Though the storm had dispersed, it left behind enough winds that the Windrider could keep up its course east. There was no time to clean up the deck, and Yarik and Tarka were furiously working to keep them sailing as fast as possible in the ever-shifting winds. Alika was busy attempting to coil the unconscious Kurothian up and hide him in the cabin, while Snow was perched at the aft of one of the canoes, watching the ocean for any sign of Tshav.

“Maybe he drowned?” Alika asked hopefully. She had a tarp in her foreclaws and was currently trying to drape it over their guest, though coils of him kept sticking out. Perhaps they would be lucky, and either Yarik or Tarka had burned out Tshav’s scent of smell.

“I don’t know much about Kurothians, but I’m pretty sure they can breathe underwater,” Snow replied.

Alika grabbed the Kurothian’s tail fluff, attempting to push it under the tarp. It didn’t seem to want to stay.

“Wait, so we didn’t actually need to pull him out of the water?” Alika snorted. “We could have just left him there, and he’d have been fine?”

“Well, Tshav would’ve gotten to him.” Snow sighed. “I still can’t believe we’re just calling him ‘Kill.’ That’s like if we named Greeny here ‘Swim.’ Or ‘Sink,’ more accurately.”

“Okay, Snow,” Alika rolled her eyes.

“It’s different!” Snow snapped. “Snow is a noun. Kill is a verb!”

“Sure it is.” Alika peeled the tarp back from ‘Greeny’s’ head. She could get over him not having wings and being covered in scales, but his fangs were just too small! It was cute but in a weird way. “We’re not calling him Greeny. How about Littletooth?”

“Works for me,” Snow replied. “I’ll get his real one once he wakes up.”

Alika prodded his body. His scales were smooth and slippery. “If Tshav is after him, maybe we should just give him over.”

“Hey!” Tarka shouted, apparently not quite busy enough with the ropes to not eavesdrop. “We can’t do that!”

“Yeah, we just named him,” Snow agreed.

“Why not?” Alika asked. She pressed one of her wide paws against his snout. “We don’t know who this dragon is. For all we know, he could be a dangerous murderer.” Still, the more she thought about it, the less she had the heart to.

“Didn’t you try and kill me when we first met?” Snow retorted.

“I had good reasons,” Alika grumbled.

“Look at him!” Tarka said. “Littletooth couldn’t be a murderer. He’s so flimsy and skinny! His teeth are too little!”

Alika grunted, squinting and examining Littletooth. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. His claws weren’t even sharp enough to draw blood, and he’s small and non-threatening.” She cocked her head to the side. “It’s sort of cute.”

“Actually, maybe we should throw him overboard,” Snow hurriedly added.

“No!” Tarka exclaimed. “You can’t!”

“You really think that would work?” Yarik asked, interjecting into the conversation. “Tshav sounded bewitched. Perhaps he’d just come after us next.”

“Bewitched?” Snow folded her ears back. “You really think so?”

“That bloodlust wasn’t natural.” Yarik’s face furrowed as he tied off a line. “Tshav said the word ‘kill’ as if he could say nothing else. There’s magic at work here.”

“Hm,” Snow stated.

“To speak Nigel’s name too loudly will bring him upon you,” Alika whispered as her talons raked across the wood.

“Huh?” Snow asked.

Alika pointed a claw to the aft of the boat. A splotch of red and black had appeared on the horizon, quickly growing in size. “He’s here.”

Yarik picked up his spear, giving it a twist. Lightning crackled at the tips. “Snow, can you reverse the bewitching?”

Snow made a sound much like that of a choking fish. “If I could reverse it, I would’ve been able to sense it! If he were under some sort of enchantment, maybe, but he isn’t. It has to be something more permanent like he’s been altered somehow.”

“Altered?” Alika asked. The fur on the back of her neck rose at the word, and she felt suddenly chilled. “Is that possible?”

“How would I know!” Snow snapped. “Do I look like a mage to you?”

“Just a little?” Tarka pointed out.

“Tarka, get under the tarp with Littletooth,” Alika ordered.

“What? But I can help!” Tarka lashed his tail through the air, almost knocking Yarik in the chest. “I can breathe fire now!”

“I’m not letting you fight an adult dragon,” Alika said.

With a glower and a grumble, Tarka did as she asked, climbing under Littletooth’s tarp. His tail stuck out almost tauntingly, but Alika sensed that was the best she was going to get.

“I don’t like our odds.” Snow eyes were on the horizon. The blotch of red was rapidly approaching.

“I’ve gotten me and Tarka halfway across the world alive,” Alika growled, smoke pouring from her nostrils. “I’m not giving in to an overgrown rope.”

“TSHAV!” The call rang out from across the waves. They were out of time.

Alika braced herself and raised to her hindpaws again. She roared as Tshav slammed into her, but the deck was no longer quite so wet, and her stance was stable. Tshav’s long body whipped in the air as Alika grabbed it, sinking her claws into the cracked scales along his neck. Her hindpaws raked the wood as the impact from Tshav pushed her a tail length back along the deck, but she kept her balance, leaning her weight into the Kurothian and wrapping her forepaws around him as much as she could.

The two wrestled, tossing back and forth. Tshav might have been big, but Alika was strong. Alika scratched at Tshav’s face with a spur on the end of a wing, ripping apart scale and piercing an eye. He made no attempt to defend himself, just impaling himself on her wingspur. The sound made Alika gag.

Bewitched, she remembered. He’s bewitched. She’d play-fought with Tarka enough to know that if she’d swiped at the face of any normal dragon, they’d instinctually react to defend themselves. But Tshav had done no such thing. It was as if his mind had been ripped out, and the only thing left there was —

“TSHAV!”

— murder.

Alika’s step almost faltered, barely able to keep up the strength to hold Tshav in place. His remaining eye twitched wildly, the huge black pupil within taking up most of it. It felt almost wrong to hurt him, but what else could they do? If there had been another dragon there, it was long gone. Ending him would be a mercy.

“TSHAV!”

As the dragon’s jaws opened wide, Yarik charged forth, spear in hand. Its three points pierced the back of Tshav’s throat. Tshav’s blood-covered snout slammed down towards Yarik, twisting as Yarik dug the points in deeper.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Alika, let go!” Yarik commanded.

Knowing full well what Yarik’s spear would do to her, Alika was happy to. She released Tshav, diving away as his body writhed in the air. Tshav’s full weight came down toward Yarik, but before the dragon could crush him, he twisted his hand, and the spear came to light.

The smell of ozone and burning flesh filled the air as Tshav spasmed. Smoke poured from Tshav’s jaws as if he were about to breathe flame down on Yarik. After seeing what it had done to the outside, Alika felt sick just thinking about the horrors Yarik’s spear was inflicting upon the Kurothian’s insides.

When Yarik was done, Tshav opened his jaws to scream out his call again, but instead, red goop and bile came out.

But he still moved, and his weight came down on Yarik once more. Yarik used his lightning spear again, the runes on its handle dimming.

“How?” Alika gasped. She didn’t know much anything about Kurothian dragons, but no animal should have been able to survive injuries like that. Tshav’s body was falling apart, but even that wasn’t slowing him down.

Smoke continued to rise from Tshav’s jaws, and his twitching body whipped around, slamming down on Yarik.

With a horrifying snap, Yarik’s spear broke in two.

“Yarik!” Alika squealed, leaping at him as Tshav came down on him. She collided with the Kurothian’s side as he fell down onto the deck of the Windrider, barely avoiding crushing Yarik’s legs.

Alika grabbed ahold of Tshav again, saber fangs and talons digging into the remains of his mane, trying to hold him back as he slithered toward the cabin.

“Tarka, get out from there!” she ordered. She tasted charcoal and iron on her breath, her muscles straining to keep Tshav from him. Broken crimson scales fell at her paws. “Snow, help!”

“How?” Snow squealed, at the edge of the boat and as far away from the gruesome battle as possible. “He’s seen through my illusions already! He’ll know if he sees them again!”

“Trust me, he won’t!” Alika growled. Her fangs and claws suddenly slipped from Tshav’s back, and he slipped another length toward the cabin before she caught him again. “I can’t hold him much longer!”

“If I die, promise me the tales of my death will be heroic and not something stupid.” Snow sighed. With a wince and a twist of her tails, Snow transformed into Littletooth. “I can’t believe I’m giving up potentially eternal life for you all. Hey! Big guy! Looking for me?”

Tshav’s head turned around, blood dripping from the eye Alika had pierced. With another silent shout, his whole body twisted, throwing Alika off him as he flew across the deck at Snow.

“Oops, too slow!” Snow taunted, leaping out of the way as Tshav flung himself past her. She sprinted across the deck in the form of Littletooth, jumping from one of the canoe bows to the other. Tshav turned around again, relentlessly coming after her as she ran around the perimeter of the Windrider. “That’s right! Over here! You all better think of something quick, 'cause I can’t do this forever!”

Alika pulled herself up, wiping off the blood from her jaws and talons. Fortunately, it wasn’t her own. She looked down to see Yarik partially beneath her — apparently, she’d cushioned Tshav falling on him.

“You okay?” she asked, extending a paw to help him up.

Yarik nodded and grabbed it with a grimace, his hand slipping from it. Instead, he decided to get to his feet on his own.

“Nothing that’ll delay our journey,” he coughed, rubbing his back.

Alika watched as Snow looped around the Windrider in the shape of the turquoise dragon, Tshav chasing after her. It would have almost been funny, had the stakes of the game not been death.

“Any time now!” Snow yelled.

From the corner of her eye, Alika spotted Tarka, sneaking out from under the tarp with a thick rope in his jaws.

“Hey, I told you to hide,” Alika said. In hindsight, having him hide with Littletooth hadn’t been the smartest decision.

Tarka, as usual, ignored her. He climbed up the forward mast with rope in his jaws, shimmying up it like a pine tree. When he got to the top, he began to wrap it around a few more ropes, and in moments, there was a huge loop of rope dangling down from the mast.

“Well, I’ll be darned,” Yarik said.

Tarka grunted something unintelligible down at Alika, still fiddling with the rope. She cocked her head, trying to figure out what he’d said.

“That’s good!” Yarik called out. “I think it should hold!”

Alika suddenly realized what Tarka was wanting.

“Snow!” Alika shouted. “Jump through the loop!”

“What?” Snow snapped, running aft along the ship’s edge. Tshav snapped at her long scaly tail, close behind. “Now’s not the time to make me do tricks!”

“Just do it!”

With a whip of her tail, Snow changed direction, leaping up on the cabin’s roof. The much larger Tshav turned with her. Just before his jaws enclosed around her tail, she jumped from the other side of the roof and through the hoop of rope Tarka had made.

Tshav flew after her, just as Tarka, rope in his jaws, leaped down from the mast. The loop tightened around Tshav’s neck, his forelegs pushing past it. Alika held her breath as he slipped through.

But the loop caught around Tshav’s torso, squeezing him tight and holding him in place. Jaws on the rope, Tarka dangled from the mast, wriggling his tail.

“Well, look at that.” Snow, still in disguise, stopped on the edge of one of the ship’s bows. Tshav had been caught in their trap, but hadn’t seemed to notice: he was busy flying, still trying to catch Snow, pulling on the mast as he did so. The Windrider began to speed up, the force of Tshav’s levitating flight carrying it across the waves.

“Well, that’s one way to get us out of the doldrums quickly,” Yarik said. Looking down at his broken spear with a shake of his head, he grabbed a paddle and began to steer the ship. “A little more portside, Snow, will you?”

Tarka let go of the rope and collided with the deck, wearing the smuggest grin that Alika had ever seen.

“And the hero of the day is Tarka!” Tarka proclaimed, getting on his hindpaws and doing a small victory dance, wind whipping past his wings.

“Excuse you?” Snow barked. “I’m the one steering Tshav here!” She jumped from one bow to the other, and Tshav moved, the boat with it.

Tarka stumbled, thrown off from his dance.

“It was a team effort,” Alika said, dipping her paws in the passing seawater to wash them off. She looked up at the rippling Tshav, concerned. Sure, he was better than wind power, but what if he got free? What if the tarp came loose, and he went after the real Littletooth? What if he broke the masts?

“And I can’t keep up this illusion forever,” Snow added. “We need something more permanent.”

“I already thought of that!” Tarka wiggled as he dug his snout back under the tarp, pulling out another thick rope. “And the best thing is, we don’t even have to hurt him!”

“What’s that one do?” Alika asked, following along as Tarka pushed it out from under the tarp. It was long, very long, and she soon realized what was attached to the end of it: the Windrider’s anchor.

“Ah, that anchor’s been with me for decades,” Yarik bemoaned. “I’ll be sad to be rid of it.”

“Hey, you’re not the one who can’t sleep until we get rid of him,” Snow replied.

Alika watched Tshav writhe and snap at Snow, silently crying out. Tarka was on the roof of the cabin, clutching one of Tshav’s hindlegs as he tried to loop the rope around it.

“This seems almost cruel,” Alika said. “He’s bewitched, isn’t he? And there’s nothing we can do to help him?”

“He’ll be fine,” Snow replied. “He can breathe underwater, can’t he?”

“I’m not sure that makes it any better.”

Tarka finished looping the rope around Tshav’s leg, checking over it to make sure it wouldn’t come loose. Yarik began to push the anchor to the edge of the ship, and Alika quickly went to help him out. Tarka climbed back up to the top of the mast, swinging his tail and wings around to avoid Tshav’s flails.

“Everything’s in position,” Yarik said, crossing the Windrider. “You’re both ready?”

Alika and Tarka both nodded.

“Then on three. One, two, three!”

Tarka pulled his snout upward, a rope within it. The loop unraveled, and suddenly, Tshav was free. He lunged.

Using her hindlegs, Alika pushed the anchor over the side of the Windrider. As it plummeted, the rope followed. Just before Tshav’s jaws clamped around Snow, it went taut around his leg, and he was pulled in after it.

For a terrifying moment, he remained in the air, his talons raking on the Windrider’s hull. Alika’s heart raced. What if the anchor wasn’t heavy enough? How much could he lift into the air?

But inch by inch, he gave way, and the rope dragged Tshav beneath the waves. The last that Alika saw of him was his crimson head, poking out from the sea, his good eye single-mindedly focused on Snow.

“Farewell!” Snow called out, as a stream of bubbles rose to the surface. She leaped from the ship’s bow, transforming back into her normal three-tailed self. “Give the Dreamer our regards!”

Tshav didn’t resurface, but even as the Windrider sailed east, everyone kept a wary eye out behind them.

“Do you think he’ll eventually calm down and untie himself?” Alika asked. All it would take was a swipe of his claws, and he’d be free again.

“I’m not sure he’s able to,” Snow replied.

“Hm,” Alika let out a long exhale. Her heart had finally stopped racing, and her limbs wanted to drop like stones. She turned toward Littletooth, the tarp having blown partially off from him. “And now, we just need to figure out what to do with him.”