Chapter 138 - Fires and Fallacies

  The dragon gave a cry that felt loud enough to shatter stone. It certainly stunned me—I froze, standing there helpless for a moment as it continued its approach. I shook my head to clear it.

  “Peter! Snap out of it!” I shouted. He’d stopped moving, too. My cry woke him back up and got him in motion again, frantically winding the winch.

  It cried out again, and the sound rolled across the sky like a living thing, setting every hair on my body on edge. Below us, soldiers froze mid-step. Civilians scattered, some screaming, others just running in blind panic. I couldn’t blame them. That roar wasn’t just noise—it was a declaration of violence and fury, and the source was heading straight for us.

  Peter finished cranking the winch and shoved the massive bolt into place. “Ready!” he barked.

  “Wait until it’s in range—” shouted one of the tower guards.

  The dragon dove.

  It angled its wings, tucked its legs tighter, and fell like a meteor. The ballista crew on the next tower panicked and loosed too early. The bolt hissed upward, slicing the air—and missed. The dragon shifted mid-dive, rolling slightly to the side with a flick of its wings. It was grace in motion, cutting through the air like it was performing ballet.

  The second tower fired a heartbeat later, and missed again.

  “They’re wasting shots!” Farnsworth growled beside me.

  I didn’t wait any longer. There just wasn’t time to hesitate or doubt, not if we wanted to live through this. That dragon was enough stronger than I that I couldn’t even identify its rank, which meant it was serious bad news.

  Since I was the highest tier we had, it was time for me to take action. I kicked off the stones of the tower, the wind whipping past as I rose into the air, faster than I’d ever flown before. The dragon’s eyes locked onto me the moment I left the tower behind. It twisted again, leveling out of its dive and beating its wings to meet me in the air.

  Good. It wanted a fight? It just got one.

  I burned power, pouring energy into Flight. I could feel the pressure of its tier, a beacon of raw strength on a level I still couldn’t fully grasp—but I didn’t need to beat it. Just hurt it, slow it down. Maybe even scare it off, if I was crazy lucky.

  “Selena! Be careful!” Farnsworth shouted.

  He wasn’t wrong. This thing outclassed me on levels I couldn’t even identify. That said, I had to do something. Standing idly by and watching wasn’t an option. I started casting as the dragon sliced through the air toward me. My first Drain Life hit like a javelin. The creature flinched mid-flight, one wing faltering for a split second before it roared and powered through.

  It wasn’t immune to my spells, at least! That was something. The Drain didn’t hit nearly as hard as it would have on a weaker creature, but it had still landed, still hurt the creature.

  Which was still coming straight at me like a freight train. Whoops.

  I dropped my Flight spell in mid-air, which had the immediate effect of making me plummet directly toward the ground. I dropped like a stone, nothing keeping me aloft any longer. The dragon tried to give chase, but it was still moving too fast. It shot right past above me, struggling to slow its speed so it could come after me again.

  That was the immediate danger gone, but I still needed to stop my fall. I called up my Flight power again, activating it and pouring mana into the spell to brake my fall. I slowed some, then more, but the ground was still coming up awfully fast. I managed to stop myself with my feet just a meter or two above the dirt. That was way too close for comfort, but I didn’t have time to worry about that. The dragon was still coming.

  The third ballista fired. The dragon twisted again, this time diving into a spin that carried it under the bolt and right past the wall. It swept low over the outer city, letting loose a plume of fire that rolled across the rooftops like a tidal wave. One of the gardens burst into flame.

  Screams rose. Panic spread.

  The fourth and final ballista let fly—and this one almost hit. The dragon yanked itself hard left, the iron bolt grazing its ribs. It shrieked, the sound sharper now, tinged with pain.

  I smiled grimly. “You don’t like that, huh?”

  The dragon’s eyes locked on mine as it spun to face me. For a long second, we hovered there—me with my blade drawn and magic coiled around my skin like static, and it with smoke curling from its nostrils, wings spread wide enough to blot out the sun.

  Then it surged forward.

  I barely twisted in time, rolling through the air as it tore past me with a roar that rattled my bones. One of its claws came within a foot of my face. The wake of its passage buffeted me like a hurricane, and I spun once, twice, before I stabilized.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  That was way too close. I didn’t wait for it to pivot and come back at me again. Instead, I shot through the air after it, closing fast from behind. I slammed another Drain Life spell into it. The effect hit like a hammer—I saw it falter, just for a fraction of a second, but it was enough—and I pressed in, blade flashing as I swung for the membrane where wing met shoulder.

  My sword bit deep. A gout of dark red blood sprayed outward, the dragon shrieking in surprise and pain as it banked violently away from me. My strike hadn’t crippled it—but I’d hurt it. We’d shown it could be hurt.

  A cheer rose from the tower behind me, faint over the rush of wind. I glanced that way, saw crews still frantically winding winches, trying to bring their weapons to bear so they could help me.

  The dragon spun in midair, whipping its tail toward me like a cat swatting a fly. I dropped straight down, the barbed tip barely missing my shoulder. As I fell, I twisted to look back toward the castle—and caught sight of the second ballista firing.

  “Shit—”

  I veered right just as the bolt screamed past, missing me by less than a yard. I felt the air part around it. Below, Peter was shouting something I couldn’t hear, probably screaming at the gunners to hold their fire unless they had a clean shot.

  Yeah, good luck with that.

  The dragon came at me again, jaws wide. Fire bloomed at the back of its throat, orange heat gathering. I dove under its neck and cast Drain Life again, pumping power into it. The magic struck just as it loosed its breath weapon, and the stream of fire faltered—cut short by the spell’s violent wrench on its life force. It screamed again, twisting in place, but I was already gone, flashing around to its wounded side and swinging again.

  This time my sword glanced off one of the bone-like ridges along its shoulder. It snapped at me, jaws closing on empty air as I threw myself backward, flipping head over heels and righting myself in time to see a third ballista bolt streak past me—and this one hit. The iron shaft buried itself in the dragon’s rear haunch, and the monster screamed in pure fury, twisting through the air like a wounded hurricane. Its wings faltered again, and for a heartbeat I thought it might crash, but we weren’t that lucky.

  It caught itself with a brutal sweep of its wings and shot back into the sky, spinning wildly to face the tower that had wounded it. I felt the shift in its attention. Shit. It’s going after them now.

  “Farnsworth!” I yelled, flying fast back toward the towers, hoping he could hear me somehow over the crashing noise of the battle. “It’s turning toward the towers! Get everyone clear!”

  He stood at Peter’s side as the king personally loaded the next bolt. The ballista was ready to fire, and its crew scrambled around it, readying their shot.

  The dragon flapped hard, gaining altitude—then twisted, folded its wings, and dove straight toward the battlements. It streaked past me, and I followed, blood pounding in my ears as I struggled to keep up with the massive beast. There was no time to think. I was running on pure instinct, and fast running out of mana, too.

  I risked casting Health to Mana to replenish myself somewhat. Flying burned through mana like little else, and the last thing I wanted to do was run out while in mid-air! The spell restored some of my fading mana pool, and I dropped another Drain on the dragon to refill my health again. The spell hit hard. The dragon’s head jerked sideways, ruining its dive just a little, enough that its flames scorched the outer wall rather than the tower itself. Rock exploded out of the wall, showering the air with debris. One of the stones clipped my head, sending me spinning sideways. My skin felt like it had been kissed by fire, but I held on to consciousness. If I passed out at this height, I doubted even my Stamina would let me survive the drop.

  The king finally had his ballista lined up again, tracking the dragon’s progress. It glared at him like it was daring him to fire—and he did! The spear tore through the air, and the dragon dodged, doing a barrel roll to get clear of the weapon. It clipped the edge of the dragon’s wing, tearing a small hole without seeming to slow it down much. I nailed it with another Drain Life at almost the same moment. The dragon shook off both injuries without much effort.

  But maybe it had simply had enough of all of us, because now it was breaking off, flying clear of the castle. What the hell? We’d managed to hurt it some, but none of our blows had hit hard enough to wound it seriously. The dragon was tanking our best shots and still doing fine. Why withdraw?

  It was watching the castle still, even as it slowly circled away. Another ballista fired, but the dragon was far enough off that it had no trouble dodging. No, it wasn’t watching the castle, I realized. It was matching glares with Peter, right where he stood on the battlements. He glared back, and he was holding something in his hand—a pendant, maybe? I couldn’t tell for certain.

  Some magical protection, maybe? I resolved to ask him about it, later.

  The dragon gave one last cry, this one sounding more mournful than it was dangerous. Then it turned on one wing and flew off toward the west once more. I didn’t even try to follow, veering back toward the castle instead. I had no illusions about my ability to face this thing in the open sky. Close to the ground, with the castle ballistae keeping it busy and giving me covering fire, I’d come through relatively unscathed, but by myself, out in the open air, with my mana already low? No way that was going to end well.

  I came back to the tower where Peter and Clay stood waiting. At least I pegged the landing, dropping down in a proper superhero pose on arrival.

  Hey, this was a diplomatic mission, after all. First impressions mattered, and I didn’t want to stumble at the finish line!

  “That was different,” I said, a little out of breath from the fight.

  “You’re bleeding, Selena!” Peter said, coming to my aid with a cloth.

  I shook my head. “Not anymore. My main damage spell heals me when it hurts the target. But I’ll take the cloth to wipe up the blood, thanks.”

  I dabbed at the side of my head where the rock clipped me, and the cloth came away red. There was no pain, though, so the injury had been fully healed by that final Drain Life. That was good. But the whole ordeal wasn’t the best news.

  “We’ve seen the dragon in the sky a few times now,” I said. “But it’s never attacked any of our Domains. If it’s hitting our homes, that’s… Not great.”

  “Unfortunately, this is the third time she’s come at us,” Peter said. “We’ve managed to fend her off each time, but she’s persistent. Keeps coming back again. That’s fine, though. We’re getting better at sending her packing.”

  “She?” I asked. “How do you know?”

  “Oh! I suppose we don’t, really,” Peter replied. “Just started calling the dragon her. I guess it’s sort of like calling all ships her, yes?”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” I replied.

  But he’d just lied to me. I saw his eyes dart sideways right before he spoke, which was a clear tell. He knew the dragon was female. How? And what was that thing he’d been holding up? The more I thought about it, the more sure I was that the dragon had departed not because of wounds, but because of whatever it was he’d been holding.