Chronicles of Yugure: Plummeting into Uncharted Depths

Day Thirteen

'Ugh, that sounded less impressive. I could've come up with something better than that.' I curse myself for the terrible wording.

The beast merely laughs at my attempts. "Oh enough of that, just hand over the book and I'll kill you quickly."

'What. The. Yugurian. Heck. What is he even talking 'bout??!' I stare blatantly at him. "I beg y'er pardon, what book am I supposed to 'ave?"

"Don't play stupid with me, student of Achilles Blacktalon, I know you have it!!" Plumes of smoke rise from his mount and nostrils.

'Has he been spying on me? How did he know I was Blacktalon's student?'

"Look, I don't 'ave any book! Ye must be mistaking me f'er someone else!" I mean, there isn't any other students being mentored by Blacktalon at the moment. Shadequill was his older student, but she graduated a few years ago. As for this book he's looking for, I'm quite stumped.

His face looks like a chimney with the damper shut tight. "Aaauurrgh! Fine, if you want to play the idiot, then I'll just rip it off of your rotting carcass after I slash open your throat!"

"Nyugh!" I flitter out of the way of the enraged train of a monster. I didn't expect him to be so fast for such a burly creature, nor the fire that comes out of his mouth with such accuracy.

My feather bangs on the right side are scorched, which angers me because they were very nice and even with the other side.

I can hear him laughing as he circles around for his next attack. This time I am prepared. The timing has to be just right, and I start the count, 'Five, four, three,' he nears me and is only seconds away, 'two...' He inhales, readying to cook me medium rare, 'one!'

I shove my wings behind me, ramming my antlered head straight into his gut. Milk curdling cries bellow from his throat as he plummets toward the rocky depths below.

It is the fact I fought back that did him in. Too stunned to counteract, he continues to dive bomb to his doom.
Finally coming to, he desperately flaps his wings, trying so hard to slow him from being impaled, but it is too late for that.

I look away, to keep the gruesome sight from my mind. 'At least 'tis over now,' although that does not quite calm my nerves. My mind sweeps me away to better thoughts, trying to bring me someplace more pleasant.

It would have worked if it weren't for the sharp, stabbing pain going through my left shoulder. It was milliseconds after that that I smell that bloody-onion scent again. Drastic breathing comes from behind me and the thing that I now realize to be the scoundrel's stinger is removed from my now burning flesh as he falls, for the final time, into the ocean.

It would seem he didn't completely save himself from the fall the first time, because I study the corpse to find puncture wounds where no jagged rocks are present. He certainly was determined, for a few of the older impalements were in proximity of vital organs.

"Why was he so intent on killing me?" The question lingers throughout my flight. How much did he really know about me? Are my friends and family safe from these threats? I push the horrifics aside as best I can, knowing that I need a clear mind to navigate myself to the island.

I am so close! My bones ache with the sentiment! Or it could possibly be the venomous poison running through my bloodstream. . .

Coughing up blood is not a good sign, as my hand is speckled with a beautiful, crimson liquid. I should probably rest somewhere, but the ocean is vast all around me and no islands, islets, or even rock outcroppings can be seen.