Chapter 9: The Dragon\’s Hunt

Story Complimentary Comic [9/12] Written by D.M. Rhodes Art by @5enketsu

The mountain had changed.

Barjuchne stood at the obsidian gateway, staring out at her territory, and felt the difference in her bones. The forest below had grown denser, the trees taller and more twisted, their canopies interlocking into an impenetrable ceiling of green and shadow. The paths that had once wound through the undergrowth had vanished, replaced by brambles and thorns that seemed to grow overnight.

Her territory stretched nearly twenty kilometres in every direction now, a vast domain that pulsed with the same passive magic that shaped her dungeon. The mountain itself had shifted, its slopes steepening, its cliffs becoming sheer vertical faces that would turn back all but the most determined climbers. The obsidian gateway gleamed at the peak, visible from kilometres away, a black jewel set into stone that screamed danger to anyone foolish enough to approach.

It was beautiful and perhaps also terrifying.

The dragon girl stepped to the edge of the ledge, her new wings folded against her back, and looked down at the dizzying drop below. Inside her head, she was screaming. Every human instinct she still possessed told her this was insane, that stepping off this ledge would mean death, and that wings that had appeared through magic could just as easily vanish through magic and send her plummeting to her doom.

But her dragon instincts didn’t care about lingering human fears.

She stepped off.

Her stomach lurched as gravity took hold, pulling her down toward the forest far below. Wind rushed past her face, tearing at her hair and scales. The ground rushed up to meet her with terrifying speed.

Then her wings snapped open. The wind caught them, and she soared.

Joy exploded in her chest, pure and overwhelming. She banked left, her tail acting as a rudder, and skimmed along the mountainside with inches to spare. The stone blurred past her. She folded her wings and dived, accelerating until the wind screamed in her ears, then spread them wide and pulled up sharply, launching herself skyward in a spiralling climb that left her breathless and laughing.

She could fly. She could actually fly.

With a childish excitement, Barjuchne swooped and dived and rolled through the air, her movements growing more confident with each passing moment. The fear was still there, lurking in the back of her mind, whispering that this couldn’t be real, that she would fall any second. But the wind held her, and her wings obeyed every command, and gradually the terror faded into exhilaration.

She made one final pass along the mountain’s peak, then banked toward the gate below, where a small figure waited for her, as discussed.

Rou-Ya stood at the agreed meeting point, her golden eyes scanning the sky. She wore her travelling clothes, practical leather and cloth instead of her ceremonial copper crown, and she’d braided her hair back to keep it from her face.

The goblin princess was ready. She had a scheme ready in her heart for how today would go. She was going to earn her way into the dragon’s favour and displace her elven rival in the game of hearts.

She heard the dragon before she saw her. The rush of wind, the beat of massive wings, the rush of displaced air.

Without warning, the dragon’s claws closed around her waist, and she was yanked into the sky with a startled yelp like a rodent being grasped by a bird of prey.

“Good morning,” Barjuchne said. Her voice was calm, almost pleasant, completely at odds with the fact that she’d just snatched someone off the ground without warning.

Rou-Ya clutched at the claws holding her, her heart hammering. “A little warning next time!”

“You said you’d guide me. I’m letting you guide.”

“I thought from the ground!” yells the goblin in fear.

Barjuchne didn’t respond. She simply adjusted her grip to something more secure and beat her wings, carrying them both higher into the morning sky.

The world spread out below them. The forest. The mountain. The distant villages at the edge of her territory. Rou-Ya had never seen her homeland from this perspective, and despite her terror, she couldn’t help but stare.

“Where?” Barjuchne asked.

Rou-Ya pointed northeast. “There’s a crater lake, made by a star in the far days,” she said with a loud voice to overspeak the wind. “It’s hidden by the trees. My tribe avoids it, but there are creatures there that might serve your purpose.”

Barjuchne banked in that direction without another word.

They flew over the canopy, following the princess’s directions, until they reached a basin carved into the mountainside on the other half of the mountain Barjuchne had never seen before. Trees grew thick around the edges, their branches forming a natural screen that hid the water from above. Barjuchne descended in a tight spiral, landing on the rocky shore with barely a sound.

She set Rou-Ya down carefully.

The secret lake was beautiful. Crystal clear water filled the crater, fed by streams from the mountain’s peak. The surface was perfectly still, reflecting the sky above. And at the water’s edge, barely visible in the morning light, small translucent shapes wobbled and pulsed.

If this is where she had woken up instead of the cave, perhaps Barjuchne would have taken the hydra-evolution path instead.

An amusing thought.

Slimes.

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Dozens of them, ranging from the size of her fist to the size of her head, their gelatinous bodies gleaming wetly as they oozed along the shore.

“These?” Barjuchne asked.

Rou-Ya nodded. “They’re simple. Territorial. They grow quickly as long as they have water and food. And they’re deeply acidic. Anything weak that touches them dissolves. My people avoid them.”

Barjuchne approached one of the larger specimens, crouching down to examine it more closely. The slime wobbled toward her clawed and scaled foot, clearly intent on consuming it, completely indifferent to the fact that she was a dragon.

The slime was fearless. Or perhaps just too simple to understand danger.

The dragon watched it bump against her foot and begin wrapping itself around it, trying determinedly to eat through the dark scales. When that failed, it simply pressed harder, undeterred as it probed around for soft areas to consume.

It was kind of cute, in a mindless, single-purpose sort of way.

While it had no effect on her, she was certain that it would be devastatingly painful against human skin.