Fool’s Gold: Maggie Cartwright: Book Two by M N Jolley

Author:M N Jolley [Jolley, M N]
Language: eng
Format: epub

18

Morth

Navigating with the speed of two minds, surged by adrenaline and the hyperfocus of combat, Maggie calculated the surest path to victory.

The wyvern has three strengths: Flight, Fire, Fangs. No forelegs will mean claws are only a secondary issue. Neutralize the primary three, end the threat, defeat Morth.

Its wings could not be ignored. If the beast took flight and retreated, they would have no path to victory, only to stalemate.

Maggie had no interest in letting the dragon live.

Staggered by the monumental blast of magic that’d ripped away scales and sent bloody gouges along its chest and belly, the dragon kicked its pair of legs, flailing like a beetle that’d been flipped on its back. Its landing had felled trees in a wide swath, toppling old oaks like toothpicks, and some of the branches had found purchase in the dragon as well, wooden lances adding to its array of injuries.

Sensing weakness, Maggie charged forward with abandon, and their allies followed in the battle fervor a moment later.

“Wings!” they called. “Go for the wings! Hit it at the joints, don’t let it escape!”

Cracks of gunfire burst out in an instant, controlled bursts that sent lead splashing against the wyvern’s scales, occasionally finding a weak point where red blood cascaded out of the Morth’s mossy, shimmering body.

A moment later, a miniature volley of arrows loosed, a buzzing pair of hornets that whipped past Maggie. Frey’s shots were surgical, plunging lengths of steel and wood through the point where wings met body. Twig had no such precision—she hit the dragon in the body, and where she hit, thunderclaps of ironwood tore out gouges of flesh.

Even amidst all the pinpricks of pain, Morth regained his footing, and if the monster felt any pain it didn’t care. On all fours, it braced itself against Maggie, wings out and mouth agape, calling out its inferno breath.

Maggie still had forty feet to cross, too long to make it before the torrent of fire cooked their body and blade alike into ash and slag.

Trusting Vera, they took a leap of faith.

Fire erupted towards them, hot and bright enough to cover their vision in spots, but a spectral hand caught Maggie’s feet and pushed them up into a flying arc above the stream of burning death. Blade raised, they soared towards Morth, ready to strike a fatal blow.

Dragon. Pretender. Vermin. Had you lived in the time of my Greatest, you’d be a morsel to be devoured.

Twisting in the air like a diver, Maggie relied as much on Vera’s spells as their own muscle memory and intuition. The wyvern twisted to avoid the strike, but steel dug into tight muscle, cracking scales and cutting deep into flesh, until they came to a sharp stop. Their blade had found something hard and thick, a deep bone that couldn’t be torn through in a single swipe, and when the sword caught, Maggie kept moving, all their momentum throwing them roughly past the dragon. Nearly torn free, they grabbed their hilt with both hands, feet scrabbling for purchase on Morth’s scaly back.

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