Chapter 23: Ch23 Give Me A Break!!
The world shook as the massive boulder slammed into the shield. Dust exploded in every direction, rocks scattering like deadly shrapnel. Luther coughed, waving grit from his eyes, and muttered through clenched teeth,
"Of course. Because branches weren’t enough. Now we’re moving on to mountains."
Before he could actually get better, the ground beneath them shuddered again—this time not from crashing debris but from something animate. A dark shape moved across the cliff of sparkling trees, blocking out the gentle light of spring.
Then the bellow.
It was a voice ripped from the depths of the world—howling, flaming, from epochs long forgotten. Trees groaned, their branches splitting as the force of it spread out. Even the spring itself shook, waves of silver water crashing on the shores.
Out of the charred forest it appeared, walking into sight finally.
A dragon.
Its scales were red, glimmering like molten metal in the light of the sun. Its wings unfolded with the blade of a razor, the width enough to block the heavens. Horns curled out of its skull, saw-edged and black, and its eyes glowed like embers set into a furnace.
Every step it took made the earth tremble. Every breath was fire and smoke.
Luther froze. His sarcasm failed him this time. "...You’ve got to be kidding me."
The beast didn’t wait. With a powerful beat of its wings, it launched itself forward. The gust alone knocked Luther flat on his back. Liliana raised her sword, Aithur summoned another barrier, but the dragon’s tail whipped like a massive chain and shattered the spell as if it were glass.
The three of them were tossed about like ragdolls. Luther rolled on the floor, groaning, "I am going to die in the stupidest way possible..."
The dragon’s claws tore into the ground, digging trenches. It charged, jaws that could swallow them whole. Aithur shoved Liliana aside, calling up another shield just in time to absorb the fire that burst from its mouth. Fire rained like a tidal wave, scorching the air itself.
The shield cracked.
The explosion knocked the three of them off balance. Luther didn’t have time to prepare when the dragon’s wing snapped past his ear, slamming into him with a hammer blow. A wave of agony traveled through his ribs as he flew away—far, far from the others.
He crashed through the clump of green trees, collapsing in a heap. For a solid minute or so, he could do nothing more than wheeze and hold his chest. "Oh yeah... definitely broken. Thanks, universe."
And as he reached up, something struck him.
There, partially buried in the ground before him, was a sword. Unlike the demon’s sword at his belt, this one radiated pure light. Its silver blade bore runes, its hilt wrapped around with ivy that pulsed weakly with life. The sword of the gods.
And a little way off, a thicket of glimmering vines curled a close embrace around a glimmering pod—the holy plant of the vision.
For an instant, Luther forgot the pain. His ribcage spasmed. The very things they had battled for with their lives... they lay here before him.
Then a crash jerked his head up.
Aithur and Liliana were thrown off the dragon’s wings, their bodies crashing against the ground next to him with gut-wrenching force. Both were still, unconscious.
Luther cursed. "Of course. Just of course."
The sword. The plant. His freedom from this abyss. All within his grasp.
Gritted his jaw. Glared at the loot. Glared at his friends lying broken at his feet. His stomach twisted.
.Shit. He spat off to the side and levered himself upright, his back to the riches. "Fine. Let’s do this the hard way."
His hand went to his belt. Blue light as the demon sword appeared. The moment his fingers wrapped around its hilt, the air shifted. The dark energy that once strangled the blade dissipated, leaving behind an unnatural, cold radiance.
He pulled it free. The dark sword sang beautifully as it cut the air.
The dragon whipped its giant head toward him, nostrils distending, smoke curling from its mouth.
"Yeah, I know," Luther snarled, the sword in his right hand and sparks of magic fluttering in golden-blue waves in his left. His veins were a faint blue, his eyes burning with that unnatural bi-colored glow. "Kid without a crystal. Fighting a dragon. The odds are terrible. But hey..."
He raised the sword. Magic swirled around him.
".I’ve done worse."
The bellow of the dragon shook the heavens. Fire exploded from its maw, tendrils of smoke coiling like a dark storm cloud as the ground shook beneath its paws.
Luther tightened his grip on the hell-sword, the black metal quivering in his hand. Golden-blue sparks crept down his veins, twisting about his wrist and pulsating like a heartbeat. His lungs burned from the last blow, but he fought to stand, spitting blood.
"Fine, big guy," he growled to himself. "We’ll see just how tough you are up close as opposed to from a distance."
The dragon attacked. Its claws ripped lines in the earth as it swung.
Luther dived sideward, claws missing him by inches, dirt spattering into his face. He rolled, got up on one knee, and hacked at the dragon’s wrist. The blade cut through scale like paper, bringing up a spew of hot blood that hissed when it hit the earth.
The dragon screamed with rage.
It curved back, wings beating once. Wind slammed into Luther, short of sending him off balance. He dug his heels into the earth, scowl intensifying. "Yeah, yeah, roar, stomp, breathe fire. Very original."
Fire erupted from its mouth. A wave of burning heat rolled toward him.
Luther extended his left hand. Wind exploded from the palm of his hand, curling up to form a shield. The fire struck it, branching around him like a river against rock. Sweat dripped off his face as the shield creaked. He gritted his teeth, wiling again until the flames were gone, scorched earth and a cloud of smoke left behind.
"Note to self," Luther gasped. "Don’t do that twice."
The dragon slammed its tail. Luther barely leaped aside as the ground split open where he stood. The shockwave sent him flying in the opposite direction, and he tumbled onto his shoulder into the earth. He rolled over, coughed, and thrashed about just in time as the wing of the dragon came crashing down.
The blade sliced the membrane. A scream ripped from the beast as the blade tore a tangled tear along its wing, golden-blue sparks flaring with the strike. The wing retracted, blood splattering like liquid flame, each droplet hissing where it landed.
"Yes!" Luther yelled, panting. "One point for the squishy human!"
The dragon burst into rage. Its massive head swung at him, mouth open. Luther avoided it—just in time—catching the fire of its breath blazing along his cheek. He thrust the sword into its nose.
The dragon howled, stumbling backward a step. Trees shattered under its feet.
It regained itself all too quickly.
The beast’s tail lashed once again, this time across Luther’s ribcage. The blow knocked the air from his lungs. He was propelled backward, rolling over and over until he crashed into the trunk of a tree with enough force to splinter it. The wind was forced from him in a stifled grunt.
Every bone in his body howled. Blood ran in his mouth. And he labored to rise, gripped the sword as a lifeline. His gold-blue eyes blazed, sparks racing madly down his arms.
"Gods... I absolutely hate this forest," he gasped.
The dragon loomed, one wing trailing, its eyes afire with hatred. It took a step, smoke coiling around its jaws. Each step sounded like the tolling of a death bell.
Luther spat blood onto the earth and lifted the sword again. His legs trembled. His chest burned. But he still smiled, because if he did not laugh, he’d disintegrate.
"Then let’s dance," he croaked, forcing magic into the sword until it whined. "You overgrown lizard. Come on."
The dragon rushed forward.
Luther rushed back.
He sidestepped under its claw, aiming for the joint. Sparks danced as black metal struck scale. He spun around, wind magic propelling him aloft in a burst, and dropped for an instant on the back of the beast. For an instant, he rode on top of it, sword raised.
He thrust it down.
The sword bit into its hide. The dragon roared, thrashing, wings pumping desperately. Luther was swept airborne like a rag doll. He writhed in mid-air, wind magic slowing his fall just enough that he landed hard on his feet—barely upright, his body crying out in agony.
The humming sword, smeared with dragon blood, sang in his hand. His heart thudded.
The dragon stumbled, twisted a wing, its body hemorrhaging copiously. But still, its flame kept burning, its power unbroken.
And Luther... was nearly finished. His vision was fading, his knees buckling. He fell onto a knee, spitting blood, the point of the sword scoring in the ground.
The dragon bared its fangs, to finish it off.
Behind him, a groan. Aithur stirred. His half-conscious gaze flickered to Luther. And what he saw made his blood run cold.
Golden-blue sparks. Veins alight. Spells weaving in Luther’s hands—without a crystal.
"You..." Aithur rasped weakly, horror and disbelief twisting his face. "...you’re using magic... without a crystal?"
Luther froze.
The words pierced deeper than the dragon’s claws ever could.
He shifted his head just so to glimpse Aithur’s eyes—wide, terrified, before weariness dragged him back into unconsciousness.
The dragon roared again, its sound shattering the sky.
Luther spat blood from his lips, defiantly standing up, his secret now out.
"Yeah..." he growled, lips curling in a bitter smile as he stared the beast in the face yet again. ".and that’s going to be an issue."