Dragonlands(16)

She fought the urge to beat his chest with clenched fists. “Someone needs to stay and protect the village.”

“From what? A plague? Just how will I do that?” Bastian laughed. “Yes, I’m sure the sword I made will help with that. The truth is that my steel will do more protecting the two of you than anyone in this village.”

A loud screeching ripped through the morning air. All three looked up into the sky. Wings beat furiously from the broad body of an animal in flight, tearing through the veil of fog.

“What is that?” Tressa glanced over at Connor and Bastian. From their bewildered expressions, they knew about as much as she did.





Chapter Eleven


The flying creature, covered in turquoise and gray striped scales, hovered over the village square. Fire ripped out of its open jaws, bathing the misty sky in orange. Villagers screamed, running for cover in buildings or under trees. The beast strained, its neck gyrating in the air.

Bastian pulled the sword out of a sheath under his cloak. Tressa hadn’t even noticed he’d been carrying it with him. If anyone saw, he’d be in trouble, especially after his scuffle earlier in the morning. The beast let forth another fiery breath and Tressa changed her mind. Bastian raced toward the flying lizard.

“What is that?” Tressa yelled to Connor over the villagers’ screams.

“Don’t know, but obviously it’s not from here!” He ran after Bastian.

Bastian waved the sword in the air, pathetically far below the beast. Connor threw rocks. They hit the beast, raining down on the few shrieking villagers left in the town square. It screeched at them, but didn’t come any closer, its wings flapping hard. The wind rushed around them in circles.

“Come down here and fight!” Bastian bellowed into the air. He stopped swinging his sword. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead.

Tressa grabbed a nearby rope and motioned to Connor. He tossed her a couple of larger rocks. She tied rope around them, making sure the knots were tight. Connor grabbed the rock and hurtled it toward the beast. After four tries, the rope looped over its back, dangling down to the ground from the other side.

“More!” Connor yelled. “Make three more, quickly!”

Tressa did as she was told, tying the rope as fast as she could. Bastian and Connor tossed them up over the beast, its head whipping around violently as if something far away held it in a leash.

Connor and Bastian each grabbed two of the ropes hanging from the beast. They yanked hard, pulling it down, closer to the ground. The beast sputtered, its head hanging down.

Udor stomped out of the village hall, waving his arms in the air. “Are you crazy? We need to find a way to get it away from here, not bring it closer!”

Bastian and Connor ignored him, dragging the beast ever closer to the ground. Its clawed feet scrabbled on the dirt and rocks, not far from the dead villagers who’d been all but forgotten in the chaos.

Connor stalked closer to the beast, laying his hand on the muzzle. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

The beast’s eyes drooped to the grass beneath it. Its chest heaved up and down, slowing with each breath.

“What is it?” Tressa whispered to no one in particular.

Carrac, the oldest person in the village since Granna’s death, emerged from the village hall with a book in his hand. “It’s a dragon. I remember Sophia telling me stories of them when I was a wee boy on my momma’s knee.” He opened the book, pointing to a colorful drawing, made with dyes they no longer had access to in the village. Another relic from before the fog.

“Dragon?” Connor leaned into the beast. “Is that what you are?”

It didn’t respond, but it didn’t burn Connor into a crisp either.

The dragon opened one eye, pupil slitted like a cat’s and an iris as violet as the setting sun in the dark of winter. Smoke puffed out of the nostril opposite of Connor. Warily, it eyed Bastian, standing next to Tressa, his sword at the ready.

Then it took one big breath and exhaled in one final gush of air.

It no longer moved, lying prostrate on the ground, joining the dead of their village.





Chapter Twelve


Everyone stood in shock, staring at the dead dragon in the town square. A creature of myth that none one of them had ever seen before and few believed was anything more than a figment Sophia's aging imagination.

Connor rubbed the silent creature's muzzle. "Do you need more proof that the outside is knocking on our door? Yet we cannot answer their call. We have no way to defend ourselves."

"What defense is needed against a dead dragon?" Udor countered. "It came here to die, not to fight us. It's chance, nothing more."