Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
All at once, the contamination retracts into the Fulcrum, the discoloration disappearing, the strange snow stopping, the squealing dimming until it can’t be heard over the normal roar of the magical barrier.
My savior reins his stallion toward me and dismounts at the same time, his golden chest piece amplifying the sunset, his striking face set off by the halo created by all the precious metal that’s on his body.
I almost meet his eyes, but catch the mistake just in time. His mouth is moving, but I can’t hear anything except my own thundering heartbeat—
He kneels down and I can feel his stare on my cloak’s hood. “Maiden?”
With a shaking hand, I yank what covers my head farther down—and get sand in my eyes. I’m blinking and rubbing at the grit as I stammer, “You … saved me.”
“Not for long. I know not what that was. Are you from the village Greensward, dreah?”
Little one, he calls me.
All I can do is nod. I feel like I’ve swallowed half the Fulcrum, but that’s only part of what’s paralyzed me. That face I saw in the black band, my name called out to me, those boys now dead, this knight appearing at just the right time …
“We must return you to your family.” He indicates the nearly dark sky with the tip of his golden sword. “You are not safe here.”
Without waiting for a response, he takes a firm grip of my arm and pulls me to my feet. As I wobble, I look at his broad chest. The insignia of the Prosperitus Court is no surprise, and neither is the reflection of my sandy, sloppy cloak.
“My lord,” I croak as I attempt a curtsy.
“Worry not of all that nonsense.”
He half carries me to his magnificently saddled steed, and the horse looks over its shoulder at our approach with disinterest like it’s seen so much, a draped woman who smells of sand is nothing worth reacting to.
As I’m being lifted up and settled behind the saddle, I hear a groan and glance toward the sound.
The dragon remains on the verge of death, suffering and hopeless on the ground. Its great rib cage lifts up as it inhales raggedly, and on the exhale, the beast closes its eyes in defeat—
“Wait!”
Just as the knight puts his boot into the stirrup to mount up, I scramble off the steed and race toward the beast. I hear the knight shouting and ignore him, and I stop just out of reach of the dragon.
It seems even bigger up close, and how beautiful the scales are, each perfectly fitted to the next all over its body, the iridescence still visible even as the green and the purple have leached out. All of the rows undulate as it respirates unevenly, and in response to me, the winged animal laboriously moves its huge back legs and little arms. When its wing lifts briefly, I imagine him in flight, high above the snowcapped apex of his home, where he seeks only solitude and peace.
I whisper hoarsely, “I’m so sorry—”
“What are you doing! Get away from that thing!”
The dragon’s muzzle curls and he attempts to lift his enormous head as the golden knight skids up to me.
When the court’s warrior takes my arm, I pull myself free. “No! I have to help him—”
“Are you mad? The thing’s not dead yet—”
“That’s the point! I can help him because it’s not too late.”
The golden knight is momentarily shocked by my tone, and before he can recover from the insult to his station, I go right up to the dragon’s head, by his jaws full of razor-sharp teeth and his fire-breathing nostrils.
The creature does what he can to keep track of me, but he’s obviously at the very end of his strength. Kneeling down, I take a deep breath … and stare directly into its eyes—
I suck in a gasp and only have a split second to note the oblong pupils before I’m swept into his suffering. The pain in my side and left arm is intolerable and my breathing becomes labored, but there are further injuries. And then I see and feel the death, and it is awful. The dragon suffers all night long and is toyed with by nuisance predators before his heart finally stops as dawn’s light pours over his broken body.
A ragged grunt is released from the snout, as if my commiseration brings some relief—
My body jerks back, and for a second, I think it’s a spasm from what I’m feeling. But then the knight tries to take both of my arms—
“Unhand me!”
As I yank out of his hold, my savior jumps back and focuses downward. To my shock, I see my little knife in my grip—an absurd show of self-defense against his armor and his greater power, but I’m desperate and that gives me an edge.