her gun. She held it
firmly in her right hand and took up the reins. “How dare you betray your
master?” she hissed into Windsong’s ear. She kicked the horse in the flanks. He
whinnied a protest, but broke into a shambling trot. Windsong’s gait changed
again as he approached the beast, finally faltering to a halt. Nothing she did
would budge him.
Maggie’s throat dried. Her palms gushed with sweat. The
creature, taller on all fours than even Kered, weighed at least a ton more than
the man it pursued. It opened its huge jaws and let loose a fountain of viscous
liquid, spraying Kered and the ragged child.
Kered slipped. He fell on one knee, recovered, and turned to
face the dragon, whose flailing tail ended in a sharp three-pronged spike.
And it was a dragon—as ancient and reptilian and
frightening as any painting she’d ever seen. Kered and the child were almost
under its snapping jaws.
Maggie tried to control the agitation of her mount, forcing
Windsong to stand steady. Perhaps she could get off a shot and put the beast to
sleep. Another stream of venom spewed across Kered’s path. He slid and slipped,
barely maintaining his footing. The child screamed and fell in the liquid
patches spreading around him.
“Ker!” Maggie cried. The dragon made a quick snatch. The
child eluded the clawing limb, rolling in the viscous liquid, almost swimming
along the ground.
Kered used the slick surface to slide between the beast and
its tiny victim. He stood his ground beneath the frenzied claws, sword in one
hand, knife drawn in the other. An iridescent fountain of slime arched and
fell, coating him. With a shake of his tangled hair, he parried the attacking
talons.
Maggie shrieked as Windsong reared. She fell off the back of
the saddle, striking the ground. Her breath whooshed from her lungs.
She lost her grip on the gun.
Quickly, she leapt to her feet and looked about. Just as she
snatched up the tiny black gun, the dragon turned its liquid eye in her
direction.
Maggie stumbled backward.
The slime hit her like the heavy drops of a summer storm. A
rotting, acrid odor stung her nostrils. The liquid coated her face and
shoulders, clung to her arms and hands. The dragon turned back to closer prey.
She raised the gun, wiping the slime from the stock. In a
reflex taught long ago in childhood, she sighted on the creature and fired.
Nothing happened.
Maggie gasped and turned the gun, peering into the tiny hole
that made the gun resemble a water pistol more than any other kind of weapon.
She scrubbed the surface on her skirt, cleaning it again. Taking aim, she
pressed the blue button.
Nothing.
Again.
In silent fear, she watched the dragon rear up on its huge
haunches and throw back its head.
“Dear God, help them,” she prayed and threw the useless gun.
The dragon paused for an imperceptible moment and clawed the air as if to swat
a pesky fly. The gun struck its head.
Kered leapt at the dragon, his sword swiping its throat and
his knife blade plunging deep into the exposed breast.
In a thunder of limbs, the dragon collapsed. Maggie turned
to Kered as he pulled his blade from the dragon’s chest.
She sidestepped the twitching limbs, then bent over the
sobbing child. Kered knelt at her side and plucked up the shaking bundle of
rags.
“‘Tis over,” he said, handing Maggie her gun after wiping it
on his sleeve. She stuffed it into her boot, then pulled the hood from the
child’s tiny head.
Maggie stared down at the dirtiest face she’d ever seen. The
chance that water had ever touched the urchin was about the same as her chance
of going to the moon.
The ludicrous nature of her thoughts, considering her own
situation, plus the narrow escape from becoming dragon bait, made her laugh.
Kered smiled and pressed the child into her arms. “He needs
a female to soothe him.”
“Yikes,” she gasped as an odor of excrement wafted up from
the child. “Him?”
“Aye. Him. Thank you for distracting the beast.”
firmly in her right hand and took up the reins. “How dare you betray your
master?” she hissed into Windsong’s ear. She kicked the horse in the flanks. He
whinnied a protest, but broke into a shambling trot. Windsong’s gait changed
again as he approached the beast, finally faltering to a halt. Nothing she did
would budge him.
Maggie’s throat dried. Her palms gushed with sweat. The
creature, taller on all fours than even Kered, weighed at least a ton more than
the man it pursued. It opened its huge jaws and let loose a fountain of viscous
liquid, spraying Kered and the ragged child.
Kered slipped. He fell on one knee, recovered, and turned to
face the dragon, whose flailing tail ended in a sharp three-pronged spike.
And it was a dragon—as ancient and reptilian and
frightening as any painting she’d ever seen. Kered and the child were almost
under its snapping jaws.
Maggie tried to control the agitation of her mount, forcing
Windsong to stand steady. Perhaps she could get off a shot and put the beast to
sleep. Another stream of venom spewed across Kered’s path. He slid and slipped,
barely maintaining his footing. The child screamed and fell in the liquid
patches spreading around him.
“Ker!” Maggie cried. The dragon made a quick snatch. The
child eluded the clawing limb, rolling in the viscous liquid, almost swimming
along the ground.
Kered used the slick surface to slide between the beast and
its tiny victim. He stood his ground beneath the frenzied claws, sword in one
hand, knife drawn in the other. An iridescent fountain of slime arched and
fell, coating him. With a shake of his tangled hair, he parried the attacking
talons.
Maggie shrieked as Windsong reared. She fell off the back of
the saddle, striking the ground. Her breath whooshed from her lungs.
She lost her grip on the gun.
Quickly, she leapt to her feet and looked about. Just as she
snatched up the tiny black gun, the dragon turned its liquid eye in her
direction.
Maggie stumbled backward.
The slime hit her like the heavy drops of a summer storm. A
rotting, acrid odor stung her nostrils. The liquid coated her face and
shoulders, clung to her arms and hands. The dragon turned back to closer prey.
She raised the gun, wiping the slime from the stock. In a
reflex taught long ago in childhood, she sighted on the creature and fired.
Nothing happened.
Maggie gasped and turned the gun, peering into the tiny hole
that made the gun resemble a water pistol more than any other kind of weapon.
She scrubbed the surface on her skirt, cleaning it again. Taking aim, she
pressed the blue button.
Nothing.
Again.
In silent fear, she watched the dragon rear up on its huge
haunches and throw back its head.
“Dear God, help them,” she prayed and threw the useless gun.
The dragon paused for an imperceptible moment and clawed the air as if to swat
a pesky fly. The gun struck its head.
Kered leapt at the dragon, his sword swiping its throat and
his knife blade plunging deep into the exposed breast.
In a thunder of limbs, the dragon collapsed. Maggie turned
to Kered as he pulled his blade from the dragon’s chest.
She sidestepped the twitching limbs, then bent over the
sobbing child. Kered knelt at her side and plucked up the shaking bundle of
rags.
“‘Tis over,” he said, handing Maggie her gun after wiping it
on his sleeve. She stuffed it into her boot, then pulled the hood from the
child’s tiny head.
Maggie stared down at the dirtiest face she’d ever seen. The
chance that water had ever touched the urchin was about the same as her chance
of going to the moon.
The ludicrous nature of her thoughts, considering her own
situation, plus the narrow escape from becoming dragon bait, made her laugh.
Kered smiled and pressed the child into her arms. “He needs
a female to soothe him.”
“Yikes,” she gasped as an odor of excrement wafted up from
the child. “Him?”
“Aye. Him. Thank you for distracting the beast.”
Similar Books
