Aim to Participate: An Anthology

Dragon Mast

"Mi'lady!" Merriam tugged Sylvia's grey night robe. "Mi'lady, we must get below."

Sylvia winced as the rough voice entered her head once more. It wanted her help. The fast approaching pirate ship was calling her. She ignored her maid and stared as the hulking ship came out of the fog. Thunder cracked and the voice wailed aloud, a horrid shriek that bloodied ears.

The notorious Dragon's Fire rammed their hull. Sylvia pitched forward and caught the railing before she went down. The men yelling and cannon fire disrupted her trance.

"Mi'lady. Please!" Again Sylvia ignored Marriam.

"She needs me."

"Mi'lady?"

Sylvia dropped her night robe and secured her silk gown around her waist. She lifted the sword of a fallen crew member then grabbed a swinging rope. Her wet, platinum hair whipped her face as she made the swing to the pirate ship. It was a rough landing but she rolled to her feet in time to skewer an attacker.

Her leg was nicked by another sword, and she spun just in time to avoid a chest wound. She kicked the guy as he sprawled from the missed attack. He came back up, but her heel caught his chin and her sword pierced his back.

There was a clear shot to the rigging, so she took it. Only a few pairs of sparring men impeded her path. She easily ducked around them. A looming shadow covered her as she grabbed the ropes to begin the climb. He missed his grab and her sword caught him in the eye. It was jerked from her hand, but she did not try to retrieve it. She simply continued to climb the wet ropes.

The wind barraged her and the rain stung her skin. She clutched the ropes, and only paused to wipe her sopping hair away from her eyes. Her hand grasped something cold. Metal. It was far more slick than the ropes. But she was close. She could feel it.

When her hand met scales, pain flashed through her, accompanied by a crack of thunder. The dragon was sewn to the mast by thick chains that were passed through her feet and thighs. The crows nest was attached to her back like a saddle, but the strap was also sewn into her skin.

Sylvia moved from the chains onto the dragon. Every movement was torture, as the pain coursed through her. But she kept moving to the nest. As she came over the side, she found a boy of about seven years huddled around an egg that was nearly half his size. His eyes were wild and fearful.

"Take my babies." The words pierced Sylvia's skull and she grabbed her head with one hand.

The dragon was dying. It had been trapped, and tortured, and kept weak for a very long time. It was time for her to go. She was only holding on for her little ones. Sylvia set a hand on the worried mother's neck.

"It will be done."