Fire in the Sky

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley,” I shout to Rimon as we furiously haul the chains to bring the gate down. “We could’ve had nice jobs. Boring jobs. We could’ve been farmers.”

“Yeah!” Rimon calls back as the gate slams into the ground. He sprints for the lock and secures it in record time, despite his shaking hands. “My dad was a farmer!” he adds, as we take off towards the safe room.

Somewhere in earshot, something cracks, followed by the deafening rumble of falling brick. It gets hotter as we run.

“Could be picking potatoes right now!” I gasp, catching fire out of the corner of my eye. I grab Rimon by his keyring and haul him toward the safe room door. This time, his hands are trembling too badly to unlock it, so I take over, jangling it into place and muttering the incantation twice, then three times. Spells treat shaky voices like misspelled passwords.

The door slides open with a grumble and Rimon all but kicks me inside, scrambling to haul the door shut behind us. We collapse on the warm stone floor, sweat-soaked and panting.

“Potatoes,” Rimon repeats, catching his breath and starting to laugh. “Potatoes! We could be - we could be sitting on hillsides watching sheep and taking naps in the sun.”

“Yeah,” I agree, muscling myself to my knees and heading for the safe room’s stores. “We could be married to nice girls who cook dinner at the same time every night, with children who want to hear stories about dragons.”

“Speak for yourself,” Rimon drawls as I lift the hatch in the floor and start pulling out jugs of water. “I’ll take a stable boy with good hands who likes a rough ride, please and thank you.”

Rimon and I have only been working together a few months, and we haven’t had much of a chance to get to know one another, but his revelation doesn’t surprise me. The foundry bosses like a worker who won’t be distracted by family life. I slide one of the water bottles across the floor to him, uncork my own and take a long swig. The water tastes flat and vaguely dusty, but there’s no tap in here. It’ll have to do.

Something heavy slaps the door and I jump. An unholy screech fills the room, the kind that blasts through your hands over your ears and rattles your brain. A sound that doesn’t let you think. It gets warmer, too, but the fireproofing in the walls holds back the flames and the worst of the heat. I take my shirt off and wrap it around my head, trying to muffle the sound of a dragon caught in a curse net.

Rimon’s right. Sheep herding has to be better than this.

A few minutes later, the screams stop as the dragon breaks free of the net and continues on its rampage. I start digging around the storage hold, feeling past the other two water jugs until I find what I’m looking for: an emergency signal booster, and lights. I flip the emergency booster signal on; it’ll be tagged with our location. The mage force will be able to get us out of here after the lockdown ends.

The lantern casts a soft red glow. I can see a burn bubbling up on Rimon’s arm that he might not even notice yet. With a silent thanks to the power of adrenaline, I fish the first aid kit out of the hold and toss him a burn pack, hoping it's not too expired. He looks me over as he wraps the salve-soaked bandage from wrist to elbow.

“Is there a second one?" he asks. They got your neck.”

I sigh and pull out the other pack. The effect is instant, soothing and cool. I hadn’t even realized how much I was hurting. I assumed I was struggling to breathe because of the smoke, but it gets easier within a few minutes as my throat starts to heal.

“How long do you think we have?” Rimon asks, stretching back out on the floor and folding his hands behind his head.

“No idea,” I say. “This is the first prison break we’ve had in two generations. No one’s got a clue.”