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

and promptly peeled off behind the nearest houses as the defenders responded.

At the same instant, Dragon’s battle challenge pummelled the air.

FEAR THE TALON THAT CARVES YOUR DOOM!!

Quite the mouthful. Perhaps only Azania understood the import of the thunder shaking the square, fortress-like building beneath them, for she gave a small chuckle.

No, he was not writing a scroll.

Her bowstring sang as his wings flared, making a man on the battlement cry out and pitch over the edge. His white flame roared over the triple emplacement on the corner, meant to cover the angles. Thunder and challenges shook the air as other Dragonesses hit their targets simultaneously. Most went in with flame and then claws, picking up the catapults and ballistae and tossing them aside, regardless of the men and women manning them. Rangers flipped off their necks, swords flashing.

On Dragon’s neck, the Sankir pointed to a long building on the western side. “Under there.”

Meantime, Aria waved in her other troops. They whirled out of hiding and charged the walls. Suddenly, the red-feathered troops stationed there discovered three undeniable truths. One, the barracks buildings were not very tall, even with the battlements atop. Two, their covering fire had just vanished. Three, courage and discipline were fearfully hard to maintain with vengeful Dragonesses stalking the rooftops behind them, as well as a sword-wielding charge coming in from the fore.

Many broke and tried to flee, but a number formed knots of resistance.

One young red Dragoness toppled off a sloping tile rooftop with a severe wing injury. Others picked up javelin, arrow and sword injuries as they mowed through the defenders and broke into the barracks buildings, seeking to secure the area. Dragon swerved for the red as she clawed at the wall and guttering, her weight breaking stone, tile and wood.

Got you. Plucking her up by her waist, he brought her to safe landing.

“Nice catch,” Azania said. “Sankir –”

“With me, Princess!”

“Right behind you,” Dragon said.

Not exactly. He could not hope to fit inside. Forced to watch and then track her by scent and sensory magic, he huffed in frustration as the Sankir, plus the Princess and a squad of six Anhoyal Rangers disappeared below ground. A frustrating wait followed. Rangers combed the other buildings, but it quickly became apparent that the King’s soldiers must have been rounded up and herded below ground en masse. No-one could find the keys.

The Princess popped her head out of a ground floor window. “Dragon. Looks like they’re stuck down there and were left to rot, no food or water. They’ve been trying to break out with a couple of daggers they smuggled in.”

“No chance of smashing down the doors?”

“The quarters are very narrow. Aria barely fit inside the entry tunnel. She tried the door, but it is ironbound. She could only rattle it.”

“What’s the distance?”

“Hmm. Good thinking.” Turning, she pointed. “It’s down that stairwell you see behind me, and then twenty paces along.”

“Fifteen,” said the Sankir, popping up behind her. “Twenty if you’re – you know.”

“Vertically challenged?” Dragon purred.

The Princess smacked his nose. “Shut it, Mister Large.”

Landing in the courtyard area between the barracks buildings, Aria paced over to him. Her scales gleamed in the lantern light. Some kind soul must have lit the lanterns around the courtyard just before the attack.

“Plans?”

He said, “Kick down this wall, insert my muzzle as far as it will go down that stairwell –”

“While I spank your backside?” Aria inquired.

“What?” he spluttered.

“Won’t that make the fire squirt out faster?”

“Aye!” To his embarrassment, his scales heated up at her tone.

“There,” she said. “He’s primed for action. So predictable. I do love the glowing effect.”

Gnnnrrr-gnarr-GRR!

Aria just winked at the Princess. “Could not agree more. Come on, I don’t pay you for your prettiness, you know. Put those mighty muscles to work.”

“Did someone call for a demolition?” he rumbled.

“Most certainly did!” the Sankir agreed. “Just let us get out of your way first, Dragon.”

Once the little Humans had cleared the way, Dragon flexed his muscles and checked his hind paws. A dozen Dragonesses looked on with interest as he lined up his back-kick. BOOM! Right beside the window. BOOM-BOOM! The building shook. Between kicks, he heard the Sankir down below shouting through the dungeon door to the troops.

“That block’s shifting,” Azania advised.

“Stand back!”

Winding up, he cracked the block out beside the window. Then another. A whole section of blocks collapsed back into the room – each was solid sandstone, three by two by two feet in dimensions. Eager Dragonesses swarmed into the gap, pulling out the rubble.

The desert Princess said, “I love a Dragon in demolition mode, don’t you, Aria?”

“Mmm,” she purred. “Watch out!”

In their eagerness, the Dragonesses provoked a small landslide as part of the wall and the floor above abruptly collapsed. He must have undermined a roof beam, but the place was well built. The breach did not extend far. Dragon waded in gallantly to lift the beam off an overzealous yellow Dragoness, whose wingtip pat of thanks nearly put Aria into murder mode. With a couple more well-placed kicks that did nothing for the bruising probably developing on his heel – ignored with massive draculinity, of course – he opened the room to the night air.

Aria growled, “I’m going to call you Wrecker from now on.”

“Wrecker the reckless?” he grinned.

Making an extravagant desert-style bow, Azania declaimed, “I hereby name thee Lord of Destruction and Wrecker of Human civilisations, thou Paw of all Pestilence, harbinger of the fiery winds of Taramis itself, the mighty White Dragon!”

He blinked. “By my wings, is that an official statement, Ambassador?”

“Would you like it to be?”

“Gosh, I think it might make me sound a little pompous, wouldn’t you say?”

“Poetic license.”

“Any decent poet would be turning in their grave right