Rebecca sat near the tunnel entrance, keeping a keen eye on the distant valley where Diana's forces were supposed to be. They had been obscured from vision by another ridge blocking her view, but the noise of battle carried on loud enough through the valley for her to faintly hear; judging from the din, it was ferocious, the clash of steel and shouting meeting her ears like a distant memory. There was naught she could do, save watch for either Diana's signal or for the first hostages to emerge from the tunnel. In the meantime, she sat down on a nearby rock, facing both the tunnel entrance as well as the direction of the battle.
Her thoughts turned to the last few days, where everything had changed incredibly for her; theory had become practice, strangers into friends, naivety into experience. At the start of this week, she had hardly conjured up so much as a table of food and some basic wards; now, she was beginning to grasp fire manipulation, had cast a strong protective ward she wasn't sure would have even worked, and...
I killed people. Her initial elation turned dour as she remembered the first bandit she had to kill to save Henry. I never even so much as slapped someone before, yet I killed. For Henry, no less.
Henry...
She felt herself blush instinctively, remembering how they had last spoken. She had been so confident, so forward; her boldness intimidated her looking back, and yet... there wasn't any regret.
I said what I wanted to say, did what I wanted to. After all, the danger of these last few days had been very real, and there was always the chance she'd never see him again.
Not that she didn't want to! It was just...
She frowned to herself. What if it was just a spur of the moment? An impulse I couldn't control?
Her feelings swirled within her. Henry had saved her, multiple times these past few days. They'd traveled together, ate together, slept together; when the time had come, they had split off and continued their own quests together. But yet...
I only met him this week. Love can't come THAT easily, can it? She simmered over this. Is this even love? Am I just scared?
The thoughts raced through her head, all at once now. What if he doesn't like me in return? What if he thinks I'm too easy? Too useless to save myself?
She paused. What if... I really do never see him again?
A loud explosion snapped her out of her musing; it came from the valley, where Diana was. Rebecca jumped to her feet as she looked to the mountains, spying a brilliant flash of light blossom in the distance. It was over as quickly as it had come, but Rebecca felt her spine tingle.
Diana. She looked back at the tunnel entrance, which remained dark and silent. About a half hour had elapsed, far too soon for any signal from Diana; things must have gotten out of hand for her, then.
No. It's too soon, too soon! Fear and anxiety welled up in her chest as she peered into the tunnel.
Still nothing. A faint whistling in the distance turned her attention back to the valley; a bright orb of light had gone up, floating just above the ridge line in Rebecca's view. It was the agree-upon signal for Diana to begin her advance.
Except, it was supposed to have come from Rebecca. The mage looked at the light despairingly, as the signal coming from Diana meant she had been forced to advance the timetable.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
It's still too soon. And I haven't gotten any of the hostages yet! The plan was beginning to fall apart; Diana advancing too soon would put the hostages, Henry's party, and even her own force's lives in peril.
Rebecca paced frantically; they hadn't planned out for this contingency, and it was clear that without intervention, the entire operation was in peril. She had to do something; but what?
No time. I need to act.
She braced herself and charged into the tunnel after the others, hoping there was still time to make things right.
Th cavern chamber was silent, an eerie stillness that seemed to clamp down on Henry's senses as he carefully stepped over heaps and piles of broken and shattered bones and refuse. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness well enough now that he could see the bleached bones that surrounded him, but the cave floor and walls were too dark for him to distinguish them as anything other than inky pools of blackness in the islands of bone around him. The others followed his lead, carefully navigating the ossuary sea as well; Arthur, whose silent suit of plate would normally unsettle him, now relieved Henry, as the knight-apprentice's catlike movements were unblemished by sound.
There was still no sign of the the dragon or hostages, only piles and piles of bones. Henry was beginning to suspect they weren't even in the cavern, until he suddenly found himself right up against the side of the cavern wall.
This was likely the other side of the cavern, and nothing. That could only mean that-
He stopped, putting his hand out. His palm touched something tough and leathery, not hard and rocky like a cave wall.
It took him a second for the thought to kick in: this wasn't stone or a bone heap. It was flesh.
He nearly fell over as he stumbled back in surprise. Arthur, who was right behind him, muttered a curse under his breath as Henry nearly fell onto him.
"What gives?" he hissed, his scowling expression clearly visible in the dark. "What are you doing?"
Henry pointed at what he had just touched. "Dragon."
The others froze in place, stunned by what the squire was gesturing to. Sure enough, the details slowly emerged from the dark as their minds began to fill in the blanks.
Indeed, it was a dragon, curled up before them in what looked like a sleeping position. It was large, huge even; it easily dwarfed them even lying down, and it matched the same size of the dragon that had attacked the town earlier.
But the problem was...
"It's not breathing," Lyla whispered. "It's... dead."
She was right; the dragon that laid before them was as still as the cavern itself, its ribs unmoving and silent. Henry slowly traced his eyes down its long neck to where its head was, tucked into the rest of its body.
Its eyes were wounded and bleeding, dried blood trickling from its sockets. Some of Praetorus' arrows and the bolts from the others' crossbows were still embedded in its face.
"It's dead?" Arthur sounded almost disappointed. "Is that it?"
Praetorus shook his head. "It's a trick. It must be."
As the others argued amongst themselves, Henry crept closer to the enormous corpse to inspect it. There was no doubt it was dead, as the dragon didn't react to their voices or Henry's prodding sword; but what bothered Henry most was how it died. Surely, the few arrows that blinded it couldn't have possibly killed it in the end; what's more, as Henry looked over the rest of the body, he noted details of advanced decomposition up close, with small holes and openings in its torso that exposed its ribcage. The dragon had already been dead for awhile.
"I don't understand," Henry murmured, more to himself than to anyone in particular. "How..."
The cave suddenly rumbled, the floor shaking beneath their feet. Henry loped back to the others as the bones rattled and clacked all around them, as if heralding the arrival of something.
All at once, the mood and atmosphere within the cave shifted; the same heavy feeling of dread and fear welled up in Henry's stomach and chest again, like an overpouring goblet. His legs threatened to run of their own accord, his heart wanted to leap out of his very chest; but somehow, he willed himself to stay, to remain beside his comrades as he and the others raised their weapons.
The dragon's eyes suddenly blazed to life, the same green glow shining through its wounds; Henry realized that it wasn't its eyes that were glowing, but some form of pure mystical energy.
As the beast slowly lumbered to its feet, he finally pieced together everything around him and came to a horrifying realization.
Something else is animating the dragon, just like everything else.
