The others fought with a determination that Oakley found admirable, but mainly foolish. They looked more possessed than anything else, almost throwing themselves at the dragon like rag dolls.

Oakley intended to not die. Whatever madness had taken over the others in the cave, it couldn’t have been affecting him. As they charged forwards, he inched away, trying to crawl to for cover and let the fight burn itself out. Who knows? Maybe he could convince the dragon to spare his life and send him back home?

Oakley didn’t have to worry about not seeing in the dark cave, as the dragon appeared to be making a game of their fight. Every few seconds, it would shoot up a jet of color. Oakley had been expecting fire, but he wasn’t sure what exactly it was sending up towards the roof of the cave. He didn’t even know why he should be expecting anything anymore; he’d been dragged into a dragon battle by a painting.

Speaking of his forced participation, once Oakley had managed to crawl backwards enough to hide behind a cluster of stalagmites, he sought out the one that had told everyone to fight. The one that was responsible for bringing him here.

Oakley almost missed him, in fact. As the dragon was occupied with the rest of the people, trying to punch at it to no effect, Oakley saw the man that had summoned them. He was pocketing something large and metallic into a satchel, as he hung by the entrance to this portion of the cave. He was going to leave the people there as a decoy! Oakley kept his eyes trained on the summoner, despite his jarring fear of the chuckling beast.

He tried to take in as many details about the man as possible, but the man turned and vanished out of the cavern.

It was difficult to make out many details from the man, but there was one major one that even his hood couldn’t fully hide. The man had deep green skin. Oakley would have been shocked, if not for the dragon in the room. The man was entirely covered in dark leathers and had an assortment of knives hanging off his belt. He couldn’t make out any more details before the man left.

“Run all you like, little Paerilith,” the dragon called out, “once I am done with your petty offering of flesh, I’ll be right along to strip you of yours, too.”

Oakley wasn’t the best with names, but he knew he needed to remember that one. Paerilith. Paerilith. He had to make it out of this cave, but Oakley knew one thing for certain. He would be finding that magician and he will force him to return him home- no matter the cost.

That only left the small obstacle of fleeing from a dragon. As multi-colored lights hung in the air like rainbows made out of fireflies, Oakley tried to make a mental note of this dragon and what it appeared to be better at. Perhaps it had a weakness he could exploit?

The dragon, now that Oakley was focused on it once more, didn’t look like any of the dragons he’d been shown in books or pictures as he grew up. Oakley wasn’t the biggest fantasy fan, so he had to take Paerilith’s word for it, when the green man said this was a dragon.

It was blue, yet the scales that covered it seemed to almost shine with an iridescent glow. They shone in such a way that it looked like the dragon didn’t have scales at all, but skin. Its wings, as it had four, instead of two, were not shaped in a way that Oakley expected either. There were two main wings at the beast’s shoulder blades, with two smaller ones closer to its hind legs. It was as if they were melted, longer tendrils stretching back from the bonier parts of the wings. This dragon looked as close to what Oakley believed dragons were, as pixies looked to humans. There was something otherworldly, beyond whatever other world he had already been dropped in.

The eyes of this dragon also intrigued him. They weren’t the large, dinosaur-like predator-ish ones that he’d expected, but were instead like gemstones, emeralds, glittering out with glee at the forced fear of the humans before him.

Other than the odd behavior of the humans, they looked like they were dressed similarly to Oakley. They wore clothes he would barely notice when out and about, instead of clothes similar to that Paerilith guy. They’d all been summoned along with him, though they were clearly still under the influence of whatever that man did. Why wasn’t it working on him?

The humans were still fighting as if possessed and Oakley noticed two things about the dragon’s habits during the fighting. It barely took any notice of anyone trying to simply punch or kick at it. It only became defensive when someone dared approach its treasure. It stood constantly with its two hind legs and stretched-out tail atop the mound of treasure. Secondly, while the dragon wasn’t too affected by the attacks of the others, it also wasn’t giving out the worst attacks. It had too many people to focus on and couldn’t decide who to fight first, which was possibly why the Paerilith guy decided to use this tactic to keep its attention.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Oakley knew that he needed to either get something strong enough to pierce through its scales, or make his escape before there were no more ‘distractions’ left standing.

It was all well and good in theory, however; in practice, Oakley wasn’t trained for any of this. He rarely left his home. He wasn’t fit or brave enough to fight a dragon. He did, however, need to get back home somehow. The only way he knew, was to catch that Paerilith man.

Oakley tried to inch away from the stalagmites, to try going for the exit, but his muscles wouldn’t obey him. He’d been crouched in terror for so long, he felt like he’d forgotten how to move.

That was when Oakley turned his head and noticed. In the split-second decision he had taken to try and move, the dragon had spotted him. Its emerald eyes bore into his own fearful blue ones. For some reason, now that the dragon had properly spotted him, it appeared transfixed- ignoring the flailing humans around it. Step by slow, agonizing step, it started to move towards him.

Oakley knew he had screwed up. He ducked back down behind the stalagmites and closed his eyes, praying that this was just a dream. It was all madness anyway. Yet, the thud of each hefty foot landing on the rocky ground punctuated Oakley’s shaky breath.

“You…” the dragon’s voice rumbled, as Oakley tried to fight down his own fear. “You feel… different… Not like these cattle…”

Oakley wanted to respond. He wanted to fight. He wanted to flee. He wanted to do something, but he was frozen within his own body. Unable to act.

Just then, as it felt like the beast was right above Oakley, its very snout poking over the stalagmites, but not yet looking down- it roared out in something between pain and anger. Disbelief, perhaps?

The snout retracted and Oakley risked a peek. A couple of the humans had grabbed items from the hoard, discarded swords and one had a mace. None of the humans looked like they knew how to wield any of the weapons, but they had managed to do enough damage to grab the dragon’s attention.

“You dare thieve from the hoard of Othisunareld?” The dragon roared and Oakley watched as, now that it was truly angered, it cleaved through a handful of the humans with one devastating swipe of its claws. Each one, as they died where they stood, burst into the same golden light that Oakley had seen dragging him to this place.

He made no attempt to remember the name of the dragon. Othisuwhatsit was far too difficult to bother remembering.

The humans that were at least slightly more adept with the weapons, or lucky enough not to die immediately, started putting up a fight now that they were armed and could return fire.

Oakley looked around to see what he could do to make use of the distraction. Seeing the dragon hurt and bleeding, how it recoiled from potential harm- it was just as unused to combat as the rest of the people in the cave. There was a large chunk of stalagmite lying beside him. It was unlikely to do much damage, but he had no idea what the rules were in this place. Perhaps, Othisusu was allergic to stalagmites. He didn’t know, but he did know that sharp things hurt.

Oakley picked up the foot-long shard of rock and held it close, trying not to panic as he made another split-second decision. He couldn’t wait any longer, or the distraction would be over. He also couldn’t mess this up, or he would die.

Oakley took in one final deep breath, and got to his feet, as quietly as he could. The dragon was still occupied with the others. This would be a group effort. Somehow, that Paerilith person had gotten Oakley to follow his command anyway. Oakley wasn’t doing this for him. He was doing this in spite of him. The dragon’s long tail, fanned at the end, whipped back and forth as it clawed at the others. Their numbers were dropping. They were holding their own, but they were dropping.

Oakley held the stalagmite up high and, hoping his timing was right, slammed it down upon the dragon’s tail.

The tail already had some gashes in it from the first damaging attacks by the others, but now that Oakley had done what he’d done, it was pierced through with rock. The dragon shook the rubble off, but there was no denying the pain from the bloodied hole that remained.

“You…” the dragon turned around, snarling. He didn’t get another chance to say any more words, however, as the humans that it had been fighting with took the opportunity immediately and swung down with their swords, aiming at its neck.

The dragon’s roars, quickly turning to whimpers, died as its throat was opened savagely by the others in the group. Oakley just watched on, feeling bad that he had to help in the killing. The dragon had been attacked by Paerilith, clearly, and the other humans were forced into attacking it. No matter how much it appeared to be enjoying itself in the fight, it was still fighting in self-defense.

As the dragon died, so did the magical lights that flitted across the ceiling, that it had somehow cast. The cavern was left dark and quiet.

With their commands fulfilled, Oakley watched the humans dissolve into the same gold sparkles that the dead had turned into- but he did not turn. He did not pass on back to his home. He stayed, stuck, in the dark, dead cave.

Oakley didn’t know what to do. He didn’t go home. He only had one other course of action that he knew of. Paerilith. Oakley ran to the pile of treasure, carefully avoiding the dead dragon, and grabbed at it, feeling like he might need some money to get around. He could feel in his hands that there was something more within his clutches, but he started to hear sounds coming from beyond the caverns. More gruff voices, angered roars. More dragons?

He needed to go.