Cursed

2. Not Lost, Not Found-3

Splinters and spikes jutted out from the sides of its head and body. Its claws squealed on the rock, slicing Aldor's eardrums like shards of glass.

Aldor was frozen in shock. The monster’s muscles rippled underneath its hide as it made its way toward him and Keira. Its forked tongue flickered over its jaws like it could taste them already.

Keira was the first to move. All the fear on her face was gone, replaced only by anger. Aldor remembered the bodies on the path before the dragon’s cave as she ran forward with a scream, a sword glistening in her hand.

He watched, paralyzed. The dragon was ready. It reared up, fumes spouting from its nostrils. The dragon let another monstrous roar escape that shook the mountains.

Keira paused. The dragon seized its chance and opened its mouth to spout out a jet of flame. Keira grabbed a stray shield from the ground and held it against her body, swerving aside to escape the fire.

Her sword glowed as the flames danced past. She spun, looking over her shoulder for the dragon’s blind spot. Once its breath went out, she raised her blade with a triumphant scream, burying the sword in the beast’s shoulder.

Aldor stared, openmouthed. He’d expected the sword to slice through without any trouble.

But the blade merely skimmed over the dragon’s reptilian body, flakes of scales fluttering like fallen leaves to the ground.

Keira’s eyes grew wide. She raised her sword and tried again, but the blade slipped and fell. The dragon gazed at her with cruel amusement.

Aldor could do nothing. He was powerless as the dragon swung its frilled head around and glared at him. The beast turned again to Keira, lifting its legs. Aldor opened his mouth in a silent scream. The dragon flexed its claws, bringing them down on Keira’s head.

Keira shrieked and poised, her sword above her body as she waited for the claw to descend. But the dragon was clever. It opened its jaws, the air scalding hot. Keira braced herself. Jets and fumes of fire burst from the dragon’s mouth, raining down on her. Aldor ran forward, shouting. Too late.

The princess moved, escaping the dragon’s deadly breath, but fell under its claw instead. The dragon knocked her in the air as easily as a cat would a mouse. Her body flailed as she was sent backward, colliding with a rock in a sickening crunch. She fell to the ground, leaving a b****y stain on the stone behind her. Her hair covered her b****y face in torrents, and she lay still.

Aldor stopped, rooted to the spot as Keira ceased to move. His head pounded with every heartbeat. He was in a mode of panic.

The dragon let out a triumphant roar, torrents of smoke curling up from its nostrils as it turned to face him. Aldor looked into its golden eyes, feverish.

The earth trembled as the dragon crawled closer; its belly slithering over the ground with the scraping sounds of metal against earth. Aldor swallowed, the dragon’s eyes gleamed, and then… a blast sounded.

A horn pierced the mountain air, cutting through the heavy curtain of ash. Another blast echoed around them and disturbed the rock so that piles of stones fell from above in a deadly rain.

The sound came from a ledge of stone, far above. Aldor turned, searching for the source. There, up high, a small figure leaned against the mountain wall, clothed in black. A mask covered the figure’s countenance.

The man held a horn in his right hand and a bow in the other. A quiver filled with arrows was slung across his shoulders. For a moment, Aldor wasn’t sure whether the stranger would save them or open the gates of hell.

Aldor frantically waved his arms. “HELP!”

The rocks on the ledges trembled as he shouted, but the stranger either couldn’t hear

him or ignored him. The figure lifted the horn to his lips and let out another blast, making the dragon look up.

The dragon saw the archer immediately. It reared and let out another roar, making the man in the distance cling to the nearest rock for support. The beast made its way to the ledge, extending its wings to fly. Aldor watched in sound wonder as the bowman in black dropped his horn. He lifted his bow, reaching back to let his fingers curl around an arrow…

Aldor and the dragon lost sight of him. A whirlwind of ash blew in from the north, obscuring the figure in a curtain of black. The dragon roared in frustration and stopped. It looked up at the sky, limbs stirring.

The dragon lifted off the ground, its skeletal arms beating against the air as it ascended. Aldor’s heart beat in unison to the steady pounding of the dragon’s wings.

A low whistle broke the air, making Aldor reach up to rub his temples. For a minute, Aldor thought it must be the horn again, but this time, it didn’t stop. The dragon was disoriented. Its wings failed, and it shook its head from side to side as if trying to clear it of the noise.

It stopped.

All was suddenly quiet. Aldor couldn’t hear the wings of the dragon or the whistling anymore. The wind was cool as it kissed his skin, and he sat up. Keira was splayed on her stomach a few yards away, the back of her shirt soaked red with blood. The sight made Aldor’s heart skip a beat. He got to his feet, wondering whether he’d gone deaf when a scream pierced the air—it sounded like the dragon. He looked up, but only saw a haze of black and white, blind to what was happening in the sky. He frowned and walked a few steps, keeping his eyes above. He could see something huge and black—a dark cloud rushing toward him.

The dragon had lost control, its wings beat desperately as it tried to catch itself midair. It fell from the sky, flames l*****g the sides of its jaws, but Aldor couldn’t see what was wrong. Nothing could pierce the hide of the beast, so what was making it struggle? He saw the arrow sticking like a barb from its right eye. Blood and eye membrane were splattered all over the reptilian face.

Aldor swallowed and tried to escape, struggling backward, but the dragon was falling too quickly. Blood roared in his ears as the wind beat against his body. The dragon descended from the sky, about to squash him like a bug. He flailed his arms.

When the tail, spiked and wrought with power, contacted Aldor’s body, he hardly felt it. The force sent him airborne, and he slammed against the ground, the taste of blood and dirt lingering on his tongue. The smell of iron lingered in his nostrils. He heard his steed squeal as it fell too, falling on top of Aldor and crushing his legs. Aldor groaned in agony as the horse’s weight paralyzed his body. The creature was unconscious.

His vision clouded, and his ears filled with buzzing until he lost all sense of sound.

Darkness took him, and he was lightweight, floating on the brink of emptiness.

Aldor lay struggling for breath on the ground, any attempt for air painful. Pain that he had never known—the pain of death—enveloped him. It was worse than the cut of a criptos blade. He had most likely broken most of his ribs with the way his chest hurt.

The wind wafted drowsily across the barren rock of the Twin Mountains. Ash poured in like newly fallen snow, and the horizon was obscured behind a haze. The sun hid behind a cloud of darkness, its rays unable to break through the thick layers of cloud.

His mouth cracked and the poisonous air passed through his lungs. He opened his eyes a sliver. A white fire licked at his wounds, and he moaned as his coma faded. The anguish was strong, and he suddenly remembered where they were. Keira was lying somewhere, crushed under the dragon’s body.

Each beat of his heart brought new suffering. Aldor trembled and tried to rise. The pain in his head was numbing. His horse was laying across his waist, crushing Aldor’s hips into the ground.

His lower body was completely immobilized.

Aldor gritted his teeth, pulling his legs close to his stomach and managed to slither out. He gasped for oxygen. His whole body shook with faint spasms. He tasted blood on his lips and noticed that his beard was soaked in the sticky liquid that dripped down his chin.

He knew he had to finish it. Aldor raised himself up. A sharp pain clawed at his chest, and he almost fell again, but sheer willpower kept him up. He clutched his heart and heard the dragon slowly getting to its feet behind him.

The brute was deliberately rising, more dangerous than before. It was in a mad rage. If Aldor was going to end its life, he must do it quickly. Aldor drew his sword, ready to fight his last battle. The fight was over, his story finished, and what better way to end it than with one… last… song…

The dragon’s strength was returning. It, too, struggled to its feet, blood and flame gurgling in its throat. Blood poured from what used to be its eye on the right side of its face. The arrow stuck out from its socket as bits of membrane fell out. It let out a low moan, and like a dog, sat back on its haunches. It rubbed its eye socket with a single claw, trying to reach the arrowhead.

Kill or be killed. He gripped his sword, legs churning beneath him as the adrenaline kicked in. His heart rattled in his chest faster than even the cripti made it go.

The dragon spun into his way before he could reach its blind spot. Gripping his sword tight, he dove as the prickly tail swung—right at his face.

Aldor’s wounds burned worse than before, and he caught himself before he collapsed. He was living fire. As he swerved to avoid being hit a second time by the tail, his chest seared with a sudden flame. The pain caught him by surprise and forced him to his knees, clutching at his chest. Blood was still streaming from his head. It flowed over one of his eyes, blinding him, just like the dragon. Aldor heard the tail whistle as it flew by. He shivered as he imagined the spikes sinking into his flesh.

The dragon sensed his weakness and turned on him—Aldor's heart froze for several paralyzing seconds. Noises of claws on granite sounded like glass shattering, flames licked the spot where he knelt moments before.

Not quick enough. As he moved forward, Aldor’s arm became caught amid flames. He shouted in pain and sunk to his knees again, clutching his arm. From his fingertips to his shoulder, Aldor’s flesh was scorched, a layer of skin peeling away. He choked on his own blood, the coppery taste gouging his throat. He knew the dragon would not wait for him to get back up. Knowing it was bravely stupid, he went forward once again for what he thought would be the last time.

Raising his sword, he found the blind spot exposed and took the chance. He shimmied close, all the way to dragon’s shoulder before it noticed. His sword rose and fell, driving through the first layer of dragonish scales, not what Aldor had intended. The cut was minor, and the dragon had barely felt it, lashing around so that its powerful eye rested upon Aldor.

The dragon’s blinding rage was increasing. It was becoming reckless. It lunged at Aldor’s legs, hoping to rob him of them before delivering the final blow.

The dragon’s plan backfired. Aldor side-stepped to his right, gripped his weapon, and plunged it into the dragon’s neck. He slammed his blade on the spinal cord, snapping it in two with a clean c***k. The dragon let out a cry, and a dying burst of flames spewed from its jaws. Its writhing slowed to a steady twitch. Soon the dragon was slipping in its own blood. The stench was nauseating.