you come to—” he begins, but I’m not here to talk and he gets no further.
I leap into the air right before I get to him, slashing my blade underneath me as I pass above him. It connects with something hard, but I waste no time to check how and if I injured him. I run on, catching up with Dolly and the two carrying her, noting with some satisfaction an angry and pained scream from behind me.
This time I go down low, cutting an arc through the air at their knee-level. Again, the sword hits something hard and trembles in my hand as if it’s striking rock. Something flashes across my field of vision and catches me in the face.
I have no time to think about that. I have to put distance between me and the dragons – close in, I can’t swing the sword and they have the advantage. I have to keep withdrawing and coming at them in surprising ways, staying at a distance and slashing and jabbing at them, just like we’ve practiced back at the tribe. The dragons are especially vulnerable to attacks from above, so I jump and cut downwards as much as possible.
All three of them are on me now, the third much less active and seemingly hurt. My ears ring with the noise of steel on stony scales, and my senses are filled with the dragons’ faces and limbs.
They’ve let go of Dolly, and she crouches on the ground, staying low the way I taught her and slowly crawling away from the deadly combat.
The dragons don’t really defend themselves – they’re clearly unused to combat. They reach out with clawed fingers and toes, but the only advantages they have is their immense speed and the fact that my hits don’t seem to make much of an impression.
Well, my goal isn’t to make them surrender or flee – I’ll get tired long before they will get anywhere close to that. I must make use of surprise and act in a way they don’t expect.
But it only takes me maybe eight hits on their scales before I’ve driven them so far away from Dolly that I deem the time right.
“Stand up,” I yell. “Get ready!”
She does as I say, getting to her feet, tense and ready.
I heave a final mighty cut at the three enemies, making them pull away.
Then I sprint for Dolly, barely slow down to lift her onto my shoulder, and then run hard for the hill.
I’m taking a chance on the dragons being so surprised and demoralized by the intense fight that they won’t pursue us.
I don’t slow down to check if they do. The hill has a mild incline, and while Dolly isn’t heavy, carrying her on one shoulder and my sword in the other hand makes it impossible to run well.
Only slowing down when we’re at the door into the Factory, I deposit Dolly on the inside and whirl around to handle anyone who might have followed us.
“You left the door open.” Isualic the Old is standing at a safe distance from my sword, nonchalantly leaning against the slick wall of the alien structure. It doesn’t look as if the rain is affecting him at all.
“So?” I pant. “The only valuable thing in here was already gone.”
“Oh, you stupid, useless failure of a non-slayer. Must I spell it out? Of course, I mean before. That’s how they got in to take her. The door was open.”
I go inside and slam the door closed, then lock it as well as I can, using an extra steel bar to make it impossible to budge.
I lean back against it. My breath is ragged, my limbs numb and trembling with fatigue.
Did I really not close the door and lock it properly?
I have to think back. When did I last use it?
Not today.
It was yesterday. I went to get water and Isualic was there. For once, he didn’t speak. He just watched me. That unsettled me more than him talking would have. It was as if he was expecting something to happen.
Then I went back inside and…
I have to concentrate.
I put the two water jugs against the wall. And then…
Then I heard a noise from further in, like a pebble falling on a wooden floor. I quickly went to check. But there was nothing.
So I went back and got the water jugs.
And... I didn’t lock the door. I have no memory of doing it.
I sag against the cold, wet wood as my own failures