The Saint of Dragons. Jason Hightman
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The thing gave out a painful howl.
If you had known all the evil things that this creature had brought about in this world, you would have been happy to know its life was at an end.
The creature’s shape began to show under layers of billowing grey smoke.
“Its strength is passing away,” said the horseman.
The tall man nodded and moved closer to the smoky shape.
“It should be mine,” said the horseman. “I should be the one to end this.”
But the tall man frowned back at him. “A child could do this one, Aldric.”
The other horsemen, alert in the doorway, relaxed.
Until the wheezing voice of the unnatural beast came scraping through the house. “I’m not …” said the voice, “finished …”
A light began to glow in the smoky shape in the centre of the kitchen. This was the heart of the creature.
Aldric pulled at his reins to halt his frightened horse.
Ormand moved in fearlessly over the light. “It’s over,” he said. “Your deceit is at an end.” And he put his hand on the glowing space, whispering with a touch of awe, “The heart of a dragon. The heart of evil …”
“Careful,” said the horseman in the glowlight. “I’ve never seen that before.”
“His life force, I’d wager,” said the tall warrior, “draining out of him.”
With that, the tall knight began to recite words that would have sounded bizarre to anyone except those gathered in the house. They were words that brought death to these creatures. Words of great magic. The light beneath his naked hand burned, but the tall warrior did not flinch.
The horseman who watched above him did not know anything was wrong. But his horse was thrown into terror. With a squealing neigh, the horse pranced backwards but could not get through the hole he’d come in.
“Whoa!” shouted Aldric, but any control over his horse was gone. In panic, it launched forward and jumped over the downed beast.
As man and horse leapt over the glowlight, it suddenly burned more intensely.
The light grew hotter and fiercer, and the nearly invisible dragon rose up with its last strength and began a fierce rush towards his attacker. The creature was old, wounded and could not see well, but it was full of wild rage and energy, and it blew Ormand backwards, carrying him towards the other horsemen in a giant growing wave of flame. The tall man flew backwards helplessly.
Meanwhile, Aldric threw his wild horse on its side as the heat rushed over and past him, sprawling outward. It was a fire like no other. The only way to describe the explosion is to say that it screamed.
The rumble of that explosion was heard for miles. Mirrors cracked. Pictures fell from the walls. Dogs yelped and hid themselves away under furniture. In all the homes around the blast for sixteen miles, milk curdled into a disgusting cream.
At the centre of the blast, much of the house was left in rubble.
The lead horseman was the only one left.
The fire had risen high and spared him.
He woke up and nudged his horse. It was knocked out. Leaving it behind for the moment, the man got up and walked towards the destroyed front of the house.
What he saw outside shocked him.
The fire from the dying creature had lasted only a second, but it had demolished the huge stones that made up the front of the house, it had burned away the yellowed flowers in the garden, it had knocked down the iron fence. It had even burned foliage down the street.
In the scorched trees above him, his fellow horsemen were spread out, draped in the ugly branches. Their armour had been burned to black and still smouldered, sending smoke into the air. Their lances were twisted corkscrew-like, or splayed in two, and hung loosely in the bony trees. The horses were gone; they had no armour, so they had vanished instantly in the blast. The man took some comfort in knowing they had felt no pain.
It was the only comfort the man had left to him. The other knights were dead. His friends, the closest people to him in the world, were gone for ever. They had been through so much together. It would not be easy without them.
The man stepped through a trail of red ash to find the skull of the terrible beast. As its spirit died, he heard its insufferable voice.
“Ssshame the boy won’t carry on your work,” taunted the voice. Aldric was stunned and leaned closer. “Oh, we know about the boy … Sweet little child … not long for this world …”
And then it was dead.
At first, Aldric’s mind rejected what he’d heard. How could anyone know about his boy?
But he felt fear rising inside him, a growing sense that the serpent’s words were true.
Angrily, he lifted the skull. It broke apart in his hand, turning to crimson ash.
There was a sound behind him. The snort of an animal. He turned in alarm – only to find his horse in the smashed doorway.
The next moment, Aldric was riding away from the scene with all possible speed. Police would be coming soon, and emergency services. He couldn’t wait around answering questions.
How did the thing know he had a child?
The thought tore at him. Fighting emotion, he galloped through the quiet town in a rush, down an alley filled with old cars, avoiding the wailing sirens on the streets. Autumn leaves floated past him.
His mind was racing even faster than the horse.
The creature had outwitted them. Playing at being weaker than it was, it had fooled them into taking their time and it had let loose all of its powers as it died. The spell had indeed killed it; but the beast had a dangerous death-rattle. They should have let it weaken first, before getting closer. Always full of tricks, the things were. I must learn from this, the man thought. I must strike harder, move faster. I must bury my feelings. I must fight with all that’s in me. And have nothing left over.
It knew, he thought. The creature knew. Its spies had found his child. The thing had said, “We know about the boy.” We.
He tried not to think any more.
But in his heart, he knew three things to be true.
He was the last knight on Earth.
His son was in danger.
And he had one more dragon to face.