Flying 11

“Well, what have we here?” Its voice sounded like the earth itself moving, a growling rumble that rattled the very air, bushes and trees around it. “What are you doing so far from your castle, Phora?’ it asked, bending the head on its long neck closer to the ground to stare with yellow cat eyes at the dark rider. There was a sickly green, brown flume of smoke easing from its two alligator like nostrils. One drop of foamy dribble eased to the carpet of leave underneath, though the drop was a bucket of bubbly slime to the purity of the leaves. The leaves began to smoke when it touched them.

“Not as far as you think, Jarz,” replied Phora.

Kinesis looked again at the dark rider who did not seem to fear this scaled monster. “Phora is his name,” she thought to herself. “I have heard something like that in my land,” she thought, and squinted her eyes to try to recall the memory, but it did not come.

“I think that you have something that I would like, either as lunch for my hatchlings, ransom for later use, or maybe just a quick snack for myself,” growled Jarz, eyeing Kinesis with a quick glance. “And since you are not on your horse and do not have a lance or bow, I suggest that you give her to me now. If you do not, I’ll make certain that you both suffer greatly.” Jarz quickly spread its bat wings so that a shadow fell over Phora and Kinesis. The wings gave a small flap, then swept back under their protective scales along a fold of muscles on Jarz’s back.

Though he was looking straight at Jarz, Kinesis heard words from the side of Phora’s helmet. “When I move --it will be in three counts-- run for that cove of young oaks to your right and behind you. It will protect you for a moment. One, two, three!” And with that everything happened at blurring speed.

(to be continued)

Flying 12

Jarz, Phora and Kinesis moved at the same time. Phora’s broad sword came from his back in a flash as he sped to Jarz’s right side, drawing Jarz’s attention from Kinesis. She did not look back but ran with the speed of fear to a cluster of young oaks that made the primitive form of a stockade. She slipped between the trees into a small cell made by the oaks. Spinning around and pressing against the rough bark of the nearest tree, she looked in terror to see the beginning of a furious battle.

At a run --Kinesis could not believe Phora’s speed, what with a complete outfitting of armor-- Phora moved within striking distance of Jarz. But, Jarz had anticipated this ploy and had lowered her head and spread her shoulders in a defensive stance. Phora struck a slashing blow at Jarz’s head as he maneuvered in, responding to the slightest move of Jarz’s clawed feet. Jarz shuddered ever so slightly as the blow struck the large scales on her shoulders, splintering off a few flakes with a loud sound of metal striking hollow brick. Jarz thrust her head forward with the spiked ridges across the top and pummeled Phora, who had made a dodge to get closer to Jarz’s side. The blow was equivalent to being hit by a tree, but Phora rolled with the impulse and was on his feet, sword and shield at the ready. Jarz drew back, sucked in a deep breath so violently that the very leaves on the ground flew up in a scattered storm around her mouth, then released a torrent of flame from her widespread mouth, dagger teeth glowing in the rushing blaze. Phora had just enough time to position himself behind his shield as the torched wind swept around him setting the leaves underneath his feet on fire. He quickly jumped out of the inferno, rolled to his left and rushed in to strike Jarz on the jowls of her head, which she had not withdrawn fast enough. A splash of oily, green blood emerged from the wound and splattered across the shin guards of Phora’s armor.

But, Phora had moved in too close. From out of nowhere (it was cloaked from Phora’s view by Jarz's massive body), came her tail which swept around and smashed Phora in the side, propelling him thirty feet towards the trunks of some large oaks. Phora landed on his back, clearly stunned. He put his shield face down and propped himself to rise up. Jarz drew back with triumph, and stared at the figure which was down on one knee, helmet facing the ground no doubt indicating great pain, and struggling to get up.

Jarz begin to slowly stalk towards Phora, to finish the kill. (to be continued)

Flying 13

Suddenly, there was a dark blur that emerged from behind a group of nearby oaks and the great horse, Fire, was beside Phora at a gallop only to stop on its rear haunches in a shower of leaves and black forest loam, its left side towards Phora. With his left hand he reached up to a small hidden grip on the saddle and in one swift movement swung himself into riding position. He grasped the reins, put his head forward, shield to his back and the two disappeared in an impossible feat of going from a complete standstill to a full gallop in one stride. Jarz was taken aback and roared in fury as the hoof beats disappeared into the silence of the woods. She stared for a moment at the empty space before her, a feeling of being robbed sweeping through her mind as burning acid surges through an empty stomach that cannot have the food it has expected.

“But,” she thought to herself in a comforting way, “There is still the juicy tidbit or item to be held for ransom back in the cluster of oaks.” That will be good enough for one day’s hunt.” She turned on her hindquarters and lumbered, head and body swinging in balanced opposite directions, towards Kinesis’ sanctuary, or at least, what Kinesis had thought would be a safe haven.

Kinesis could not believe that Phora would abandon her. He had proclaimed a strong desire for her company, enough to risk entering another world, her world. Yet, he had left her to fend for herself when he found himself in real danger. But then, what could she expect of persons of this bizarre, terror filled world? One thing she knew, just from her encounter with Phora, was that inhabitants must all be combat survivalists living in a world antagonistic to any effort at peaceful existence. Phora’s ability to defeat with such ease her attacks emphasized the clear fact that these were unusual beings in a very different, almost unknowable, environment from hers. The monster which bore down on her was even greater proof of her conclusion.

Jarz reached the cluster of oaks in which Kinesis shivered in fearful anticipation. Jarz could see the white clothed woman elf inside quivering with fear. A warm rush ran through her body. She liked the feeling that the sight of quivering prey gave her. She tried to squeeze her left front foot between two oaks. Try as she might, the oaks bent slightly and the bark peeled off in ragged strips where it was ravished by the rasp like scales, but they did not give way. In a moment of unbridled fury, Jarz bit into the nearest oak, but sharp and massive as her teeth were, the oaks did not splinter. Frustrated, she backed away to think, hot, dark brown smoke steaming from her nostrils.

Kinesis knew that death was only a few feet away and that any breech in her wooden fortress would lead to disaster. She looked out at the monster. It stared back with its yellow slit eyes, a cat playing with a canary before it devoured it. Both wondered what was in the other’s mind.

Jarz looked at the young oaks. While they were strong at the bottom, as they gained in height, they quickly tapered off. An idea came to her. “What if I flew up halfway and let myself down between two trees. My weight would bend and then snap them. I could reach down and retrieve my prize.” Her massive body quivered with delight to the tip of her tail which rattled against the ground in pleasure. With a leap, she took to the air, picked out two of the shortest trees, and let herself down between them. The oaks began to bend, groan with distress, then both trunks splintered and fell to the ground outside of the protective cell. Small limbs and leaves rained down on Kinesis. Jarz looked down at Kinesis who backed into a small opening between two oaks. It did not matter to Jarz if the morsel stayed or ran; she was to be had now.

(to be continued)

Flying 14

Kinesis knew that she was near the end of her life; she would be taken inside the cell of oaks or outside. “Better outside”, she frowned as she let the words crawl bitterly from her lips. “At least I will die in the open, not like a baby mullet trapped in a jellyfish web. I will die facing my enemy, not run like the coward Phora.” She spat Phora’s name at the end of her snarling exclamation. She squeezed her back towards the small opening between the oaks behind her, all the while looking up at the massive figure bearing down on the groaning, splintered branches from above.

Jarz was staring down at her with her yellow cat eyes that had now rimmed with a glowing red of greedy success. With the arm opposite the jowl that had been wounded by Phora, she slowly reached down, opening her giant scaled paw with its dirty, curved talons.

Jarz gave a sudden reach for Kinesis, but her claws enclosed only an empty space; Kinesis ducked the quick move by Jarz and had slipped out through the small gap in the oaks behind her. There was only one way to go and she sped toward the grass clearing which had one beam of light coming down through the opening in the canopy of green leaves.

“Would my flying magic work here in this world?” she asked herself in anguished panic. It was her only hope, but the clearing was farther away than she had estimated. “It will be close, so very close,” she cried to herself, the words slashing her will as a coach whip, and ran as the wind in a storm.

She was getting closer with each stride and could feel hope in the light. There was a quick shadow across her path from behind then over her. With a crash that shook the ground and stirred the dry ground leaves into a swirling brown frenzy, Jarz landed ten feet in front of her, directly blocking Kinesis’ possible escape into the light. Kinesis stopped so quickly that she tripped and fell to the ground. Hugh talons, kneading the earth, lay in her view.

“Did you actually think that you could outrun me, little elf tidbit?” Jarz said in a voice that rattled of dragon mirth. “Perhaps, you would do with a bit of dragon warmth to make you friendlier,” she said, her tail rapping against the ground in pleasurable anticipation. She drew in a short breath, lowered her head until it was level with Kinesis’, and then blew a small stream of dragon breath towards Kinesis.

“As ice!” Kinesis shouted, the fingers of her right hand up in an instant, directing a blue wind of icy snow towards the oncoming flame. The orange, yellow flame and streak of blue flurry hit between the two in a flash of sizzling hisses and crunches, creating a whirlwind of putrid smoke that congealed and fell to the ground in slimy, flaming clumps of ice. Jarz raised her head in astonishment, a puzzled look on her face.

“That is new to me,” she said. “A creature like you would be good to have around my nest to keep my hatchlings from burning up my home when they frolic. Enough play, now. I shall take you. If you resist, I shall eat you slowly.” She eyed Kinesis and began to lizard crawl toward her.

Kinesis put her hands to her face.

(to be continued)

Flying 15.

Kinesis prepared to strike with her ice weapon were Jarz to open her mouth. “Perhaps,” she thought to herself, the cold would choke the dragon. Worth a try before I die,” she grimaced at the worthless humor of the rhyme of her final words.

“You will not take me alive, Jarz,” said Kinesis and rose to face the approaching hulk.

“Then I shall have to eat you alive,” replied Jarz, slowing her approach to look more carefully at Kinesis. “Could the elf woman have some sort of secret weapon that could defeat me?” she asked herself. With a pause, leaving one fore leg suspended in the air, Jarz surveyed Kinesis from head to toe.

“And what powers do you have that may stop me?” asked Jarz, easing into a crouch that would allow her to spring towards Kinesis.

“Ah, that is for me to know and you to unfortunately discover,” said Kinesis in a strong voice.

“You have seen that I have defeated the most powerful knight of this world, already,” said the gloating Jarz. “Do you think that you could even begin to face me without armor or steel?” she replied, giving a low dragon laugh, which was more like cross between a snarl and growl.

“What knight? Do you mean Phora?” asked Kinesis.

“Phora, indeed. The knight on the great horse. Do you know why he is called Phora? No, I can see that you do not. He is called that because it means Death. He is the black rider who, if crossed, kills without hesitation. No being has withstood his final touch, until, yes, until now. I have defeated him, for I have caught him unprepared. Most unusual for him.” Jarz gave another dragon laugh, this one quite heartier than the other. The guttural rumble made the edges of Kinesis’ dress flutter like the edges of a torn flag.

“Death! The black rider! How could I have been so stupid,” said Kinesis to herself. Her knees felt weak and her breath came in shallow gasps. “I have forsaken my beautiful beach and, ironically, my life to satisfy a curious look for Death. The black rider is Death himself. How could I not have seen through? What stupidity!” She shook her head in anguish and anger, though she never let her eyes leave their fixation on Jarz.

“Enough of this patter,” exclaimed Jarz and sank closer to the ground, her muscles knotting into surging bulges underneath her scaled armor. Her claws sank deeper into the rich dark loam ground of the forest for a quick spring to devour the elf woman in a single gulp.

(to be continued)

Flying 16

Kinesis had a plan to get by Jarz, though it would depend on whether or not Jarz could be fooled by misdirection. An old elf dodge charm that her mother had taught to her and she had played with other elf children was casting the image of oneself in one direction while actually going in the other. “If I could do that just before Jarz attacked while throwing an ice charm through the jagged saber like teeth of her open mouth, Jarz may be stunned enough for me to try to make the light coming down to the green circle of grass. A lot of ifs,” she thought to herself as she gathered her strength through slow, deep breathing and making the outside fingers of her right hand curl softly under into her palm.

It was clear to Kinesis that it would be only a second or two before the attack. She prepared the dodge charm in her mind and had readied the fingers of her right hand positioned for an instant cast.

Jarz moved with a speed that surprised Kinesis. The dragon had leapt off the ground and was airborne, closing in like a hawk on a squirrel, before Kinesis could draw a quick startled gasp. Then, everything went into slow motion; at least, that is how Kinesis experienced it. She saw the huge dragon body lift upward and thrust itself forward, though in a slow ballet of flapping wings, curling claws, black slits in yellow cast whites of cat eyes centering her being, . She knew that the world had not slowed down, yet, she found that she had plenty of time to watch and think about how she should react. In what was a split second of reality, though to Kinesis two even three seconds of her conscious time, she called up her dodge charm. Jarz saw a mottled, white figure dashing in to her right moving quickly to go under her right front leg. In mid jump, she feathered her right wing to air pivot around to catch the blurred figure. In the same instant, Kinesis dashed under the left side of the twisted scaled body and began running for the light.

Jarz snapped at the white image, but her teeth smashed against each other in an empty purchase. She realized, at once, that a magic ploy had been played and knew that a continued spin would reveal the real figure. But, there was something else that caught her immediate attention with a startled dragon reflex, dragon instinct to a certain sound. Rather than continuing her turn to find the real Kinesis, she turned back towards where Kinesis had stood. The sight sent fear and trembling arching like a painful stroke of lightning through her being.

(to be continued)

Flying 17

The dark rider, Phora, on his great horse, Fire, was bearing down at full earth tearing gallop and was almost on her. Fire had froth at his mouth, lather thick on his withers and his eyes were open to reveal the white glare of the kiss of death. Phora was bent over in lance strike position, shield to the heart side, head down, the red slits in his helmet thin lines of radiant will to kill. The lance pointed at the ground ready to come up on call to drive to the heart. Phora was armed with all the weapons that dragons feared: broad sword, long bow, and especially, the long black lance tipped with silver needle point and razor knife blades that swept back from that point ready to spring open on contact. No dragon could defend itself against such power without a great struggle, with the odds certainly not in the dragon’s favor.

Jarz’s wings frantically beat the air into a thundering effort to gain height. Fire’s pounding hoof beats were like war drums sounding against the winged thunder. But, Jarz could not gain escape height. Phora raised his lance towards her undefended breast and prepared himself for the impact. But, dragon instinct reaction took over and Jarz curved her body so that the lance would not hit its mark, which would be sudden death for her. The tip plunged into the scales of the upper part of her right leg, slicing them and exposing the raw tissue underneath as a carving knife would through soft balsa. The lance blades opened tore through muscle, glanced off a large leg bone and came out leaving long, raw gash running jaggedly along her leg and up towards her shoulder, green blood spraying in an angry shower over Phora.

For an instant, blinded by the blood, Phora brought his shield up for protection. And it was a wise combat move, for as badly injured as Jarz was, she still managed to bring her tail around to smash into his lance arm and bash into his helmet. The blow caught Phora by surprise; he had thought that his blow was a clear thrust to the heart. His lance fell to the ground, bouncing with wavering sounds. He switched his shield to his injured arm and reached back in a double jointed stretch with his left arm to pull forth his broad sword. Reining Fire back in and signaling for a spin with his legs, they stopped and turned, Fire pivoting on his back legs. Phora brought the broad sword up to slash at Jarz’s exposed underside. There was a splintering crunch as the broad sword drove a curved valley into the soft underbelly. The scream was deafening, as if the air itself had been crucified.

(to be continued)

Flying 18

Jarz’s wings struggled against the air to gain escape distance from the next swing of Phora’s broad sword. The pain in her right leg which hung in a limp dangle was searing, more so than the gash in her underbelly that had the dull ache of a muscle rip, not a bad wound. Through frantic wing beats, she rose up just enough to see Phora below her. But, rather than attacking, he was urging Fire forward and back around towards the cluster of oaks where the elf woman had hidden. The broad sword lay on the ground in a matt of leaves covered by her sticky green blood now turning bronze as it began to dry.

“My tail thrust must have hurt him badly,” ran the gloating words through her mind. “The battle’s tide has turned. I shall finish him off now, once and for all.” She flew higher into the air, then began a decent towards Phora. Her back legs led the attack, their enormous talons spread out like an eagle’s grasp before it snatched up an unsuspecting squirrel. She pictured in her mind Phora crushed in their squeeze, gasping for his last breath. But, before he lost consciousness, she would carry him high over the head of the elf woman, then release him and let him crash to earth before her feet. His blood would ooze from his perfect armor into the ground with the woman’s eyes watching in horror as the earth soaked up his living being.

But, as she passed a crucial turning point of final commitment to attack in her decent, Fire pivoted around, Phora reached and took the long bow from his back and notched an arrow.

Jarz knew those arrows; they were like the lance with needle sharp silver points and razor knife blades that would spring open with the quickness that she had in spreading her talons. The wound damage from such arrows is unthinkable at this close a range, given that she, the target, was moving towards the taut bow.

The red slits of Phora’s helmet glowed. Jarz’s eyes glistened in panic. Phora pulled the long bow back to its limit and released the agent of painful death.

“He could not miss from this distance,” she thought and confronted her death with a resolution of acceptance. This was, after all, her world of survival of the most powerful. Death came in nasty, brutish and short moments.

(to be continued)

Flying 19

The arrow sped towards her at lightning speed. But, it was off the mark. It hit the underside of her right wing just below the shoulder joint. The arrow’s blades opened in an umbrella of savage rendering, slicing parts of her wing to flapping ribbons as it passed through. The tattered hole it left in her right wing let loose the captured air that kept Jarz aloft and she began a desperate spiral to crash onto the ground, sending a cloud of leaves and dust that covered the battle scene.

When the dust had settled, there was a strange, quiet scene. Phora had ridden over to some oaks behind which Kinesis had taken refuge. He had slid down, favoring his right arm, and was leaning against a knurly oak, facing Jarz. He held his bow with an arrow in the notch, but it was clear that he was very hurt; he pressed his back against the oak for support and Kinesis could see the slightest tremor in the light reflected from the silver strips running the length of his legs.

Jarz lay in a tangled pile of wings, legs, tail, but her face was battle front and cat eyes were fixed on Phora. Green blood trickled from her side, foreleg and wing. It was clear that the pain was great, yet she raised her head slowly to assess the situation. Phora had his bow, but in order to use that, he had pushed his shield across his back. Normally, he could get to his shield in the blink of an eye, but she could tell by his stance against the oak that he did not have full use of his capabilities. Nor did she, but she could still throw fire. And, though he had armor to help, it was the shield that resisted fire best. Prudence, however, was the foremost thought in her mind. It is bad tactics to attack if one cannot escape. Her damaged wing and leg must be healed. The leg would take a long time. Her wing and gash in the side, she could cauterize with a fiery breath well directed. It would be very painful, but necessary.

Like a soldier stitching his own wound on the battlefield, Jarz directed small jet flames of pure orange towards the injuries. Her tail thrashed the ground as the agony enveloped her body. But, the orange, curing flame that burned of her ragged flesh into whole, though horribly scarred, units cure had worked. The ribbons of wing were burned together and the gash was covered by a crisp char of flesh. Her foreleg was still useless, and it dribbled dark, smelly bronze clots. She turned back to face Phora.

“Stalemate,” said Phora.

“Perhaps,” said Jarz, lowering her head to look directly into the red slits. “And then, perhaps not,” she said while quickly drawing in a deep breath to release a torrent of fire.

Kinesis had seen it coming. As Jarz opened her mouth to shoot the flame, Kinesis cast her ice charm. The effect was dramatic.

(to be continued)

Flying 20

The ice charm hit Jarz’s open mouth just as the torch of fire came up from deep inside. Her head snapped back, her mouth wide open in a struggled, crazed grimace to rid her throat of an obstruction which caused the sides of her neck to bulge out like a snake’s that had swallowed too large a frog. Sides heaving back and forth, she twisted and turned, swinging her head from side to side. In a last desperate attempt, she slammed her head against the ground, which shook as if it were rending itself in an earthquake. From her mouth shot a sizzling, charcoal black, ball of ice. The ball of ice itself was on fire. It shot forward and hit the ground with the sound of ice cracking on a frozen pond. The ball left a sputtering trail of burned leaves as it zigzagged rolled to a lopsided stop, one of the jagged protrusions of ice sticking into the steaming torn earth around it. Jarz lay on the ground, taking heaving breaths with her massive bellowing lungs. Finally, she put her left foot forward, her head to the ground to substitute for her damaged right leg, and sat herself up into a Sphinx position. She took a hard, hateful look at Kinesis, then turned to Phora.

“You are right, stalemate,” she hissed. “But, we shall meet again.” And with that she turned, sprang with her back legs, and flew into the air away from them towards the opening in the oaks that Kinesis had been trying to reach. Her right leg hung down limply and she struggled to gain altitude with her damaged wing. She was flying in a sideways fashion with her good wing leading, bearing more of the weight than normally. There was a splintering crash and shower of limbs and leaves as she flew into and through the top most parts of the closest oaks. In another moment, all that was left of her were trace bits of green blood and bronze clots on tops of the green leaves.

Kinesis ran over to Phora who had lowered himself by sliding down the oak trunk to the ground. Blood was seeping from small air vents under the part where his helmet joined the neck guard. Phora reached up with his left hand and tried to do something with the underside of his helmet, but his hand wavered and he could not.

“Kinesis,” he said softly. “I think that my last moments are drawing near. Can you find the two hidden latches beside my fingers and press them in the following order. Push the one nearest to you twice, the other once. Then, remove my helmet. I think that it is filling up with my blood and I am beginning to choke.” He did not move.

Kinesis put her hands where his fingers were and felt for the buttons he had mentioned. She could not feel anything but the smooth armor. But, wait. There were two small smooth buttons that, were his fingers not so close to them, she would have missed. She pushed them in the order that he had given. The helmet gave a sudden click and separated from the connecting underarmor. She lifted the helmet.

(to be continued)