Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't...
Summary: The problem with dragons is they try to eat the person who happened to land on them...
A/N: This oneshot is set in my A Light in the Darkness universe, but you can read it as a standalone. Enjoy!
The Dragon Incident
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Need I remind you of the incident with the dragon? What would you call that incident? Interesting?
...
No...definitely not interesting.
~ From Chapter 11 of Letters
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Why is it that every single time the Kentauri gets it in his head that I need to work on my survival skills, he sends me north? There has to be better ways to work on survival skills (not that I actually need to...he's just irked with me over my, ahem, little prank involving dying all his tunics and every piece of linen in his rooms a brilliant shade of pink...the pink bed was then topped off with some nice frilly lace pillows...with pink hearts in the middle of them). What's worse is the fact that he took Chrysaor and planted it in the middle of a glade (after he'd made me surrender all my other blades), which I now had to go get before I could loop back to the hunting lodge. At least he didn't get the idea of making me wade through the marshes. The good news was no Fell had jumped out and tried to eat me (always a refreshing thing) and I had to be getting close to the glade.
I climbed up a rock ridge that I almost always had to climb up and then try not to break any bones sliding down the other side and muttered under my breath, "I should very much like to take a bulldozer to you." I stopped briefly at the top of the ridge (presenting a lovely target for any snipers as both Charlie and Oreius have yelled up at me in similar scenarios), judging by the position of the sun it was already two hours past noon, so I would be very fortunate to make it back to the hunting lodge before dark. I hate this training exercise, I really do. Evil Kentauri is so going to get it. I'm going to dye both his hair and his tail purple with pink polka dots!
My boot slipped on a slick patch of rock (why is there always a slick patch? And, why do I invariably find it?) and I let out a yelp as I rolled down the other side of the ridge. I groaned as I slammed against the ground. I could already feel bruises forming and the cuts I'd received were already stinging. Typical. I hate Murphy, hate, hate, hate him and his law. I looked up to see how far I'd fallen and blinked because I hadn't fallen nearly as far as I should have. Uh-oh.
Then I noticed heat permeating up from the "ground" I had landed on...I brushed away a few leaves away and could feel the blood draining from my face as I stared at mottled brown and green scales that were bigger and wider than both my hands put together. Oh no. No, no, no, please no.
I carefully rose to my feet, hoping I hadn't woken it up with my landing. The scales moved expanding as it breathed and I nearly lost my balance again as the coil I was standing on shifted. I turned to the left and met the amber gaze of one very large eye. The dragon lifted its head higher (a head I couldn't help noticing was longer than I was tall...) then bared its teeth (some of which as long as I was tall...six foot long teeth...I'd hate to be its dentist) as its nostrils flared. I gulped. Time to go.
I jumped down just as the dragon darted toward my previous position. Mayday! Mayday! It roared behind me and I glanced over my shoulder to see it uncoiling itself before it started chasing me. I repeat, Mayday! Large, very, very large, hungry, and angry dragon! I wished it was a pack of Werewolves and Ogres chasing me like what happened the last time. I'd even take a flock of Harpies. Another roar. I dropped and slid under a fallen tree trunk. I was up and running the moment my head cleared the log. I heard a crunching sound and the cracking of wood. A glance over my shoulder confirmed that the dragon had simply stepped on the extremely thick tree trunk and crushed it like it was a toothpick. Note to self: Don't get under the dragon's feet...ever.
The dragon didn't roar again but that didn't make much of a difference...actually, no it did make a difference: It scared me. Predators have a tendency to go quiet when hunting their prey and right now that dragon was thinking "yummy little appetizer" when it looked at me. I ran faster. I had to get to the glade. I needed my sword. I finally crashed through the underbrush and into the glade. There was Chrysaor, planted firmly point first in the mossy ground. And, there was Oreius talking to the Kings...when did they get here? Never mind... I ran toward Chrysaor, yelling at the top of my lungs, "DRAGON!"
They only stared at me like I'd lost my mind for a moment. Because a moment after I yelled, the dragon crashed into the glade (taking out a bunch of trees too). I barely registered Oreius shouting for archers and for me to get out of there. I ignored him. The dragon roared. I grabbed Chrysaor and yanked it out of the ground, swinging it up just as the dragon's head darted toward me, mouth open and ready to eat.
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Peter stared in shock as the dragon closed its jaws around Kat, leaving a tear in the ground as it gouged out the earth she had been standing on not even a moment before. Edmund didn't say a word, not even a curse slipping out as they stared at each other and then they both looked at Oreius. The General looked shocked and furious. Peter doubted that he'd ever expected Kat to get herself eaten by a dragon.
The dragon raised its head then a sharp keening sound came from the beast. Oreius grabbed them by the back of their tunics and yanked them back as the dragon snorted once then collapsed. Peter pulled Rhindon free and Edmund unsheathed Shafhelm. Oreius had already unsheathed his claymore. He gave them a stern glance, "Stay here."
As the Centaur General edged closer to the dragon with two other Centaurs just behind him, Peter noticed that one half-open amber eye was glazed over. The dragon was dead, but a quick look over his shoulder showed the archers were talking to each other and shaking their heads...none of them had fired a fatal shot. Oreius and the others had nearly reached the dragon's inert head when they froze. Peter hurried forward as did Edmund as a slightly muffled voice began yelling...in Irish.
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I yelled as loudly as I could in Irish without opening my mouth enough to get anything inside I didn't want. Nobody out there did anything, so I switched to English. "Get me out of here! Oreius! Get the dead dragon to open its jaws so I can get out of its disgusting mouth!"
They must have finally been convinced I wasn't dragon chow because I felt the bottom jaw shift, which caused the tongue to flop against my leg. Ewwwwwww. Light started to peek in and I grimaced as I saw the revolting mix of dragon drool (which was greenish for some freaky reason) and black dragon blood coating my sword, my hands, my arms...the rest of me was covered in it too. Yeeeee-uck! I finally tugged Chrysaor free and tried my best not to throw up at the sight of more blood and bits of dragon brain coating the blade and, consequently, me. The Kentauri and whoever was helping him hadn't opened the jaws wide enough for me to just walk out of (naturally), so I crawled up through the teeth and barely avoided falling back on the teeth when I slipped (now that would have been embarrassing...impaling myself on a dead dragon's teeth). I clambered up to stand on the dragon's snout and glared at Oreius. "I hate bloody dragons."
I hopped down and immediately thrust Chrysaor into the ground up to the hilt then wiped the blade on the cleaner grass and moss. Yay, my sword was no longer covered in dragon drool, blood, and brains...now if only I could say the same for myself. Oreius tossed me my pack, which I caught and held with two fingers since I didn't want any dragon goo on the pack. I stalked the short distance to the waterfall that fed the river and immediately set on a campaign to eradicate all traces of dragon from my person. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. It took me two hours to get all the gunk off. We ended up having to burn my clothes and my boots (I am so mad about my boots being burned). As soon as we reached the hunting lodge, I took yet another bath trying to get the smell of dragon breath out of my hair. The only thing I found entertaining was that Oreius couldn't decide if he should fuss at me or be happy that I was still alive and in one piece after nearly being eaten by a dragon. He didn't make me do the training exercise again and I didn't have an increased training schedule when we got back to the Cair, so I figure he decided he was glad I was still around...until the next time he failed to see the humor in one of my pranks anyway.
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A/N: Please Read and Review!
A/N2: This is my 70th story.