The Dragon's Fang (Dragonfall Book 3) by David A. Wells

Author:David A. Wells [Wells, David A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Alexander Publishing
Published: 2017-12-22T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

The night passed without incident and the day that followed was another in a long string of similar days. Hound woke Ben for guard the following night. He sat up, nodding groggily that he was awake. The sky was clear and the air was crisp. In the desert the stars were particularly brilliant.

He heard a buzzing, dismissing it as the wind. But it persisted, growing louder by the moment.

And then it was overhead.

“Run,” Ben said to Homer, as he bolted to his feet.

“Wake up!” he shouted, “We’re under attack!”

His warning was too late.

A swarm of black, dragonfly-like insects descended out of the night sky onto the camp, their tails containing inch-long retractable stingers. The attack was as swift as it was vicious. Ben tried to fight back, deploying his shield, but without any effect. The swarm spiraled down in a vortex surrounding the camp and then collapsed in on them all at once. Only Homer managed to escape.

The insects attacked as one, stinging everyone with terrifying frequency, dozens of stings landing within the space of seconds—numbing, paralyzing venom spreading from each angry red welt.

As quickly as the swarm had arrived, it ascended into the darkness and vanished, buzzing and all.

Ben lay in an awkward position, one leg folded back underneath him, his arms outstretched, his face to the sky. He couldn’t move. Pain radiated throughout his body, only the numbness of the venom masked the agony he knew he should be feeling.

Homer licked his face. “You look terrible,” he said.

“I feel worse,” Ben said, refocusing his mind on regaining control over his stubbornly unresponsive limbs.

“The venom has paralyzed you,” the augment said. “I am metabolizing it as quickly as possible, but it will still be several minutes before you regain control.”

Ben resigned himself to waiting, all the while wondering about his attacker.

He tried to access his drone, but found that his tech was unavailable—it had gone offline when he was stung.

“How’s everyone else?”

“They’re all breathing, but I don’t think they’re conscious,” Homer said.

“At least there’s that.”

“Someone’s coming,” Homer said.

Helplessness washed over Ben. He was paralyzed, lying flat on his back out in the open … and whoever had just attacked their camp was coming.

He focused on moving his arms, then his legs, then on activating his tech. Nothing worked.

“Take the egg and run,” Ben said to Homer.

“Are you sure?”

The clop, clop of an approaching horse floated out of the night.

“Yeah, hurry.”

Homer took hold of the bag strap and pulled it up over Ben’s head, then worked it off his body, got a better grip on it and ran off into the night, leaving Ben lying helpless, listening with rapt focus to each footfall.

It was one horse approaching slowly.

Ben felt a twitch in his hand, followed by a burning twinge of pain that radiated up his arm.

The man stopped at the edge of camp and opened the shutter on his lantern, shining its light slowly across each of Ben’s friends. Then the light lingered on him.

“It’s your lucky day, young wizard,” the man said.

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