Sacrifice (Kobolds) by David Adams

Author:David Adams [Adams, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: David Adams
Published: 2015-08-06T22:00:00+00:00

*****

Arrows washed over me like rain, each wood and steel drop splattering against my scales and breaking. I clapped my wings together. The force of the air blew a group of archers off their feet, scattering their bows into the snow, and then I exhaled.

A cone of flame fell over them. They screamed with the terror of fleshlings exposed to raw fire; their screams faded abruptly as the fire stole the air all around them, seared their flesh to ash, and then they were still.

Another hail of arrows fell on me but these ones stung; their tips glowed a faint blue, magically enchanted. I tipped my left wing, spilling the air from it, arching over and falling toward the ground, avoiding the worst of them.

Anticipating this, the humans sent in the cavalry. A dozen men on horses, lances lowered. They galloped across the snow, shields raised to protect themselves.

Fools. I took wing again, a few feet off the ground, and my flame washed them away. The scent of roasting horseflesh stung my nostrils. From the smoke, a single rider burst through, her clothes aflame, lance lowered and aimed at my chest.

It bounced off and broke in half. It was not dragonbane.

I knocked the shattered shaft away with a foreclaw, snatched the rider off her mount with my tail, and squeezed. Her armour groaned as I crushed it, and with a snap, collapsed. Her body burst like an overripe fruit, gore painting the snow crimson.

A satisfying victory but distracting. I was too close to the ground. I needed to fly again. I beat my wings, dropping the bloody corpse to lighten my load.

A ballista bolt whistled as it flew past me, missing my scales by inches. The tip was forged of black metal; adamantium. Strong enough to pierce even my hide.

Another flew towards me. I could not afford to drop again. I prepared to accept the hit.

Ophiliana snatched it out of the air, her wings casting a shadow over the human army, and broke it in half, tossing both halves away. She bled from a dozen small wounds all over her body—the arrows had been effective, it seemed—but she seemed stronger than ever.

I climbed. A bolt of lightning, wizard’s work, struck me in the gut. My muscles jerked and twitched as the energy ran through me and I lost altitude, gliding instead.

Pain.

“Find the wizard!” I roared, focusing inward, drawing upon arcane magic. A white cloud grew from my clawtips, a poisonous gas that floated towards the ground.

It drifted over human footmen. They fell, gasping, clutching at their throats, limbs spasming as their muscles tightened. No pity.

Ophiliana dove toward a group of soldiers, falling into them in a flurry of claws and teeth. She was a golden blur; her roar drowning out the battle cries of the fleshlings as she tore them to pieces, their steel as paper to her rending talons.

I flew over them, bathing the area in flame. It would not harm my mate, of course, but it intensified the misery of the humans whom Praxis seemed happy to send in waves to die.

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