The Dragon's Prize (22 page)

Sandra tried, unsuccessfully, to dig her sword into his tail and get a better handhold to climb up with.  The tail was too squirmy and thin, the pace of the flight too frantic, she couldn’t aim.  She tried again.  No luck!

Daro roared again, and Sandra turned her head just in time to see the cavern wall coming up to meet her.  The breath was knocked out of her and every bone in her body jarred as she was slammed against the rock wall of the cavern, then dragged across it.

He did that on purpose!

She kicked against the wall and pushed herself away from it, her strength barely enough to overcome the power in his tail, but it was not going to be enough.  He would just do it again.

Bad…

Sandra considered the grip she had on him and the chances she had of surviving continual beatings like that.  Already she was starting to hurt all over from the impact.  Another few would… she found herself looking at the ring on her hand.  Could Daro fly without his tail?

She felt power gather in his tail as he summoned the strength to slam her again and made her decision.  Instead of trying to stab at his tail, she slashed.  The magic in the blade cut through scale and muscle like it wasn’t there, and then she was falling free.  Daro screamed at the top of his dragon lungs and whirled away through the air, but Sandra couldn’t see him.  Feathers blocked her vision and cushioned the blow with the ground.  She bounced off the magical pile and rolled down a small hill of coins to end on her back as a gout of blood from his amputated tail splashed over her.  It was hot and smelled like sulphur.  She closed her mouth and eyes and tried not to think about it.

When the dousing was done, she climbed back to her feet.  Fatigue made the movement difficult.  Her muscles were strained from holding on to his tail and battered from contact with the wall, but she managed to get to her feet still.  The fight was not over.

Where was he?

Sandra looked around the coin pit but couldn’t see him anymore.  There should have been a shrieking dragon flying in erratic circles through the air above her, but there wasn’t.  He wasn’t crouched on the ceiling or rampaging across the coins, either.

Could a dragon just disappear like that?

“Mira?”

“Ya?”

“Where is he?”

“I… I don’t know.”  Mira’s head poked around the edge of the kitchen entrance and looked around.  She shook it.  “I don’t see him.”

“I don’t either.”  Sandra walked forward slowly, trying to avoid hurting her bare feet on the coins and trying not to get ambushed.  “Daro?”

“Mister dragon?”

“Maybe he’s dead?”  The prince added that one from inside the kitchen.  “All hail the hero!  Now let me down.”

“I don’t think so, prince.”  Sandra shook her head as she said it.  “If he is alive, I don’t think you’d live long if I let you out.”

“Oh… okay then.”

Sandra stood at the top of the pile of gold in the middle of the coin pit, the highest point, and looked around.  Nothing.  No dragon.

“Bitch!”  Daro came charging out from behind a cart.  He was no longer a dragon, he was a human instead.  He wore the same red silks, which were now torn and dripping blood from gashes along his hand and arms, and trench coat.   The bottom half was missing.

In his hands he held a huge greatsword, which he swung at her in a vicious overhand chop.  Sandra had no doubt that if she were hit by it, it would cut her in two.  So she dodged out of the way and retaliated with her own slash.

He blocked.  Countered.

She blocked.  Dodged.  Stepped.  Feint, slash.  Slash, feint slash.

Daro’s weapon was larger and more cumbersome, so he gave ground as he tried to defend against her onslaught.  She pressed the advantage, unsheathing a dagger with her left hand and using it for quick strikes.  He knew better than to take his attention off of her magical sword, so she scored minor victories with the dagger.

She could see when it clicked for him that his current strategy wasn’t working.  He kept giving ground, and kept taking dagger cuts, and wasn’t making any headway.  So he struck instead.

He used an unconventional parry, hitting her sword blade with a downward strike with his hilt instead of using the blade.  That gave her the opening to plunge a dagger into his stomach but he didn’t notice.  He punched forward with his two-handed grip, striking her in the face with both hands and the cross guard.

“Oof.”  Stars blossomed in front of Sandra’s eyes and she stumbled backward.  Blood filled her mouth as her tooth tore the inside of her cheek, and pain filled her nose.  Broken?  She hoped not.

He pressed the advantage.

They were too close now for the blade, so he brought his knee up into the mail below her breastplate.  She grunted and was forced backward.  Now he could bring the blade around, in a vicious sideways arc that she had no choice but to block.  The force knocked her sword right out of her hands, and Sandra stumbled to her knees.

Daro laughed.

Choked on his own blood.

What?

Sandra used a hand that was ringing from the force of his hit to throw a stray lock of dragon blood-coated hair out of her eyes and saw Daro with a kitchen knife sticking out of his cheek.  Blood ran freely down his face and filled his mouth.

Mira stood, triumphant, holding her short sword at the ready.  Daro might have been surprised by the attack, but he didn’t hesitate to shift his attention to the new attacker.  Mira sent a thrust at his stomach and he batted it away with his hand.  Sandra noticed that the blade barely cut through his shirt and scored only a shallow gash on his arm.

No good.

The sword wasn’t magical enough!

Sandra scrambled to get her blade back and help Mira.  Mira seemed to think she was doing well and pressed the attack, throwing a flurry of thrusts and slashes at the dragon.  It was clear that she was unpracticed with the blade, but her anger helped make up for it.  The blows were clumsy but fast, and rage made them powerful.  She cut the waist of his shirt to ribbons, but he managed to keep from being gutted by dodging backward.

“Stay with him!”  Sandra yelled as she scooped her sword up and rushed forward to press the attack.  “Don’t give him room!”

Mira didn’t acknowledge the words, but kept pressing.  Daro kept backing up, and Mira stuck to him like glue, not letting him bring his big sword into play.

Sandra ran straight at the two, sword high.

“Go right!”  Sandra yelled.

Mira went right.

Daro turned to keep her in front of him, which gave Sandra an open avenue to his side.  She struck as hard as she could at his shoulder, trying to cut off some of his defense.  Literally.  He saw the attack coming out of the corner of his eye and spun desperately to the side, bringing his sword up to block just before he lost his arm.

Mira stabbed him in the side.  Sandra kicked him in the chest.  He rolled backward.

Sandra charged with him, punching him in the abs and chopping at his leg.  He dodged to the side, which put him in range of Mira’s sword.  She stabbed him again.

“How do you know each other’s thoughts!?”  He looked from one to the other in desperation and tried to get away.

Sandra pressed, and she could tell he was getting more desperate.  He was leaving a trail of human blood in his wake: it streamed freely from a dozen cuts and gashes, both from the current fight and when he was in dragon form.  This would be over soon…

Sandra didn’t see the blow coming.

He struck her in the chest with a fist, then wrenched downward as she flew away.  The force of the punch knocked the air out of her and the twisting motion tore her breastplate off.  She struck the coins hard and rolled awkwardly backward into a crouch.  That was enough time to see him backhand Mira across the face.  She cried out and fell sideways, blood spattering in an arc from her mouth.  He followed that up by kicking her in the ribs.  He was so strong that Mira flew across the coins and disappeared behind a small pile.

“No!”  Sandra stood and tried to run to her friend, but had to block the sword.

Block.  Dodge.  Sandra blinked blood out of her eyes, her own?, and tried to circle around him to get away.

His blows sent tremors of force through her muscles, and she felt herself buckle a little under each strike.  Strong!  He was so strong!

She tried to back off from him, but he followed up a slash with a slap.  A slap?  He used his left hand to slap her across the face.  The shock of it blurred her vision and took her focus away from the battle.  How could a slap hurt so much?  The next sword blow struck home, cutting a ragged gash across the front of her armor.

Sandra screamed.

If she hadn’t been wearing chainmail, it probably would have killed her.

She fell to her knees and let the sword dangle in her grip, shocked by the blood cascading down the front of her armor onto the ground.  So much blood…

Daro punched her in the side of the head and she went down.  Black flowers bloomed in her vision and red pain filled her mind.

He kicked her like he’d kicked Mira, right in the ribs.

Crack!

Something broke.  A sharp pain burst in her side and suddenly it was hard to breathe, like someone clamped an iron band around her lungs.  That was bad.

She didn’t have a lot of time to think.  The world was spinning!  No.  She was spinning!  She rolled across the coins and down a small hill until coming to a stop at the bottom of it.

Sandra tried to stand.  Her arms would barely support her weight, and she collapsed back to the ground.  Her chest felt hot and wet from all the blood spilling out, and she knew that it was only a matter of minutes before she bled out.

They were close.  So close!

It wasn’t fair.

She could hear him walking towards her.  Slowly.  Mockingly.  He was whistling!

“How does it feel?”  Daro laughed mockingly.

“What?”  Sandra mumbled around the blood in her mouth.  Bastard!

“To be so close.  You really did come close, you know?”  Maybe he was walking slowly because of all the damage he’d taken?

“Bastard.”

“Ha!  It’s been a long time since I last had such a good fight, you know?”

“…”  Sandra concentrated on not bleeding to death, rather than trading words with the maniacal dragon.

“But!  In the end, you’re still going to die!”  He stood at the top of the small hill Sandra had rolled down.  She could barely see him for all of the spots winking across her vision and the bloodstained hair hanging in front of her eyes.

“…”

“Well, now you’re just sucking the fun out of this.”  He slid to the bottom of the hill and stood, looking at her.  Sandra looked back up at him, meeting his eyes.  She refused to die a coward.  “Maybe this will help?”

He kicked her in the jaw, swing his foot in an arc so it skimmed just over her armor and struck her mercilessly.

She flew backward through the air, aware of nothing but the pain as her teeth snapped together and her jawbone probably broke.  He even tore a hole in the skin under her chin with the hard tip of his boot, and she could feel blood rushing out from that.

Would she bleed to death from that or the chest wound first?

As her upward arc turned to a downward one, she felt something strange in her newest wound.  Tingling… something delicious and sparkling flooded into her mouth through the wound.

What?

The Heal potion!

It hit her harder than he had.  Her entire body wracked with pain and she screamed.  Light poured out of her open mouth, exploded from the gash in her chest and screamed out from the myriad small cuts she’d received.

Strength flooded back into her muscles, and the aches and fatigue of battle were burned away in one glorious moment.

Without even realizing it, she was standing again.  Daro was less than a foot from her, hands over his head with the blade ready for a killing blow, and a shocked look on his face.

“What?”  He obviously didn’t know what was happening.

In the rush of energy from the Heal, Sandra barreled into him.  She unleashed a brutal combo of punches into his midsection and slammed her forehead hard on his.  The ferocity of the blows made him drop his sword, and Sandra just kept coming.  She leapt forward into him, throwing knees into his chest and elbows into his face, and used her momentum to bear him to the ground.

He tried to bring his hands up to protect his vulnerable head, but she wouldn’t let him.  She hammered her knees down on his shoulders and pummeled his face.  She had no weapons, but her fists were covered in thick, heavy chainmail which dug cruel cuts in his skin and provided more force with her strikes than brass knuckles would.

She hit him and hit him until he mustered the strength to twist out from under her and roll away.

Bad move.

She grabbed the sword he dropped and smashed it into the bridge of his nose.  He cried out and grabbed his face, trying to stanch the flood of blood from the hit.  Sandra rose to her feet, reversed the blade in her grip so that the tip pointed down, then stuck downward with all her might.