In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In the Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 78: Melee

The tiny procession of travelers had barely had time to clutch their babes and duck before the Draca, three of them flying abreast and neatly attached to their flying mates by thick, cordoned sections of chained mail that hung from their frightful neck braces, swooped in over the devastated village like B-52 bombers from another time, another world. The noise was absolutely terrific: the flap of gigantic wings in unison and thee combined roar of three confused, yet well driven dragons was too much for those with the tenderest hearing. Eardrums burst and thin trickles of blood flowed from damaged ear bones as horrified women dove for their lodges.

Children who had been forgotten in the melee stared up at the dragons and sucked on dirty fingers or howled.

"'Tis Dragura and her foul minions!" screeched Lopak, and there was an immediate chorus of shrieks and yells as the chains clinked, the dragons switched directions and were upon them in moments.

The two smaller dragons flanked the largest, who was guided in the center by one of the most beautiful women the people of Hidden Well had ever seen. She was so ethereally lovely, in fact, that none wanted to believe that it was she who called herself the Queen of the Draca; that it was she who would raze their homes and storage barns to the ground; and she who would be responaible for the maimings and death of determined young men and their sharpened implements-- most of whom were too young to have even discussed with their mothers the women whose marriages had been arranged for them.

Again the dragons swung wide and bore down on the chittering occupants at their Mistress's shrill command of "Hai! Hai!" Smooth pine scales flashed glittering in the light of the Celestia twin beams, while jaws wide enough to swallow three grown men whole displayed horrific teeth which dripped saliva and oozed sulphur-smelling breath. Excited tails lashed at the air with the girth of tree tunks at the animals' excitement, for though each understood the basic commands which had been taught them by the trusted Franek, Azee, and-- at one time-- even Wainrak, not one of the three creatures had ever been away from the Fortress, experienced the bliss of soaring in majestic flight, or used her wings for anything other than batting a rival away from her food supply. In fact, the great beasts might have been even more irrritable than their Queen herself... though the vine-haired beauty, resplendently clad in little more than a blazing-red wrap for the extent of the raid, would not have admitted it to anyone.

Perched precariously on the small of Ma's back, Dragura pulled up on firm, lambskin reigns which she had earlier affixed to Ma's neck brace to slow the Draca down. "Hai ab!" she called, gritting rows of gleaming white teeth as she dared let loose of the reigns and point in the direction of Lopak's fleeing crowd, which was beginning to make precious in-roads within the Ice-Capped mountains even as Dragura hefted the aggressive cry which, in Folk-Speak, meant: "Swoop low! Seize them!"

And swoop low Ma did, her addled brain confused enough by the uproar that she mindlessly followed Dragura's orders, dutifully pulling the other two Draca along even though she did not wish to hurt anyone.

Catching a glimpse of Sashek's maize-colored curls as she tugged at the hands of two small-eyed children next to her, Dragura managed a deadly smile. It was an expression that was quickly turned on its end as the two more inexperienced Draca suddenly became entangled in their own chains, snapped ferociously at each other from across Ma's broad back as they tried to right themselves, and in the process plowed straight into a pair of weakly-thatched lodges, churning the buildings into dust and killing their inhabitants immediately. Ma was jerked into a stop so awkward that Dragura lost the reigns and very nearly was thrown head over heels to her own demise. She was saved only by Ma's generous neck brace, which now dug into the beast's hide until thick, pulsing blood dripped. Around them, shrieks and screams reigned clear as the humiliated Queen scrambled back into position, cheeks flaming anew as Ma snorted and ducked repeatedly, making the process all the more difficult. Was this to be how she was remembered: as the klutzish 'queen' of of a dilapidated fortress whose dragons hesitated to follow her own commands and could fly no better than a clumsy trio of hatchlings?

No. It must not be. It couldn't!

"Do ye know whot ye've done, lass?" Shouted one of the owners of the demolished lodges: a tall, lanky fellow with tears streaking a dirt-streaked face, and an accent which beckoned forth a strange sort of nostalgia in the pit of Dragura's coal-black heart.

The man thumped a clenched fit against his breast in sheer grief. "Ye've taken my wife and young child away from me by the stupidity of your own brutes. I have now but one son to my name, and all the while you think ye'll get away with bloody murder?"

"Never!" cried the slender teen at his side. With a blood-curdling yell enough to turn the dead in their very graves, the boy grasped at a pile of pitch-laden sticks before him, jammed one of the stakes in the smoldering remains of his ruined home, and held it aloft threateningly. Almost at once it burst into flame; Ma, who still had enough slack in her chains to hover above protectively, let out a frightened bellow. Pet and Drako, who had continued to tumble about in confusion a few feet above the ground and grind their teeth at each other, now recoiled from the flames in shock and brayed in terror. Once again, they yanked at Ma's free slack until she was pulled to a stop in mid-air; Dragura, meanwhile, had never fully gained control of the reigns and fumbled desperately with them until her thighs became entangled. They slipped away from her sweaty palms, leaving her to swing around to Ma's underbelly and dangle helplessly upside-down.

"You ain't so tough without yer clumsy dragons now, are ye?" called the boy in triumph, unbeknownst to him just as Pet and Drako were recovering. Infuriated at their lapse in control by threat of the burnng pitch, Pet gave a mighty roar, opened his jaws until the joints were nearly out of socket, and joined the vengeful Drako in spewing forth a neat jet of liquid flame that was hotter even than the magma which poured from dormant volcanoes. In less than the time it took for the heart to beat twice, father and son had melted into a macabre lump of bleached, liquified bone. Dragura took in the horrific scene with grim satisfaction, used her heels to dig into Ma's hide and coax her to the ground, and managed to right herself in one deft, fluid motion.

Looking quickly about her as Pet and Drako finally found their positions and cowered, dreading their punishments, Dragura swiftly found that there was little to concern herself with regarding embarassment. The bulk of the village had been deserted; everywhere there lay destroyed patches of grass where there had once stood lodges, scores of individuals who had attempted to flee approaching Draca only to be decapitated by low-flying wings instead, and dehydrated children with less than a few heartbeats' worth of life left in them. No one, least of all the weeping women who tried to dig through debris piles above cellars where children were still hidden, paid the anxious Queen any attention.

And this, she acknowledged, was good.

Now able to climb carefully onto Ma's waiting back, Dragura grasped the reigns and wound them several times around her hands until the knuckles turned blue, resolving never again to attempt a raid after this without some sort of saddle. Glancing toward the Ice-Capped mountains where Sashek and her cowardly group had disappeared into the ice covered rock, Dragura could hardly wait to get back into the search.... but first, she pulled the reigns taut and glowered at Pet and Drako.

Shivering beneath the frigidity of their Mistress's glare, the two smaller dragons hid their faces with paper thin wings.

They would not dare to mortify her again.

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