THERE WERE TWO of them this time. Rick swiveled to face them just as the pair swooped out of the dragon swarm and dove. The lead beast came for Favian. The sparkling spirit was on his knees, drained again by the energy blast he’d used to save Rick. In another instant, the dragon was on top of him, shrieking out of the sky with its huge gray eyes glaring and its leathery jaws jacked wide. Its double rows of crooked, blood-drenched teeth were about to encircle Favian’s head, about to snap shut on top of him.
Favian lifted his eyes. He looked so weary, it seemed he didn’t have enough strength to move, that he was just waiting there, waiting to be devoured.
But just as the giant creature beat its wings one more time to propel itself into the final attack, Favian flashed away in a twinkling. The dragon’s jaws clamped together on empty air. It had only just enough time to recover before it smashed face-first into the earth. Straightening its neck, it leveled out, gliding inches over the red ground toward the moat. Another flap of its giant bat-like wings and it lifted up again, reflected in the silver water. Incredible grace for such an enormous being! Another flap of the wings and another, and it lifted its face skyward and rose.
All that took a moment and in that same moment, the second dragon came shrieking down at Rick.
It came at him at high speed. The sound waves of its scream pounded against the armor sheathing Rick’s body. Its jaws spread to engulf him, dripping drool.
And Rick, his heart pounding wildly, suddenly knew what he had to do.
It was a mad idea, but it came to him so clearly that he knew somehow it was right—his only chance. It was as if his armor spoke the words into his mind, as if his sword sent the wild courage into his heart. He realized: it was Mariel, her spirit, urging him to this wild gamble for survival.
Every instinct in his body was telling him to run. Watching that horned head come at him—that open mouth—those double teeth shrieking his way—the urge to bolt was almost overwhelming.
But he drew courage from his armor, from his sword, from Mariel—and he stood his ground. This was right, he knew it. These beasts were fast—fast and big—with long necks that gave them a lot of reach and flexibility. They were built to hunt from the air and to snap their prey off the surface of the earth no matter how it tried to escape them. Maybe Favian could flash out of their way before they grabbed him, but it was already too late for Rick to escape.
So he forced himself to stand another second—and another. The beast screamed toward him. Rick drew a deep breath. He gripped his sword in both hands. His teeth clamped together with determination as he watched the drooling jaws of the dragon fill his field of vision. His whole head ached as the dragon’s shriek hammered at his breastplate, making his body thrum. Defying the wild urge of his growing panic, he waited . . . waited . . .
Now the hot, rancid breath of the flying creature enveloped him. Now its jaws began to close over him. Now the beast’s eyes flashed with eagerness and hunger.
And Rick thought, Do it!
At the last moment before the dragon devoured him, he spun out of its way.
It was a move he’d pulled at least a dozen times as a quarterback. Some tackler would worm his way through the blockers and storm forward to sack him in the backfield for a loss of yards. Just at the last moment, Rick would spin out of the tackler’s grasp, turn in a full circle to get free, and run for daylight or hurl a pass to the open man. He spun like that now: pushed off his right foot, pivoted on his left, dodging out of the creature’s jaws just before they snapped shut. His body turned in a complete circle. The sword, gripped in his two hands, dragged for a second behind the turn. Then he used all the power of his momentum to bring the blade swinging round after him. And he struck.
The sharp, gleaming edge of the sword hit the dive-bombing beast smack behind the ear. Rick felt the impact go ringing up his arms into his shoulders. The dragon let out an unholy cry of agony. It thrashed and twisted, rolling over in midair as it sailed past him.
Some part of it—its wing probably—Rick wasn’t sure—struck him on the side and sent him staggering backward. He fell, losing his grip on the sword. And the dragon fell, smashing headfirst into the earth.
Rick’s body bounced up and down as the ground rumbled beneath the dragon’s fall. Rick sat up, stunned by the blow he’d received.
And something else happened just then—something that was somehow even more frightening than the battle at hand. There was a sort of static fritz all around him. The whole scene—the dragons, the moat, the fortress, the red earth under the yellow sky—seemed to waver and digitalize, reality dissolving with a sickening shiver.
Instinctively, Rick looked at his palm. He had only four minutes and five seconds left before he had to get out, back to the real world. Miss Ferris had warned him: whatever else he did, don’t stay too long or his brain would disintegrate. It was starting to happen, just as she’d said. He had to get to that portal point—now.
Still stunned by the blow he’d received, he moved by sheer willpower. He forced himself to his feet, looking at the fallen dragon.
The dragon was also dazed. It lay on its side, not quite unconscious, not quite able to stand. The blow from Rick’s sword had opened a gash in its neck, and blood the color of mucus was gurgling down over its scaly hide.
Rick looked around him. He saw his sword lying on the red earth. He scooped it up by the hilt and slipped the blade quickly into a leather scabbard built into the side of his breastplate. With his head still ringing, his mind still foggy, he raced across the ground toward the fallen creature of the air.
He reached it. He seized it round its bleeding neck. And, without stopping to think, he jumped on top of it.
He knew this was what he was supposed to do. His only chance to stay alive. He could not fight off all these monsters. And without Mariel’s help, he couldn’t swim across the guarded moat. But if he could commandeer one of the dragons . . . if he could mount it, ride it into the sky . . . if he could guide it low over the water, then jump down . . . well, he might be able to land near the portal point on the other side of the moat before his time ran out.
He might. It seemed an insane plan even to him. But it was the only plan he had. He had to try it.
Again, he experienced that sickening static, that horrifying digitalization of the scenery around him. It was over in a second, but he knew it would return again and again as his time ran down and his mind went to pieces.
He thought of the living-dead creature trapped in the spider-snake’s tunnel.
This had to work. It had to.
The dragon’s neck was the size of a small tree trunk, yet it was twisting and alive like a gigantic snake. Its leathery skin was so rough it scraped the flesh off his hands as he desperately tried to wrap his arms around it. Its strength was such that when it whipped its head and writhed and roared, Rick felt himself flung back and forth on the creature’s back like a limp rag doll. He thought the thing could easily toss him off and send him tumbling head over heels through the air.
And that was before the dragon lifted off the ground.
Because now, the dragon’s anger at having Rick on its neck brought it out of its daze. With amazing speed for such a monstrosity, it rolled onto its feet, crouched, and gave a flap of its enormous wings and leapt.
Rick could not help but give a shout of fear and surprise as the creature rose swiftly into the air, carrying him with it. He clung to the twisting neck for dear life. Within seconds, the red earth was far below him. The moat became a silver strip in the downward distance. Even the pinnacles of the fortress towers fell away beneath him as the furious dragon flapped its wings again and then again, and pulsed up into the yellow sky.
At first, Rick was just too scared of falling to think at all. He hugged the beast’s rough neck with all his might as the chill orange mist of the upper atmosphere began to swirl around him. He just barely dared to glance down and see the fortress growing smaller and smaller as the dragon rose and rose.
Then—fritz! Another nauseating dissolution of the world.
And at the same moment, the creature let out its earsplitting, high-pitched scream and thrashed its head back and forth, trying to dislodge the unwanted rider.
Sheer terror snapped Rick back to alertness. He shouted again as his feet flew out to the side. His cries became increasingly high-pitched with panic as he nearly lost his grip on the dragon’s neck, nearly went plummeting to his death. He only barely managed to hang on until the beast grew tired of fighting him. Then he scrambled over the thing’s neck again and got a better grip on it with both arms and legs.
He lay there panting, his cheek pressed hard against the creature’s scaly skin. He could hardly bear to look through the orange mist at the fortress and moat and ground so far below. He was almost too afraid to move at all.
But he had to. He dared to let go of the creature’s neck with one hand just long enough to check the time: 2:47 left. He had to do this fast. He had to try to direct the dragon across the moat, try to get it to land near the fortress. He had to get out of here before his mind dissolved.
Rick gritted his teeth. He gave a grunt and, using all the strength of his arms, wrenched the dragon’s head to the side, trying to direct him across the water far below.
To his surprise, the dragon responded instantly. Its whole body turned to follow its head. It banked, tilted—and dove, sending Rick’s stomach up into his throat as man and beast circled down and down together toward the earth.
Rick dared to peek out around the dragon’s neck. His mouth opened, his eyes widened in amazement.
It’s working! he thought.
It was! The fortress was growing bigger and bigger as the dragon, following its head, circled down and down. And yes, as Rick adjusted his grip, as he adjusted the angle of the dragon’s neck, they began to cross the moat. The silver water was now rippling directly below them, throwing their huge reflection back up toward them.
Another fizzle of static—another frightening interruption of the reality of the Realm—told Rick he had to hurry. But all he could do was keep the pressure upon the dragon’s neck, keep it turning in slow, tight, descending circles. Now he could make out the purple light of the portal point beneath the fortress. He could see the floating diamond gleaming brighter and brighter as it regained the energy Favian had taken from it. As much as his stomach felt hollowed with nausea, his heart began to rise and pound with excitement as he thought he just might be able to pull this off.
Then, suddenly, something flashed by him—so close he heard the whisper of its passing, felt the wind of it on his cheek.
What was that?
Had it been another burst of static? Another sign that his time was running out?
No. It was a projectile of some sort. Another went by him, and then another.
Arrows!
Someone was firing arrows at him! One, then more, then half a dozen of them went spitting past.
Rick shifted to peek around the dragon’s neck again, the wind of descent rushing over his face. The beast had circled even lower now. The fortress was right below him.
And he saw that there were men—what looked like men—some sort of guards—rushing onto the fortress ramparts. As the dragon took another descending turn, Rick saw the legions spreading out to line the walls. Every moment, there were more and more of them. And all of them held longbows in their hands. One or two of them stopped to let off a wild shot, the arrows rocketing into the sky, flying wide of Rick where he sat.
But now, another guard—or something—some red and hellish creature with wings—rose off the surface of the walls to hover over the others, calling them to order. The guards immediately became more disciplined. Lined up along the walls, they raised their bows in a unified motion, ready to let fly a single concentrated volley of death.
They released their bowstrings in unison. Rick saw a dense black cloud of arrows soaring up toward him. He ducked behind the dragon’s neck as a few arrows flashed by harmlessly on either side.
Then the beast let out a tremendous and hideous cry of agony as the bulk of the arrows struck. Rick felt the jolts as the projectiles’ points thudded into the creature’s belly. He held on desperately as the wounded beast bucked and thrashed in his arms.
The dragon’s gliding descent faltered. It fizzed with lines of purple lightning. Rick knew what that meant: it was dying. Sure enough, it could thrash its wings only weakly now, fighting to stay aloft.
Below, obeying the shouts of their winged and terrible leader—shouts audible even to Rick—the guards had reloaded their bows. They fired again. More arrows struck the beast, burying their deadly points into its neck and body.
The dragon let out another woeful cry. In its death agony, its body snapped like a whip, nearly throwing Rick away. More electric lines of purple energy bolted through it so that Rick felt the thing becoming insubstantial in his grasp. Its wings sagged weakly.
And giving one more dying groan, the dragon plunged toward the earth, carrying Rick down with it.