SAVE POINT 66
Loading A Magic Carpet Ride...100%
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Sparo
I hope you hold on. It's a wicked thought, I know, but I can't help but think it as I feel your fingers grappling for a hold on my slick scales and your feet digging in—
Ouch! Damn girl, you're a lead foot, literally!
> Watch the liver.
I gripe, using my dragon telepathy to reach into your mind with my voice.
> I need that thing for my bad habits.
You stifle a chuckle that tells me you could care less about the joke, and I'm left imagining you falling out of the sky again. No, Rosabella, if you fell, I'd catch you. I'm hella fast.
> Feel those horns right at the nape of my neck? Yes, those.
I tell you, feeling your touch. Grand Dragon, the things it does to me. But I have to focus. I get maybe half an hour with you. I'm not going to spoil it by being all lovey-dovey, stars-in-my-brains. I gotta pay attention. Stay in the present. It's all I have left with you for right now.
> Hang on tight to those horns.
I lecture.
> It's about to get real windy—
And I shake out my neck, loving the slap of the air in my face as I lift my giant, scarlet wings. The breeze catches them, swooping under their folds—ticking and cooling at the same time. Oh. Oh, how I love to fly! To quote the greats:
"To fly too steep.
Too steep, perchance to dream..."
...Or is that not how it goes? I never paid attention to all that written word stuff. Dragons have better things to do—
> Hold tight!
I bellow the warning in your mind, digging my claws into the dirt—feeling it crumble between my toes before I—
Shove off.
I leap.
My massive wings beat.
To the tune of freedom.
To the tune of letting you see my piece of the world.
The lift forces my wings upward like they're rounding two full barrels while gravity rips them downward. I fight to push up—stretch out my neck.
There!
I let out a roar of fire as my talons rise from trailing along the speeding grass under me and—
I flap my giant wings.
Feel your hair whip against my neck as you burry your face in my scales with a scream.
Feel the air rush past my face—
Freedom!
Finally!
The sky is baby-blanket-blue with those fluffy clumps of porcelain clouds that look like cotton candy, and I want to snap my teeth through them all. You've probably never even tasted a cloud before, Rosabella—felt those glistening droplets of dew in the thousands on your tongue and the sun so bright and up-close in your face. I've wanted to show you these things forever. A few, sparse trees and, then, the mountains slide into view beneath us—like little toys in a playset, rather than the entire landscape of our world. Everything looks small with a new perspective. The world is bigger up here, and most on the ground can barely even see that—barely look up.
But you see it now, Rosabella. I feel your body loosening—letting go of the fear and tension. I feel your hands slide down, relaxed around my neck as you shift your weight to peer below us.
"Sparo!" you call, astonished, "This is—amazing!"
And a grin splits my face that I can't hide or refuse to. I grin so hard I feel the air rushing through the spaces in my jagged teeth.
> You gotta admit,
I shout in your mind over the wind whipping past my ears.
> this is better than walking!
"Hell yeah, it is!" you yowl into the sky. And I feel your hands slide off my neck. And I look back to see you have them both in the sky with your brown hair billowing out behind you like a kite. And I have to grin at the pure joy in your eyes.
But I, also, want you to put her hands back on me.
> Hang on tight again, sweet.
The words rumble through me along with all the thoughts I can't seem to contain.
> You ain't seen nothing yet.
And the thrill of the anticipation of your reaction trills through me as I feel my haunches preparing to—
D
I
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V
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I twist.
The world rushes.
Hurls.
Past in a blur.
My stomach jumps to my mouth.
And dizziness crackles in my ears till—
I pull up and level out, breathing hard. Exhilaration crashes through my body—all the way to the edges of my talons. And I can feel the heat of your tiny body, clutching at my neck—and your heartbeat. Pounding. Each fluttering, small beat of yours matching the booming thrum of mine.
And I haul us up on the ledge as you clutch at me, feeling the rocks punch in between my claws.
We're here. Just like I pictured it.
And I hold my breath as you slide off my back and to the cliff's rough ground because—
Because I hope you love it.
This place is one of my favorites, but I want to see it through your eyes—like, maybe, I can see it all again for the first time. We're standing in the mouth of an enormous cave—one of the many that dot this mountain range's side. But this particular one is higher than most and the view...
Oh, the view... You can see for miles up here, watching the clouds mix with the landscape below: tiny trees, patches of farmland and cities and towns... Large places look like a pinprick on a map from up here—like you're standing over the whole world and have it, literally, spread before your feet.
I watch your breath catch just as I'd hoped it would.
And your eyes widen.
"Sparo—this place!" you breathe in amazement.
> I know.
I murmur it in your mind, drinking in your response.
Grand dragon, how I want to wrap my arms around you right now, press my chin and lips into your hair, breathing deeply of you. ...But I can't do any of that as a dragon...
I burrow in my mind till I find the creator magic. I let it sweep me up—fill my lungs and heart with tingling. Red smoke envelops my vision. And I hear you gasp, softly, as I my creator magic bar lessons, and I reappear again.
As a man now.
The man you crave.
And it's like being separated by my giant form was far too painful or far too long because you rush at me, your arms open and your hair flying. And I catch you. My arms encircle you—engulf your petite waist—and your hands lock around my neck. And, Grand Dragon, Rosabella, that's all I wanted: you, here, in my arms. How long I've waited for this. But I won't wait any longer.
I lean to kiss you, any kind of hesitance or shyness gone. My lips expand against yours—hungry.
God...starved.
I pull you into me—against me.
I feel your hunger too. Like we're two puzzle pieces finally locking together: your need for safety and my need to keep you safe.
Secured.
Forever.
Unshakable.
Grand Dragon, I think I love you. I would never say it to your face—not now. I'm early again with the emotions. I don't want to spook you, but it's been decades since anyone made my heart flutter.
Soar.
Race.
Like this.
My hands shake as I rake my fingers through your hair, pressing our mouths closer. A shiver of delight runs through me as my tongue snakes around yours. And it's probably one of the few times I've been solidly in the present moment for a while now. ...Except last night. Last night was amazing.
I'm so caught up in our embrace that I don't notice it at first—and you try to conceal it, I think.
The sputtering.
Spasming.
Of your chest.
Of the cough coming up between us like a tangible reminder of the sickness that literally stands between us—that made this barrier of space and time that is going to separate us now for who knows how long.
And you have to break off the kiss to cough—to clutch at your throat and my chest as the darkness rakes through your body.
"Rosabella," I peer into your face. I hate that this is so awful for you—that you have to carry so much. "Where's the root powder?" I sputter.
And you nod to a backpack slumped against the cave wall that I hadn't noticed you'd brought with you. And my fingers fumble with the thick zipper and thin fabric before sliding against the sides of a glass jar. One quick tug and I have it open for you.
"Here," I shake some into your trembling palm. And you press it against your tongue while the spasms continue to ravage your chest. It makes something hurt inside me. You took on all this pain...all this suffering for our world. For our benefit. How can we ever repay you? I could try for a hundred years and it might never be enough, and the crazy thing is that you wouldn't even care. You'd give more. I think it's why I'm falling for you.
"I'm okay," you cough, "I'll be okay."
And I reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear with gentle fingers, smiling a little. Because I know that's true. You're a warrior, Rosabella. You'll fight this too. You'll win. You have to.
Suddenly, a strange sort of war cry echoes up through the valley—like a hundred voices all at once.
"What's that?" you ask.
We both whip around at the same time—
There's a dark cloud on the horizon.
But it's not in the sky.
It's on the ground like it's—
"A Darken swarm?" you guess, your sweet mouth pulling into a worried frown.
I narrow my eyes, but it's too far away too be sure. For that I'd have to—
"I'll check it out," I call, reaching inside for the creator magic.
The tug.
The purple bar.
The red mist.
And I have wings again—and, thankfully, my dragon eyesight—but I need a better view. I prepare for launch—
"Take me with you," you beg weakly, but your face is parchment-paper white.
"In your condition? Like hell I am," I spit—are you crazy?—"Rest for a minute. I'll be right back."
The wind gathers under my wings as I heave upward. The breeze ruffles through my scales. And the rock ledge leaves my feet. I have a purpose this time. I'm razor-focused as I speed towards the cloud—
Not cloud—crowd. I realize quickly, as I approach.
It's a horde—an army? Zombies? Warriors? I'm not close enough to tell yet.
I dial my eyesight in like the scope of a gun, turning blurry to sharply clear—what?
I shake my head, not sure I'm seeing this right.
An enormous throng crowds every crevice of the mountains around the Trading Portal gas station, spanning for probably miles—pancaking out in a huge sea even from up here.
But they're not Darken...not warriors...they're...
...It kind of looks like they're...nerds...