Desperate Flight

A dragon and her rider flee a sinking fleet through an ocean storm, leaving behind a disastrous battle for safe respite; but it is a fight against time, something they have precious little of.

Lightning, baleful and sinister, arced across the sky; a pattern of jagged light playing out across the ominous backdrop of suffocating black clouds. Ash and smoke trailed on the harsh wind; wisps of a flame quickly fading into the distance. The ocean below was a hungry maw, reflecting nothing but blackness; a mirror with nothing to show.

In her chest, her lungs and heart hammered away, pounding harder than ever before in her life. Her limbs thrummed with dull, aching pain, fighting against the tearing force of the gale. Her muzzle stung, her eyes shut to the barest of squints, seeing nothing but the path ahead. On her back, so terrifyingly, precariously balanced, her rider suffered silently through the storm.

Torn leather straps flapped in the wind; ragged streamers of hide trailing her course, the few that remained only just enough to keep the saddle from tumbling to the towering waves below. She felt his hand clasped against her scales, against the rim of the saddle, gripped so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Rain poured down from above, drenching everything in sight. The cold; the biting chill, only worsened, without relent. A spire of stone, black as coal, reached up from the sea to scrape her from the air. She swerved at the very last moment, quenching a sharp cry of pain as the jagged rock clipped her wing cruelly. The feeling of blood was impossible to tell apart from the constant rain, too numb to feel the pain of the wound.

A crashing wave washed brine up against her belly, while the clouds swallowed up the last flickers of orange glow far behind her. Another lance of lightning split the sky, its thundering roar deafening her already battered ears.

Minutes stretched out into ages, an hour into an eon; the black sky never seemed to end, stretching on forever and ever in front of them. Her wings flagged, wavering in her flight as she slowly inched perilously closer to the swallowing waves below. With exhaustion biting and gnawing at her thoughts, it was all she could do to land inelegantly on the edge of a towering crag, her claws scraping against the wet stone as they searched for a foothold.

With all her remaining strength, she dragged herself up onto the flat edge, her wings drooping at her sides as she fought her trembling legs to a hanging ceiling of stone, only barely enough shelter to keep her from the storm. Reaching to her back, she caught her rider's clothes in her maw, able to do little more than slide him from her spine to her side.

He grimaced in pain as she shifted him, the arrow still stuck firmly into his abdomen. The shaft was snapped in half, only left inside the wound because taking it out would kill him just that much quicker. His eyes were barely open, his skin cold to the touch. He shivered incessantly, his clothes drenched by the rain, his body chilled by the wind.

With nothing else to do, she placed one great wing over him, coiling her tail and neck around his resting spot as she did her best to keep him warm. Her heart still hammering away in her chest, rain still cascading down onto her, she shut her eyes, and wished dearly for sleep. When it came, it was no comfort.

Even in dreams, the clouds stretched on. She saw the fleet again, fighting valiantly against the terrible, howling tempest. In the distance, the sinking wreck of an unfortunate frigate pushed just too close to a piercing shard of rock, its crew stranded helplessly in the raging waters. Then the macabre horn sounded off in the distance, and suddenly, both the storm and the red streaks in the sky had been there, trying to send them all to the seabed far below.

Cannons had fired uselessly, their ammo plunging into the waves, never even coming close to their target, lingering just out of reach. The streaks had circled skilfully, even in the wind, blazing the fleet so thoroughly that even the torrential rain had not stood a chance of quenching it. She dreamed of launching herself from the deck, snarling angrily at their tormentors, banking sharply to cut through the air after those streaks of red. She caught one; nothing could have kept it from spiralling into the waiting waves, and then her side had been gripped and gouged, a larger creature at her flank.

From her back, her rider fought against the creature, sword hacking into their limbs, until with a pained growl it let off, and she levelled out in the air. Though she had never heard the arrows hiss, she dreamt of it all too loudly, and the horrible thunk of it finding its target.

"We have to leave." He had ordered to her, even as she turned to make a vengeful pass. "Get up. We can't stay here."

Her eyes slipped open. Thunder cracked off in the distance. He was already climbing back into the saddle, groaning and grunting in pain, but he stubbornly secured himself in that exposed seat. Not knowing how long had passed, she unquestioningly stood and launched herself from that small plateau and back out over the waves.

She leapfrogged through the barren pass, finding the scarcest traces of rest at each stop. Always she watched for those red streaks, terrified of being followed and found, but they never showed themselves. When at last the storm passed, the obsidian clouds dissipating overhead, she was too weary to even be relieved.

The light of the sun was a blessing and a curse, warming and drying her scales, but showing her just how little was in sight. She flew on, her wings still crying out in agony with each strained wingbeat. On her back, he worsened even now. Out of the freezing wind and rain, he grew much too hot, fever starting to settle in hour by hour. He didn't say a word to her, but she could feel it through his hand on her spine.

She went far that day, until the sun was shrinking down the thin blue line of the horizon, casting its fading orange-red glow across the calming sea like a fading flame. A small island, host to tough, long grass and tall, wiry trees barely holding onto their leaves, served as their rest. She helped him to the edge, so he could try and cool himself with the ocean water. From the last surviving pouch strapped to her harness, he desperately clawed out the flask inside, and took eager, yet still disciplined sips of the precious, fresh water still within.

He slipped the stopper back on, and pocketed it back into the pouch, and fell asleep against her side, resting in the midst of fitful dreams and uneasy sleep.

She watched over him all through the night, too afraid of being found in the clearer weather to sleep. Only when the slivers of dawn began to creep over the horizon again did she move.

Reluctantly, she left his side, her hunger too demanding to keep her there. She swept over the waves, diving and swooping at every sign of life she could glimpse beneath the glimmering surface.

She ate in the air, and brought back only what she could carry. Even now her limbs continued to ache, every movement a labour upon her body. He was grateful for the food, and when he was done, she took her own ration of precious water from the flask, knowing all too well that they could not spare much, but thirsting so desperately for more.

They did not leave the island that day. Looking out over the expanse of sea, the skies looked clear for a while more. In the morning she caught more, feeling the slightest bit stronger with everything she caught. "We have to set off tomorrow." He told her, as the sun crawled down to the horizon once again.

She rumbled in concern, still able to feel his feverish skin. It had only cooled the slightest, ever since he had drunk and eaten, and washing in the ocean brine did little to help in the long term. The arrow was still there, buried into his abdomen. She wished he would take it out and ease the pain it caused him, but he knew such an act would only kill him for certain, no matter the relief it might bring.

"Now, now; you know we have to." He said to her, sternly, seeing the concern in her eyes. He put a hand to her muzzle, and she pressed into it, seeking his comfort. He smiled weakly at her, caressing her snout, even into the night, just to make sure she could sleep.

He was silent in the morning, even getting into the saddle. He winced at the effort, but nothing more. She hoped he was getting stronger, that even with the arrow in his flesh, he was recovering. The thoughts were all that gave her the strength to carry them from that island, only taking the time to drink from the flask. Only a day more remained inside it.

He guided her gently through the sky, even with the fever wracking his body. She felt like she could count every wingbeat, and felt like each one was another tally added against their chances.

The endless blue seemed almost as hopeless as the endless black from days before, the sun the only comfort to them, shining down from the clear sky. Her chest heaved with exertion, pained by the constant effort and unrelenting flight, but she pressed onwards for him.

And then, as the day finally started coming to its close, they saw it; off in the distance, the familiar shapes and flags. Even with her energy sapped, she pushed herself to reach them as fast as she could, her heart rejoicing to see it was not an illusion of her tired mind. She fluttered clumsily down onto the deck, barely avoiding the crew around her, before collapsing onto the boards, fatigued beyond standing.

Raised and panicked voices clamoured around her, their arrival spurring the deckhands into motion, before a commanding figure parted the crowds and silenced the buzzing noise. Her rider slipped from the saddle, clutching at her side for support.

She heard a call for aid, for a doctor of any sort and the following scrabbling of rushed envoys sent off to find the requested figure. She heard her rider telling the captain about what they had seen, about the enemy ships trying to navigate through the pass; the loss and defeat they had suffered in the storm, and the obvious plan of their foe. The captain gave his thanks, then left through the crowd once again, to discuss with his superiors.

Her rider came to her neck, slumping down as his legs buckled. His hands were still so terribly hot and clammy, worsened greatly after the long day of flying. She felt him put the flask to her mouth, and drank obligingly, her throat parched after the endless exertion. He stroked her muzzle adoringly, resting against her, and she shut her eyes and quietly purred. She breathed heavily, at last able to truly rest after so long.

And then, he placed his hand one last time upon her snout, and was gone.