Chapter Nineteen

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Chapter Nineteen

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Revaramek hurtled into the sky. His pain was forgotten, replaced with a sickening fear and a singular determination. In all his life, there were few moments that had ever horrified Revaramek more than the sight of the purple dragon and her maniacal rider snatching Mirelle into the sky. Over the years, he’d nearly convinced himself those other horrible moments never really happened. He locked them away, hid the memories in some dark place they could not hurt him anymore. But this? This was happening, and if he did not stop it, Mirelle was going to die.

He was not the godsdamned comic relief, he was the villain! No, he was the hero!

He would save her.

 “Mirelle!”

Revaramek called after her through the smoke that hung like a suffocating blanket over the ruined village. Just as he was about to scream ‘let her go’, he stopped himself. He heard enough tales over the years to know what the villain would do then. Instead, he just called her name again, wanting her to know he was coming. “Mirelle!”

Revaramek pounded his wings against the air, surging upwards through the smoke. It billowed around him, swirled beneath his wings, and stung his nostrils with its acrid scent. Once clear of it, he found Aylaryl far above, silhouetted against the sky. The sun was a burning eye in the distance, resting upon the horizon. Its gaze turned her purple scales orange. Mirelle hung from Aylaryl’s forelegs, her feet kicking at the air. Her screams pierced the silence, high above the earth.

Even Revaramek could not help but feel a sharp stab of sympathy in his gut. The woman was terrified of flying, and though he greatly enjoyed poking fun at all her screams and vomiting, the truth was he’d never even considered dropping her. Well, maybe into a lake from a low altitude.  But truth was, no matter how she hated him, she was always safe in his grasp. He hoped she knew that somewhere in some buried corner of her heart. But now, her terror was justified. Now, she-

“Hey Revaramek!”

Oh, no. He pounded his wings, lungs burning.

“Let’s play fetch!”

Mirelle screamed.

Aylaryl cocked her foreleg, tossed Mirelle into the air, and banked away. Without hesitation or thought, Revaramek folded his wings and dove after her.  

In another world, in another life, he might have gone after Aylaryl. He could catch her, he could outfly her and he could knock that cackling bastard off of her back. He’d end the threat, claim Mirelle was collateral damage, and return to the village as victorious overlord freed from her boots’ terrifying reign. But in this world, in this life, he had to try and save her. Why, he’d told Beka as much the day before. Dragons could be heroes, damn it. They deserved to have their heroic deeds transcribed in the exciting tales as much as anyone else.

Mirelle’s silence haunted him as she plummeted. For all the screeching she did when he took her flying, the moment she actually fell, she went silent. She tumbled through the air, her clothes billowing around her, her black curls flying in all directions. Her mouth was open but her hazel eyes were squeezed shut. She couldn’t watch the ground rushing up at her. Revaramek knew why she wasn’t screaming.

Suffocating terror stole her voice.

Revaramek knew that feeling. He understood all too well.  That same unspeakable fear smothered him once, when he realized he was about to die and felt death’s cold hand squeezing his heart. The dragon knew that desperate horror the day they forced him to sign the truce. Mirelle wielded it against him without ever knowing the pain of it.

No one else should have to know that dread. But when that same horror overwhelmed him, there was someone there to help him. When dragonslayers’ blades were at his throat, and their spears at his belly, someone else was willing to fight for his life. Someone else fought to give him a chance to draw breath for another day. To find a happier ending for his story than bleeding out into the marsh.

Revaramek would be damned if he wouldn’t do all in his power to pay that forward now.

Through silence broken only by wind whipping against his scales, Ravaramek streaked towards the earth. Mirelle was falling, falling, falling, and he had to fall faster. With his wings folded and his limbs tucked, he was streamlined enough to dive quicker than she tumbled and flailed through the air. But she was so far away.  Even as he neared her ever-dropping altitude, he was not close enough to catch her.

Aylaryl was out in front of him when she’d tossed Mirelle into the sky. Now he had to close the horizontal distance as well as vertical. But if he opened his wings, he’d slow his descent. Hell, at this speed, if he opened them too far, he’d tear every flight muscle he had. Yet what choice did he have? Revaramek forced his wings open as far as he dared, grimacing at the sudden painful pressure all across them. Once more, Mirelle plunged away from him.

Revaramek pushed himself harder than he ever had in all his life. He beat his aching wings and powered through the air until he was above her. Then he was past her, overshooting his mark. He snarled, dipped a wing and spiraled down such a rate that gravity threatened to tear his wings from their moorings. When he’d reached the angle and position he needed, he folded his wings again, tucked his limbs, and plummeted after her. The wind buffeted him with such force it pressed his flight membranes uncomfortably against his eyes. His vision swam.

After all the corrections, Revaramek knew he wasn’t going to make it. He’d lost too much time and the boggy earth was closing in far too fast. A voice in his head told him to pull up now or they’d both die. But he was so close. He couldn’t give up now. If he was to die, let him die heroically. If this was a tale scribed on vellum or spun in someone’s ear, then let them hear of a heroic dragon. Let him be heroic, not the cowardly whelp that pleaded for his life and found himself bound to a nameless village.

If this was a story, than let it be his story.

They’d both live, or they’d both die.

Revaramek neared her and reached out with his paws. Mirelle spun slowly through the air, falling with a strange, terrifying grace. When she turned towards him, she opened her eyes. There was no shock or jubilation, only bafflement etched upon Mirelle’s face. As if she could not believe that of all possible outcomes, somehow, some way, this dragon might actually save her.

Just as Revaramek reached for her, he realized if he snatched her out of the air and threw wide his wings, not only would it break his wings, but it would break her back. But with the ground so close and ever-rising, he had no margin for error. As he stretched his forelegs towards her, Mirelle reached for him in return. She clutched his forepaws, her fingers around his hand. Revaramek pulled her up against his chest, wrapped his forelegs around her, and together they fell.

Revaramek eased his wings open a nerve-wracking fraction at a time, second by precious second. Wind hit them, and their descent slowed, but it wasn’t going to be enough. He’d never be able to pull up in time now. He pushed his wings wider, more pain burning along his sides. Now he could see reeds, grass, mud. He angled his half open wings, aiming himself.

“If I die, tell my story!” Revaramek pushed his wings further, slowing them as much as he could before impact. He angling for the mud. The earth was but a heartbeat away. He flicked his wings against the air as sharply as he could, rolling over into an inverted position to put himself between Mirelle and the earth. He tucked his wings around his body in hopes of protecting them, just in case he survived. “And make me the hero!”

“Revara-”

Revaramek smashed into the wet, muddy ground upon his back. The impact jarred every organ in the dragon’s body, his bones rattled against each other, knocked all the air from his lungs in a single, agonizing cough. He clutched Mirelle against his chest as he skidded through soft mud, leaving a deep, wet rut across the bog. Bright stars danced and whirled in his vison long before he’d even slid to a stop. His chest burned, his heart felt as if it had been cleaved in two. Fire seared his lungs, begging him for fresh, cool air to quell the desperate, burning ache, and yet the dragon could not breathe.

His forelegs slipped away from Mirelle, flopping into the bog. Revaramek’s vision dimmed, darkness pulsing at the edges of his sight. In a strange, detached way, he wondered if he was dying, or just passing out. Hopefully the latter. A shame he couldn’t breathe, though. Breathing was nice. He liked breathing. Just as he was ready to take a nice long nap to escape the irritation of empty lungs and an angry heart, something thumped against his belly.

Whatever it was, it thumped again. Hard. It hurt.

He tried to force himself to lift his head, but that didn’t work. But the pain and pounding against his abdomen did bring light back to the dragon’s vision. And with the light, came sound.

“Breerrhhg!”

What a strange noise.

Then the pressure came, stronger than ever, and it forced him to try and cough. Coughing didn’t work as there was no air in his lungs, but the failure forced him to gasp. A long, ragged, wheezing sound that nevertheless managed to pull air into bruised lungs. The air brought pain with it, and awareness.

“Breathe!” Mirelle jumped on him again. “Breathe, you scaly son of a bitch, breathe!”

Revaramek wanted to lift his head and snarl, Mirelle stop stomping on me!

Yet all that really happened was another wheezing gasp, followed by the longest, most agonizing coughing fit of the dragon’s life. Revaramek coughed so hard the shaking of his body sent Mirelle tumbling off of him and into the mud. Every cough sent splinters of agony tearing through his chest. He forced himself to fight for air between coughing spasms, only to lose it again. He rolled to the side, tasting blood on his tongue. He beat his tail against the muck, splattering sludge all around. Gods, he hoped he hadn’t punctured a lung. Wouldn’t that just figure, survive the fall and drown in his own blood.

What an un-resplendent way for a dragon to die.

At least he’d saved Mirelle, right? Of course he had, she’d been stomping him back to life. He half wondered if his heart had stopped, or if she’d just been stomping to try and keep him breathing. He lifted his head trembling head in a moment between choking coughs. She stood nearby, staring at him with wide, horrified eyes. Mud coated her everywhere, but tears streaked lines across her dirtied face.

Revaramek opened his mouth to say, Guess your new boots came in handy after all. It didn’t quite work out. “GuesHRRUHHAKK AAHHKKVVH ACKKRKRHGHH!”

He curled, clutching his chest with one paw, coughing blood into the mire. It dribbled between his teeth, coated his tongue with its copper taste. As he coughed, Mirelle ran through the mud and put her hands around his head. She hugged him to her muddied body, stroking his neck, her voice shaking.

“It’s alright, you’re alright, we’re alright, no one’s dead, you’re alright!” Her grip got tighter around him when he coughed again, and she curled her arm to tenderly stroke his throat. “Just breathe when you can, you’ll be alright, you’ll be alright…”

Revaramek panted and coughed and heaved and wheezed and coughed again until at last the worst of it began to pass. When he was able to breathe easier, he laid his head back against the mud, staring up at the sky. Shades of vibrant orange fire stretched across it, pink flames licked at the edges of the clouds. The sun was setting.

“Revaramek, I…you…are you…?” Mirelle stumbled over her words, and her voice strained, a dam ready to burst.

Revaramek forced himself to lift his head and scan the sky. Smoke from the village obscured the horizon, but he could not see any sign of Aylaryl. His voice came out cracked and splintered. “We have to go.”

“What? Rev, you’re-”

“We have to go.”

Before he could think better of it, Revaramek rolled over onto his paws. Everything ached inside him as if all his organs were bumping against each other. But he was able to take a few deeper breaths. He’d probably cracked a few ribs but it didn’t seem as if any of them were broken. In his head, Revaramek thanked whatever Gods were listening for making dragons so hard to kill. He pushed himself up, tested his limbs. The gashes and bite marks hurt, but all four legs were still intact and functional. He stretched and tested his wings last. The movement made all his flight muscles growl at him, but he’d deal with a few torn muscles. They’d heal in time.

The dragon took a few more deep breaths. He held each one, and let it out slow. When he’d collected himself, he turned and gave Mirelle the closest thing he could manage to a smirk. “I told you I was a good flier.” His words were still raspy.

“You asshole.” Mirelle’s voice was a shuddering whisper. Revaramek never knew such a word could sound so relieved. She threw her muddy arms around his neck again, hugging him tightly. “I…I thought…and you were…and it’s my fault, and…you saved…”

“Hold it together, Mirelle.” He lifted a forepaw to rub her back, deciding against pointing out that she was hugging him. He’d have plenty of time to be smug later, when he wasn’t recovering from a near-fatal crash. “We can have a shared breakdown later. But right now we have to go. I don’t want Aylaryl to find us.”

“You…you’re right.” Mirelle eased away from him, swallowing hard.

Revaramek gazed across the bog at the mountains in the distance. He recognized a few rock formations that topped some of the more rugged foothills, like armored plates on the back of some ancient beast. They were at the very edge of his domain.

“I know a place we can shelter for the night. But, it’s a good distance…” He swallowed, pinning his muddy spines back. “We’ll have to fly and…”

Mirelle cringed and turned away, shivering.

Revaramek glanced back at himself. Mud coated most of him, mixing here and there with dried blood. “I don’t think your safety harness survived the battle and the crash…”

Mirelle gave a long, weary sigh. She turned towards the dragon, and put her hand upon his chest. Then she closed her eyes, and leaned her forward against him. “I understand. Just…hold me safe?”

“I always have, Mirelle. I promise. You’re safe in my grasp.”

“I know that now.” She stroked his muddy scales. “Are you sure…you can…”

“Don’t have a choice.” He glanced back at himself, flexing his wings. “I don’t think anything’s broken, inside or out. Cracked some ribs, maybe. But don’t think I burst anything. Just…bruised inside, I think. Are you ready?”

“I’ll never be ready for this now.” She took a deep breath, glancing up at him. “It didn’t feel…like I thought. Falling, I mean. It…it was worse and…Just…go on, Rev. I trust you.”

Revaramek reared onto his hind legs, scooped her up in his forepaws. She felt lighter than he remembered. She trembled in his grasp, tears washed the mud from her cheeks. He pulled her against his chest plates, slipped the other foreleg under her so she could sit against it. His hips ached and throbbed, but he remained standing upon his hind legs long enough to let her settle in. He wanted her to feel secure this time.

“You’re safe, Mirelle. I promise. Ready?”

Mirelle clutched at him, her shivering body pressed to his chest plates. “Just fly.”