Save Point 7

Rosabella

I've already dropped the knife.

Fucking.

Fabulous.

My heart rams in my chest—

In my ears—

...What good is an all-but-glorified pocketknife now anyway?

Against a beast?

A dragon?!

The thing roars. A braying, bellowing war cry which shatters the air like a million sharp objects being thrown at my face—

Sharp and thundering.

Rushing in my ears.

The dirt beneath me quakes like it's afraid too.

But I don't have time for the luxury of that emotion.

I have to run.

NOW.

I grunt, rolling to the side from my face-plant. The ground is hard and lumpy on my back as rocks dig even through the black mesh of my bodysuit. My palms scrabble in the dirt and grass for the blade Rainer had given me—

Dagger.

It's a dagger, I tell myself. As though that makes my chances of killing the creature with such a measly object more feasible... My fingers finally wrap around the worn handle.

And I jump to my feet—mostly from sheer adrenaline—to see a towering serpent head snaking upwards like a swan's neck in the sky above the treetops. The dark clouds only make the beast's form seem more threatening. Against the harsh glow of the sun behind their elongated, wispy forms, the monster almost seems to glow an ethereal light green. I shudder. The thing is enormous:

Eyes like an eagle's.

Slanted nostrils.

Silver scales glinting in the sunlight, each like singular knife blades...

...And I only have one.

I finger the weapon in my hand, pressing it more firmly into my palm and trying to force oxygen into my failing lungs.

Rainer had said not to drop the knife—'above all else, don't drop it'—and that dragons are fast—

The beast advances towards me, silver claws plowing into the dirt and churning it up. Its thrashing tail knocks train cars and heavy beams to the side like they are toothpicks... And her nostrils and eyes flare, seething with a shrill whistle coming from gaping rows of hissing, pointed teeth dripping with saliva—

My head twists. My body tenses to jump. My eyes weave over my surroundings for exits.

The clearing is a maze of rusted-out train cars like they'd been parked one day hundreds of years ago and never seen the light of movement again. Moss grows over metal and wood parts, suffocating the train cars in green where any shadow covers. Others in the rows are burned black, scorched from, well, the obvious, and falling apart or badly dented like the weight of something massive has been thrown against it.

I can guess what.

I lunge for cover in the nearest one—

Wrapping my fingers around the steel and yanking my body past the edge of the train car just in time to see a wall of fire blaze directly over where I'd been standing.

I freeze in shock.

The scorching heatwave thrown by the flames warms the metal of the car I'm clutching till it burns. With a shriek, I leap away, shaking out my searing palms. The red health bar pops into view, lowering—shit:

My eyes dart behind me, scouring for someplace to hide. The rows of cars provide shelter, but what if the beast just flips them over with one swipe of her tail? Or blasts them with more fire? I'd be caught in the flame and not even this fire-retardant fabric will stand a chance...

This is crazy.

This is absolutely insane.

There's no way out of here.

This is a death pit; they've sent me to my death.

...And all my mind tells me to do is hide.

Like a tiny fieldmouse I duck along the length of a car, racing down along the metal and whipping into the door of a third car.

The floor of it creaks and wobbles as the shadow of the ceiling slides over my head like an instant relief.

If I can just get my bearings and think about this for a minute—

I squat near the back seat, pushing my back up against the bare metal wall and hugging my knees to my chest, trying to catch my breath and failing. My hands are trembling.

I stare at them: one outstretched...one still clutching the dagger.

I hadn't dropped it.

I can do this.

I can do this. I just need to—

That's when I first hear the dragon in my mind:

I feel you, Game Master. Come for your magic, eh?

A breathy older-woman's voice crows as I cringe, slapping my hands over my ears, but it does nothing to muffle the voice that clearly echoes through my mind.

It's been well-cared for in my keep, and it's going to stay that way. Come out, and try to take it!

She screams.

A hollering bellow.

I clamp my eyes shut, fear scrambling my insides and making it hard to breathe, but the image is still there when I open them again:

The dirty, rusted floor.

The greenery growing in the broken windows and the distorted shape of the bent metal walls...the peeling paint on the seats.

The train car shifts and groans.

I balance on the soles of my black boots, trying to keep my center of gravity steady.

I hear the dragon unleash another blaze of fire nearby—hear the rush of the burn and smell the singe of it.

And I know I can't sit.

I can't be a sitting duck when she's coming for me.

I have to kill this fucking thing. Somehow, I have to kill it.

My heart hammers in my chest.

My eyes dart to the dirt-encrusted floorboards where the scabbard of Dormouse's sword angles awkwardly off to one side from where it's attached at my belt. The metal of the handle glints savagely even in the dark. And, all of a sudden, I know I'm not going to be able to beat this thing with Rainer's knife.

I'm gonna have to go big.

Or never go home again.

My breath catches as the dagger clatters, useless, to the floor and my fingers wrap, instead, around the hilt of the sword.

New leather against my palm with sturdy metal underneath.

And, somehow, the feeling propels me upward with a dangerous source of grim confidence.

And I stand in the center of the dim car, heaving the blade out of its cover with a shrill clang.

It takes both of my hands to hold it, wavering in front of me.

The blade is massive and smooth. Its honed edges glitter viciously in the limited light like a dare.

And I have to take it.

I have to see if I can do this.

For Dad.

I heave the weapon upward and outward as I cautiously step towards the train car door. It's heavy. My muscles strain from the weight of it, but I bite my bottom lip and soldier forward.

I have to be strong.

I can barely breathe.

The train tracks outside and the surrounding cars, with leafy trees behind, are still.

Silent.

No rustling.

No metal scraping.

No fiery torrent.

...Where is the dragon?

SNAP.

The ceiling buckles with a splintering crack.

Huge teeth nail through the metal.

I scream as pain sears through my arm.

My health bar drops, almost empty.

My head snaps up to find—

A yellowed fang.

Punctured.

Protruding from the skin there, now slick with blood.

I stare at it, the world suddenly swimming in front of my eyes.

From the shock?

From the pain?

Got you.

The beast goads inside my head.

Pain sears at my bicep. I suck in my breath, trying to fight it and the dizziness crashing over my head.

Sword.

Defend myself.

With a scream, I force the sword upward with my good arm.

Right into the tender gumline of the beast poking through where her teeth made gaping holes in the metal roof.

The thing shrieks.

Good.

Thrashing its head, trying to retract its jaws from the bite.

I howl as blinding pain catapults over me.

The teeth pull out of my arm with a suction noise.

And I fall.

Dropping the sword—

Scrabbling.

Clutching my wounded arm to me and racing—

Each movement of my legs jolts my injured limb. I grit my teeth.

I have to get out—

Out the train door—

My boots trip over ruts in the gravel surrounding the train tracks—

Over a train car connector.

You can run but you can't hide!

The dragon bellows in my head.

I feel the heat of her stare and fire at my heels.

Hear the crash of metal as her huge talons and slithering form topple another car.

I look around desperately, and she's right.

There's nowhere to hide.

I've run out of options.

My feet stand at the end of the train yard. Dirt stretches before me.

No more cars.

No more chances.

No weapon.

And no energy to run.

My vision throbs a nasty and engulfing red as I stare up at the hill before me—a rocky ledge before the woods start again where a rusted-out train sits teetering off its tracks on a rock pile.

And I get an idea.

A terrible.

Probably deadly.

Most definitely insane...

Idea.

Can I make it up the incline?

I have to make it up the incline.

I bite back the pain in my arm, focus on the dragon right on my heels and sprint.

Towards the hill.

I've got you now.

The dragon cries in my mind like she can hear the coffin closing overhead.

But I have to do this—I have to try.

I launch myself at the hill.

One heaving step.

One ragged breath.

One more pound of my heart.

I wrench myself up to the car, my eyes honing in on the place right beneath the track where the train car rests on a crest of fist-sized rocks.

And the fingers of my good hand scrabble around their sharp outlines.

Prying the rocks out and tossing them to the side.

Below, the dragon hisses. She's caught up with me. Her huge head snakes upward, taunting.

Burrow, burrow, little fox, but you'll never see the light of day. Not after trying to steal my magic!

Hurry.

I have to hurry.

The rocks cut at the skin of my palm and knuckles as I use the last bit of my strength to budge a larger boulder—

The dragon's head rears—

Glistening teeth, still dripping blood.

Blinding scales—

If I can just—

The last rock catches on a root.

I yank with all my strength.

The dragon hisses—

CREAK.

Above us.

The sound of old metal, giving.

It worked!

The train car rolls forward with a shattering sound.

Breaking metal.

I'm small; with one final shove, I duck out of the way.

The dragon is huge; she tries to run, but it's too late.

The metal box rolls.

Taking a majority of the train cars with it.

Crushing.

The dragon screams as its scales get caught underneath.

I watch the creature flail helplessly under the weight.

But blood pools near her enormous head, and her tail stills its thrashing.

My heart nearly jumps out of my chest even though I barely have the strength to move.

Did I do it?

Is she...dead?

...In any case, I should be sure.

I scramble—fall?—down the slope, my boots skidding to a halt at the bottom. I take my time this time, stepping through the train cars slowly till I find the one I'd hid in before. With extreme difficulty, I sheath Dormouse's sword at my belt, and, feeling every bruised and complaining muscle in my body, I bend to retrieve the real reason for my trip back off the grimy floor.

Rainer's dagger.

I hold it away from me as I pick my way back.

Like I don't want to be associated with what I'm about to do next.

Like it's too dirty.

Too uncomfortable.

But I have to make sure.

This is for Dad.

All to get Dad back.

The dragon's body comes up quicker than I'd hoped, even with me stumbling.

I fall to my knees in the mixed gravel and dirt with an exhausted huff, right by its head.

I raise my hand near its neck, the short blade trembling in the air.

Hot breath warms the back of my hand.

I flinch away.

...And watch the silver dragon's eyes flutter weakly, not even with the strength to open.

Her voice is frail in my mind:

Your father would never have killed a grand beast like me.

Her words sting in my chest with an unexpected vengeance. My lips twist into instant defense.

"You don't know anything about my dad!" I shout aloud.

The beast's nostrils flare, but barely. It's clear she has only seconds.

Never take magic from another only to make yours shine brighter.

Her last words.

Echoing as she takes her last breath.

I don't know if it's her words about Dad or the guilt from her words that makes me do it, but I bring the knife down hard.

Straight into her neck.

Warm blood splatters onto my cheeks. I don't wipe it away.

And I know I just won.

...So, why doesn't it feel like it?