Chapter 2
The territories most often established as the Hunting Grounds of the Harpies were about a hundred square miles. However, as legend said, no one stepped foot into the lands without the Harpies knowing about it. If that was true, the Blader wasn't sure. There were no clear barriers separating the forests from the Hunting Grounds, so he wasn't sure he had even entered them, but he kept pressing on.
Above him, wings flapped and a feather floated into his view. The sky grew dark as the sun was bloated out. The Blader looked up to see a titanic pink body fill his vision and falling fast. He leapt backwards, landing gracefully as the dragon touched with a loud boom and a residual snarl. Beside the beast, a Harpie landed, her white plumage and green hair contrasting sharply against the crimson scales of her pet. Somewhat comically, she was holding the chain that was wrapped around the dragon's thin neck, as if she could somehow maintain control through physical strength alone. She floated up and stroked the dragon's cheek. This seemed to calm it down, though it maintained its fierceness.
"And what are you doing trespassing in my forest?" the Harpie asked. "Speak quickly. My baby is hungry, and I am quiet tempted to let her have her fill."
"I am looking for something, Mistress Harpie, a great dragon."
"Well, you have found one right here, isn't that right sweetie?" the Harpie said, snuggling close to her pet and embracing it around the neck. The dragon gave a low purr, closing an eye and returning the affection.
"While you most definitely have an impressive specimen, she is not my interest. The dragon that I seek is larger, stronger, and much more fierce. A serpent dragon with eyes as red as flame and a shriek that would make your bones raddle."
"Oh," the Harpie said amused. "I'm afraid you've hurt my precious' feelings. She's going to have to do something about that."
The dragon gave a shriek, its eyes now glowing with fury as its maw began to smoke. It was an impressive specimen, to be sure, the Harpie had done well to raise it from a chick, but the Blader had known fiercer. There was something pampered about the dragon, and that would prove its weakness. When its mistress was in danger, it would fight with ferocity that rivaled the Blue Eyes, but that same ferocity couldn't be summoned on command, only in extreme duress.
The dragon reared its head back, jawing igniting with flame, before it spat the torch forward. The Blader leapt back casually, drawing his sword from his back and holding it at the ready. The pet dragon lashed forward, snapping jaws so close to the Blader, he could feel the heat resonate in his armor. It snapped again, and he swung, the flat of his blade bending on its muzzle. The dragon's long neck craned back and it gave a snarl. Jaws snapped forward, and the Blader caught the maw and held it open. He strained and twisted, throwing the head to the ground. The body followed, and the Blader leapt, landing gracefully on the pet dragon's stomach. He rested his blade on the dragon's stomach, and felt the skin tingle under the cold steel. A moment's pressure and the sharp sword would run through its chest and pierce its heart. The dragon gave a slight whimper as he lifted the blade, but a whip curled around his sword and yanked it away from the pet dragon's chest. He braced himself, holding his weapon tight, the dragon still not moving, perhaps still fearful that the Blader would reclaim his sword and swipe its throat.
"I saw a dragon swimming through the skies two nights ago," the Harpie hissed.
The Blader leapt off the dragon's stomach. It hissed once or twice, gave a breath of fire that disintegrated in the air before doing any real harm, and returned to its mistress' side. The Harpie stroked its brow and whispered encouragement, which seemed to satisfy the dragon, who returned to the throaty purrs.
"A serpent dragon," the Harpie continued. "Darkness at its top, and pale at its underside, eyes as deep as blood, loud hisses every time it moved. It was headed East. Now leave before I relieve you of your head."
"Thank you for the help," he muttered, resting his sword on his back and walking off.
He was still in the Harpie's grounds, he was sure, but they must have known better than to bother him. Occasionally he would catch glimpse of a curious Harpie chick, floating over head or hiding behind a tree. They did their best not to be seen and he paid them no mind. Let them revel in their belief that they moved with stealth, just as long as they didn't try anything.
At last he put the Hunting Grounds behind him and entered a vast expanse of dusty wastes, off in the distance he could barely make out the silhouette of a mountain range that most likely served as his quarry's nest. Now he had a visible destination.