I am Dragon (Dragon Fires Rising Book 2) by Marc Secchia (famous ebook reader TXT) 📕

little idea of what was going on save that someone was trying to kill him and someone else, an unseen defender, had just sprawled over his lap.

I AM DRAGON!!

His sonic blast punched the Lord in the back. A silvery blade flicked upward at the same instant as the man lurched forward, losing his balance. Azania pierced his bowels deeply. Stuck beneath his toppling weight, she could not escape and neither could he fire, but the King twisted his chained body with a great groan, sliding them sideways. The ultra-sharp talon ripped its cut inches wider.

Blergh! Nasty. Now he knew what Human guts looked like. So … organic. A greyish-purple colour, like a small octopus dangling its tentacles out of that rent.

Lord Gazaram’s black gauntlet snapped out, gripping Azania by the neck with enormous strength. “Now you’ll die, little girl!”

She choked, fighting hard, trying to kick him off.

Must be galling to be gutted like a fish by a person he took for a child.

At the same instant, soldiers boiled out of a hatchway in the floor, while the Sankir came down the stairs four at a time, unleashing an arrow that punched into the Lord’s shoulder. For a second, he found himself surrounded by four of Gazaram’s men, fighting for his life. Then, another Ranger leaped free of the stairway, her daggers glinting. Beautiful strike. One soldier died instantly, the other at her left hand, staggered as her dagger embedded deep in his shoulder.

Freed, the Sankir beat back the remaining two and lunged for Gazaram. Still tangled up with the Princess, his hand gripped her throat relentlessly. She kicked his neck, but the man only bore down with maniacal strength.

Azerim kneed him in the man-treasures, and appeared to collapse.

As the Sankir bullied the Lord off Azania, she coughed and heaved a relieving breath. The Lord’s men tried to pull him backward toward the window, shielding him with their bodies. Aiming through the bars, the Ranger in his paw placed a shaft into one of the backs facing them. More soldiers rushed up through the hatch, but a Ranger’s arrow struck one of them through the face visor, blocking the stairwell with a dead body.

The tall Ranger and the tiny Princess stalked Gazaram in tandem. The man swiped at them with his sword; a male Ranger knelt beside the King, quickly binding his thigh with a robe, while another worked expertly at his locks with a set of picks. Two more had joined the soldiers.

Catching Dragon’s eye, the Sankir roared, “You’d better hide your Lord well, men, for I am bent on revenge!” He waved his sword in clear threat. “Come on, Gazaram! Where’s the youngest Prince?”

“Taken care of!”

The man lunged; the Sankir blocked his thrust, but his block impelled the blade into Azania’s arm. Blood welled immediately.

She lunged. “Take that, Gazaram!”

He recoiled. At the very same instant, her thought touched his mind. Dragon thrust his fully extended talons between the bars. The blow was anything but elegant; the longest point of his fore-talon pierced the nape of the Lord’s neck, despite his armour. Just three inches or so, but in the case of a Human, a deadly strike. Blood spurted out of the cut. Drawing back his talon, he warned Azania with his mind as he very, very gently blew fire onto the men’s backs.

“Get the King out! Mind the lower hatch,” he roared.

The Rangers retreated; the men in front of the window screamed and broke. Nothing like overheated Dragon halitosis playing down one’s spine to liven up a man’s dancing skills. Meantime, the Princess skipped forward to execute a rapier-like strike with her talon blade, opening the Lord’s throat to complete the job. He collapsed; she retreated just as rapidly.

“Lower hatch!” he thundered again, shaping the fire roughly with his tongue. It swept across the floor to the lower entrance, sending the men climbing up there into a scuttling panic.

Stooping, the Sankir hefted the limp King onto his shoulder. “Up the stairs! Go!”

With the way cleared by Dragon fire, the Rangers fled up the spiral staircase. The King left a trail of blood behind him. Briefly, Azania and a female Ranger clashed over who would be last. The Princess staggered upstairs first, clutching her side. The Ranger followed; a second later, he heard the trapdoor squeal shut. Drawing a huge lungful, he filled the chamber with clouds of pearly white fire. As much as he had breath for, until the flesh inside stopped sizzling and there were no more sounds of movement inside. So much did he give, the heat radiated back out of the window, forcing him to withdraw the Ranger he still held in his paw.

Now he was properly stuck.

Aria! Help!

Chuckling rather grimly, she ordered four Dragonesses to grab him by anything that mattered and drag her Dragon out of the hole he had created for himself.

Took a bit of doing.

After all, from this viewpoint, his haunches obscured the entire sky.

* * * *

Working quickly, the Dragonesses extracted the Rangers and royals through the window the creature who possessed a welding torch for Dragon fire had thoughtfully carved out for them. They had padded the hole with a layer of robes which had been soaked in seawater, but the cloth smoked heavily and burst into flame as the last Ranger popped free.

“Azania! Alright?”

“Good thanks, Dragon. Various cuts and bruises, but –” He caught her as she wobbled. “Mostly alright. I need to sit down.”

“You did great in there.”

“And then, the draconic backstab. Epic,” she said, swatting his upraised paw with her hand. “Nice work, you!”

“Azerim needs help, fast,” Aria put in. “Dragon –”

“Right on it. Castle courtyard?”

“Let’s move.”

Scooping up the King, he leaped out hard and fast, taking them on a quick tour of the delightful battlements before folding his wings to