The Dragon's Den

An arrow pierced the hull of the ship. 

Within mere moments two more came flying from within the dense foliage lining the shore. I was able to avoid ‘em, thanks to the cursed blade’s influence. Couldn’t say the same for Breno. An arrow hit his skull. He died before he hit the sand.

I had to make a call. The shrubs were too dense. There were eyes in the trees. “Get back on the ship!” 

Danger. Hairs stood on end. 

Another volley of arrows painted the hull, but they all missed me. Pim got hit, fell right into the tide. Boli tried to drag ‘im out, but an arrow split his spine. He fell beside him, gasping like a fish in the sand. God would see them soon. 

Slowly, very slowly, faces began to dance in the trees. One by one, they spoke in tongues I could not understand. Skin like the mud that made us, woven from hide, bright feathers adorned their heads. Dressed in white marks, they snaked their way from the foliage, bowmen and bow women pointing arrow tips at my crew. Ten of them. Twenty. Thirty. 

An army. Maybe there were more of ‘em hiding in the green. As the last of my men that weren’t dead scrambled on the ship, I pointed my knife at the group of graceful savages. 

“Easy, now! Stand back!” I shouted, swinging my blade from side to side. “Don’t come near!”

There were whispers among the group. Some looked at one another and made noises akin to birds. At last, a warrior, a woman, bare chested yet painted with deep ochre patterns, stepped forward. I met my fair share of women, and at my age, I couldn’t be surprised. Not anymore. Not with this thing in my hands making me aware of every stalking shape in the shrubs. Yet this woman had an eye  that could make a lion submit. The kind of eyes a dragon would make, staring at a pack of wolves. Didn’t even acknowledge my blade, holding a jagged axe layered with teeth at its edges by her side.  She barked at me rather than spoke to me.

“You trespass, outsider.”

She spoke my language strangely, like it was stuck in her throat. I narrowed my eyes, scanning the faces of her tribe. A parley could settle the dispute, but for three dead bodies, deep in my heart, I could not allow peace to pass. All eyes were trained on me. “We were hoping to trade.”

“Trade? With blades drawn, smelling of blood?” She sized me up with just her voice. She had guts. “Tell me, inja yolwandle, do you think we are ignorant? Last we let outsiders in our land, they take from us and do not give back.”

A few of the bowmen were already pulling back their strings. If this damned thing could help these old bones  feel the vibrations of the ship, I’d know my crew was the right one. “You took three from me. Blood for blood.”

We stared at each other. I could practically hear the sweat dripping off one of the feather-heads. Bows creaked. The wind blew. The sea dragged sand back to its depths. 

Someone shouted. An arrow was loosed. A feather-head fell. 

Chaos. 

My men shot off as many arrows as they could. The opposition did the same. The woman charged at me. I was ready for her.

Danger.

Senses turned on. Two attacks avoided— a spear coming in tandem with her swing. Three bodies were coming after me. The blade sang through the air, finding purchase in the arm of the nearest warrior, sending him reeling back with a howl. My heart was pounding mad, tingling every inch of my body. I swung again, the next slash severing another warrior’s neck. The third raised their weapon above their head, but that just left their middle exposed. Bare and unprotected, the blade found his heart. 

Danger.

Senses weaved around a spear, and then another. I caught the third, flinging it back to its sender. It nailed through their knee, and crippled them. 

Danger.

An overhead strike was avoided. My blade sank easily through his ribcage. Then another strike. Again, again. 

Danger.

Danger.

Danger. 

I danced this dance far too many times to count, but my body wasn’t as nimble as it was twenty years ago. Bones were aching. Muscles weren’t used to this thing’s effects. I could feel my chest stinging with how hard my heart had to compensate.  I stumbled back, breathless, the knife still humming with the power of that ancient dragon. Chaos enveloped me. Cries of war filled the air. I had nary a moment to blink, nor breathe. I had to fight. One after the next, my body fought, and my body suffered. For each feather-head I killed, two more took their place. My men could kill five, but ten would overpower them. The trees birthed these warriors, all of them young, spry and capable. 

While I killed a burly warrior, Johan was slaughtered, stabbed through the heart. Then his brother, Isaac, followed behind him, neck pierced by a spear. Gawain, my drinking mate, fell from the hull of the ship. An arrow, probably. August was beaten bloody. William, poor young one, didn’t even get a chance to scream before a serrated axe cracked his skull open.

Though the dragon’s strength made me capable of holding my own, the warriors, endless in their numbers were beginning to ignore me and run towards the ship. 

“Dragon!” I called, turning the blade tip between my fingers, “You better be as powerful as you say you are!”

I had to try and save them. They did not deserve a fate like this. The rest of my crew needed to survive. Muscles rippled. Breath steadied. Arm pulled back. 

I drove my foot into the ground and launched the blade at the hull. The wind screamed, the sands split down the middle. Bodies were but a blur of flesh torn apart by ballista fire. My left arm was finished—but it was a movement I did not regret. The blade stuck true into the wood, and the force alone was enough to nudge the ship back. Before any of those savages could get onto the ship, it began to drift away from the shore, creaking against the pull of the tide. 

I could still make it there. 

All of the warriors in the way were ripped to shreds by the blade’s path. I could retrieve it. My left arm was gone, a bloody mangled mess, but pain was a mere whisper compared to the roar of survival. The ship floated further from the grasp of death, teetering on the edge of safety just beyond reach. 

I could still make it.

Warriors all tended to their injured, some jumping into the sea to throw their weapons. None of them regarded me anymore.

I could still make it. 

I just had to reach out and touch the blade again and I would be okay. I’d be fine. I just had to get to the hull.

I could still