Going from page to page in his chosen novel was starting to get tiring. While he enjoyed the simple pleasure of retreading a tale he had read time and time again, it didn’t capture his attention nearly as much as it used to. Unable to keep himself immersed any longer, Kinsoriel decided to just put it back into his pocket spell. He considered pulling out one of the others briefly but didn’t end up doing so.

It had been almost two hours now. One would think that a creature with a limited lifespan would try to be efficient with its time. Clearly that wasn’t the case here. The dragon took to scratching and scoring a boulder as he idled, leaning against a set of pine trees as he did. Scritch scratch, scritch scratch. The tedious rhythm that came from it did little to ease his boredom.

Upon hearing footsteps approaching, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Finally returned have you?” He started to look over and straighten up as he continued, hearing the footsteps stop. “Did you find a map little auth-”

Standing in place of the loon he expected to see were instead other deathbounds. Four of them. “-or?” He finished. Their numbers consisted of three warriors and a magic user. A spearman in light plate, a swordsman with a shield and leather armor, and a larger one in furs with a two-handed axe. He could tell the last one was a mage because of the staff he held; along with that pointy hat they were all fond of wearing.

Both parties stared at one another, equally surprised. Their shock was short-lived as the big one screamed “DRAGON!”

The warriors charged as they drew their weapons. Behind them, the mage pulled out a grimoire and flipped pages rapidly. With a huge flap of his wings, Kinsoriel thrust himself back. The gale’s force gave them pause. The motion was mostly reflexive, though beneficial. Now he was ready to strike down the pests.

He opened his palm, conjuring the mental image of a ball of fire. He focused on how dense the flames should be, and the intensity of the heat. Having used this spell countless times before, it seemed strangely fragile. The time it was taking to form was far longer than it should have been. No matter.

“Burning Sphere!” He roared as the flames solidified in his hand, hurling it at the closing heroes.

“Barrier!” The one at the back called out, pointing his staff at the others. They were covered in a light grey shine and seemed undeterred in the face of the sweltering orb coming towards them. It exploded into a pale haze on contact, and they dashed through unscathed, their barrier spent.

The sight frustrated Kinsoriel. Normally they should be char and ash now since protective spells were generally slow to cast. Even propped up by their little cheat sheet, he would have fried them before the first syllable. Never mind that now, he needed to kill them quickly.

Having closed the distance, the heroes raised their weapons to attack. Kinsoriel raked his claws at the largest, only managing a graze.

He could do little for the other two, who laid into him with sword and spear. The sword glanced off of his night-black scales with a shriek. In contrast, the spear struck with a distinct sting! Enough to make the dragon jerk back, purple-hued blood dripping from the wound.

Unaccustomed to the sight of his own blood, it made him absolutely livid. His regress pushed him to the trees. The vermin pressed forward, believing they had the advantage. Aided by his fury, Kinsoriel leapt past the advancing deathbounds and rushed towards their mage with a primal gait.

The mage’s face was a mask of terror as the dragon bounded towards him. He read frantically, attempting to repeat that spell no doubt. He wouldn’t get the chance. “Depriving Net!” Kinsoriel snarled, briefly stopping to point a claw. An ethereal net tumbled upon him; his magic and fate were sealed within.

With deadly momentum, the dragon crashed an arm against the ensnared mortal. He slammed into a nearby tree with a sickening ‘thwack’, staining the bark red.

“Mesmer!” A distraught voice came from behind. Kinsoriel turned to meet it, a malicious sneer stretched over his mouth.

“Miss him already? Don’t worry,” He said as he bent over the boulder, “you’ll all be together again shortly.” With a strained heave, he threw the huge rock towards them. Two of them got out of the way in time. The swordsman was slow in his reaction, leaving him with a foot crushed and caught beneath. He wailed in pain while the other two stood around him defensively.

“YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS YOU MONSTER!” The big one declared with guttural rage, pointing his axe at Kinsoriel. Before he could retort, the axe started glowing with a bright light. Kinsoriel’s slitted eyes went wide as he knew what was coming next. As quickly as he could, he put his wings in front of his face. “FLASH!” He heard as a blinding light burst out from the axe’s blade. Even with his eyes shut and his wings blocking it, he still saw a sliver of it. These heroes didn’t seem to be rich enough to afford enchanted gear, a dangerous assumption to make. It was expended now at least.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

As he pulled back his wings and opened his eyes once more, he looked down on the axeman who was kneeling beside his pinned ally. Hold on, there were three left. Where did the one with the sp-

“ARRHHHHGHGH!” Kinsoriel bellowed as his right wing was stabbed and slashed repeatedly. Given his answer, he thrashed his tail like a bludgeon as he spun around. The attack didn’t strike true, but it forced a reaction from that infuriating little insect. The spearman diving out of the way may have saved him momentarily, but it left him scrambling to get back up. A costly mistake when pitted against the experienced dragon. Making a fist, Kinsoriel smashed him into a bloody pile, leaving a visceral impression on the ground.

Looking back to the duo by the boulder, he saw the axe wielder preparing to free his ally. Not by pushing or prying it off, but by winding a piece of cloth around the affected leg. While the dragon wasn’t opposed to seeing his assailants maim themselves in an attempt to flee, his now aching wing demanded he just end it now.

Raising a talon to the sky and standing on his haunches, Kinsoriel brought forth the thought of a thunderstorm to his mind. The crackling power, the darkened skies, all congregated into one thing. Not content with just letting the mana flow at a regular pace, he instead forced more and more into it. “Lightning!” Kinsoriel shouted as he pointed his claw at the duo, a bolt of electric wrath zapping forth from it.

The two barely had time to see their deaths come to them if any at all. Bright arcs bridged between them as the spell did its job. Smoke rose from their flesh moments before they both burst into flame.

Perhaps he had put a bit too much mana into that one. Call it overcompensating or paranoia, but he wasn’t about to repeat any mishaps. This decision was taxing though, as he was now feeling the aftereffects of channeling so much so quickly. It felt harder to breathe and his limbs trembled.

This little encounter told him all he needed to know. Along with lowering the amount of mana he could contain within himself, the shrinking also affected his output. His body had adjusted to fit the change safely, but that meant everything he cast would be slower than he was used to. Yet another burden for him to shoulder.

At least it was over for now. He trotted over to the boulder and sat beside it, looking over his wounds. That simple spear had done a number on him. The puncture in his side had closed up already, but his poor right wing wouldn’t be flying for a while. Far from the worst shape he’s ever been in, but unacceptable against such scum. He stuck out his tongue and began licking at the injuries. Minutes of doing this later, he heard a familiar, grating voice.

“What the?! What is all of this!?” Kinsoriel shifted his gaze over to Benjamin, who was now shaking his head with a hand on his face. What convenient timing, appearing only after a group of heroes tried to kill him.

“Little author, look at me,” Kinsoriel commanded, to which the fool did as asked. With a serious and analytical look, the dragon asked, “Did you send these deathbounds after my head?”

With a confused look, he responded, “What? Why would I do that?! I don’t even know these-” He stopped, face drooping as he looked more at the scene around him. “Oh, I think I saw these guys at the gate earlier.”

Snarling, Kinsoriel demanded his attention with a thump. “Answer me! Were you responsible for this?!”

Slightly shaken, Benjamin quickly responded with a “No!” Kinsoriel looked for any indication of a lie but found none. Knowing now that he hadn’t been betrayed, he relaxed a little.

Clearing his throat of any residual hostility, he asked another question. “Did you find us a map then?”

“Well, yes and no.” He admitted, looking off to the side. His eyes widened and a smile appeared on his face. “Hold on one for a moment.” Benjamin began inspecting the mess of a battleground. Kinsoriel wondered what he was doing as he rustled around the trees he smashed that mage into. A minute and some sounds of disgust later, Benjamin emerged holding what looked like a map… and some blood-soaked garments.

“Now I do.” He said as he continued to go around, scrounging up whatever else he could from the heroes' corpses. It was odd to see a deathbound so open to pillaging from his own. Another face to his insanity maybe. As long as it helped his goals though, Kinsoriel couldn’t care less.

In all, he managed to gather seven gold pieces, four silvers, ten coppers, a money pouch, and a sleeping roll. Everything else was too mangled to make use of.

“Are you done?” Kinsoriel asked, growing tired of seeing him scurry around. When Benjamin had confirmed, the dragon gestured that he come closer with a claw. “Good. Out with that map then, I haven’t got all day.”

At his words, the mortal chuckled nervously. “Alright, let me just unfurl this here.” He opened up the map for both of them to see, staring at it. Kinsoriel could see him starting to sweat silently, also noticing that he wasn’t moving his head.

“Well? What is it now?” With a crestfallen look, the man admitted what was the matter. “I can’t read.”

Leaning back and away from the map, Kinsoriel looked at him with confusion and disbelief. “Are you not a writer then? How can you say you can’t read after calling yourself an author?!” As he ranted, another flaw in the claim came to mind. “You’re speaking in the same language for Dumarn’s sake!”

The little author, if you could call someone who couldn’t read that, knelt and apologized. “I’m sorry, really! I lost it yesterday, I swear!” No matter how preposterous it sounded, Kinsoriel’s intuition told him this was the truth. Moments like these made him wonder if this deathbound was the only insane one. Was his ability to sense lies going dull?

He could scarcely be mad though. This madman’s plight was so outrageous, it was almost comical.

“Forget it. I’ll read it for you then.” This perked him up, and they both got to work. Though it felt demeaning to his intellect going over the words like he was teaching a wyrmling, it wasn’t any real issue. Benjamin requested that they go over the words multiple times until he could learn them. It irritated the dragon, but he obliged if it meant he wouldn’t have to do this more than necessary. His not taking very long on each word also helped.

After what felt like half an hour, he managed to find where they would need to go. “There,” Ben said as he pointed towards a city, “that’s where he’ll be.” Kinsoriel grimaced once he saw the distance.