry a weapon without knowing how to use it… and use it well. That was the only useful information I ever got out of my father,” Malek stated as he slung his bow across his back. Until he got more arrows, it was useless. He pulled out his dagger.
“Weren’t there only two dragons left?” Iber questioned. Malek counted again. Five were still alive.
“Well, at least we’re safe in the stream,” Iber commented as he rested his arm.
“Yeah, well you want to sleep here?” Lasser asked.
“No, but we have a little time to…” One of the dragons launched itself at Iber, sinking both of them into the water. Again, Lasser and Malek went to his rescue. Pylon took this new action as a sign he could kill another dragon. He lunged and grabbed the thing by the neck and dragged it into the water. There was a sudden struggle of green and brown splashes before Pylon’s head came.
Malek pulled Iber up by the arm. The water had done little to wash off the blood that was beginning to cake them all. Malek suddenly realized that some of this blood belonged to Iber. His eyes were trying to blink themselves back into focus.
“I thought you said they didn’t like water!” Lasser shouted as he wrapped Iber’s arm around his shoulder.
“Saratin told me so. Am I bleeding?”
“Just a scratch I think,” Lasser lied eyeing the three remaining encroaching dragons. He couldn’t fight if he was holding Iber up, but putting him down would probably make him dragon food.
“I think I dropped my sword,” Iber mumbled.
“Don’t worry. We’ll send Saratin to fetch it in the morning,” Malek said backing up to the other side of the stream. The dragons were timidly pawing at the water, debating about whether it was worth getting wet for lunch.
They were apparently very hungry.
“Now’s the time for a miracle, if you’ve got one,” Malek commented. He could think of nothing he wanted to more than forget that this day had ever happened. He wanted to wake up in a warm bed next to Mitty and go tell the rest of them to shove off. He’d managed to make himself invisible before. Why couldn’t he manage to conjure up some more arrows or magically exterminate the dragon that was slowly wading its way through the stream, ever closer to its goal?
“If I ever get out of this, Saratin is going to owe me big. Like really big,” Lasser stated. Iber’s head drooped. “Don’t you dare pass out, you wretched excuse for a rat infested pigsty!”
“Magic, magic, magic,” Malek murmured to himself as Lasser half dragged Iber backwards. “In the old stories it’s always words.”
Iber’s head popped up, “Dagger, dagger, please take flight. Don’t let this dragon take a bite... of me.” His eyes rolled back and his head dropped again.
“Somehow I don’t think that did anything,” Malek said, half disappointed, and half cursing himself for holding hope in a silly rhyme.
“They’re getting closer,” Lasser warned.
“I can see that.”
“Do you think it’s time we screamed for help like a little girl?”
“And who’s going to hear us all the way out here?
“I will,” Iber said, apparently back into consciousness.
“You don’t count.”
“Oh, okay, sorry. Starlight, shine bright, fire, fire in the night, help us see through this all right.”
“Save the poetry for later. Work on moving your legs,” Lasser said.
Malek had just enough time to throw himself to the ground before the sky above him erupted into a huge flaming fireball aimed straight for the dragons in the stream. A raging hiss sounded as the fire met water. The stream boiled and the steam coursed over Malek like a hot storm.
When the heat ebbed, Malek raised his head to see Iber and Lasser staring at the stream behind him, apparently unhurt. He rolled over, dagger in hand to inspect the damage. A thirty foot wide swatch of ground had been completely charred. Nothing but ash remained of the dragons that had been pursuing them. The water was beginning to trickle back over the ground, hissing as it went, trying to reconnect itself to the flow of water.
Through the steam and smoke, Malek realized there was now a rock the size of his cottage lying on the other side of the stream. Or at least he thought it was a rock, until it laughed.
“I do so love to make an entrance!”
Snult flashed a toothy dragon grin.
It was somewhat relaxing to be able to shop in the market without worrying about being followed by a big green cat. Mitty delivered a few sewing projects she had completed and picked up some groceries. She even stopped to buy some sweets from one of the vendors. Whether he liked to admit it or not, Malek had a sweet tooth and the candies would secretly disappear from the dish she set out.
There was always a slight bit of pointing and staring, as owning a large green animal tended to make one a local celebrity. Most of the villagers were polite. All of them knew her name.
“Did you like that Coramat cheese I suggested for you last week, Mitty?” The cheese vendor called out to her.
“Thank you, I did.” She smiled at him.
Her life here in Stordine was completely opposite of Toumat. Rather than work herself to the bone getting breakfast ready for her grumpy father and lazy brother, she woke when she felt, often long after Malek, who when he rose first, cooked breakfast for them both. He didn’t seem to find anything feminine about cooking, and was constantly looking over her shoulder and secretly tossing things in to her dishes, distracting her with kisses.
Malek didn’t expect her to account every minute of her day for him. If she wanted to go for a walk, we went. She was beginning to know people in the village, rather than just be the invisible girl with no prospects that existed in Toumat.
She was simply happy. Even the tightness of their small cottage seemed toasty most of the time, rather than cramped. Humming slightly off tune to herself, Mitty headed back to the cottage. Even though she knew Pylon and Malek probably wouldn’t be back tonight, she wanted to finish the new shirts she was sewing before the good daylight disappeared.
The last thing she expected to see when she walked up the pathway to her cottage was Saratin in his white cassock, smiling at her from the doorway.