by Shae Hutto
The man turned his attention to his sister and his eyes showed his surprise at what he saw.
Amanda charged in low and sidestepped the expected right-handed punch from the woman. As she ducked under it and to the side, Amanda shifted her weight and brought her legs around to impact the woman’s left knee with tendon-snapping force. The woman’s leg crumpled sickeningly, but she didn’t go down. Instead, she put all her weight on her other foot and grabbed Amanda by a handful of her golden hair. Amanda powered through the pain in her scalp as she seized the woman’s wrist and swung fluidly behind her back, twisting the arm behind the woman. Amanda overcame a moment’s hesitation as she applied far more force than she ever had in sparring or a match. She felt the arm pop out of socket at the shoulder, but the sound of the dislocation was drowned by the surprisingly loud cracks of the radius and ulna snapping like saplings as Amanda continued to twist and travel to the other side of the woman.
The woman was surprisingly tolerant of pain. She released Amanda’s hair and used her good arm to elbow Amanda in the gut. Next, she attempted to backhand Amanda and turn to face her at the same time. Amanda ducked the backhanded blow and followed the woman around, staying behind her. Releasing the now useless appendage, Amanda reached around the woman’s neck and put her in a choke-hold and kicked her in the back of her good knee. Amanda bore the woman to the ground, falling on her back as the woman flopped onto her face, unable to make any sound because her air was cut off by Amanda’s forearm. The only sound was the solid smack as her nose and forehead impacted the parquet flooring, leaving a small fan of blood droplets on the wood. Amanda released her from the chokehold and used her broken arm to flip the woman over, who screamed in agonized protest. Amanda straddled the flailing woman and assumed the classic ground and pound stance, but after slamming her forearm into the woman’s head just twice and having it rebound off the floor, it was obvious the woman was out of the fight. Amanda stood and after she smoothed her red silk dress back in place, took a step toward the man with body language that promised more violence.
The man picked up the saxophone and hefted it above his head with his uninjured arm. His bleeding arm was clasped to his bleeding abdomen but his face betrayed no pain. Amanda stopped. The man could easily heave the object of their quest into the fire long before she could close the distance.
“Give me the Eye and you can have the horn,” promised the man.
“It’s MY EYE!” screamed the dragon from his perch where he had watched the whole thing with lively interest. “I don’t give a damn for that horn. Burn it if you will, but I will have my Eye.”
“NO!” said Amanda. “We can work something out, I’m sure.”
“I know you’re stalling for time, hoping your little Shadar Logoth slave will attack again,” said the man.
“Shadar whatsit?” asked Amanda perplexed.
“The boy is possessed by the Dark,” replied the man. “That dagger of his proves it. No matter. You have three seconds before I throw this horn into the fire.”
“Do it and you are dead,” said Amanda who didn’t want to try shooting the man while he held the horn. The man shrugged and heaved the horn toward the blazing stage. Everything seemed to happen at once. Weenie flew through the air, his jaws clamping onto the horn as he sailed into the fire and vanished. Amanda drew her blaster from under her dress and shot at the man who was running for the maze. She missed but caused him to dive to one side and miss the entrance. Connix breathed a gout of greenish sulfurous flame which engulfed the man. He ran out of the flames and entered the maze, on fire and trailing greasy, sour smoke. Amanda sprang toward the maze entrance to follow him but stopped when a blood curdling scream came from mere feet inside the maze. She took a step back from the black opening, wary of what might come out. Nick walked out of the darkness, wiping his black dagger on his shirtsleeve.
“That’s for Weenie,” he said grimly as he wiped blood away from his nose.
“Woof,” agreed Weenie as he sat the unharmed sax on the floor and stood beside the stage, his tail wagging and his singed fur smoking in the flickering light.
“What if he had something we needed?” asked Amanda. “Maybe we should go search him.”
“Nah,” said Nick. “I got his hand.” He held up a severed human hand tattooed with a golden crown.
“Cool,” replied Amanda.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Our Friend, the Evil One-Eyed Dragon
"He who fights too long against dragons becomes a dragon himself; and if you gaze too long into the abyss, the abyss will gaze into you."
- Friedrich Nietzsche
Claire and Roger had taken the time to get all their stuff back to where it belonged and was easy to get to. They both felt more comfortable with the familiar and reassuring weights and pressures of various pieces of invaluable adventuring gear stowed about their persons. They were both avoiding getting too close to each other while they waited for the situation to develop into something that demanded action. The adventure situation, not the physical contact situation. Out of sheer devilment and because it was relevant to her current thoughts, Claire challenged Roger to spell ‘concupiscence.’ He declined with an irritated scowl.
Roger had changed out of his ridiculous footman uniform and Claire had cast what she hoped was a spell of concealment on the door to the room. They were split as to their opinion of what action would be appropriate now. Roger wanted to escape while it was still possible, but Claire was convinced they needed to stay put and give the Queen and Connix a chance to eliminate one another. Claire was trying to learn some defensive spells from Intermediate Wand Magic and Roger was busy sharpening his sword on a whetstone. Claire opened the ugly little beaded bag to get a highlighter out so she could mark a particularly useful page in her book. The highlighter stopped in mid stroke as her attention wandered.
Her mind kept returning to an uncomfortable feeling like a dog to a bone. She was struck by how unreal things sometimes felt when she was doing things in worlds that weren’t her own. It almost felt like a video game to her at times. The best she could figure, it was some sort of defensive mechanism that her mind was erecting to save her sanity. She was fine with that, but there were some concerns. Some things still felt real. Wrapping her jeans around that guard’s neck had felt far too real. Her brother exuding evil like body odor felt real. Being attacked by a dragon in her own world felt real. On the flip side, Roger felt real. And he smelled real. He tasted real. Claire was at a loss with how to deal with some of the feelings she was having. Were the soldiers she dropped out the window real? If not, was Roger real? If they were real, was she a murderer? She opened the bag to put the highlighter back up, giving up studying wand magic for the moment.
“Claire! Are you there?” came Amanda’s voice from inside the bag. Claire looked puzzled for a second. “Claire! Roger! Is anyone there? Answer me,” said Amanda from somewhere in the small, ugly bag.
“Oh!” exclaimed Claire. “The witch must have stashed our comms in the bag.” She dug around in the bag until she produced one of the futuristic comm devices.
“We’re here, ‘Manda,” she said enthusiastically into the little metal gadget, her previous brooding forgotten.
“It’s about time,” said Amanda with some irritation evident in her voice. There was a lot of wind noise coming through… and the sound of explosions and roaring.
“Uhm. Are you ok?” asked Claire. Roger scooted over next to her so he could hear better. He smelled nice. Actually, he didn’t smell nice; kind of sweaty and musky, but it was a smell she was associating with a set of emotions that were new to her. They made her uncomfortable, those feelings, but it remained that she welcomed the slightly animal smell of Roger in close proximity. With an effort, she brought her mind back into focus on the task at hand.
“Never better, Claire bear,” replied Amanda. “But we don’t really have time to catch up on the phone right now, you know?”
“Right,” said Claire. “Where are you?”
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“That’s hard to explain. Where are you?” Claire rolled her eyes. She didn’t feel like having an argument right now.
“We’re stuck in a tower, ‘Manda,” she said while trying to hide her irritation. “If you tell us where you are, we’ll see about coming to get you.”
“Big tall tower with two windows? Light at the top?”
“Yeah, that sounds like us. Are you close enough to the castle to see us?”
“You could say that,” said Amanda deadpan. “How far can you guys get from the window? Like, right now?” Claire and Roger looked at each other and then at the door to the closet. They both got up and went inside, unsure what their unstable friend had planned. Spanky started making frantic sounds of panic so Claire ran back out and retrieved him. From the commotion he made, his psychic abilities let him know that he didn’t want to be in that room for much longer. Claire hurried back to the closet. Once back inside the closet, she placed Spanky on a pile of sweat pants and keyed her comm.
“Pretty far,” she said, responding to Amanda’s earlier question. “And there’s a door between us and the windows that we just closed,” she added. “Why? What did you have in mind? Something dangerous and recklessly destructive, I hope.”
The only answer she received was a horrendous explosion from outside followed by the sound of crumbling and falling masonry. The tower shook violently enough that Roger fell over and this time it was Claire’s turn to catch him. She was thinking about kissing him the way he had kissed her earlier when he batted his eyes like some lovelorn maid in a fairy tale.
“My hero,” he exclaimed in a falsetto voice. Claire let him fall on his back with a loud and indignant squawk. Tender feelings or no, she had her limits. Claire was about to open the closet door when there was another crashing sound and the tower shook even more violently than the last time. She cringed as she made out the distinctive cry of an angry dragon from just outside.
“I don’t know what you did, Amanda,” she said over the comm. “But whatever it was, it drew that scaled menace’s attention. I think he’s right outside.”
“He is!” replied Amanda. “And I’m on his back. Hurry and get your butts out here before we get blasted off this tower.”
“Cheeky gowl,” muttered Roger.
“Are you serious?” asked Claire but knew the answer when Spanky’s eyes flashed green. Even before Amanda’s impatient response, Claire grabbed Roger’s hand and was bodily hauling him out of the door. She stopped involuntarily and stared at the scene that confronted them. Half of the roof of the room was gone which matched the half of the room that no longer had a wall. Smoke and dust chocked the air but was rapidly being ventilated by the wind. Connix was far too large to fit into the room, but his head and shoulders were resting on the floor while the rest of his massive bulk was clinging to the brick like a giant gecko. On his shoulders was some warrior princess straight out of a steampunk fan fiction story. Her flowing blonde hair was held in place by some futuristic head band and her red silk dress was blowing in the wind. She was holding a blaster pistol in one hand and some sort of makeshift reins with the other. She didn’t look nearly as awkward as she should have, riding a dragon side-saddle in a dress.
“Amanda?” asked Claire incredulously.
“Bloody hell,” breathed Roger quietly. Spanky burbled with enthusiastic delight from Roger’s shoulder.
“Was this reckless enough for you?” asked Amanda saucily.
“Precipitous, I’d say,” responded Claire.
“Precipitous,” said Amanda. “P – r – e- c”
“Stop while your ahead, blondie,” said Claire as she surveyed their prospective mode of travel.
“Climb on,” encouraged Amanda the warrior princess while patting the shiny reptilian hide.
“In me bollox,” said Roger emphatically.
“I’m going to have to agree with him,” said Claire. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“Oh, don’t be afraid of little old Connie,” she assured them and leaned over and kissed Connix on his scaly head. “He’s a softie.”
“Don’t push it, girl,” snarled Connix smokily. “I can still eat you.”
“Hurry up, you two,” said Amanda. To emphasize the need to rush, a snarl of blue lightning lanced out of the castle grounds close to the tower and played upon the wall, shooting sparks and sending molten stone spraying about. Before it could pose too much of a danger, the lightning abruptly cut off and they could barely make out a hideous wail of pain that ended in a liquid gurgle from somewhere below them.
“Thank you, Nick,” said Amanda into her comm. “Useful kid, that brother of yours,” said Amanda to Claire as she and Roger tried to find a way to climb onto Connix’s back. “We’ll have to see about getting him exorcised, but until then he’s handy to have around.”
“Seems like he’s gettin’ plenty o’ exercise to me,” remarked Roger as he poked his finger into the dragon’s armored hide experimentally.
“Yeah, no,” replied Amanda. “Exorcised. Like the movie. The Exorcist? Demons cast out and stuff.” Claire looked alarmed. Amanda saw the look on her face. “It’s fine. We’ll talk about it when we get to safety. Now climb on. Nice outfit, by the way.” Claire looked at the beast dubiously. At least she was wearing riding clothes, thought Claire sardonically.
Claire made sure she got on first and wrapped her hands around Amanda’s waist. There was no way she was going to let Roger wrap his arms around Amanda’s inviting figure. He climbed on behind her and wrapped his hands around her instead. It was petty, but it seemed a victory. She smiled. Claire kept one hand ready to make sure that Roger didn’t let his hands wander from her waist to other areas. A girl has to keep her standards. Roger’s hands stayed very correctly where they were supposed to. Claire’s smile slowly morphed into an annoyed grimace. He could have at least tried. She realized how silly she was being and was glad nobody could see her embarrassed blush in the darkness.
“Hold on to your butts!” shouted Amanda and Claire and Roger both tensed as they felt the muscles under the reptilian skin flex as Connix gathered his strength for flight. With no more warning, Connix gave a mighty roar and launched himself from the tower into the night. It took all of Claire’s strength to hold onto Amanda with her arms and to Connix with her legs. She felt Roger’s arms tighten around her and was vaguely aware of retching sounds behind her as they plummeted toward the earth and banked hard, swooping mere feet over the castle wall, trailing arrows and magical destruction behind them as the castle’s defenders tried to knock them out of the inky black sky. Fortunately, nobody was leading them enough to pose much of a danger as they soared through the night sky and every attempt by the castle defenders to shoot them down fell well short.
Claire was expecting the dragon to land fairly quickly so they could pick up Nick from wherever he was on the castle grounds. Instead, they headed away from the castle and soon left it far behind. Claire tried to ask Amanda where they were going, but couldn’t make herself heard over the roaring of the rushing wind, even by shouting in Amanda’s ear. She supposed she could have used one hand to cup over Amanda’s ear and had a better chance of being heard, but she was extremely unwilling to remove a hand from around Amanda’s waist. Her hands were sweating from nervousness and fear, making it hard enough to hold on as it was. The smooth texture of Amanda’s silk dress wasn’t making it any easier. Where did she get such an elegant garment, anyway? It was just another mystery that would have to wait until they landed. They actually landed fairly quickly. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes of flight time before the dragon slowed himself with a mighty buffeting of his membranous wings and settled to the ground relatively gently, causing a roiling cloud of dust to envelope them all.
When the dust settled, literally, Amanda released the reins.
“End of the line, folks,” she declared with far too much cheer. She attempted to get Claire’s hands to release their stubborn grip on her midsection. “Hey, I love you
too, Claire,” she joked. “But now’s not the time.” She blew a kiss at Claire over her shoulder.
Claire released her sweaty clasp and automatically moved her hands to where Roger’s were, or where they had been. Roger’s hands weren’t around her and his reassuring bulk was no longer pressed against her. She couldn’t even remember when she had noticed them last. She looked around in guilty panic, hoping Roger hadn’t fallen off during the flight and she had not even noticed. She calmed considerably when she saw him lying on the ground theatrically kissing the dirt. Claire slid off the dragon’s neck and dropped to the ground. She resisted the urge to rub her already aching thighs. Fortunately, her riding pants were reinforced with leather on the inner thigh and she was certain there would be no chafing. She wasn’t sure how Amanda could stand to ride that monster in a freaking dress.
She turned and thanked Connix for the ride. He ducked his head in acknowledgement. She was struck by the visible damage to the noble being. She thought guiltily that she was responsible for some of that. The tip of his tail was missing, he bore numerous scorch marks, some blackened with soot from fireballs and some the obvious work of magical electrical attacks. A large chunk of scaly flesh had been gouged out by a cannon ball from one muscled shoulder. And of course, he was missing an Eye. The dragon looked rather ragged. Ragged, but still imposing and obviously powerful.
Claire looked around at her surroundings. She knew this place. Connix had set down in a little clearing at the start of a quaint dirt track. There was a cheerfully painted little cottage that looked a little unmaintained. A picturesque stone well stood by the front garden and a wood shed held a door that she had used before to enter and exit this world. There was a mad Irishman still trying to be funny by showing his enthusiasm for not being airborne any longer. She nudged his arm with her riding boot.