Just as she was about to plunge into the chaos, a great burst of fire erupted in the street. The explosion was like that of a grenade, shattering the sound barrier, the heat baking her through the cracks in the building. She had to shield her eyes from the brightness and drop down to her knees to avoid the glass that burst from the front door.
Bodies thudded against the porch and the building. Some of the Dragon Tongue screamed out in pain and anguish. Maria raised herself up, crunching shards of glass beneath her knees and barely noticing the pain as the pieces jabbed into her flesh, drawing blood.
She expected the flames to have come from the Dragon Tongue, so much so that she was afraid to breathe. She was already mentally preparing herself to see Ignatius, Sherlock, and Frieda dead in the road.
Instead, elation found her as she saw Frieda crouched low in front of Ignatius, both alive, and Sherlock snarling a little to her left. In Frieda’s palms, a pale flame, the color of lightning, burned bright.
It was her! So she can do more than light up dark tunnels.
She was also surprised to see the dark witch’s eyes turning cloudy.
Only two more Dragon Tongue stood. The rest had been blasted down the road or into the surrounding buildings.
But Castro was right…more were coming.
Frieda saw them, and more flames burst from her palms. The robes of the leading three caught fire, but they kept coming.
I have to go. I have to go now.
Maria opened the door. As she started to slip into the open, the overhang the only thing concealing her from either friend or foe, her eyes went wide.
Dragon Tongue had flanked Ignatius and Frieda.
“NO!” Maria shouted, afraid her voice would be lost in the chaos.
Gramps heard her, however, and squinted up in her direction—but it was too late.
The Dragon Tongue brandished their dark blades, which reflected the pale flames. And with a jerk, the blades found their way around Gramps’s and Frieda’s necks. Then Frieda’s flames sputtered out. The two uttered a strangled cry. One wrong move and their throats were slit.
Maria lunged forward, but Castro caught her arm and pulled her back into the post office. None of the Dragon Tongue noticed.
Gramps did, though, and in his eyes, Maria saw hope. Then she hit the floor hard enough for the breath to be knocked out of her.
Go ahead and touch me, asshole. Maria could still hear Sherlock, his voice faint in her head. I’ll bite your forked tongue and yank it right out of your mouth, you lizard-faced bastard!
Then he yelped, and Maria heard his voice no more. She scrambled up, wrestling with Castro.
“Let go of me!” she whispered loudly. “You idiot!”
By the time he let her go, the Dragon Tongue were dragging the unconscious bodies of her family toward the dungeons beyond the town square.
She was so furious she could’ve struck Castro down right then and there—but the old fisherman stood his ground, his back straight and his shoulders squared up to face her. She had taken out the Dragon Tongue near the fence, but she wasn’t a killer. Through the rage, she knew Castro had been protecting her. Had Maria gone into the battle, there was no telling for sure if she would’ve walked out of it victorious…or even alive.
“The Dragon Tongue won’t kill them,” Castro assured her. “Your family might get hurt or tortured—their time in the dungeons won’t be a vacation—but the Dragon Tongue won’t kill them until they’re done doing whatever it is they’re doing at the lake…or unless they try to escape.”
Maria gulped. She couldn’t say for sure that Gramps wouldn’t try to escape; he was quite stubborn in his ways. If anybody could escape without harm, though, it was Ignatius Apple. The Ferod.
“We can’t let them raise the dragon,” Maria said. Her throat felt tight, the size of a needle’s point. “If they do, then not only will all those in captivity die, but the dragon will burn this town to ashes.”
Castro chuckled soundlessly. “Dragon? That will be the day.”
“I don’t have time to convince you, but you’re in this with me now, whether you like it or not.”
Castro’s smile vanished. He nodded solemnly. “I know. I know all too well.” He looked at the sword in Maria’s hand, which glowed in the flames from outside. “I just need one of those. Though I’ve never handled one myself; I can’t imagine it’s much different than a fishing pole and a net.”
Maria arched an eyebrow. “It’s so much—”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Castro raised a hand and shook his head.
“Come on, you must show me where the dungeons are, or this whole town is going to be toast.”
“Toast?”
“Right, I keep forgetting. Different planets.”
They went out the front door. The street was deserted again. The unconscious or dead members of the Dragon Tongue had already been carried off. Maria and Castro stuck to the shadows.
One building away from the post office, Castro stopped and peered at something settled on the ground near a store that had a red roof and letters on the front windows that Maria couldn’t understand. It looked to Maria to be a general goods store; though what would be considered “general goods” in Oriceran was beyond her.
Maria noticed what Castro was staring at. “Go ahead, take it. You might need it. If not for protection, at least for intimidation.”
“If only my father could see me now,” Castro wheezed. He swiped a hand through his greasy gray hair, combing the wispy strands over his bald pate. “A generational fisherman picking up a sword—a sword from a Dragon Tongue, at that!”
“Funny how life works out sometimes, huh? If you knew my story, you wouldn’t think it was too crazy to just pick up a sword.”
“One day, Maria, I’m sure all the worlds will know your story,” Castro said with a smile.
She could tell he meant it, and that warmed her heart and terrified
