The air whipped past his face, his black hair fluttering wildly. He tried to haul himself up toward the dagger, but it was all he could do just to hold on and breathe. He could barely see anything, as the light was almost completely gone. The dragon hit something and he was almost pulled off, and he realized it had landed on something high up in the cavern, perhaps on what ever ledge it had retreated to the first time. Then the dragon leaped up again, roaring as it beat its wings and flew.
Something whizzed by his head in the darkness, and for a moment Duncan didn’t realize what it was. Then something else passed right over him and he recognized the tip of a stalactite. Was it trying to brush him off? A third one seemed like it was about to successfully do so, and he strained hard to pull himself up onto the dragon’s neck and out of the way. Still, it banged hard into his leg and he winced at the flash of pain.
Then the dragon descended again. Summoning his strength, Duncan raised his other dagger and stabbed it a bit farther up along the creature’s long neck. It twitched and attempted to dislodge its rider, but he now had two handholds. Scrabbling hard with his legs, he managed to wrap himself around the neck a little better. Now let it try to get rid of him.
It landed somewhere once again, the impact slamming him against the dragon’s scales and nearly knocking the wind out of him. There was light from nearby lava, enough that Duncan could see the creature attempting to twist its head around. Its long neck was lithe, but not enough to allow it to reach where he actually was. Several times it snapped close, and he saw those giant teeth clearly and smelled the reek of brimstone and carrion on its breath. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of it biting him off its own back! What if it had been able to do that?
The dragon was still moving, but now Duncan had the purchase he needed. Pulling one of the daggers out, he stabbed up ahead of the other. And then repeated this process. Quickly he ascended the dragon’s neck this way until he was directly behind its head.
Now it thrashed him around. He had to hug the neck close, warm scales pressed against his cheek, and hang on for dear life. His stomached heaved left and right, and he would have vomited had there been anything in his stomach to expel. Fighting against the inertia and the winds whipping by him, praying to the Maker that he wouldn’t be flung off across the entire cavern, he pulled one of the silverite blades out and then stabbed it directly into the dragon’s head.
He could feel it hitting bone and cutting through, and bright blood spurted out over his arm. The dragon threw its head back and roared, but rather than dislodging him, this very movement forced Duncan to push the dagger in deeper. It went in even past the hilt, more blood and gore gushing out of the wound. He felt muscles twitch convulsively in the creature’s neck. It tried to leap up into the air again, only to crash down so that its entire neck hit the ground.
He simply couldn’t hold on. He lost his grip on both of his blades and was thrown off, hitting rock with such force that he heard his arm break. He screamed aloud as he rolled along the ground and skidded to a halt.
When he opened his eyes, he found he was back in the effect of Fiona’s spell. Wind and ice whipped about, and for a moment Duncan couldn’t see anything in the dim orange light of the lava. Where was the dragon? Where had it gone? How could he not see something so incredibly large?
Then it appeared, emerging from the blowing snow like a giant apparition. Its dark head was streaked with its own blood, and it roared in fury as it charged toward him. Every instinct told him to run, but he was too broken from the fall and too gripped in terror. As that great head descended down upon him, Duncan clenched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, waiting for the inevitable …
… and then felt someone grab him from behind, yanking him backwards.
He saw Julien, battered and caked in blood. The wounded warrior picked him up and physically threw him back, and for a moment he felt himself sailing through the air as if in slow motion. He could see the high dragon behind Julien, its head snapping at the ground where Duncan had been only a moment before.
And then he crashed back to the ground, rolling away, and the pain flared up in his broken arm until his vision became little more than white fuzz. He fought against the agony and opened his eyes. The dragon reared on Julien now, clearly furious that the man had denied it its vengeance. It lunged down at him, and while Julien fought to bring up his sword to meet its attack, he was slowed too much by his injuries.
The dragon’s head closed around his body, teeth closing in and crunching loudly. Duncan heard Julien scream in agony. Then the creature pulled the man up in his mouth and flung him up in the air behind him. The broken body sailed out of sight into the blowing wind and shadows.
The dragon slowly turned back to stare at Duncan, its black eyes narrowing in pure hatred. He gulped and began to scramble backwards, but before he could even get far he saw Genevieve charge the dragon from its side. She ran into view, soot covering her armor and sweat pouring down her face, the effort showing in every step. With a great cry she swung the sword hard against the base of the dragon’s neck.
Blood fountained forth from the gash. The creature bellowed its fury and lunged its head down at its attacker. Genevieve was ready for it, however. Bracing herself, she shoved the greatsword up into the onrushing maw of teeth, the point of the blade driving into the back of its throat and piercing its head.
The inertia drove her back, and she slid along the ground several feet until one of her metal heels caught in a large crack in the cavern floor. She screamed in exertion as she pushed back against the weight, holding her ground. The dragon twitched violently and attempted to pull its head up and away. The blade remained impaled within its mouth, however, and as Genevieve held on she was yanked off her feet.
The creature floundered, its strength dissolving as bright blood gushed out of its mouth and down Genevieve’s arms. It crashed down again, slamming her hard against the ground, but she doggedly held on. The impact drove the sword even more deeply into the dragon’s head, and its whole body spasmed in response.
It tried to gnash its teeth, but couldn’t quite close its mouth around the blade. Small blasts of flame guttered forth from the back of its throat, licking at Genevieve’s face. It tried to claw at her, but the creature almost seemed too disoriented. It kept trying to rise and ended up only thrashing its wings uselessly.
Slowly but inexorably, she gained her feet and pressed her blade forward until her arms were well past the dragon’s great teeth. It spasmed again, ribbons of blood streaming out of its black eyes. And then, just as Genevieve screamed in rage at the strain of holding against the creature’s impossible strength, it collapsed to the ground.
Its wings settled, and its entire body twitched once and then was still.
For a moment Duncan almost couldn’t believe it. The blizzard began to dissipate, and a hush descended over the cavern. He heard only Genevieve’s labored breathing as she knelt down by the dragon’s head, shaking with pure exhaustion. Weakly she braced a foot against its snout and slowly pulled her blade free with a sickeningly wet sound. Dark red blood gushed out of its mouth, pooling at her feet. The dragon’s eyes were still open, but they were blank. It was definitely dead.
They had won.
Duncan heard quiet footsteps approaching and twisted around to see who it was. Utha held her chest gingerly and favored one leg, her robes covered in streaks of blood, and ran quickly over to the Commander. Genevieve did little more than nod curtly and wave away the dwarf’s concerned hand on her shoulder.
“I need to catch my breath,” she gasped. Wearily tugging off one of her gauntlets, she wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. “See to the others.”