Then, a flurry of hits came back in her direction. She parried each one, trying to channel some form of magic, but was too distracted to do so.
Fight, Maria! The ghost of Anwyn shouted in her mind. Fight! Don’t give up. Don’t you ever give up!
“I won’t!” Maria shouted.
As Hunter came at her with the deathblow, Maria slid down the dragon’s back. The wet scales allowed for easy enough movement, though she had picked up too much speed and was barely able to hold on.
Hunter's sword hit the dragon's back so hard that his sword shattered. The spray of steel caused him to shield his eyes with his forearms. He screamed as large daggers struck his hands, neck, and lastly, his face. The blood that ran down his cheeks was in thin tracks, like tears of death.
Another chance had presented itself, and though Maria hadn’t exactly taken full advantage of that chance, she would not let this one pass her by.
Focus came over her as fast as she could let it. From the power within the storm came a great bolt of magic, like lightning throughout her body. She accepted it, letting it flow through her. The night brightened up as she glowed electric blue. In the satchel, which had somehow survived all of this, the music box buzzed in response. It was a good feeling.
Words Maria didn’t know burst forth from her lips. It was a spell; one bestowed upon her through the years under Ignatius Mangood’s care, one as rooted in her subconscious as her magical abilities, and the spell came as natural as her heartbeat inside of her chest.
When the spell stopped rolling from her tongue, the great energy cloud swelled around Hunter, dampening the fire in his gaze. Then, as if an invisible hand had reached out and pushed him, the false Dragon Lord fell backward, as still as stone. It was not a great fall; certainly not one that would have killed him. He hit the beach, the sand cushioning his landing. Once the Dragon Tongue left the Rogue Dragon’s back, it was as if whatever spell was keeping the beast under his control had vanished.
The dragon reared its head back and roared. Fire spewed from its mouth, burning the pouring rain into steam. Then it arched its back and shook. Maria tried to hold on. It roared again, this time so loud that Maria’s ribs rattled, and her ears felt as if they were going to burst.
Maria’s hold on her sword slipped. The force of the dragon’s bucking caused her to lose her balance. Reflexively, she reached out for one of the dragon’s spikes to stop herself from falling. She gripped it. It burned so hot that her skin sizzled.
The dragon continued roaring. Sand flew up in great waves as its thick legs smashed into the beach. Maria was thrown to the left, her body dangling over the twenty or so foot drop. She looked down. It seemed so much higher than that. She saw Hunter lying nearby; he was not dead, not even the slightest bit. Hurt, maybe, but still going. He sat up. The fiery eyes searched out toward Maria and he raised his hands, palms out. Lips moved in soundless speech.
Another spell. Shit. As if hanging from the back of a dragon wasn’t bad enough.
She tried to pull herself up, but her muscles would not cooperate.
A soft glow came from Hunter’s palms now.
But the dragon roared again, turning its massive body with the motion, and one large, clawed foot came down upon Hunter’s body. His scream of pain was both muffled and short as the dragon squashed him into jelly.
“Holy shit,” Maria said, her voice barely coming out as a whisper. Great, one thing solved; just got to get back up on the—
The dragon jerked straight up into the air as it took flight. Wind roared into Maria’s ears. Raindrops smacked at her exposed flesh, each one like the point of a blade burrowing into her skin. She grunted, using the momentary feeling of zero gravity to her advantage. As the dragon took flight, so did Maria. She could’ve dropped to the beach and possibly saved herself much trouble and pain in the long run, but didn’t. She wouldn’t let herself.
Now she floated in the air, the dragon’s tail ripped under her. It was her only chance. If the dragon took off without her on its back, all was lost. There was no way she’d be able to mount it again.
So she took this chance as she had done the others and reached out, snagging one of the dragon’s spikes with her palm. It bit into her with a burst of pain. Red stained the white scales—Maria’s blood, but she hardly noticed. Both hands found purchase, followed closely by her feet. Her hair blew wildly, whipping in and out of her eyes. The stars grew closer above, and the town of Ashbourne grew smaller below.
The unreality of this situation stole over her.
This is a dream. There’s no real death in a dream. I can do what I want and still wake up in my bed with Sherlock at my feet, his paws twitching as he dreams of chasing rabbits. And because it’s my dream, I can dictate it however I want.
Deep down, she knew this not to be true. This wasn’t a dream. Though, since she had discovered her magic, life had surely taken on a dreamlike quality.
Maria opened her eyes to the rushing wind. The dragon’s great, ridged back stretched long in front of her, the scales gleaming in the moonlight.
But something was different. Something had changed.
There’s no more rain. Did I turn the rain off with my mind?
Maria righted herself, holding on for dear life, only then realizing that they had flown above the storm clouds. Fear stole over her, causing her muscles to seize up. The whipping wind took her satchel and banged it against her body. She hoped against
