Chapter 19
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The reptile was more like a dragon clad in emerald glittering scales. The drake was strung over immersed in the foliage atop the boulder where the Teal Knight took his final rest. The core was broadly similar to the size of an adult elephant, which was large, tremendously so, compared to a wee folk such as me.
The forest drake’s eyes were opened, peering down on us. It was laid silent like a predator hidden in camouflage amongst the verdant tapestry. Dravon had not noticed yet, too busy mourning for his lost lord.
I was shaking in my grass marrows of what was likely going to occur. This life-threatening predicament felt feral to me, like waiting for a spontaneous detonation. Yes, I have been in front of death’s door before—I’ve even entered through it. So, I’m definitely not willing to enter it again.
But, beggars can’t be choosers or can they?
I moved the left analog twig to lay Amelia’s left gauntlet upon Dravon’s right shoulder, where he knelt. I then squeezed his shoulder. The squire swiveled his head to face me, he noticed the direction of where Amelia’s visor slits were directed. Following the same direction—he looked up. The squire’s face, red from his mourning earlier, now paled incomprehension on what was above us.
Recognized that he understood our peril, I moved my right hand down next to my stool, to pull a lever to its maximum setting. I had built this tempo stick and its functions after the battle for the grove, scripting it to do one thing throughout the whole interior of the grass body of the mecha. Increase the function of the music’s tempo. But this time, because the situation demanded it, I went for the maximum setting, up to 11.
The grass within the body began to shudder in vibration as the scripted songs attached to the network began to quicken in tempo. It was an amalgamation of tunes, creating tremors throughout the ecosystem within. I could only do this for a few moments, I haven't truly experimented on the limits, but I knew that it was permanently damaging the grass fibers within each strain every second it continued.
“When I say run. Run.” I said, my volume normal but a whisper to Dravon’s ears.
“Peb, Wink. Positions.” I did a closed shout below. Hopeful they heard me because this was going to be one bumpy ride. Aware of the preparation earlier we had both gauntlets loaded with four shrapnel rockets each, unexpectedly ready for the upcoming violence that was about to ensue.
I did not want to invoke the Drake to act before I did, so I left my left gauntlet atop the stiffly kneeling squire. Setting to barrage mode to the right gauntlet, I prepared the 2 seconds I had over the human before I lit the spark that will start the oncoming battle.
Enhanced with a tempo akin to hardcore techno, I pulled the analog twig to mechanically swivel up Amelia’s right arm in a span of half a second. With the latter half, I aimed and pulled the trigger.
All four hammers dented onto the back of the combusting stones which were sequestered at the back of each rocket, to launch the salvo into the angular face of the drake. When the rockets landed—all exploding in impact, my Knight Mecha with its left hand pulled Dravon to move.
50 Piercing Critical Damage dealt.
50 Piercing Critical Damage dealt.
75 Piercing Critical Damage dealt.
50 Piercing Critical Damage dealt.
“Run!” I shouted, swiveling Amelia 180-degrees to bolt away from the Drake that had been bombarded with grass metal shrapnel. The drake, disrupted from its predatory musing by the little barrage of rockets, fluttered its wings out from the foliage of leaves covering it. That moment of distraction I sent, allowed my mecha and the squire to run at least 20 paces away from the drake.
Wait, it was not a drake, drakes don’t have bloody wings. It was a goddess be damn dragon!
The baby in my golden backpack had woken up from the precise motion of the swivel, jarring him into consciousness. The baby commenced—as babies usually do, wail from such an affront. Cursing my idiocy, the logical flaw in my stratagem, I turned Amelia’s head to swivel back to see the dragon, coming straight at me, with its left eye reddening from my affront to it.
“Oh, Iris.” I cursed.
“Oh shite. Oh, shite.” Dravon cursed, whilst sprinting beside me—losing it as we stampede through the rough rocky terrain.
“What do we do!?” He alarmingly inquired.
‘Oh right, ask the small folks who we're pretending to be a knight.’
The concept of a huge carnivorous predator pursuing us gave me an idea.
“We should split up!” I hollered back at him, leaping over a rock mound, that would have been a lethal trip to me If I hadn’t noticed it in my musings.
A loud roar from behind had everyone unnerved at the periphery. It sounded close—may be right behind us as we spoke.
Dravon gave me a universal thumbs up at my idea and split off in another direction. The squire quickly dodged to avoid a swipe that was aiming for me and the baby behind me. I swiveled 90 degrees to meet the attack with my front, so the baby wasn’t in its direction.
“Brace for impact!” I shouted, gripping the analog sticks, as I prepared for the claw to slam into the thick plate of the mecha's chest. It cut and dented through the multiple layers of protection, before the force of the assault pushed my Mecha aways from further more harm.
A huge open tear metal made visible the grass frame inside Amelia. If it was a human in this suit, the wound could have been life-threatening. Everyone had braced, except the baby who was jarred to another sobbing wail from the stagger.
With no time to analyze the damage, I swiveled the knight mecha for another running script. One of the pedals that were attached to the controller tables, wasn’t working normally as it should have. The central network at the center of the Mecha must have been damaged—with a few grass fibers cut by the force of the impact.
“Wink! Assess the damage, fix what you can!” I shouted below, hopeful Wink heard me from the left shoulder compartment.
“Right arm loaded!” Peb shouted up.
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Perfect, if only that could do any considerable damage. I swiveled Amelia’s head to see what’s behind me. My face paled at the Dragon who was several paces away, ready to claw me another. ‘Oh, Shite!’
Apparently, my plan did not work. There was a 50/50 chance the dragon would have pursued Dravon—which would have given me a better plan that I could come up with; after dropping the baby off somewhere safe. Then I could have attacked the dragon while it was distracted with the flesh bag. I mean, why chase a tin can with a few small grass folks inside, instead of a human with a lot of flesh. Oh, right the baby... Who was currently wailing it’s attention out in the open for everyone to hear.
With my gambit lost, I had no other choice. Understanding that the forest dragon before me was a lot more agile than I had estimated. I directed my Knight Mecha to draw the bastard sword with its left hand, then faced the dragon charging towards us. I stirred the mecha to run backward, with the running script in an inverted loop.
I slashed to counter the claw swipes of the pursuing dragon, with the steel edge of the sword denting on each collision. I aimed with the right gauntlet to fire another barrage into the dragon’s angular face.
Suddenly, my running script that invoked the Knight mecha to run backward—ran into a mound that I could have spotted, If I was running normally. Amelia was about to trip back, with the baby first into the ground, until I reversed the gear to sprint forward, heading towards the following dragon.
With no other course to follow, I gained back equilibrium as I tilted the mecha’s forward weight for an impromptu charge. The dragon eyes were red from the grass shrapnel in them—avoided noticing my charge. I ran to its side, knowing the lore of dragons and how strong their scale was from fantasy books, I decided to cut through the thin muscles of the wings. I sprinted to the dragon’s right side with my sword up tearing the right-wing asunder.
140 Slashing Critical Damage dealt.
With the high tempo beats that invoked the fluctuation of the grass, my movements were as fast as I could expect. The latency on my scripts was close to minimal on how fast the signals were going throughout the interior grass networks of the mecha.
The dragon shrieked at its damaged limb, peering at it with reptilian sentients. It then swiveled its long-horned head—directing a cold bloodied glare at my mecha and I. Its eyes were swollen red with grass shrapnel piercing through it; blurring its image of my knight mecha. I was preparing another counter when it next moves, hopefully, I can slice its other wing up.
I checked the condition of my bastard sword. It was fine and empty, good enough for…
“Empty!” I yelped in a panic.
The left gauntlet had no pommel gripped within it. I then moved the visual slits to the right-wing of the dragon. The sword’s edge was stuck in the leathery skin of the injured wing. My face was agape. I closed my reaction, thinking deeply about why it had occurred as such.
I didn’t fully consider the limitations of a mecha. Mechas are after all machines, with no sense of touch or feel. The signals I had transmitted in my cockpit was a one-way communication which couldn't reply back. So I had to rely on other senses to retrieve information from the mecha. I hadn’t noticed my sword was gone until I had spotted it, not by feel but by sight.
It was an obvious flaw in the design. By not having receivers—signaling me with information on the status of my mecha, I had handicapped the chances of mine and everyone else from surviving. I’m an idea machine without really thinking.
‘I should have accounted for this.’
After the dragon stopped it’s moping of its damaged limbed it began to lift up its entire body, gasping the air around into its mouth—through its neck, and into it’s expanding chest.
‘Oh shite, the dragon is about to breathe fire.’
I hadn’t planned on this—it was impromptu, but I had aimed the right gauntlet at the Dragon’s opened mouth then pulled the trigger. The combusting rockets ignited and burst out from the sockets, flying into the maws of the giant. The explosions inside it’s opened mouth, prompted the dragon to gag fire and smoke.
75 Piercing Critical Damage dealt.
50 Piercing Critical Damage dealt.
75 Piercing Critical Damage dealt.
50 Piercing Critical Damage dealt.
“Didn’t see that one coming aye?” I said with a wide grin, marveling at my victory for a moment. I have to congratulate Peb for that one. Maybe a new stone binding…? Well, that's if we all survive this encounter.
“Warrior’s Resolve!” The squire shouted one of his Active Skills from behind the dragon’s back. A clang of steel hitting scales was audible to the fair folk within the Knight Mecha’s frame.
With the left gauntlet free from its burden of the sword, I activated pistol mode. This time, the dragon was distracted with the attack from behind and it had vomited its fire from within. I moved closer than what was feasible, aiming carefully for its eyes. I launched each rocket one by one until one managed to hit the direct center of the distracted pupil.
75 Piercing Critical Damage dealt.
75 Piercing Critical Damage dealt.
75 Piercing Critical Damage dealt.
150 Piercing Critical Damage dealt.
When it exploded, the grass hardened shrapnel pierced through the soft lenses of its eye, blinding it into a panic.
I moved the mecha aback, to avoid the chaotic claw swipes of the blinded dragon. Dravon had enough time to do a few more strikes before the Dragon realized the damage was only coming from one direction after it was blinded.
“Distract it!” I ordered the squire.
He looked at me with utter scorn on what I had requested him to do, but then he shrugged.
Finding furrow between mounds in the stone terrain, I removed the golden backpack off my back with the help of Teka, Oona, and Sera. Throughout the whole battle, Oona had hidden herself under the gap of the steel pauldron, which was large enough to shelter her.
I could not blame her, for what could a fae folk do in a battle of giants?
Sera tried to sing the baby asleep but it was for naught, the baby looked so upset, I fear it might have been injured. Teka gave Sera a few healing grass swathes for the baby. These swathes had crushed willow bark powdered within them, to temper the pain when applied.
We left the baby in the soothing hands of Sera, whilst Oona volunteered to keep watch for them.
With time now to plan and consider what to do next. The squire Dravon had been fighting the dragon’s blinded rage for a minute now. He seemed to have trained his whole life for this, fighting a creature that his family had slain for generations. The squire had a hard smile on his face, confident in his prowess enough to counter a few blind swipes.
Maybe I could leave it up to him, and wait back here to protect the baby. That seems unlikely though, Dravon was barely cutting through the scale with his sword. It seemed his weapons at the moment weren’t built for killing dragons.
Which was similar to my predicament. I can maim the dragon, I even blinded it. But I don’t think I can kill it with what I had stored within Amelia.
Analyzing the topography around me, at the stone cliffs at the far end, and at the mountains up above, I spotted something that could work. There was an oddly shaped rocky mountain, with a height of a two-story building sequestered near the stony cliffs.
Earlier, I had contemplated cutting the dragon’s wings then luring into a bullrush to then trip it past the stony cliffs and into the ravines below, but that plan was trashed by the loss of my sword.
The small mountain though, with its rather thin peak protruding at its side, could work?
If I can disturb the rocks near the center of its peak, I could trigger an avalanche. I doubt I can climb atop it with my mecha, but If I glide up there—how will I manage to impel the stone to break?
“Peb. Come up here!” I shouted below.
After a few moments, Peb poked his head out into the interior of the helm. He was beside me. “Yes? Commander?”
I gave him a wide grin when he called me that. The word had given me the feeling that I was a professional, and also in command. Nothing beats being the head of a command structure. No wonder egocentric people climb the ranks, I guess the rush of being in command can be addicting.
“Peb, my Peb, the pebble in my boots, my sidekick... I want you to unbind some stones.”
Peb gaped at me in horrified silence, pale in his stony complexion.