AS HE GAVE CHASE, the Human leader proved to have plenty of breath for running as well as for roaring his orders. Clearly a man of action. Allory had to dodge sharply as Yaarah bucked and protested, throwing Sabline about in the air – she did not appear to fly very well. Had she been mistreated in the dungeons too? Unbelievably, the Golden Purrmaine still chuntered on about the belly tickling! With a throbbing growl in keeping with her short temper, the Sable Felidragon introduced his muzzle to handy corner by way of helping him to keep quiet. He went all floppy and fell in a heap, causing them both to skid to a halt.
Sabline swore viciously, half verbally and half spitting orange fire. Pausing to hoist the golden prankster onto her shoulders, she staggered after the Princess, who led the way. As they broke out into the corridor from which they had previously accessed the canyon-side dungeon wing, Allory heard the unmistakable jingle of armour approaching at a trot. Well, whatever – armour on boots with bad attitudes not far behind.
She yelped a warning to Ashueli.
Spinning upon her heel to face the incoming squad, the Princess ducked a friendly javelin flung at her head and straightened up. “How dare you? I’m the –”
Sabline shoved her in the behind with her shoulder. “Royal brat! Move or die, your choice.”
“Get her!”
Palming a glass vial, the Elf smashed it on the floor at her feet and touched her necklet. “Smokus confustus instantus mustus!”
More Pixie-style incantations? Interesting. Should she be learning this magical language?
Mauve smoke billowed up with the kind of preternatural speed that must surely fill the most villainous heart with glee, filling the corridor with impenetrable, thick clouds that stank of rotting mushrooms. How was a Scintillant supposed to find her way through that?
“Ouch!” Her head found a wrought iron torch sconce readily enough.
“This way!” Ash cried, unseen in the smoke.
Perfect. The two elements combined to orient her properly. Dashing sideways along the wall, Allory followed the sound past another flaming sconce, around the corner, whanged off the thick bars that guarded this upper gateway – suggids! For the second time, she chased the fleet-footed Elf down the circular stairwell. Exciting evening. Poor Yaarah. He looked to have escaped Tygra’s dubious attentions only to have invited assured death – or a life-threatening excess of agony at a bare minimum – upon his cocoon. She was just about narked enough to help Sabline punish him.
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Braid his whiskers. Twist his ears. Pluck his tail!
The Sable Sabrefang was very, very far beyond provoked. She bounded down the stairwell to a litany of grunts and maledictions, glancing up as Allory passed overhead.
The Fae gasped, “Soldiers below?”
“Probably awake by now,” Ashueli panted from behind.
Sabline snapped, “You didn’t kill them?”
“One against twenty-three? Sure!”
“Feeble.”
“Unlike you,” the Elf snapped, “I don’t murder my childhood friends, not even when they’re helpless!”
Draconic cursing boomed down the stairwell. Sabline had an extensive vocabulary, all of it majoring on wit and delicate charm.
Spinning around the central post of the spiral stairs far faster than her larger companions could manage, the Fae burst out into the short straight section and pulled up with another Allory-special squeak of shock. Five men clustered at the base swung their swords and daggers toward the dubious threat she represented. Dodging and zipping about like a frightened butterfly, she twirled twice, three times, and found herself trapped near the low ceiling. Allory swung about once more, flustered. What to do? No doubt they intended to skin her like a fruit.
Oh no!
She screeched, “Watch out, men!”
It was epic. Sabline, reaching the bottom of the stairwell in a rush, extended her talons to grip the worn stone and screech to a halt. At the same instant, she bucked hard, hurling Yaarah off her back straight at the five. The air filled with floppy legs, droopy wings and an avalanche of golden fur. Fifteen feet of cat-Dragon weighed a fair bit. Regrettably for them, the five soldiers all had their swords pointed in the wrong direction – that would be upward at the annoying, oversized sapphire mosquito with the widening eyes. Allory vented a horrified snicker as the unconscious Felidragon smashed them all down in a heap. Sabline promptly leaped on top of the pile, cracking ribs with her extra bulk and pounding several heads against the cold stone for good measure.
The old stomp and grind routine.
Nice dancing!
“Huh,” the Dragoness sniffed, peering into the guardroom. Someone groaned beneath her. She raised her hind paw and smashed him down again with a meaty smack. “Shut it. I’m thinking here.”
Cheeky chortle.
That said, her methods of communication did evidence a certain lively directness. No beating around the bough for her. She’d just rip the branches off and toss them aside.
The other soldiers had tipped over two tables to form a kind of makeshift barricade in the centre of the guardroom. They crouched or cowered behind cover, waving an array of weapons in the vague hope that the likes of Sabline might be persuaded to turn back. Allory’s nostrils burned at the stale stench of their fear. Suggids, even above the usual dungeon reek? Humans definitely had a tang all of their own, it had to be said. It could not get worse.
“Halt right there,” someone called shakily.
Sabline smiled at them. Yaarah’s smile was bad enough. Sabline had four massive incisors, double the length of his fangs, and a smile that must give Human children nightmares, or at least, that young male soldier to the left who, judging by the sudden additional whiff, had just voided his bowels.
The Faerie flinched. Worse was indeed possible.
Would she look incredibly silly if she flew around while holding her nose pinched shut?