The reek of brimstone filled his nose and twisted his windpipe into a knot. The figure before him hid behind the shield as a column of flame engulfed him. Khirro glanced up at the underside of the dragon’s neck and chin, fire shooting from its mouth and nostrils. Somehow, he was inside the beast, watching his own battle from the dragon’s belly.
The flame ceased, leaving shield and sword glowing red. He watched himself rush forward, swinging the Mourning Sword at the dragon, connecting against its chest. The creature roared—an earsplitting sound to a man inside it. He clamped his hands over his ears, still watching as the dragon’s head shot out, lightning quick, its jaws closing around the other Khirro’s head.
Khirro gasped in surprise and horror as the beast drew upward, pulling his other self’s feet from the ground kicking and struggling before the head came off and the body fell convulsing to the muddy ground. Blood spouted from the severed neck, its color made invisible through the red chest of the dragon. Khirro stumbled backward in shock.
This isn’t how it happened.
The dragon reared on its hind legs throwing Khirro to his back. He closed his eyes against the pain, the scar this very dragon gave him pulsing and throbbing.
Something changed.
The smell of brimstone disappeared and a feeling of floating overcame him as the pressure of his back against the dragon’s belly melted away. He opened his eyes to murky water, silt stinging them. He didn’t have to guess where he was this time; he knew what hid somewhere in the tangled weeds. The surface of the lake moved above him, sunlight flashing on waves. He kicked his legs and stroked with his arms, struggling toward it.
The serpent came at him out of nowhere, its nose slamming into his stomach, forcing out what little air his lungs struggled to hold. Its tail whipped his face sending him spinning, making it impossible to tell up from down. He fought to right himself without knowing where to find right. The surface winked at him and he stroked for it, lungs shrieking for air.
The muscles in his limbs burned, tiring with the lack of oxygen, but instead of coming closer, the surface floated farther from his reach. A dark shadow cut between him and the distant surface, a long, slender body blocking what little light filtered through the murk.
The light vanished. Khirro struggled, but his arms and legs gave out. His mouth opened involuntarily, desperate for air, and his lungs drew silty water, his mouth filling with the dirty taste. He sank, closing his eyes in the darkness of the lake’s depths.
On hands and knees, he opened his eyes coughing imaginary water from his lungs, gasping for air. He looked down at brown pine needles and ancient moss under his hands as he panted, not daring to feel relieved. It was dark, though not dark like in the tunnel.
A scream broke the still, a cry of terror Khirro recognized as Elyea’s. He scrambled to his feet and clamored to the crest of the hill, twigs and branches scratching his face and hands. A fire blazed in the small valley below; Elyea lay on the ground bound by thick hemp rope. Across the fire pit sat the giant, the tip of his spear resting amongst the flames. He pulled the weapon from the fire and jabbed it into her ribs provoking another shriek.
Khirro called out but had no voice. He rushed down the slope and a root caught his foot, sending him tumbling. By the time he stopped himself, the giant had moved to Elyea. It grabbed a handful of rope, lifted her from the ground as though she weighed nothing, and shifted its grip on the spear. Righting himself, Khirro ran, shouting voicelessly, wishing he had the Mourning Sword he so carelessly laid aside.
This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
Real or not didn’t matter, he had to save Elyea. He loved her.
The giant smiled, lips curled back from rotted teeth as the tip of his spear penetrated between Elyea’s legs. She screamed. The beast pushed harder; blood pooled beneath her, turned the ground into a grisly mud. Khirro rushed on, though he knew it was too late. Rage boiled in him as the giant continued skewering Elyea like a turkey on a spit.
Her screaming ceased.
Khirro slammed into the beast, kicking and scratching, punching and biting. The giant grunted in surprise, then flicked him away with a backhand swing the way a man might shoo