Page 16 of Fated to the Dragon Warlord

All four jump to their feet and begin waving madly.

“I’ve brought help. They’re dragons but only some of the time.”

The women gape, and by the time I realize something is wrong, it’s too late. I’m flung up into the air, my body suspended, as if in aspic, for what seems like too long a time.

And then I’m dropped onto the ground, all the air exiting my lungs as I hit. Pain flows through my body as I land awkwardly.

“Jesus, Kerra, didn’t you hear me?” Rosalie’s voice penetrates as I gasp for breath and groan at the same time. “It’s a trap.”

“I couldn’t hear anything,” I finally manage to say.

“Figures,” another unfamiliar voice says as Rosalie lifts me into a sitting position, her eyes full of fear and concern. “If it’s a forcefield, it would keep sound in.”

“Didn’t you see us waving to stay back?” a flame-haired lady says, her arms folded as she looks down at me with a mix of pity and derision.

“I saw you waving, but I thought you were saying hello,” I finish pathetically, probably deserving of her disgust.

“We’ve got bigger problems, ladies,” a blonde woman says. “Much, much bigger.” She takes a step back from me, as does the red-head and another dark-haired woman whose clothes are basically shreds.

“Shit, Kerra. Was thatthingfollowing you?” Rosalie says, her eyes wide.

I turn, wincing at all the parts of me which hurt, expecting to see Darax.

What I actually see is a dragon.

It is vast, at least the height of the grasses, with great wings, spikes running from the back of his huge dinosaur head all the way along his back and down his tail. The gold and red scales which flow over his body are the only indication that this dragon is Darax.

He lifts his head, and although we can’t hear it, he releases a roar which shakes the ground beneath us. Then, with no further warning, a fireball belches from him.

“Fuck, we’re going to die,” the red-head says.

The dark-haired lady trembles on the spot, her eyes looking like they’re going to pop out of her head as some liquid runs down the inside of her bare leg.

I swear under my breath, getting to my feet, my rib cage screaming at me. “He won’t hurt us, I promise. And he’s not a dragon all the time.”

Darax rises up, his great wings beating at the air before he slams into the ground, his massive claws ripping at the surface, pulling up great clods of black soil.

The dirt beneath us shakes. I grab hold of the terrified dark-haired woman.

“He won’t hurt us,” I say. “This is Darax. He’s a Sarkarnii.”

She’s trembling harder than the earth we’re standing on. And I don’t think she believes me. I keep a hold of her anyway as Darax goes deeper, his head disappearing, until after endless several silent seconds there is a grinding, ripping sound, and his great dinosaur jaws appear with a large metal tube clamped there, each end fizzing with a strange blue glow.

He crunches down, and the glow expands, encompassing him before popping loudly and disappearing.

Darax spits it out and lifts his head with a wailing groan before doing his disappearing act behind the mound of soil he has made.

Then he’s walking towards me, tail lashing and hips swinging, laser rifle in hand, as if the dragon was just a dream. Behind him, the rest of his warriors follow, grinning wildly at the destruction Darax has wrought.

“Little snack,” he growls. I feel the lady next to me stop trembling and sag. “Are you hurt? Because if you are, I will rip the head off the creature who set the pulsar-trap.”

“I’m fine, Darax.”

“These are the other hoo-mans?” he asks, scanning around the area.

“They are. That’s my friend Rosalie.” I point her out. “I haven’t managed to get acquainted with everyone else.”

“I’m Maggie,” the blonde says to me.

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