LET THERE BE DRAGONS (COMPLETED)

Chapter Twenty-Five: Blikrot versus Dragon

Blikrot ran on one of the muddy streets of the village in which the battle between a dragon and his Infernos still raged, the village in which that troublesome witch had been caught. Time was running out: he could have entered the village much earlier hadn't that stupid boy smashed the mirror into pieces. A lot of time was wasted as Blikrot looked for another appropriate mirror that would allow him to cross over.

Caught in the dark void that exists between mirrors, a void that only Blikrot has breathed in, he looked for another mirror and had stumbled upon many domestic ones, which weren't large enough. Then he had stumbled upon a barber's shop, and the problem had been solved. As Blikrot ran, his sword unsheated and gleaming in the sun, he hoped the witch hadn't been able to escape due to all the time lost.

Blikrot turned a corner and stopped in his tracks.

A fire dragon.

Immediately, the agonizing memories of his childhood that burned him every night began rushing through his mind, like scenes seen from the window of a train.

As Blikrot stood immobile, he saw the dragon's red head jerking left and right in agony. It was flipping through the air aimlessly, as Infernos attacked it from the ground. He saw Bakrasur repeatedly punishing it with the chains of fire from his spear.

Blikrot's feet left contact with the ground. He began flying, with remarkable speed, towards the dragon. He intended to behead it with his sword, rage plumetting through his blood, a venom that blocked thoughts or considerations out, a venom that only made him focus on vengeance.

A fire dragon. It had been a fire dragon that had destroyed his life forever.

The dragon whirled its tail, flying downwards, and it hit several Infernos who were knocked off their feet. With a tremendous roar that ringed through the sky, the dragon let out a huge jet of green flames and directed it towards Bakrasur. He dodged it, almost. But his left leg lit up, and the flames began engulfing him completely. He let out a horrified scream and dropped his spear. The dragon rolled out its serpentine black tongue and coiled it around Bakrasur's throat.

Blikrot attacked it from behind, sinking his sword deep into the dull red scales of the dragons neck. Of course, it was like poking a giant with a needle, but Blikrot uttered: "Multiplicamini , filii herba , cotem in ira mea."

Inside the dragon's flesh, Blikrot's sword began multiplying, each new sword inflicting a deeper wound. The fire dragon, already injured, now let out a wail of pain and fell to the ground, seeming to cover almost the entire street in front of the restaurant which was now crumbling to the ground, as well.

Blikrot laughed like a maniac. "Weak dragon," he said. And that mockery made the dragon rise again: it soared high and brought its face near Blikrot.

"Son of the Sinner. Sinning further," the dragon growled, its voice reminding Blikrot of avalanches for some reason.

"So you can speak as well as roar? Good. Die, now." Blikrot calmly slashed the index finger of his right hand through the air, and all the swords which were now inside the dragon's flesh exploded.

The dragon's serpentine body exploded at different places and chunks of its flesh flew in different directions. Thick red blood splashed Blikrot, soaking his black robes entirely.

The fire dragon let out a final humiliated whimper: along with its life, its pride had been destroyed, too. Then it fell again, all its battles over, forever.

Blikrot looked around. He saw burnt bodies of villagers and Infernos scattered everywhere, some dead, some dying.

"BAKRASUR!" Blikrot called.

"Yes, King."

Blikrot heaved a sigh of relief. Bakrasur was alive. He was standing amidst the broken remains of the restaurant, one side of his body was badly burnt up, but otherwise he seemed to be alright.

"How did this happen?"

"A Raiser helped the witch and his friends, King. He summoned this dragon to help them escape."

"Dead?"

"Yes, King. Two of our Infernos killed him while the rest battled this dragon."

"Has this Raiser been identified?"

"Yes, King. He himself said his name was Abraham."

As Blikrot heard the name of the Raiser, his eyes widened. He clenched his fists and breathed heavily. 'Abraham? Abraham?!' Blikrot thought to himself, a sensation of coming full circle dizzying his brain.

"King Blikrot? Are you alright?" Bakrasur asked, worried.

"Yes. How many men have we lost?"

"More than we do while hunting dragons, because we were not prepared..."

"It's alright," Blikrot was surprisingly calm. "I am alerting other Infernos in the nearabout villages, they can tend to the injured. You need some healing, too."

"King Blikrot, shouldn't we try to trace that witch in the nearby forest?" Bakrasur asked lamely.

"Not right now. Let them head to the Forest of Falling Leaves. Confront them there. And besides, I'm not sure it's the witch we should be worried about anymore..." Blikrot frowned, lost in contemplation.

"My king?" Bakrasur ventured, but Blikrot didn't reply. He was thinking about the young man--the one dressed like a sailor--that he had seen from inside the mirror, before it was smashed into pieces, forcing him to seek out another mirror in the village.

Blikrot had locked eyes with the strange young man and he had sensed, he had known...

He indeed had a Foe, after all...but maybe it wasn't the witch. Maybe it was that young man dressed as a sailor.