As the wyvern landed, she flung a psionic attack at me—at my mind. A powerful urge plunged into my thoughts, a command to drop my weapons, fall to my knees, and expose my neck for a swift kill.
Growling, I shook it off. Once, that might have worked, but since I’d started carrying Chopper, it had grown easier to combat mental attacks.
The wyvern advanced, her large sharp beak snapping. Powerful leg muscles bunched, and she sprang toward me, talons extending toward my face.
Forcing myself to remain calm, I flicked Fezzik’s selector to automatic and held down the trigger. A thunderous rain of bullets slammed into her chest. Her wing flaps faltered, but momentum carried her forward, and she landed right in front of me.
Bullets riddled her chest. Crazy with fear of death—or fear of the dragon—she was somehow still alive, still attacking.
I jammed Fezzik into its holster and tore Chopper from its sheath. As the wyvern lunged, beak snapping, I stabbed at her chest like a fencer. On the narrow ledge, with the wall looming to my right, there wasn’t room for sweeping blade work.
A wing swept in as she reversed her lunge and tried to deflect the blow. I was too strong—the sword cut into the blue leathery membrane and crunched into bone.
Blood spattered, and I jerked back, but not before droplets hit my hand and sleeve. Like acid, they burned through my clothing and into my skin, acrid smoke wafting up.
I snarled and lunged in again, this time feinting high for that sneering lizard face. She whipped her wing up to block, but I was already shifting my attack to one of her unprotected legs. The blade sank deep, and she shrieked.
In my mind, I saw the children she’d killed, their crumpled bodies on that blood-drenched beach. I stabbed again and again, varying the targets, and finding her heart. Finally, she fought no more.
As the wyvern tottered, on the verge of falling, I swept my blade across her neck, not caring when my elbow clunked against the stone wall. Her head flew off, thunking to the ground far below.
My blood was roaring in my ears, my heart pounding, but I didn’t pause to recover. I sprang over the body as it fell to the ledge, and sprinted for the tunnel. Already, I’d taken too much time.
Through my link with Sindari, I sensed him swimming—he hadn’t been able to climb the wall, so he’d leaped to the sea far below. I also sensed the dragon shifting into his natural form—four legs, black scales, great wings that blotted out the sun when he flew—and swooping down after the tiger.
I raced down the tunnel, jamming my uncleaned sword into its scabbard with a wince. There was no time to wipe it down, and I couldn’t climb with it out.
Only the knowledge that I wouldn’t survive the fall if I tumbled into the sea slowed me down. Carefully, I picked my way up the damp cliff, my fingers shaking.
Wind gusted, needling me through my sweat-drenched clothing and trying to tear me from the cliff. My rope jerked and twisted like a snake on a handler’s tongs. It taunted me as the end flapped against the rock to the left of my reach.
Rock gave way, and my foot slipped. I caught myself, heart lurching wildly.
A roar came from the ocean—a menacing baritone sound that made my very bones quail. The dragon.
My feline figurine warmed slightly through my shirt, and I sensed Sindari disappearing from this realm. Another roar echoed over the waves.
My charm didn’t translate the noise, but I knew without a doubt that the dragon realized he’d been tricked. And was on his way back.
I lunged and finally caught the end of the rope. Gasping as I banged my knee on the wall, I hauled myself up. I climbed faster than I’d ever climbed in my life, but it was too slow. I knew it was without looking back.
The roar came again. Much closer this time.
I scrambled over the ledge, long wet grass slapping at my face, and lunged to my feet. Not bothering to retrieve the rope, I sprinted for the trees beyond the grass, hoping—praying—the dragon wouldn’t be able to fly through the dense evergreens.
In the distance, I could make out my black Jeep. I doubted that it would keep me safe, but if I could get back to the highway, maybe…
The roar sounded again above and behind me. I glanced back, almost tripping at the terror that filled me when I saw those violet eyes in that furious, black reptilian face. Somewhere between a wolf and a lizard, the dragon was a million times more fearsome than either. And he was huge. A hundred feet long? He had to be.
I sprinted into the trees, lamenting that there was no path, no road, to help me through the soggy undergrowth. The dragon pulled up, the dense trees making him pause, and he circled.
Would he fly above them until I passed into a clearing? Or change into his human form to give chase?
The blazing light of a sun filled the air behind me, and heat scorched my back. I caromed off a tree as I glanced back again. Flames roiled after me, trees cracking and catching fire, blackening in instants. Birds shrieked and fled the forest.
The flames licked at my back, but one of the small charms on my necklace grew icy cold, and I didn’t feel the pain of being engulfed. The brilliant light stung my eyes, but neither my skin, clothing, nor hair caught fire. Even with the protection of the charm, the heat was intense, and it chased me all the way to my Jeep.
I sprang in, shoving my sword scabbard aside so I could sit, and thrust the key into the ignition. I jammed my foot against the pedal and spun the wheel, groaning because I’d parked in a clearing. Who could have known?
The Jeep roared toward the forest service road that had gotten me most of the way to the cliff. There was no time to buckle my seatbelt, and my head bumped the soft top with each dip and bump. When I made it to the ancient dirt road, mud spattering as my wheels hit it, things didn’t improve much, but I steered down it as fast as I could.
Branches blotted out much of the sky above me, but not so much that I didn’t see that big black body following me. Easily keeping pace.
“Idiot, idiot,” I chanted to myself. Why hadn’t I heeded Sindari’s wisdom?
A flat straight stretch opened up, and I pressed the accelerator. How far to Highway 101? Seven miles? Eight? An eternity? Yes.
The branches overhead grew less thick, and I knew I was in trouble. I couldn’t see anything in the mirrors, but he was up there.
A roar blasted the air right above me, louder than a foghorn. Talons slashed through the soft top of the Jeep, plunging in like daggers. Like swords.
I jerked low in the seat and hit the brakes. A thunderous ripping filled my ears. The dragon’s momentum carried him past, but he took the top with him.
“Hard top,” I muttered. “Should’ve gotten a hard top.”
As he turned, maneuvering his massive body between the trees to come back for me, I hit the accelerator again. I wasn’t going to make it past him. There was no way.
More agile than anything that large should have been, he rose above me and then dove, arrowing straight toward the driver’s seat.
I jerked down as low as I could while still holding the wheel. The Jeep lurched off the side of the road, underbrush tearing at the fender. The dragon grabbed its frame and lifted.
When the wheels were pulled off the road, I was so startled that I couldn’t do anything but react. I sprang out the open window, almost getting my scabbard caught on the frame, as the dragon lifted my Jeep higher and higher.
My shoulder hit the ground first, hard, and I rolled into the undergrowth, crashing into a tree with a blast of pain. I sprang up, yanking Chopper free.
As powerful as Fezzik’s bullets were, they hadn’t done as much as I expected against the wyvern. I was afraid they’d be useless against the dragon. All I could hope was that Chopper, the longsword reputedly made in another world, could cut through scale. Because there was nowhere else to run. All I could do was defend myself—or die trying.
The dragon spun and hurled the entire Jeep into a thick stand of old-growth trees. The wrenching crash that thundered through the forest was the most horrific noise I’d ever heard. I couldn’t help but gape as the four-thousand-pound Jeep stuck. It was wedged between three great trees and twenty feet off the ground.
Branches snapped as the dragon dropped to the road not ten feet away from me. He landed on all fours, wings spread and powerful muscles rippling under his black scales. The icy violet eyes bored into my soul, and I saw my death.
I hefted my sword, determined to go down swinging, even as I backed into a copse of trees and hoped in vain that he wouldn’t be able to reach me with that big body.
He shifted back into his human form, and I groaned. How had I forgotten he could do that?
As he advanced with deadly intent, I muttered, “I am so screwed.”
3
“Listen, dragon,” I said as he strode toward me with murder in his eyes. Could he understand English? I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of my plight. “I know you wanted to take that wyvern somewhere, but she was my assignment. She killed a bunch of humans, and my people wanted her dead, not rehabilitated, whatever the hell that means.”
The dragon stopped outside of my sword range, eyeing Chopper briefly—dismissively—before locking his cold gaze on me again. He didn’t have any weapons, but I’d already seen him tear thousand-pound rocks apart and hurl that wyvern across the cave with his mind.
“I don’t know when you got your assignment,” I went on, very slightly encouraged that he’d stopped, even if it was only to glare venomous daggers at me. “But I got mine two weeks ago. She was the last of three wyverns that attacked children here in Oregon, and she was mine to take down. I…” I what? I’d run out of things to say. Did the dragon even understand? “I had dibs,” I finished weakly, as if we were squabbling over a toy on a playground.
“You are a bounty hunter?” the dragon asked in his resonant voice. His resonant scornful voice.
I had a feeling he didn’t often talk to the people he was about to slay.
“No. I work for the army.”
“You are a soldier?” He looked me up and down, skepticism joining the scorn.
With my jeans and shirt half torn off, acid burns on my hand and sleeve, and half the forest tangled in my thick blonde braid, I didn’t look my best. It had been more than ten years since I’d been active duty, and if I still had a uniform, I didn’t know where it was, but what did some dragon know about what soldiers on Earth looked like or wore?