by E E Rawls
She dipped her head. So that’s why she felt tired; and somehow his touch had restored her energy? Cyrus studied her hands. If she could continue encasing them in metal, she could use them without fear of pain. Imagine that, being able to live like a normal person without pain.
Master Nephryte helped Bakoa to his feet. “We’ll pause for lunch. How does that sound?”
Bakoa grinned groggily, “Food sounds yummylicious.”
They toweled off before tugging shirts, shoes and socks back on. Bakoa conveniently absorbed the sand that was on him.
A whistling noise trilled sharply. She looked about then watched as the Master plucked a communication device from his belt to hold to his ear. “Yes?” He listened to a voice she couldn’t hear for several moments, then ended the call and refastened the comm device to his belt.
“It seems lunch will have to wait. Harlow’s been given a mission,” the Master told them, and their heads raised. “A dragon is on the loose.”
CYRUS PEEKED THROUGH the bush and into the field beyond. A fence carved out a wide circle of pasture for flocks of sheep. Nearby sat the cluster of farm houses. And there, grabbing up a baaing sheep in its jaws, was a small dragon—if you could call a dragon three-times a man’s height small. Farmers were holding all sorts of metal objects as weapons, and kids were throwing rocks. The dragon paid them as little attention as a gnat.
Master Nephryte had Harlow huddle together for a moment. “You’ll need cover to get close—Lykale, you provide that. Cyrus and Zartanian will be responsible for getting the people and sheep away to safety, while the rest of you work to scare off the dragon,” he ordered. “The goal is to scare the dragon so that it never comes back. Most would probably say kill it, but I don’t feel that’d be right.” He backed away. “This is your mission, and whether you fail or succeed will determine if Harlow can enter the Festival Duel trials this week. I’ll let you figure out the rest of the plan on your own.” He vanished into the trees, and the students were left facing each other.
“Me and Bakoa can pin down the dragon long enough for you to get everyone away safely,” Mamoru said, nodding to Cyrus. “Aken, Hercule, Lykale—you be the barrier between the dragon and the farms, in case we fail to hold the dragon long enough. Then we’ll work to scare it off with Hercule’s flames and Lykale’s concoction. Got it?”
They nodded, though Cyrus’s brain had trouble following. There wasn’t much time.
Lykale crouched and left the cover of the trees to make his way into the field. Cyrus looked from him to Mamoru to Hercule. They seemed ready and sure of themselves. She swallowed her fear, and met Zartanian’s gaze—he patted his hat firmly down, turned his back and began edging away from their hiding bush.
All of Harlow was already out on the field, she realized, and crawled after them, keeping low in the tall grass. By the time she reached the pasture fence, a series of Poof sounds started and fog filled the air—Lykale’s cover.
The dragon raised its head, a sheep crying in its jaws as the large lizard turned this way and that, trying to see through the billows of gray.
She heard a whistle, and Mamoru’s puppet Scurro came out of the fog and grabbed the dragon from behind. At the same time, Bakoa’s sand arms shot out in front of the dragon, grabbing it by the jaws and forcing its mouth open.
Cyrus tried not to panic and followed Zartanian into the pasture while Scurro and Bakoa restled the dragon. The beast’s growl rumbled through the ground, and its loud hiss seared her ears. Zartanian unlatched the gate before moving opposite her along the fence. Circling the sheep from both sides, together they clapped their hands and pushed at the flock to get them running towards the now open gate.
The sheep cried and bustled out the pasture, heading towards the barns where farmers hurried to guide the terrified animals away. Several kids continued throwing rocks that didn’t reach the dragon. “Don’t do that, you have to get to safety,” Cyrus urged them. The kids, not much younger than herself, wouldn’t listen, and Zartanian tried to shoo them back without getting close, making shooing gestures.
Bakoa’s sand arms began to break apart from the strain.
“Take them and go!” Cyrus grabbed one girl by the arm and shoved her at Zartanian. But instead of taking her and forcing her to leave, he shied back and drew his hands in, as if she were diseased.
From the dragon’s jaws, the single sheep finally got free and fell. Cyrus dashed forward and herded the bleating animal away. A vicious hiss made her glance back. The dragon writhed, flopped down and rapidly rotated its body.
Scurro’s arm came loose as the dragon rolled and twisted free. Up on its limbs, it came charging towards her and the sheep.
“Oh crud!”
Zartanian and the kids saw, and they bolted for the woods.
Hot air licked Cyrus’s back as the raging dragon gained on her. The shadow of jaws was almost above her. She dared to glance back and saw the dragon’s open mouth come.
Then a clay bird exploded at its snout.
The dragon roared, claws pressing in the ground to halt its momentum as a shower of clay exploded, cutting it off from Cyrus and the others as they fled.
“How do you like that noseful of lava? Shorty dragon!” shouted Aken.
But one kid hadn’t been so quick to get away, and Cyrus didn’t notice until the dragon lunged and had the girl in its jaw—her hair and shirt caught on its teeth.
Cyrus’s heart stopped. There was nothing she could do—nothing anyone could do in time.
Streaking across the field in a blur, and in one leap reaching the dragon’s jaw, Aken grabbed the kid and let his momentum carry them out of the mouth before it closed. But not before a dragon’s tooth sliced down his back.
Aken tossed the kid Cyrus’s way then circled the creature, luring it away from them. The dragon’s attention latched onto Aken. A blast of smoke shot from its snout as it prowled towards him.
Aken backed up, coughing.
Cyrus held the girl close, shocked. If only she could have done something, like Aken had—used her Ability to help, instead of watching helplessly.
ROar! The dragon charged. With a shout Aken turned tail and ran. “Okay, I take back the Shorty comment!” He headed back into the pasture, the furious dragon close behind. It took in a deep breath and opened wide as a stream of fire shot from its jaws.
The burst of fire singed Aken’s hair and shoes.
A second blast of fire shot across the field: this one aimed at the dragon and blasting the dragon’s flames off course. From the safety of the trees, Cyrus watched this new stream of fire, which blew from Hercule’s mouth.
Aken turned to face the dragon alongside Hercule, adding clay birds to the mix, and Lykale threw something that exploded in a red cloud of spice.
The dragon gagged and snorted, disgusted by the smell. It tried to snap at one of the boys, but between the lava blasts, fire, and spice cloud, it hissed in frustration and flapped its wings, lifting up into the sky. Clay birds antagonized the dragon until it finally sailed away.
“Woo, mission accomplished!” Aken pumped a fist, the cuts on his back Healing, as they watched it leave.
Hercule confronted him. “You were supposed to lead the dragon to me—not go veering off who-knew-where!”
“Cool your flames. I had things under control,” Cyrus heard Aken reply as she approached. The kids were now hurrying back to the farms, and she helped the girl who was still in shock from her ordeal move her feet. Mamoru was inspecting the damage done to his puppet, and somehow made the puppet shrink and melt back inside an amber rock.
“Stop being full of yourself! How can we act like a team if you don’t follow the plan and keep trying to take the spotlight for yourself?” Hercule jabbed a finger at Aken’s chest.
“You’d rather me stick to the plan than save someone’s life?”
“That’s not— You know what I mean! You could have saved her and still kept to our plan.” Hercule fumed. “Listen here, I have a s
potless record of A+ in every class, all except for Missions. And do you know why? It’s because you’re bringing my grade down!”
“Sorry, okay, but you can’t blame it all on me.”
“You’re just saying that because we’re the ones bringing your grade up! Every class, other than Missions, you’re barely above failing.”
“Well, sorry I wasn’t brought up with a fancy education like you! Everything wasn’t served to me on a silver platter.”
“You think I had it easy? That I didn’t have to work my backside off? How dare you—”
“Um, guys?” Cyrus interrupted. Their intense expressions turned her way and she jumped. “The sheep are running loose all over the place. I think we should help...”
The farmers were struggling to regain control of the animals, and only Zartanian and Bakoa were helping.
The Master appeared behind Aken and Hercule, making them both jump. “Failure to contain the sheep, and poor communication within the team... I give Harlow a C for this mission, and only because you did manage to scare the dragon off.”
Steam vented between Hercule’s clenched teeth.
Aken shrugged and backed away, “That’s a good grade, right? We’re qualified to enter the Festival Duel trials, right?”
The Master tutted. “You qualify, but just barely.”
Cyrus rubbed at her wrists. And to think she was worried she’d be the one to make Harlow fail.
As half an hour passed of chasing sheep, the last of the animals were finally herded back into their pasture, and Cyrus wiped her sweaty brow. An old farmer thanked her, patting her hand. “We would’ve had t’ sell our farm and home if the sheep had been lost. They’re what we live on. You saved us.”
The young girl they’d rescued also thanked them as her face went red with shame. Even though she was vempar, if her head had been severed or her heart bitten through, she would have died.
Cyrus had a moment of revelation. Was this why Lord God had brought her here? Having a strange power and running away to a foreign city wasn’t part of her expectations for life or goals, but she could help others and save lives now. Here, her Ability could have a purpose and make some difference.
Harlow departed, making their way beyond the pasture and into the rolling hills.
“We can have lunch out here, if you like,” the Master suggested.
“Yes! My stomach is dying,” said Bakoa.
Kreeeah!
Aken shook his head. “Wow, I can hear it. That’s some stomach death cry.”
“No, that wasn’t me...” His brow furrowed.
Kreeeah!
Cyrus turned towards the unearthly sound as it came from the woods.
A shape emerged from the shadows of the trees, a hulking mass of limbs and claws. Shreds of black fabric and dark metal plates made a body. Six limbs protruded, with dark gray skin and bone, and a too-large head swung their way. Black fabric flapped in the breeze like hair, and the face like a mask of bone stared at them, mouth gaping.
Cyrus stood frozen.
“What the—?” Hercule began.
“Get back! Now!” the Master shouted.
An arm wrapped around Cyrus’s waist as Aken carried her and grabbed Zartanian, running to the Master’s side with both of them in tow.
The grim creature lumbered toward them.
“Hold hands in a line!” Master Nephryte ordered.
Each student grabbed the hand nearest them, and Master Nephryte channeled the wind to lift them up. They rose as the armored corpse-like creature moved to where they’d been standing, and it watched them as they landed in a tree far on the other side of the field.
Master Nephryte lifted the comm device to his lips, “Emergency Report: a Level 2 Corpsed has been found near the Bewely’s farmland, same location as the dragon-removal mission Harlow was given earlier. Requesting immediate backup.” He turned to the students. “I have to stop the Corpsed before it nears the farms. Wait here, no matter what happens. Mamoru, you’re in charge of them.”
“Wait for you—?” Aken shouted after the Master as he glided out of the tree. Mamoru blocked Aken’s chest with an arm.
“No one leaves this tree. Stay put, or I’ll glue you down with my sap Ability,” Mamoru warned.
Cyrus watched as Master Nephryte hovered in the air before the grotesque Corpsed. The bone mask’s distorted eyes rolled toward him and its mouth stretched wide; a blast of darkness shot out—a black beam of energy. The Master flew to the left, dodging the beam as it streaked past and hit the ground. Where the black energy hit, the grass shriveled to dust, as if the darkness had swallowed every ounce of life from the spot.
The Master slashed his hand through the air and a sword of air struck the Corpsed. It stumbled back several feet, but managed to swing two long limbs made up of multiple joints at him.
Nephryte raised his hands and a shield of air deflected both blows.
The Corpsed turned and began crossing the field, heading for the students, and fear gripped Cyrus.
Wind picked up across the grass, making the trees groan, building into a rotating funnel that the Master flung and wrapped around the Corpsed, halting its progress.
The big Corpsed rotated inside the funnel for one long moment, then screamed and wrenched itself free of the battering winds and launched into the Master.
Cyrus yelped, watching as the Master narrowly evaded the many sets of metallic claws slashing for him. The Corpsed moved against each slash and blow of air which knocked it back, and shot another beam of darkness from its mouth. Nephryte hit the creature with a wall of air, then thrust a palm of wind at one of the limbs.
The limb froze, motionless in the shackle of air, and the creature fought to break free.
Master Nephryte performed the same motion again and again, as he dodged, until every limb of the Corpsed was shackled in air. The head, however, spun round, following his movements.
Sweat dabbed the Master’s brow as he flew, circling the Corpsed, the dark beam following after him. Cyrus realized he was trying to get behind the head where he could then shackle it. But the Corpsed’s head rotated just as fast as the Master could fly. He looked weary, maintaining air shackles around the many limbs as the Corpsed shook and strained against them.
Cyrus looked to Mamoru, then back. She wanted to help, do something, but they were untrained middle-schoolers. If Master Nephryte, one of the most powerful Draevs in the kingdom, was having trouble with this creature, then they stood no chance.
Cyrus silently prayed, and in that moment heard a loud Crack.
She opened her eyes in time to see a new vempar arrive, bringing down a heavy blade on the Corpsed’s mask from above. He wore the Draev uniform, and behind him three more Draevs leaped into the field.
The Corpsed hissed, and Master Nephryte used the distraction to get behind the masked head and shackle it still with air.
A rain of blows from Abilities and Draev weapons of the group assaulted the mask, until cracks appeared in the bone-like substance.
And then, the mask shattered.
The Corpsed’s limbs slumped to the ground.
Cyrus couldn’t be sure from where she knelt in the tree, but as the mask pieces fell, she could’ve sworn there was a second, smaller face—a humanoid skull—behind it.
The Corpsed folded in on itself, until there was nothing but a pile of fabric shreds and metal parts left.
MASTER NEPHRYTE REUNITED with Harlow beneath the tree, each of the students brimming with questions. Bakoa couldn’t keep still, and Zartanian was hugging his arms as if chilled to the bone.
“What was that thing?” asked Aken.
“One of the greater dangers the D.G. League faces to keep this kingdom safe,” the Master said, dusting his tunic and cape. “We call them Corpsed, and they’re worse than Argos to deal with. That metal on it is black silver, which as you know, impairs our Healing. There aren’t many Corpsed in existence—as far as we know—but they’re powerful, and are centuries old.
”
“What are they, though? And what were those dark beams it shot out?” Aken continued. “I’ve been out in the woods and grasslands my whole childhood, and never seen anything like that.”
“You’re fortunate you have not. There’s theories as to what they could be, but we don’t really know. The only thing you young ones need to remember is to stay away from them, and report to us right away if you see one.”
“That’s not much of an answer,” said Bakoa.
Master Nephryte patted his back. “Don’t worry about it; I doubt you’ll see another one for many years. Now, it’s past lunch and I’m starving. How about we relax in the park?” He shouldered the bag he’d brought with him.
Cyrus would’ve liked more answers, too. If she became a Draev Guardian, would she have to combat monsters like that? She wasn’t sure she had the nerve... Then again, she’d probably leave the city by then.
Harlow held hands as the wind carried them over the landscape. This time, Cyrus could see more of Lake Doroth, the distant villages ringing its waters, and Draethvyle to the south.
The city’s towers approached, and then the many peaked rooftops. Her leg muscles tensed as they passed over a high iron fence, and her feet plopped down to grassy ground.
She rubbed her temples to rid a nauseous feeling and her ears popped; she let her hands drop to see the city park they’d landed in: stone paths curved along stretches of grass and trees, benches and shady niches, ponds with rails and little bridges. Somewhere, birdsong mingled with the strumming of a mandolin.
Nearly every tree was lavished in cherry blossoms, so much so that the breeze rained down showers of petals. They floated like feathers of rosy sunlight, filling the air with a rich sweet scent.
Captivated, Cyrus twirled in place, arms outspread as if to soak it all in. She caught Aken watching her silly moment of delight, and stumbled to a halt, her cheeks feeling as pink as the blossoms overhead. She tried to laugh it off, tucking bangs behind an ear—then, remembering her disguised human ears, hastily undid the tucking.