"Poeir ti cloake, poeir for strengthu; ti ban faer!!"
Words were soft, quiet, but bore, even to my untutored ears, a power. Through the sting of my tears, through the darkness of my fear, I could see that the sword arm was bent under me in a way that no arm should bend.
"Poeir ti cloake." My lips barely moved, eyes squeezed tightly shut, to lock out the the sight of the dragon and to lock in my concentration.
"Poeir for strengthu."
I asked for strength. It was the language of the magic which I spoke.
"Poeir ti ban faer....." my voice was ragged and stumbling now.
Power to banish fear.....There was no way of lessening of the fear in my heart. Poeir ti ban faer, I repeated silently.
The beast turned his head as I watched, and the flame of its breath passed above me, close enough to scorch.
"Poeir ti ban faer, for strengthu!" The dragon reared back, beat its wings against the sky, and darted suddenly downward, fangs gleaming in the sharp light of the day.
"Bi min poeir, Dragon, gielden!" It did not yeild, but it drew back. The words arrested its dripping fangs, stilled, for a precious moment, that downward swoop which would have ended my life.

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