have a dress to contend with. I miss my jeans. I could run faster in jeans.
The desire to run re-ignited the fire that burned in her chest since her first moments of memory when that demon dragon thing attacked them. It must be somewhere, nearby, if the wizard hunters are here. Her skin crawled as vivid flashes of the beast pulsed in her mind. She worried they would need something a lot faster than horses.
“So, you can’t just want something and say, “bring me something to ride” unless you know… the… magic…?” Memory’s chest flared hot like coals under bellows. Her mouth tasted of blood and the air around her bent in a way that made her seasick. She blinked, trying to shake the sense of vertigo that hit her, as though being up on the horse were suddenly higher than she could bear.
Eloryn gaped, her face twisted in confusion.
A hideous cry broke through the forest.
Darkness gathered around them. Living patches of ebony formed within snaking mist. A sucking wind and swirls of shadows met in a ball of heaving black.
The noise. The mist. The wind. Memory felt sick.
Something moved within the solid shadows, a shape, folding and emerging.
The huge form writhed and twisted. A jungle of powerful limbs lashed and tangled with smoky vines. Scales like black jewels sparkled dangerously on the flicking tail. With a final, louder cry, it tore from the tormenting mist, pushing itself through, still caught half way within.
It roared again. Angry. Hungry.
The dragon.
Chapter Ten
The dragon thrashed, trying to free itself. It screamed, vicious and guttural like murder and grief combined, clawing at the grey cobwebs of smoke that held it back like chains.
“No.” Memory shuddered. The impossible creature matched her, shaking against the grip of the malformed Veil door. The very same torment she had experienced, the first horrors of her memory, the winds she thought would tear her apart. The magical gale gushed outwards, spinning leaves and dirt into the air. A high pitched hum filled Memory’s ears and her eyes watered.
Closest to the beast, Eloryn cried out. Her horse wheeled on the spot. Its eyes rolled and froth dripped from its mouth.
Eloryn hugged it around the neck, and it steadied, pawing at the ground. She faced the dragon.
“Cuirdhùnadh fanhl,” she called and waited, as though expecting something. The dragon’s head swung to her words, flesh sliding back from its mouth. It hissed and twisted toward her in confused wrath.
“Princess, tell me you can make it leave.” Roen grunted, pulling his skittish horse toward Eloryn by handfuls of mane. It whinnied and turned him back away.
“Fanhl,” Eloryn cried again, her voice cracking.
“Lory, get away from it,” Memory begged. Empty, wrung out, she sagged over her horse’s neck. She couldn’t think. Her mind had become chaos and body felt burnt out and charred.
Eloryn shot a look at Memory. Terrified, angry confusion twisted her lips back from her teeth. “You did this. How did you do this? How can I make it go?”
I did...? Memory gaped at the creature, the immense, inconceivable mass of muscle, talon and black diamond scales. Her thoughts split and twirled like a kaleidoscope. Magic can only make requests from what is there. She only wanted to run, a faster way to run. Bring me something to ride. Did saying the words make the request? A request that brought her the very thing she wanted to run from? It’s impossible, impossible...
The dragon contorted, as though in pain. An armored claw burst free of the Veil. Eloryn’s horse bucked in panic, throwing her off its bare back. She hit the ground hard and the dragon’s talons lashed out, stripping skin from the horse’s neck.
The horse cried a horrific scream, sounding too human, the scream of a child or woman more than that of a beast. Eloryn matched it. The horse crumpled and fell a fraction away from crushing Eloryn beneath its weight.
“Eloryn!” Roen struggled on his
The desire to run re-ignited the fire that burned in her chest since her first moments of memory when that demon dragon thing attacked them. It must be somewhere, nearby, if the wizard hunters are here. Her skin crawled as vivid flashes of the beast pulsed in her mind. She worried they would need something a lot faster than horses.
“So, you can’t just want something and say, “bring me something to ride” unless you know… the… magic…?” Memory’s chest flared hot like coals under bellows. Her mouth tasted of blood and the air around her bent in a way that made her seasick. She blinked, trying to shake the sense of vertigo that hit her, as though being up on the horse were suddenly higher than she could bear.
Eloryn gaped, her face twisted in confusion.
A hideous cry broke through the forest.
Darkness gathered around them. Living patches of ebony formed within snaking mist. A sucking wind and swirls of shadows met in a ball of heaving black.
The noise. The mist. The wind. Memory felt sick.
Something moved within the solid shadows, a shape, folding and emerging.
The huge form writhed and twisted. A jungle of powerful limbs lashed and tangled with smoky vines. Scales like black jewels sparkled dangerously on the flicking tail. With a final, louder cry, it tore from the tormenting mist, pushing itself through, still caught half way within.
It roared again. Angry. Hungry.
The dragon.
Chapter Ten
The dragon thrashed, trying to free itself. It screamed, vicious and guttural like murder and grief combined, clawing at the grey cobwebs of smoke that held it back like chains.
“No.” Memory shuddered. The impossible creature matched her, shaking against the grip of the malformed Veil door. The very same torment she had experienced, the first horrors of her memory, the winds she thought would tear her apart. The magical gale gushed outwards, spinning leaves and dirt into the air. A high pitched hum filled Memory’s ears and her eyes watered.
Closest to the beast, Eloryn cried out. Her horse wheeled on the spot. Its eyes rolled and froth dripped from its mouth.
Eloryn hugged it around the neck, and it steadied, pawing at the ground. She faced the dragon.
“Cuirdhùnadh fanhl,” she called and waited, as though expecting something. The dragon’s head swung to her words, flesh sliding back from its mouth. It hissed and twisted toward her in confused wrath.
“Princess, tell me you can make it leave.” Roen grunted, pulling his skittish horse toward Eloryn by handfuls of mane. It whinnied and turned him back away.
“Fanhl,” Eloryn cried again, her voice cracking.
“Lory, get away from it,” Memory begged. Empty, wrung out, she sagged over her horse’s neck. She couldn’t think. Her mind had become chaos and body felt burnt out and charred.
Eloryn shot a look at Memory. Terrified, angry confusion twisted her lips back from her teeth. “You did this. How did you do this? How can I make it go?”
I did...? Memory gaped at the creature, the immense, inconceivable mass of muscle, talon and black diamond scales. Her thoughts split and twirled like a kaleidoscope. Magic can only make requests from what is there. She only wanted to run, a faster way to run. Bring me something to ride. Did saying the words make the request? A request that brought her the very thing she wanted to run from? It’s impossible, impossible...
The dragon contorted, as though in pain. An armored claw burst free of the Veil. Eloryn’s horse bucked in panic, throwing her off its bare back. She hit the ground hard and the dragon’s talons lashed out, stripping skin from the horse’s neck.
The horse cried a horrific scream, sounding too human, the scream of a child or woman more than that of a beast. Eloryn matched it. The horse crumpled and fell a fraction away from crushing Eloryn beneath its weight.
“Eloryn!” Roen struggled on his
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