If A Dragon Cries (The Legend of Hooper's Dragons Book 1) by Darby Gary

Author:Darby, Gary [Darby, Gary]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2016-08-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

My eyes grow wide, and I suck in a breath as I see the Wilders rise from their dragon saddles to take better aim at us. They’re so close that I just know they can’t miss — not at this distance. Just as they’re about to loose their arrows, I hear a loud whoosh and an enormous iron-tipped bolt splits the air just over my head — coming from the opposite direction.

There comes a piercing screech, and I look back to see a red dragon thrashing in the air, an arrow shaft longer than I am tall protruding from its neck. A stream of green dragon blood spurts skyward. The red’s neck snaps back, and his Wilder is catapulted out of his saddle. His arms and legs flail helplessly in the wind as his dragon begins a death dive to the ground far below.

More giant arrows fill the sky, each a lethal missile that impales a crimson, sending rider and dragon plunging downward to the boulder-strewn valley. I peer in the direction of the arrow’s flight and stare in absolute astonishment.

From the shoulder of each stone giant runs an enormous bridge that connects each statue to its neighbor. Standing on the connecting spans are flesh-and-blood giants.

There must be at least several dozen, maybe more, each armed with a longbow that makes my bow look like it’s made from a twig. Their aim is deadly; each arrow they launch brings down a Wilder dragon. They haven’t fired upon us yet, and the only reason I can think of is that our sapphires don’t present the same threat as the Wilders.

For once, luck seems to be on our side, and I’m not going to question why.

More Wilders fall from the sky, but now they’re fighting back. Swarms of scarlet-clad Wilders turn their attention away from us and fill the air with hurtling arrows that fall on the Golians. Most of their arrows bounce off Golian shields, but I see two giants stagger on the stone ledge with Wilder arrows piercing neck or eye.

One giant falls onto the bridge and lies still, the other sways, trying to hold its balance before finally tipping forward and falling off the span. The giant’s body somersaults through the air until it crashes onto the rocks below.

Even though they’re taking losses, the Wilders press on, trying to overtake us, but they have to do a sky dance to throw off the giants’ aim. The Wilder archers no longer have a clear bead on us. Nevertheless, our three sapphires are twisting and weaving their way through the sky, not giving the Wilder bowmen a clear target for long.

There are so many of them that their arrows seem to be like a black blanket over our heads. Once, a thundering storm caught me out in the open and I was pelted with sharp hailstones that bruised and cut flesh when they struck.

However, those chunks of ice didn’t kill. I would gladly trade being in that hail tempest again for this storm of death arrows that rain down on us and from which we can’t seem to escape.

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