XXI
436 Words
XXI
Dark tore out of the mausoleum, breaking the great double doors off their hinges.
His shoulders ached from the impact.
He felt the humid air of the bog, a welcome blast of fresh air that his lungs needed.
Then he heard screams.
Humans and elves, at least a dozen total, sat inside yellow carts made from metal. They wore strange, thick clothes that he had never seen before.
Dark roared and the humans and elves screamed again.
Dark stomped over to a nearby yellow cart and smacked it with his tail.
CLANG!
He had expected it to fly over the tree tops, but the cart did not move.
His tail was bloody from the s***h.
What kind of contraption is that? he thought. He snapped at the cart, and the human inside pulled a metal lever with a ball on top of it and the cart reversed toward the water.
“What kind of conveyance is that?” Dark asked.
No response.
“No matter,” he said, plowing into the cart. The impact overturned the cart and threw the man into the water.
The air filled with a strange sound. He had never heard anything like it.
He whipped around.
Fire erupted from the humans’ hands, then disappeared.
Something ripped through his scales. He looked down. In his shoulder were several small holes. Then something tore through his arms, ripping his insides as it burst out of the other side.
And then the pain hit him and he roared.
What kind of magic was this?
He charged at the men, scattering them as they ran into the woods.
He wasn’t fast enough.
Another yellow cart with a shovel in front of it slammed into him. The impact cut through his scales and he tried to balance himself.
But more of the yellow carts cornered him.
He couldn’t take many more blows. He had to fly. If only he could make it into the air. They wouldn’t be able to touch him there!
He tried to spread his wings, but they didn’t respond. One of his wings flopped on his back and wouldn’t move, no matter how much he willed it.
What’s a dragon if he can’t fly?
He wasn’t going to die.
Not like this.
Not at the hands of humans and their strange machines.
With a roar, he pushed the machines aside. His path was clear now. He just had to cross the water, into the woods. He’d be safe then.
He started across the dirt, but more metalfire tore through his leg. He lost his balance and tumbled to the ground.
Nearby, an abandoned yellow cart with a huge rod that stretched into the sky wobbled.
Dark’s head struck the earth, making another boom.
The crane toppled over, and Dark covered his face as it landed on him, knocking him out.
- Writer
