Solivagant

Chapter Seven

A dragon. Asher had heard of the creatures in the old legends, but thought they'd all been killed centuries ago. Yet here one was, standing right in front of him. It prowled around the edge of Rivas' barrier, a savage growl ripping from its throat. Its movements were graceful and fluid, but its muscles rippled with hidden strength.

Asher shifted, and its burning golden eyes flicked towards him. His heart skipped a beat. He'd seen those very same eyes hardly an hour ago. How long had it been here? Was it following him? He searched its gaze for any sign of malice or hunger, but saw something else entirely. Fear? Concern?

"Asher, get out of the way," Rivas said. Asher twisted around; the assassin was watching the creature closely, sword in hand. With a start, he realized he was directly between the Valkir and the dragon.

Asher hesitated: as terrified as he was by the dragon's sudden appearance, he was repulsed at the thought of relying on Rivas for protection.

"Now."

Asher awkwardly pushed himself to his feet, casting a glance back at the dragon. It didn't move, its eyes never leaving him. Asher shivered and stiffly limped away, staying as far from Rivas as he could. He reached the opposite end of the dome and turned around, pressing his back to the invisible wall.

"What are you going to do?" Asher asked, his eyes flicking between the two. He tentatively reached for the magic. The drug, unfortunately, was working again; he could hardly feel it at all. He bit back a curse.

"That depends entirely on what the dragon does," Rivas said calmly.

As if it had heard him, the dragon reared back and rammed its shoulder into the barrier. Rivas grunted and took a step back, as if he'd been hit. He hurriedly waved his hand, and the shield faded away. A fierce blast of wind and rain struck Asher's back, tugging at his clothes.

Asher swore and yanked at his constraints. A battle was about to begin, and he didn't want to be caught in the middle of it unarmed and vulnerable. Rivas glanced at him, perhaps having the same thought, and threw out his hand. Asher yelped as something lifted him into the air and hurled him backwards. He crashed into a tree some distance away and crumpled to the ground, dazed.

The dragon snarled and jumped sideways, placing itself between Rivas and Asher. Both of them stared at it.

Is it . . . protecting me? Asher shook his head. No, that doesn't make any sense.

After a brief pause, Rivas attacked, sweeping his sword in a low arc. The dragon leapt over the blade with ease and lunged at the man's side. Rivas' body wavered, and its claws passed right through him. Before the dragon could react, he slashed at its side, drawing a long, bloody line across its wing.

From that point, Asher had trouble keeping track of the battle. The dragon moved with extraordinary speed; Rivas was in constant motion as he dodged its attacks, his sword glittering in the darkness. Asher could tell the Valkir was using magic--even with the drug, he could sense it humming through the air.

Asher closed his eyes, focusing on that faint feeling. If he could manage to get past the drug and free himself . . .

There. His eyes shot open. The smallest spark of magic. He reached for it, struggling with the barrier in his mind--

The wind abruptly stopped. Asher glanced up at Rivas, wondering if the assassin had done something. He was faced away, still fighting the dragon. He had a deep laceration across his upper arm, and had been forced to switch his sword to his left hand. The dragon seemed injured as well, though its dark scales made it hard for Asher to see where.