His eyes narrow as he searches the crags and peaks below. Autumn moves rapidly across the Renault Mountains. The verdant colors of summer had only just burst into reds and golds when he left for the battles and already the trees shed their rainbow cloaks, only a meager few leaves still clinging to their branches. The mountainside is quiet, no sign of trouble.
Mounds of clouds drift across the sky, the tops white as snow with deep grey undersides. He catches a flicker of movement beneath one cloud and he jerks his head that direction. Only an eagle. The steady thrum of his wings is the only sound as he turns his gaze back to the mountains. Far in the distance, the familiar lofty crest his lair rests behind comes into view.
“Maru. Help.” Aura’s Mindspeak is faint but frantic. “I cannot hold them off much longer.”
“Aura.” The deer plunge groundward as he releases them and tucks his legs, his neck straightening out as he thrusts his wings with all his might.
“Thank the Lady. Hurry, there are too many of them.” He hopes it is only the distance that makes her Mindspeak weak.
“I am coming.”
Adrenaline surges through him and he doubles his speed. Small tan specks, swirling above his home ridge, cause his heart to hammer in his chest. Volastoque. At least six of the creatures. The trees below blur as he pelts across the mountain, pushing his body for every ounce of speed.
The Volastoque are mature beasts. The sun glints off each beast’s enormous four wings and body plates of deep tan and mauve. Jets of white shoot from some of their open maws and Maru flinches, knowing that Killer Frost can render a dragon defenseless.
A flash of green shoots from the west and he realizes Kilita has heard Aura and joins the battle. Smoke spirals from his nostrils as his battle fire ignites. The screech of his mate rings across the distance and rage fuels his wing thrusts and he finally passes the last ridge.
Three of the six Volastoque have turned their attention to Kilita. They twirl around her, swooping in and raking claws across the emerald dragon.
The other three Volastoque harry his mate, their harsh cries taunting her and dividing her attention. Aura blocks the entrance to the tunnel, her mahogany form streaked with blood from gashes across her back and neck. Pale patches mark where the beasts’ Killer Frost hit her wings, rendering them limp at her sides.
Maru folds his wings and dives, his talons extended, toward the Volastoque in the center. His mouth yawns wide and flames shoot to engulf the beast on his right a heartbeat before he crashes into his target. His claws fasten on the center creature’s neck and the upper edge of one wing. His muscles burn as he forces his own wings down, jerking sideways to fling the Volastoque against the vertical rock face.
Its agonized screech is cut short as it splats against the stone, crumples and slides down, leaving crimson streaks on the rock face. Pain knifes through his shoulder as Maru flips head over tail, surging away from the cliff.
The brute with one scorched wing plummets toward Maru, Killer Frost streaming from his maw. Maru folds his body sideways, and the stream misses. The stench of putrefied mushrooms mingles with burnt flesh as the creature slams into Maru, sinking its serrated teeth into the base of his neck.
Agony scorches through his body as the Volastoque back-wings, jerking its head from side to side, gnawing flesh and scales. Maru swings his neck around, sinking his teeth into one of its wings. His teeth shred the wing membrane, ripping down the entire length. He bites again and manages to latch onto another of the creature’s four wings at its base. His jaw muscles bulge as he clamps his teeth together, shattering the bone.
Screaming in agony, the Volastoque opens its mouth and releases Maru’s neck. The tawny dual-wings flail as Maru thrusts the beast away. It tumbles and crashes into the treetops far below.
Panting, Maru glances at his mate. She seems to be holding her own against the third creature, so he turns to aid Kilita.
The emerald dragon is tiring. Blood streams from long open wounds along her length. He trumpets a challenge to draw the creatures away. Two turn at his challenge. The larger of the two whips its tail and flings a barb at Maru. He dodges the venomous projectile and belches out a column of fire, but the creature folds its wings, plummeting groundward, and the fire misses.
The second beast crashes into Maru. Their wings entangle as its claws shear across his ridge plates, ripping scales but unable to find purchase. Dragging in a deep draught of air, Maru blasts the creature full in the face with flames. Its forked tongue sizzles, shriveling to curl back into its mouth. Its eyes burst, boiling eye fluid turning into vapor and the beast recoils in agony.
Maru breaks free from the entanglement as the blinded beast flutters sideways. An impact from below doubles him over as the larger Volastoque slams into him. Its sharp claws leave six wide gashes in his belly as it strikes then shoots off again.
Reeling, in pain, Maru struggles to remain airborne. A frigid blast pours across his right wing tip. The last one-third of his wing stiffens, making it even harder for him to fly. His vision blurred from pain, he searches the sky for his adversary.
A shadow jerks his gaze skyward in time to see the beast plunge toward him out of the sun. At the last moment, he flips, sinking all four talons into the thin plates of the creature’s underbelly. Clinching, his sharp talons rip in. With all his might, he contorts his body, wrenching chunks of flesh and plates free as he shoves his wings down and strives to break clear. Reeling, the Volastoque snaps its enormous jaws, snagging Maru’s right wing.
Agony rakes across his wing. Locked together they spin, crashing into the trees below. Branches batter Maru and his head cracks against a massive trunk. Then darkness enfolds him and he struggles no more.
Chapter 6
“Are you going to stay in there much longer?”
Trella opens her eyes to see a human child staring at her from the bank of the pond. One diminutive hand of the girl rests on her hip the other grasps a cane-pole as her blue eyes pierce Trella in exasperation.
Trella glances around. The child is alone. “I usually soak for some time after I bathe.”
The girl steps back, a look of surprise lighting her face when she hears Trella’s Mindspeak. She shakes her head then says, “You are scaring the fish. As long as you float in there, they will not bite.”
Trella peers into the green-tinted water of the pond to see schools of fish darting beneath the surface. She has to agree, they did look too agitated to feed. She glances back at the girl. Ah, the child wishes to hunt fish. Trella has seen humans pulling fish from ponds with such a pole and line.
Her long neck swings around and with a quick thrust she scoops a number of fish into her mouth. Completing the swing she opens her mouth at the last moment and slings them toward the bank. Ten or so fish land amongst the deluge of water to flop on the grass. “Are those sufficient for thy needs?”
“Argh!” The girl swipes her hand across her face, sheeting away water. “You stupid yellow lizard, you soaked me!”
Trella’s eyes fly wide in surprise. She looks at the dripping wet child. Stupid yellow lizard? Did the child not know she addresses a dragon? “I hardly think—”
“Thanks, I guess.” The girl stomps to the fish and, picking up a stone, efficiently dispatches them. “It would have taken me hours to catch this many. Although, I was looking forward to fishing here for the last time this season.”
“Thou is welcome.” Trella falls silent, unsure what to make of this child. She could not be more than ten winters old. Trella searches the area around the pond. Humans that age are still in the nest, where is her dama? Bringing the fish to the water, the girl pulls a knife from a sheath on her belt and begins to scale and gut the fish. She rinses the blood and bile off into the water.
Grimacing, Trella watches as the fish scales and offal float toward her. She swims quickly to the shore and climbs out. She does not want that muck on her clean scales.
The girl shakes her head. “If you were getting out anyway, I co
uld have fished.”
“I was not. At least, not until thou fouled the water.” Trella strides a ways into the meadow and shakes excess water off her lithe form.
The girl looks up from her work, pushing brown hair back from her eyes with the back of a blood-grimed hand. “You are a pretty gold color. Reminds me of the daffodils in spring.”
“Thank thee. Where are thy parents?”
The child drops her eyes back to her task. “Not here.”
“I can see that. Should thou not be with them, preparing for departure?”
“I am not going.”
“Not going? But all must leave. We escort ye to sanctuary.”
The girl lays the fish she has finished in a neat row with two others already completed and grabs another to de-scale. “I am going to stay in a cabin in the woods.” She gestures toward the hills covered in trees a distance away. “My sire laid in plenty of dried meats and grains before—” She shakes her head again. “There is plenty there to keep me through two or even three winters. Especially since I can set snares and fish for myself. But, it should not take that long.”
“Child, thou must leave with the other humans. It is not safe to remain here.”
The girl sends a scathing glare her direction. “I am not a child. I am thirteen winters old, and my name is Pearlitta.”
Trella turns her head to the side and studies Pearlitta. Not a child—a hatchling—no, but at thirteen winters, the humans did not consider that the age of an adult either. A youngling then, with the maturity to learn skills and hunt, yet not ready to be without guidance. “Please to meet thee, Pearlitta. I am Trella. Thou has insufficient winters to remain here alone.”
“I do not see what concern that is of yours.” Pearlitta continues to clean the fish, turning her back on Trella.
Trella settles to the soft grass of the meadow, unsure what to say to or do about this young female. She watches as Pearlitta efficiently finishes cleaning the fish. The girl washes her hands, then begins to gather dead branches, snapping them into short lengths that she arranges in a shallow depression beside the pond. She wanders a short distance off to gather tinder and Trella ignites her battle flames. Pursing her lips to form a tight beam of fire, she exhales. The small pile of wood bursts into flames.
Pearlitta jumps, then casts Trella a wry grin. “That is a rather handy talent.”
“Dragons do not cook our food, I use my flames when in battle.”
“You seem to have lighting campfires down pat.” Pearlitta cuts several green, limber lengths off a branch. She walks back to the fish and skewers the smallest upon the branches, poking one end of the stick into the ground where the fish remain in the smoke. “What else can you do that is helpful?”
Trella chuckles, finding herself more intrigued than insulted by this youngling. She glances around, then rises to grasp a large flat rock that lies half in the water. She moves it close to the campfire. “Stand back.”
Pearlitta scrambles away and Trella pours her flames upon the stone. Steam rises as the stone dries and she continues to flame it until it is well heated. “Thou should be able to cook the thicker fish upon this surface.”
The girl grins. “Thanks.” She plucks a few handfuls of wild garlic from the shore of the pond. She smashes them with the edge of her knife, stuffs the cavities of the fish with the herb, and lays them upon the heated stone. The sizzle of fish cooking immediately fills the air. “Why are you here alone? The rest of the dragons are all near where the caravan forms.”
“I am not alone, my companion hunts. I chose this location for the quiet, and the pond.” Trella settles back upon the ground, curling her tail around herself. “Thou knows thy people leave to go to a place of safety. The Volastoque will come here, sooner or later, and thou will not be safe.”
The girl laughs. “Look at me; I am so small compared to you. Do you really think they will notice one small human from the skies?”
“These creatures may lay thy town to waste, regardless if the people have fled.”
“I thought of that. That is why I am leaving for our cabin.”
“Thou should be with thy sire and dama.”
Pearlitta uses her knife to check the fish and flips a couple of them over. “My dama died, a while ago. My sire went on a trip, left me with the people who own this farm. He told me to wait for him.” She flips her long brown hair back behind her shoulders as she peers up to meet Trella’s gaze. “So I shall. I am leaving him a note telling him I will be at the cabin.”
“The family thy sire left thee with approve of this?”
The girl’s blue eyes turn away. “They can hardly miss that I am not with them, can they?” She stands. “Be right back.”
The youngling hurries to a yarin tree in the adjacent orchard. The small, limber girl shinnies up a tree and uses her knife to cut several of the broad leaves that remain on the near-naked branches. She snatches the last orange pod remaining in that tree and hurries back to the fire. Pearlitta expertly pops open the yarin pod and scrapes seeds the size of her thumb pad onto the hot stone beside the cooking fish.
Trella finds herself amazed as this youngling adroitly prepares herself a meal. Once the seeds have roasted, Pearlitta uses one of the smaller broad leaves to scoop them back into their pod. Then she slips the leaf under the cooked fish and places two large portions on a broad leaf, the others she wraps carefully in the remaining leaves. She presses on the smoking fish with two fingers, but leaves them where they are.
Pearlitta settles with her back against a large rock and begins to eat with relish.
“I would offer you some, but you said you do not cook your food,” Pearlitta says between bites.
Trella shakes her head and studies the minute human. Somehow, she must convince this child to leave with the rest of her people.
~!~
Sharp pain lances across his wing and shoulder, jolting Maru awake. Blurred grayish-brown slashes slowly come into focus as mangled tree limbs. His wing jerks and he screams from the pain.
“I am sorry.”
“Kilita?” He turns his head to the right, flinching as the base of his neck joins in the clamor of pain.
“Remain still, I almost have it.”
The emerald dragon perches at an awkward angle amongst the shattered trees; her fore-talons grip the lower jaw of a Volastoque as she bites the upper portion. She takes shallow, quick breaths then wrenches the jaws apart, releasing Maru’s wing. The beast tumbles free, jostling Maru. He fights against the wave of pain that threatens to plunge him back into oblivion.
“Aura?”
“She lives.”
Relief washes through him and he succumbs to the encroaching darkness.
~!~
Kilita sighs as Maru’s black head crashes back upon the twisted branches. It is best he is unconscious. She shoves the tawny body of the Volastoque; it wedges against the adjacent, undamaged trees for a moment before dropping six strides to the ground. Trembling with exhaustion, she takes Maru’s damaged wing and gently folds it against his body.
Her gaze travels over his black body. He sprawls across a pile of shattered trees. His silver spinal ridge is scored with deep gouges, but not through the ridge plates. Two bite marks bead red crescents across the base of his neck. The strong odor of blood and the crimson swath on the trees beneath Maru indicate he sustained injuries to his lower body. She must turn him over, and get him off the sagging platform of busted trees.
Her gaze turns skyward. They are too exposed here. Neither of them would survive another attack. The blue sky is empty, the sun a handspan from its apex. She breathes a sigh of relief and returns her attention to Maru. Placing her talons with care, she edges along his side until she can reach across and grasp his left wing. With a firm grip, but careful not to twist the wing bones, she pulls. The trees beneath them groan as Maru shifts. Her muscles strain as she steps back, using the wing to leverage him over until he rests on his back.
She gasps when the long tear
s on his underside are revealed. Blood seeps out along the length of all six gashes, a steady ooze that will leach his life away.
She settles back on her haunches and ponders what to do. It is a full day’s flight to the nearest Healer; he would not survive until she reaches help. Her fatigued mind wonders and her mind’s eye pictures the slaughter at the lair.
She remained engaged with her opponent long after Maru fell, finally managing to slay him in a lucky strike that reaches his throat. Her jaw still aches from the effort to rip the life from the creature. The battle had taken her several ridges to the south. She had struggled slowly back to Maru and Aura’s lair only to find the ledge empty. Aura nowhere in sight.
She swallows as she remembers the scene that greeted her eyes when she entered the nesting area. The hatchings lay slain. Their multi-hued bodies all twisted and strewn across the inner cavern like discarded waste. She had sobbed uncontrollably as she checked each of them for any signs of life. None.
Her calls to Aura went unanswered. She searched the area beneath the ledge and found only Volastoque dead. The two spent barbs lying on the ledge finally gave her an answer. Aura was under the control of the Volastoque. The venom in the barbs allows the creature to establish psychic dominance. The Volastoque had taken control of Aura, then slaughtered her children. Her stomach heaves, the thought making her physically ill.
How would she ever tell Maru?
Shaking her head, she forces her attention back to the wounds. He must survive first.
Taking a firm hold on her resolve, she ignites her inner fires. She turns her head away from him, shooting a flow of flame out above the trees. Concentrating, she shifts her mouth and tongue until it is a narrow stream. She adjusts her exhale, shortening the flame to a manageable length.
Every muscle in her body tightens as she turns the flames toward her friend. Moving the flame in a slow, steady pace, she sears the wounds. The blood bubbles, filling the air with the odor of burning flesh. The edges of the wounds curl and crisp as she cauterizes each one.
She slumps upon the branches as the last wound seals, leaving small trails of smoke lifting from its surface. Twilight descends as she lies there, unable to muster the strength to rise. Finally, she forces herself to stand.
Dragon Nemesis Page 4