Bonnie falls backward, her helmet clattering hard on her head. Somehow she manages to keep her grip on the shield and sword.
The dragon rises to its feet screaming. The sound seems to burrow into her head and tear it apart. The ground shakes her like a rag doll, and her ears ring.
A hand tugging the back of her shirt brings her back to her senses in time to see a set of claws cutting through the air toward her. She jumps backward, leaving the heavy shield behind. The air sings behind her as the hand drags her toward the nearest shelter - the castle. Neven. Her eyes sting with tears. Neven came for her. She should've known she could never hide from him when she was up to something. He knew her too well.
Neven stumbles, overbalanced by a large shield he must have plucked from the field of bones. Bonnie grabs his arm tight and pulls him into the lower castle. They dodge behind the nearest pillar.
The lower castle is nothing but wide open space with a stone roof and wide set pillars as thick as trees. It's so huge that shadows crowd the middle, despite the lack of walls,
"I think this is a stable," Neven whispers between gasps. He's looking around the room, white knuckled hands gripping the shield. He's donned his invention, and both the metal shooters stand at attention on his arms. He doesn't notice.
"What do stables have to do with this?" She whispers back. They're about to die and he's thinking about stables. She looks at him, worried the shock may have turned him mad..
"Look, it's got water and food." He points into the darkness where she can just see a large pool of water and beside it on a wooden platform stands a cow. A cow? She blinks but it's still standing there. Well, at least the moo sound now makes sense.
"We're in its home," Bonnie says, letting her helmet fall back against the pillar. "And it's supper time."
"Jack must have given the tree enough teeth," Neven says. Some of the fear leaves his face as he stares at the creature. "I knew you could use magic to get food, clothes, but not whole animals."
He's leaning forward to get a better look. Bonnie pulls him back against the pillar hard. "Not the time Neven."
As if to prove her point the dragon roars behind them. There's a scuffling sound, and the disconcerting noise of claws against stone. Bonnie turns to look, but soon wishes she hadn't.
The dragon pushes his way into the castle. Its head and back score against the stone roof, sending a wave of rubble behind it, the people who built this place must have underestimated how big he'd grow, just like she had.
She's struck by its eyes. Other than the size, they're just the same as she remembers. Big and completely black from pupil to what should be the whites of its eyes. Neven told her a theory once about magic vacuums, that if the world were to try and magic something that was beyond price then the magic would keep taking and taking until the whole world was gone. He says there's proof out there in space of planets that tried it. Great black vacuums that have eaten their planets and are still hungry, reaching out to pull more planets, suns, and even light to try and sate their never ending hunger,
That's what the red dragon's eyes look like, black vacuums reaching out to consume her. She feels the world tilt beneath her feet, filled with an overwhelming desire to walk toward the creature.
Then the dragon draws back its head, puffing out its chest like a bullfrog. It opens gleaming jaws to reveal a distant glow in the back of its throat. Bonnie's eyes widen and she throws herself back on the other side of the pillar, drawing Neven close to her side.
Flames wrap around them in a torrent of heat and noise. Bonnie feels her skin prickle until it sears with pain. She closes her eyes to the blue and red flames licking past the edges of the pillar either side of them. She tries to ignore the stone boiling against her back.
When it stops Neven is crouching by her side, tucked behind his shield with his face screwed up like he's trying not to cry. She grabs his arm, cursing herself for bringing her father's sword and not the shield all those years ago. Her father always taught her that on the battlefield, when it came down to it, the shield was a far more important weapon than a sword. Then again, he'd been speaking of battles against men at the time. She doubts he ever thought she'd fight a dragon.
She pulls him behind another pillar just in time as another barrage of fire surrounds them. The cow stands one pillar to their left. It looks up at them, disinterest in its vacant eyes.
"How much fire can a dragon breathe before it runs out?" Bonnie yells over the roaring flames.
"I don't know!" Neven shouts back. "You're the one who decided to come here! You should know!"
"I didn't think it would be like this!" Bonnie moves her helmet from her eyes. It's hot to the touch.
"What? You thought it'd roll over and let you kill it?" He glares at her. "You might want to consider learning a little about dragons before you decide to face one down in a battle to the death!"
"You didn't have to come!" Then she pauses, because suddenly her voice is too loud, the room is too quiet. It hits her, the flames have stopped.
A face as tall as a house lunges into view on Neven's side of the pillar. He freezes, not even bothering to raise his shield. red scaled lips draw back, revealing jagged teeth as long as a man's arm.
Then Neven turns his head over his shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. He drops the shield and raises his arms. The metal contraptions around his arms whir, making a high pitched whine that sounds a little like Jack's attempts to sing.
The dragon narrows its eyes at the metal shooters, giant head cocking to one side like a puppy's. Even the cow looks over to them.
The whine gets higher and higher until it's all Bonnie can do to not put her hands over her ears. Then with a magnificent bang that pushes Neven back a foot, several metal balls blast out of the shooters. And land harmlessly at the dragon's feet.
The dragon sniffs them, then starts to growl deep in its throat.
Without thinking, Bonnie shoves Neven aside. She raises her sword, but it looks so insignificant when faced with row upon row of gleaming teeth.
Her arm shakes. This is my duty, she tells herself. This is the only way to make things right. This is the only way I'll become a knight. This is the only way I'll be anything other than a woman whose sole worth is determined by who she marries. This is the only way to be me.
With a fierce cry she runs the short distance to the dragon, her sword swung high over her head. Somewhere behind her she hears Neven shout.
The dragon huffs, the same way you would if a stray hair happened to fall in your face. The sudden gust of foul smelling wind knocks Bonnie off her feet. She hits the stone floor hard, knocking her sword from her hand. The helmet bounces off her head and goes clattering off into the dragon's castle.
She looks for the sword but can't find it. She catches a glimpse of Neven standing horror struck metres away. She's defenceless. This is it. No more running away from the fact that this was a terrible plan. No more running from the fact that she's just a woman playing at being a man. Who was she kidding thinking she could do this when real men had failed? She's just a girl. Weak. Nothing more.
Warm breath rolls over her. She closes her eyes as those rows of sharp teeth descend toward her.
She tenses in anticipation of the pain, but nothing happens. Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. Nothing but soft waves of warm breath that stinks of rotting meat.
She cracks open her eyes.
The dragon hovers over her. Its snout is inches from her face. Black eyes stare down at her, and they don't look as lifeless as they did a moment before. She imagines she sees something like surprise sparking in those wide eyes.
Slowly Bonnie gets to her feet, but the dragon still doesn't move. It's frozen in place, its warm breath wafting over her, making the shorn ends of her blond hair sway. Those giant eyes follow her movements carefully, never leaving her face. Almost like it recognises her.
***
Not daring to move, Bonnie scans the ground around her for the sword. Whatever has frozen the dragon in place, there's no guarantee how long it'll last. This is her chance to kill the creature. Maybe the only chance she'll ever get.
"Neven," she hisses behind her. "Help me find my sword."
There's an awkward shuffling sound as Neven unfreezes, casting dirt and rubble aside to look for the weapon. She doesn't turn around, scared that if she turns her back on the dragon it will be the last thing she ever does. It's so close, close enough to touch if she were to reach out. She clenches her fist, forcing down the urge to run a hand over the hard scales of its snout.
"Sword. Here," Neven gasps, sounding breathless. Bonnie feels cold metal placed into her hand.
The sword feels heavier than she remembers it ever feeling before. Its eyes are too far away to reach in its house sized head. Its mouth is closed. She'll have to drive the sword in under its chin, and hope the scales are soft enough, and the sword long enough for the blow to be fatal.
She swallows, and lifts the sword in both hands. She'll have to be quick. One quick movement to duck under the creatures chin, another to plunge the sword up into the soft spot under its jaw. Its head is so big that she doubts even a straight blow up would reach the brain, but if she angles it back toward the throat she might have a chance of wounding something vital.
And if she fails, well then, she won't have a long time to worry about it. She's a little girl facing down a dragon the size of a hill. It could snap her in two with a flick of a claw. And if she makes it angry then it won't hesitate.
But there's something strange here, because it's not supposed to be hesitating now. It's supposed to be breathing fire, ripping her limb from limb, chomping her up in that cave of a mouth. Instead it stares down at her with dark eyes that make her heart clench. Those dark eyes that looked up at her on that day years ago.
The day her parents died.
The metal of the sword feels slick in her hands. Reaching back to that day she tries to find the anger she thought she'd feel in this moment. She tries to remember her father shouting, his gentle voice angry. Tries to remember him dead on the floor, drenched in blood. She's prepared for this day since she was ten years old. Sometimes the anger would consume her so much she was afraid there would be nothing left of her, but now that she needs it, the anger falls away.
Instead her mind drifts back to that box, left on a chair as her parents argue outside. Her, five summers old and curious. Nothing in her mind of blood and death. Monsters lived only in stories, and vengeance was unknown to her.
Her heart hammers loud in her ears, and her arms shake so badly the sword wavers. Instantly she's furious with herself. She should be able to do this. Her father killed dragons all over the border. It was the dream of every boy and man to kill a dragon, it should be her dream too. To kill the dragon, pay her debt to her parents, and present proof of the dragon's death to the King in exchange for knighthood.
Killing this dragon has been in her thoughts for the past four years. How, when she's so close can she change her mind? Then it hits her: pity. Her stomach churns in disgust. Standing here, looking into the eyes of the creature that she should hate, part of her actually feels sorry for it.
No. Bonnie grits her teeth, screws her eyes shut. Strong. She has to be strong. Only weak women would let such sentimentality cloud their mind. She has to choose. Will she be a weak minded slave of a wife, or a strong knight like her father?
She spins, putting her whole body behind the swords lunge. It's a graceful movement halfway between his father's swordsmanship and her mother's ballroom dancing. There's a cool satisfaction knowing that her mother's desperate attempts to make her more of a woman help now to make her a man.
Falling into a crouch under the animal's giant chin she flows the momentum upward, aiming her sword at the pale red patch of scales directly above her. The tip of the sword slides between two scales. There's resistance, and then it jerks upward into soft flesh. Her muscles burn, sweat dripping into her eyes with the effort. Warm blood runs down the blade, washing over her hands, soaking the sleeves of her tunic.
So much blood. She stops, shaking. The dragon's breath comes in slow even rhythms above her. Its blood pours over her, soaking through her clothes to the skin, but it doesn't even twitch.
There's a clang of metal hitting stone floor, and she realises she's dropped the sword. Numbly she looks down at what little she can see of herself under the shadow of the dragon's chin. Blood shines slickly over her arms and down the front of her clothes.
She can't do this. She can't.
Slowly she raises a blood coated hand, places her palm on the scales in front of her. They're warm and smooth under her skin, just like she remembers. The dragon's heart beats, powerful under its scaled armour. It vibrates down her arm, steady, contrasting with the rapid beating of her own heart. Above her the animal lets out a rumbling sound that shakes her very bones. It doesn't sound aggressive. It sounds almost like he's purring.
"Bonnie," Neven hisses behind her.
She jumps, coming back to her senses with a jolt. Snatching up the sword she backs up until she's away from the dragon, next to the pillar Neven stands by. The dragon doesn't move, still staring at her.
Neven's eyes widen when he sees the blood, but Bonnie shakes her head. "It's a nick at best."
Neven has the stone pillar between him and the dragon, his shield gripped in one hand. He glances between her and the dragon, face pale. "Why didn't you kill it?" He gestures a hand toward the crouching dragon. "You're never going to get a better chance than this. It's under some kind of spell or something."
"I can't Neven. I..." Her heart hammers in her chest, tongue searching for some explanation that won't make her sound as weak as she feels. "I want to earn my knighthood, not get it on some kind of fluke because a spell stopped it fighting back. It wouldn't be honourable to kill him when he's like this."
Neven presses his lips together, looking unconvinced. "I don't think you need to worry about it having a fair fight when it's the size of a castle!"
Bonnie shakes her head, eyes locked on the beautiful, horrible creature that towers over them both. She should hate him. Why can't she bring herself to hate him? She's been planning this day for years, and now he's right where she needs him, she can't do it. She can't bring herself to kill him while he's helpless. "We take him back to the King," she says. "We get him to break the spell, then I avenge my parents in an honourable fight. My father would expect no less."
"Brilliant," Neven says, staying his side of the pillar. "I'll just scoot over in the boat to fit it in. I'm sure Jack won't mind."
"We'll find a way," Bonnie says. She keeps the sword handle clenched tightly in a fist, and one eye on the dragon. Whatever magic is affecting the beast, she knows it could break at any moment. She wonders if she'll still feel the same way about wanting it to fight back when it's drowning them with fire. She wonders if whatever sentimentality stalled her hand before will show up again, even when she's defending her life. "We have to."