Four on the Floor: Part Nineteen
[image error]
Part Nineteen
“Get us out of here!”
A flash of light, and the black dragon is now in Shan’s place. “Against me!” His voice is booming, a hundred cymbals crashing at once. I do it, and through the ringing in my ears I hear the dull roar of the other as I hide between the brick wall and the dragon. The flames wash over him, over the wall, spreading further. The fire in the lot grows in radius, plenty of dry and dead grass to feed on, asphalt to melt. Shan is roaring as I cover my ears, the “low-flying plane” now directly next to me. He’s in pain, taking the brunt of the attack for me.
Shit. My hair’s on fire. My hair’s on fire!
I pull the knife and cut as much as I can, the smoldering, braided lock falling to the earth. I’ll mourn it later, if we survive. The silver dragon is in the distance, beginning a turn. Another pass. I climb on Shan’s back, ahead of his wings.
He doesn’t need any prompting. I clutch against his long neck, squeeze with my legs, finding a ridge in his scales to get a foothold on as his wings beat. My stomach drops as he takes off with me desperately clinging on. I don’t know what I was thinking, why I chose to do this, but I do have to admit that flying on the back of an ebony dragon would be hell of a story to tell Hades if he makes good on his vow to collect me personally.
I keep my eyes shut, mostly, because I can feel the wind in my face, tearing my eyes when I chance a look. The silver isn’t in front of us, on our left when I look the first time and the right when I look a second. Shan and the other dragon are speaking, maybe, but not in Sigil, and Shan sounds angrier with every exchange.
Shan rolls to the left, a searing line of fire coning in out direction, and it happens so quickly I would have fallen if not for already clutching him in a panicked state. I’m not hurt, but the flames splash against the black dragon, who roars his response in Sigil.
“SO BE IT!”
I close my eyes for the rest, clutching what scales I can get a grip on, his maneuvers and speed wrenching me left and right and up and down. I feel surges of heat, rushes of wind, but nothing like when he was showering the earth with acid. The air gets colder, thinner, gravity pulling on me, ordering me down, down, down.
When I open my eyes they dry in seconds, and I squint to see. We’re above the clouds, I can’t breathe no matter how much I gasp. My grip on Shan is slipping. The silver is flying toward us, his breath of fire finding little oxygen to burn at this height. He collides with Shan.
My grip slips.
I’m falling.
Falling.
I don’t have the breath to scream.
I’m going to die.
I don’t want to die.
I can’t die. Not now. Not like this.
Not like this.
Not as a murder suspect with burned hair and a missing shoe.
I try to roll, spread my arms and legs to slow my descent even though the landing will still kill me. I’m getting enough air to start screaming as well, mostly Shan’s name when I can manage to form the word. It won’t work, he’s too high up, ensconced in a fight with his own kind.
“Sorcerer!” is bellowed behind me, too loud to be far away. He’s in a dive, moving faster than I’m falling, wings tightly hugged to his back as he slowly moves past me, adjusting minutely to align with my trajectory. I reach for his neck, miss. I can see the streets, blocks of the Benedict coming up so quickly.
“A.J.!”
I grab again, and adrenaline supplies the strength to pull me to him, onto his neck. I clutch and hang on. He pulls back, his wings opening as the industrial slum begins to move away, outside of the city limits, the exurbs and scant few undeveloped lots coming into view as another roar from behind us is issue.
Shan screams, my ears feeling torn asunder as I can’t over them as his wings spread completely, the flames colliding with the membranes as we near a smaller lake. We splash down, and my body literally skips, I don’t know how I have the sense to take a deep breath.
My legs kick, instinct driving me upward to air, but I dive down again when another streak of flame lights the surface. I struggle, my coat dragging, and I push it off me to free my movement. When I break the surface again, my lungs refill with air with sputtered coughs as I sweep my vision about to find Shan.
He’s not hard to find, but he’s sinking, his body too heavy to float and his legs not meant for the water. I swim in his direction, yelling, “Be human!” while trying to remember swimming lessons and how to rescue a drowning man, because Shan is clearly panicking.
Focus.
The other dragon is coming out for another pass, and he’s not going to believe that we drowned.
He’ll breathe fire until he’s certain we’re dead, because another sorcerer told him to.
I turn, my legs still kicking hard to keep me above the surface. I can’t kill him. I don’t know how to do it and I don’t know if I could, even if it was him or me. I’m supposed to be the Shadow Dancer, but I don’t see water ballet getting us out of-
Val said the title in Sigil when he gave me the name.
The word comes, almost eagerly, like an avoided child on a gym class line finally picked for the team.
“Shadow! Shadows, come to me!”
