A Portrait of Pain

The Ruling Reptile - (2 of 2)

Part 2, word count: 3,317 words.

Direct continuation of Part 1. Enjoy.

I'd no idea when it woke up or how it freed itself of the ice or how it found the space to turn its head crammed in that cave without us hearing it.

My best guess? Magic. Or maybe it had more than one head, the bloody beast, who's to say.

"RUN!" Bdoth shouted, and ran, and Vallri chased after him.

I stood rooted where I was, watching smoke billow from the dragon's nostrils, hearing it roar the song of my fucking nightmares.

I saw things in that smoke. Long dark faces with embers for eyes; and evil glistening serpents with forks for tails; and crows feasting a'ay at shadows carved like cadavers. I saw things you won't believe I did, lad. I saw things that'd make Baskbane soil his britches.

'Ror was running - you never saw running be done that way. The dragon's head reared up, smashed against the cave's roof, sent blocks of ice tumbling down at him.

'Ror dodged 'em all but then the dragon breathed and I stood there and I watched and I didn't do nothing 'cause my bones was all water. Aye, it breathed, showing us its rows and rows of jagged teeth, and braided blue fire jumped outta its mouth, sizzling half of our 'Ror up as he sang his own song of pain.

[Crow confronted the lad's eyes. "That's how our Tief Snore Kreror got those burns you see on him."

Oirad was speechless, for once.]

He woulda died. He shoulda died.

But then sudde'ly there was shouts everyplace, vibrating in our breasts. Even Vallri and Bdoth turned 'round.

Tief Shekhu and his men was there, least twenty of 'em. They'd tracked us down after all. Just caught up at the wrong time. Some of 'em had bows and arrows - coward's weapon, I've always said - but they were all of 'em distracted by the fucking dragon.

The dragon was distracted too, by 'em. It swivelled its crystalline head 'round the way a barrel rolls, sized the newcomers up. Decided they looked more sumptuous than us. Blew 'em up in a large blue beam.

Lit the 'ole world up, those flames did. Dancing around on the ice like they was lovers. Boiled Old Heaven itself, I daresay. Blinded me and deafened me. One of Shekhu's burning men shot off an arrow as his flesh blackened which hit me in the chest, put me down to my knees. He missed my heart, thank fuck.

I screamed, but I knew my pain was fuck-all compared what Shekhu and his men was getting. They was still alive, on fire they may be, getting roasted. And the dragon was making the cave and the ice beyond crack and creak and splinter as it spread its wings, swooping down, bearing down on 'em.

Worst way to go, and I'd seen many even 'en.

I swear to the Holder, I thought 'Ror was dead meat. But summat made me finally move my muscles and rip the shaft out my chest 'long with a jet of blood. I got to 'Ror and patted my cloak 'round him, put out 'is fire. Dropped my beloved axe to lose weight. Put him o'er my shoulder like a sack of shit. The dragon just watched us while Shekhu and his burning men shrieked; probably no one'd ever run towards it 'stead of away. I dashed. Fast as my legs'd allow. Kept my head pinned ahead, following Bdoth and Vallri sprinting 'head of us. I push myself on, ignoring the agony in my breast, heaved 'Ror up too - he who was still smoking; I don't know how that blue fire worked.