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Chapter 19: Fight or Flight

  Marcus stood at the tree line of the forest, with the calm trickle of water flowing near the toe of his shoes, unable to move. The sight of the hulking golden dragon across the silty wetland rousing from its stupor caused his muscles to lock in place. His body was no less stone than the pebbles at his feet.

  So quickly did the dragon's posture change that it repelled the water, swashing it away as its gargantuan scaled body shifted upright. Its sudden movement seemed to even startle the whelpling standing next to the red-haired girl, who shifted on its feet and let out a muffled cry. Even she took a step back and gasped.

  "Aurufia." The girl approached the dragon and placed a hand on its foreleg.

  The dragon, Aurufia, continued to shift, struggling to stand upright. With trembling legs and quivering wings, it finally righted itself. Its great mass filled the space of the basin clearing, and as it unraveled its wings, revealing veiny purple webbing undersides. As it spread, the shadow of the beast darkened the clearing, blocking out the sun behind it.

  Marcus stood in the darkness, unable to do anything more than stare down the beast, with glowing emerald eyes.

  After a long exhale through its nostrils, that rustled the canopy overhead, the golden dragon took a step forth, toward the mechanic. Then it craned its neck down, its chin hovering close to the basin's trickling flow. With only two steps, it crossed the basin, and its snout was within arm's reach of Marcus.

  The beast's massive nostrils took a whiff, rustling Marcus's hair. Then it blasted him with a hot sigh.

  Marcus couldn't help but to shut his eyes and wince.

  Aurufia raised its posture, filling the clearing once more. Then it looked down at the girl and the whelpling with her, tilting its head and leaning down, taking a powerful whiff of them in one shot.

  "Ishild." The dragon boomed. "Have we been slain?"

  The girl, Ishild, shook her head. "You were struck by the cannons of an airship. I think there's still shrapnel stuck in your hide."

  The dragon stared at her for a moment, then down to the whelp. After observing the dragonling for a while, the gargantuan beast turned its attention to Marcus once more. "Naught all be congruous, for I see ghosts."

  Marcus swallowed hard.

  Ishild turned her attention to the mechanic, blinking rapidly and then returning to look up at the dragon. "There's a stranger before you. Despite an uninvited presence, there has been no ill perception befallen." Her tone was mild, calming.

  The dragon lowered its head once again, leaning its snout closer to the ground as to get a closer look at Marcus. Its pupils dilated in its own shadow. Then it craned and turned its attention to Ishild in same fashion. "It can't be. This person before us is--"

  The dragon's attention was snapped up by the blare of a horn coming from behind.

  As the beast's head raised and neck tilted to observe its flank, Marcus spotted white and blue standards, all which had the same image: a black bull standing on two legs, breathing fire.

  Beneath the flags, a battle line of five rows of pikemen emerged from the sparse forest beyond the basin, charging forth. The broke away from the two dense formations of musket men on each side. The gunners were blobbed around the trees, and the front row of the formations stood aligned with each other and facing dragon.

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  "Make ready." An officer of one of the musket formations boomed. He wore a bascinet helmet and a metal chest plate, bearing a longsword.

  The two formations repeated his command.

  The front row of the two formations of musket men lowered huge long guns with thick wooden stocks and wide grips, bearing big bore weapons at the dragon.

  With a cry that shook the ground, causing the gently flowing water to ripple and bounce upon the silty mud of the basin, Aurufia spread and slammed its right wing down, shielding Ishild and the whelpling.

  "Take aim." The musket men’s officer shouted, raising his sword over his head.

  The roar rattled Marcus from his stone-like state and upon seeing the musket men lower and brandish their weapons, of which he was in the line of fire, scrambled and dove behind the rock before which he stood.

  "Fire!" The officer swung his sword down to the ground.

  Marcus curled up on the ground and covered his head, with his back to the rock.

  The two musket men formations shot a volley. The whir of bullets hissed over Marcus's head. Ricochets snapped and whistled.

  Aurufia roared and the ground rumbled. Then a sharp screech filled the air. Followed was heat and the hiss of steam.

  Marcus reached up and grabbed what remained of the rock that was chiseled away by gunfire and got to his feet.

  A thick fog plumed, carried by a sudden wind. The forest on the far side of the basin was a raging inferno, which grew by the second. A large section of tree line directly in front of the dragon was gone. Even the underbrush was nothing more than black soot. Beyond the fire-scarred inset, burning trees were toppled over, laid flat.

  There was no sign of the lancer formation. Nor any hint of the right side of the musketeer line.

  The left flank had dropped their weapons and fled, the backs of a few men disappearing into the blazing forest through the growing smoke could be seen.

  All that was left were the standards of the Arcadians, broken and burning. Many dozens of men had been reduced to ash in a heartbeat.

  Marcus gripped the large fragments of stone he took cover behind and looked at the dragon, who met his gaze with a squint, wing still jabbed into the ground. It yanked and dislodged and folded it against its body laboriously. Then Aurufia turned and entered the burning forest. Each step rattled the ground and caused more trees to tumble flat.

  "Aurufia, wait!" Ishild shouted. "That's where the humans went, they're going to be waiting for us!" She crawled up the side of the whelpling in order to mount it, and with a single beat of its wings, the two ascended from the basin.

  Marcus, discovering he was alone, stood upright. His arms still trembled. In the distance, cries for help from beleaguered Arcadians echoed over the snap and roar of the inferno.

  The air grew thick with smoke and soon breathing became difficult. As the winds turned to push smoke in his direction, Marcus retreated in the direction he came with the smokey plume of the inferno nipping at his heels.

  Finally back at the Firestorm, exhausted and gasping for air, Marcus collapsed at the foot of his upright. He leaned back against the forward toe of the machine, grateful for fresh air once more.

  While catching his breath, the dragon's words haunted him. What did she mean by spotting a ghost when looking at him? The sentiment bothered him more than it should have, given that the beast looked like it could have been mortally wounded. Perhaps it was nothing more than delusion set on by blood loss.

  Finally catching his breath, Marcus sat and stared up at the canopy, lost in thought for what seemed like hours. He hoped that Layne hadn't found trouble in the same way that he himself stumbled upon it. Marcus contemplated going after him should it start to get dark, but before his worry bloomed into action, his best friend emerged from the forest.

  "What the hell happened to you?" Layne blurted as he approached the Firestorm. "You look like you got into a wrestling match with a jump box exhaust."

  Marcus stared at Layne for a moment, then raised his hands to see that they were pitch black. Then he looked down at his overalls to realize that he was covered in soot. "I did. It won."

  Layne tilted his head, then his eyebrows dipped, and a smile formed on his face.

  Marcus pulled the bottom of his shirt from under his overalls and started to wipe his face. As he cleaned his face, he recalled his encounter with Aurufia and Ishild.

  "A what?" Layne's jaw lowered and his eyes widened.

  Marcus tucked his shirt back into his overalls. "Yeah, I wouldn't believe it either if I wasn't there." He sighed and cleared his sore throat. "What'd you find out?"

  Layne ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at the Firestorm. "We got problems." He sighed. "Big problems coming our way."

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