stings. Sure, he’s an overbearing brute. But I got the feeling that he mellowed a little last night, especially after the healing paste seemed to work pretty well. I may need a blood-chilling monster on my side on this walk. The not-fishing rod is untried, and even if Heidi made it look easy, there’s no guarantee I can do it. Anyway, this forest seems to contain mainly raptors, and I’m willing to bet those are untameable.
I walk on, taking much more care to be quiet. Yesterday, the biggest danger was walking right behind me on booted feet, but today death could come from any direction.
As it turns out, it comes from above.
I stand on the tip of dry land, looking forlornly out at the lake that blocks my passage. I’ll have to backtrack, nullifying all the progress I’ve made today and probably quite a lot of the distance we walked yesterday.
When I hear the flapping of the not-dactyl’s wings, it’s too late. The shape of the flying terror darkens the sun right before there’s a searing pain in my shoulders and I’m yanked up above the water.
I scream in horror and pain as the lake passes beneath me. I still have the not-fishing rod in my hand, so I start hitting the dactyl with it. But it doesn’t do much — the pain in my shoulders immobilizes my arms, and every movement is torture.
The world starts retreating from me, but I’m determined not to faint. This is the end, and it’s going to be a really bad one. But I’ll face it and go down fighting. This dactyl is going to have to fight for its dinner—
There’s a hard thud, and the dactyl loses control and tumbles to the water below. I scream again, because the talons ripe into new flesh.
The creature regains control right above the surface of the lake, but that only lasts a second before I hear an ear-rending crunch, the dactyl’s claws go completely limp, and I plummet through thin air for a moment before I splash down in water that’s much too cold.
I sink and then resurface, gasping for air and fighting to keep my head above water. My shoulders scream in protest, my arms and hands are numb, and I realize I’m sinking again with no way to keep myself afloat. I know how to swim, but not with shoulders that sting like they’re about to split apart.
In a flash, I remember that someone drowning doesn’t look like lots of screaming and splashing and desperate waving of arms, like you see on television. In reality, the person simply sinks without a sound or other sign of distress. Now I know what that feels like, because it’s happening to me.
Only now does panic grip me, but it doesn’t help.
A flash of light blinds me, and something big splashes into the water so close the waves wash over my head.
Then all I know is that my head is above water and I can breathe again.
“Fancy meeting you here,” a deep voice says in my ear.
I cough and splutter, trying to hang onto the large shape beside me. I know who it is, but I don’t know if that means I’m saved.
“I wonder, can you float?” Caronerax asks calmly, like we’re having a pleasant conversation. “I ask because I can barely keep myself up, and it might be helpful if you were to not cling to my arm… yes, like that. Less of that would be better. No, less clinging. Less. Oh, all right.”
A strong hand pries my hand open and I panic again, but only for a second. I can still breathe, and I’m not sinking. There’s a big arm behind my head, holding it up.
There’s also a fair amount of splashing, both mine and his.
“Can you,” I splutter, trying to regain control of my voice, “can you swim?”
“No, of course not,” the dragon seethes. “I can barely walk on land, used as I am to always flying, always soaring, always being above! Can you begin to imagine how degrading this is? Swim?! This is all completely ludicrous!”
I take some deep breaths, calming down and assessing the situation. As far as I can tell, we’re in the middle of a lake, with land on all sides. Caronerax is floating pretty high in the water, while I know I can’t stay up on my own.
Glancing up, I establish that the dactyl is gone. All I can see is a small puff of smoke, drifting away in the