Slayer

I have done this before. My body, no longer young but not yet old, is a map of scarred lines telling the many tales of my gruesome adventures. Adventures that have inspired songs, made grown men shudder and maidens weep. The heat, the pregnant silence, the waiting. The calm before the inevitable eruption of violence. This is nothing new. I have done this before.

It becomes a chant in my head as I ride across the sand dunes, my trustworthy mount beneath me, the rocky outcropping just ahead. Looking now, I can almost fool myself into believing there is nothing there, almost convince myself to turn around, but I have done this before. I can see the signs. I can hear the silence, thicker than the mere quiet of this arid land. I can feel the pressure in the air, emanating from where I am headed, like a magnet. I have done this before.

Nevertheless, though it has never failed me, my hand shakes as it grasps the heavy spear and despite the heat, I feel a cold shiver run down my spine as I draw nearer. I feel a quiver beneath me and my horses’ steps falter. Ignoring my own doubts, I squeeze him forward and he obeys. He is not new to this either. We are both accustomed to the dangers, well trained; a successful partnership with many years under our belts. We have done this before.

We reach the rocks and their shadows fall across our bodies, a temporary respite from the harsh desert sun. I find myself almost smiling at the irony that I should feel any relief at such a pivotal and dangerous moment. Perhaps I am going insane. A solitary existence will do that to a man, so I’ve heard.

Before I can ponder this too long, I hear it. A slow, rhythmic sound like the deep beat of a Gazi drum. A sound that will put a bone chilling fear into the heart of man and beast. We have done this before. My chant is no longer working, I think in a panic as sweat begins to break out under my armor, armor made by my own hands and tested and proven. Armor that is light and will not overheat me in the desert, worth as much or more than the well trained horse beneath me.

A flash of memory, and I finger the strange stone I found a few hours earlier in my pocket. It is warm to the touch, and though I don’t take it out, I know it is glowing. Yet again, I get that sinking feeling that something is not quite right.

Death has never concerned me before, he has always been coming for me, though I took pleasure in cheating him as long as I have. No, it is not the fear of death that troubles me now. It is this strange pull, this uncanny magnetism that brings me closer and closer, as if I have no control over my own actions. As if I did not choose this. I have never felt this before.

Without thinking of the consequences, for I have no idea what the thing is, just what it has done to me, I pull the stone from my pocket and hurl it over the rocks. A flash of light and the drumming ceases. The silence now is worse than before. I almost wish for the ominous sound to return, as at least then I would have an idea of where to look. I turn my head right and left, feel my horses’ legs bunch underneath him, ready to spring at my lightest cue. So distracted by the anticipation, I hardly notice the strange pull is quieter now. Quieter, yes, but still there, like a tune you can’t get out of your head.

An explosion of rock, sand and flames sends me hurling from my horses’ back. Head pounding and ears ringing, I roll to a crouch and see my horse scrambling to his feet to my left. A sudden shadow passes over and I look up, tasting blood in my mouth. There is no more time for doubt, or even thought, just instinct. It has begun.

The sheer bulk of the beast blocks out the sun and the vast horizon beyond as he stretches up onto his hind legs, rubble still falling from the carnage he created with his abrupt, yet magnificent appearance. The smell of smoke and sulfur hangs thick in the dry air, like oil on water, and I can feel pulsing heat from his mouth. A mouth filled with hundreds of dagger-like teeth.

Too late, I realize my spear is gone. My only hope is to reach my horse, where my spare weapons are strapped to his saddle bags. It is a miracle that he stands there waiting, so against his natural inclination, and I thank the gods he has not abandoned me. I run. Fire erupts just behind me and I begin to count, knowing it will take him at least a minute to recover. Skidding to a stop, my practiced hands find what I am looking for with no aid from sight, as the air is almost impenetrable now with smoke and sand. But, I have done this before and I remember where the beast is. With only seconds left, I hurl a dagger tipped spear straight towards the heart of the beast. A roar tells me my aim was true, though not true enough for another rain of fire falls down around us.

Leaping into the saddle, I hardly wait till I am seated before pushing my horse into a gallop, moving back towards where I had come from. My mind had registered an accessible path up the rocks and I know if I can gain higher ground my aim will be truer. We do not get far before another jet of flame bursts out directly before my horse's nose. He wheels sharply, almost unseating me and I start to count again. It doesn’t matter though, for now the beast is swiping with a giant taloned forearm and we are running again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his long, whip-like tail hovering above us and I urge my horse faster. We are almost there.

We are halfway up the pathway when the ground shakes with incomprehensible force, as the beast’s tail slams down behind us. A ringing silence. I am lying face down, grains of sand and rock grating against my uncovered face as darkness threatens to overwhelm me. With every scrap of will, I open my eyes and there it is. The shining stone, the cause of all this mayhem, sits before my eyes like a beacon. I still understand nothing, but there is no time to wonder. I can feel blood dripping down my face, my mind is hazy and there is a strange limpness to one of my arms, though my fingers are able to fold themselves around the stone. Death is coming for me, but he waits for the beast as well.

It takes more effort than I can imagine to get to my feet and this time, when I look around, I do not see my horse. Even at the doorway to death, I feel a pang in my heart and send a quick prayer to the gods that he has found safety or a quick death. My sadness does not last long, for I hear the crunching of rock accompanied by the deep drumming much closer than I’d anticipated. Stumbling upwards, I grasp my remaining spear with my good arm and the stone with the other. It is growing hot now, almost unbearably so, but my arm and hand are almost useless anyway so it does not bother me much. The beast is behind me, with the rocky ridge between us, but I know that will not deter him. Such is and has been his focus on me, so determined and unflappable. As I make my way to the top, I tie the stone to my spear with a strap of leather. It is a strange idea, perhaps crazy even, but what do I have to lose?

I fall to my knees as I reach the top, my vision blurred. A jet of flame shoots towards me and I roll, too slowly, for I can smell the flesh of my injured arm burning. The drumming grows louder now and when I open my eyes the beast is right before me. His head is easily larger than two of my horses and his teeth are more like swords than daggers. Eyes as yellow and hot as the sun stare down at me and steaming hot drool drips from his mouth as we sit suspended in time. Part of me wonders why he hesitates, why doesn’t he kill me? But, I have done this before. It is too ingrained in me, it is a part of me.

I can see it in his eyes the moment he knows what I will do. They widen and he begins to bring his head up, but he is too late this time. I launch my final spear straight towards the beast’s right eye and this time, I know my aim is true. The moment the spear leaves my hand, an almost overwhelming sense of regret overcomes me and I fall to the ground, my hand over my face. The spear strikes true and there is a flash of light and a great roar from the beast as he falls into the ravine below.

I do not watch. For some inexplicable reason, I cannot bear to see him fall, cannot bear to see what I’ve done. The mistake I have made. For I felt it in that moment, so like the pull I’d felt before. Only this time, it had come from the dragon.

Just when I think it is all over, his tail whips across the rocks and slams into my body, sending me hurling through the air. I land in a sand dune far from the ridge like a dead weight, the wind knocked out of me. Sand coats my mouth as I struggle for breath and one of my legs feels broken. Darkness creeps in at the edge of my vision and I don’t fight it. The pull is devastatingly faint now, almost non-existent. Death is coming for me too and I welcome him, for how else could I atone for what I have done? A breeze shifts the sand around me, but I smell nothing, hear nothing, see nothing. As I feel my eyes begin to close, I hear the softest nicker, a familiar sound that brings a smile to my lips.

I must be dreaming. I am floating.

Engulfed by the desert’s parched silence, I was nothing but another grain of sand in the wind.