A Dragon's Rider (Edited)

Chapter 17

Soul lands punch after punch and I hear John's rasping breaths. I look away for a moment to look for rope, or something to restrain John with and I hear a pained gasp, one not from John. I whirl around and see the positions reversed, Soul on the bottom and John on top.

Through gaps in their fighting, I see the long handle of a knife protruding from Soul's chest. Blood is staining the cloth around the wound and I know he will die if I don't do something. I turn, desperate to find something to help and I see a misplaced book. It's a hard cover and appears to be a course book. I run over and grab it, a bad weapon is better than none at all at this point; I sprint back to John and Soul. Without hesitating, I whack John upside the head with the book and it throws him off balance. I push him off Soul and whack him again. Then again, then again, and once more for good measure. I can tell he's still breathing but my main goal is to help Soul. I drop the book and hurry to kneel beside Soul. I rip a wide strip off my shirt and apply pressure around the edges of the wound. The knife seems to be stopping some of the bleeding and I don't know if I can hold back the blood if I take it out. He blinks up and me and attempts to speak. All that comes out of his mouth is blood. The knife must have pierced one of his lungs.

"L..l..Liora, you must d..e...feat Jo..john. He means to k..k..kill the d..d..dragons and their r..riders. St...st..starting with y..you and Ai..Airre. I had t-to-to save y-yo-you. You can end this. Look t-to E-E-Ender." He wheezes slowly and painfully. Ender, what's Ender?

I take his hand and look back at him. He smiles then grimaces. I can see a single tear run down his face before blood bubbles up to his lips and starts to foam. He convulses once, twice, three times before going still.

"No. Soul! Soul! Soul! Don't leave me!" My desperate cries are met with a blank stare and I know, deep in my heart that he is dead. I check his pulse just to be sure and when I feel nothing, I start to shudder. Hot tears fall in rivulets down my face as I cry. I cry for the sweet man before me who gave his life for mine, for the good person who made the largest sacrifice. I cry for the injustices of this world, how the brave fall so the weak may rise. I cry for Soul. Then, I hear John stirring on the ground behind me and something snaps.

I have felt useless for the past weeks because of him. Because of him, Soul died. And because of him, Airre is dying.

Push me down, I will get up; throw me to the wolves and I will return as leader of the pack but you put my family and friends in danger and you will die. You will hurt. You will feel my pain.

John shakily gets to his feet and looks around. He sees Soul lying face up in the dirt and has the audacity to laugh. I growl. His gaze snaps up to me and a malicious grin spreads across his face.

"Little bird. Here I was thinking you were a small dove. Apparently, you're an eagle. Well then." He slides into a fighting position. "Attack me little eagle."

And so I do.

I come at him, a flurry of punches and kicks. He bats each one aside as if he was playing with string.

"Is that all you can do? Well, I must say I'm disappointed in you little bird. I guess you are a dove after all."

I grimace. That last attack made a large dent in my energy stores and he didn't even break a sweat. My back and forehead are sticky and damp as I shift my weight and ponder my next move. John though gets impatient and steps into action. He feints left and swings fight, grazing my thigh with a knife and getting in a punch to my abdomen. He swings low and as I reach to block it, changes to an uppercut with his bare hand. It hits me right below my ribs and the wind gets knocked out of me.

As I lie on the ground and think about how such a horrible day to begin with, got so much worse, I hear a dragon's roar. It sounds strangely familiar and I wince at the thought of Airre. A black shape swoops overhead and lands in front of me. It's Airre in all her navy and purple glory. Bright eyes shining in fury at the man who stands before her. She's the size of a big dog but seems to grow in front of me. Her form rippling and quickly doubling, tripling in size until she's about the same height as a large bear. Her horns mature and grow out to curl delicately around her face and her scales darken to a pitch black. The light speckling of purple on her spreads to appear as though she is covered in a lilac spiderweb. Her eyes remain a fierce violet and you can see her anger at John. She clutches three delicate swords in her claws, each covered by a scabbard. Two are black with an amethyst in the handle and one is silver with a ruby in the handle. The black and gold she leaves next to me and she throws the silver to John. He stares in awe at my beautiful creature before running for the sword. I myself pick up the swords and can immediately tell that they are meant for me. The handles are worn in all the right places and I caress the blades with a gentle hand. They feel cool and smooth beneath my trembling hands. I stare down at them before looking back at my dragon.

Rider heart. I hear Airre. I have missed you. Tell me, what has happened since I have been gone?

Nothing much. I tell her sarcastically. John just decided to turn on us. She blinks in surprise before once again baring her teeth at him.

Thou art the lowest of men in this world. She speaks harshly and I can tell John hears her by the way he jumps, startled by her words. You dare defy me and my rider? You shall feel our wrath!

John begins to shake for a moment before composing himself. "Bring it," he says, getting into a fighting position. I merely stand still; Airre's presence giving me strength. John rushes towards me, sword outstretched as though to skewer me. I dart to the side, parrying his thrust without a word. He stumbles past me and quickly changes his course, turning so he's facing me again. His attacks come as a powerful onslaught and I narrowly avoid getting shish-ka-bobbed. My two blades flash in the light, cutting in and out of the air but John avoids each and every one of my attacks. I growl my annoyance and decide to end this.

I can smell his fear. It's a pungent aroma, one that I savor. This fight will end soon. I see a small opening in our dangerous dance, the slightest hesitation on his part and I don't think twice. I stab with one sword, knowing fully well that he will block me, and slice with the other. The second stroke hits home and slices Johns' arm. He gasps and looks down. I can see the bones in his arm and John can see them as well. He smiles tightly around the pain before looking back at me. His legs buckle and more blood shoots out of his wound. I must have hit an artery. He falls to his knees with a sickening crunch and I know he is done for.

"You know." John says "I am just the beginning. I am just the messenger. If you think I'm sick, you haven't seen anything yet." He grins, arterial red gushing from his arm. The light slowly goes out in his eyes as he keels over onto the ground. I say nothing, just watch his prone form fall. I breathe heavily and stare at the body of my enemy. Before my eyes, John starts to disintegrate until he's nothing but a pile of ash and salt.

"From ash and salt they come, to ash and salt they go." I hear Airre behind me and collapse into her. Deep down I know John was right.

He was just the beginning, the messenger. He was meant to give us a taste of the puppeteers' power. And it worked; except now I'm mad. He killed my friend. If he thinks he can get away with that, he is sorely mistaken. 

----End of A Dragon's Rider Book 1----