*looks at reviews*
*clears throat*
Well. It appears you all would like a sequel. Very much so.
In that case, there shall be one! I'll let you all know what's going on with that once this story ends next week.
Fishy-Ninja: Yes! I'm glad someone noticed that! I'm quite the avid Jurassic Park fan myself. I think I could recite every line of those movies—particularly the first two. I'm so excited for number four to come out and hopefully not be God awful.
Alright! Now that I've got that out of the way, here we go again.
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Dragon's Bait
Chapter 14—Be the Spitfire
"How's that burn of yours?"
Arya held her scarred arm protectively against her chest. She glared at him out of the corner of her eye. "Much better than what that family had to go through, I can assure you."
Loren rolled his eyes and offered her a hand up. She looked away, planting herself more firmly in the dirt.
"It's time to move on, Arya."
She couldn't tell if he was speaking literally or otherwise. It didn't matter. She wasn't going anywhere with these people. Sure, Loren was right. Smaug had done worse. How else would he have gotten ahold of that Mountain of his? But the thing was, Smaug didn't seem to murder for pleasure alone. Of course, one could argue that Loren hadn't either—he'd had to feed his posse after all. However, silently pilfering a few sheep was one thing, ransacking a house and burning the family inside was something entirely different and unnecessary.
Loren met her glower with a heavy sigh.
He crouched down to her level, resting his knees in the dirt.
"It's time to move on, Arya."
She met his gaze evenly, bones turning to steel beneath her skin.
"No, it's not."
Loren frowned. He took her chin in his fingers and tilted her head back towards the sky. He waved is arm towards something in the distance. Arya narrowed her eyes, confused. All she could see was blue grey skies and a few puffy clouds floating overhead.
"Am I supposed to see something?"
"Your dragon is coming."
The wave of dread Arya experienced was surprisingly very small—like a cool trickle of rain in her gut rather than a ferocious and freezing blizzard assaulting her innards.
"And?" she drawled. "Is that supposed to scare me?"
His grip on her chin tightened. "You're already accountable for the deaths of two of our men. Do you want to be responsible for what happens to the rest of them too?"
Arya dropped her gaze from his.
"Lance didn't deserve to die," he continued. "Neither do any of these men. I give the orders, I decide what we do. These men don't have a say in what goes on. None of them deserve to die at Smaug's hand."
Her eyes flashed back up to his.
"You do."
Loren's lips quirked. "Yes, I suppose I do."
The two stared each other down in silence for a moment or two before Loren cleared his throat and stood.
"Well, Arya?"
She bit her lip and peered around the makeshift campsite. All these people would die if she said no, if she refused to go along with them. Thieves or not, they were people too. Lance had been one of them at some point… She didn't know if she could live with—her eyes landed on the charred ruins of the house across the field. Arya winced as she remembered the screaming, the horrible, horrible screaming. She remembered the flames, she remembered the begging, and the suffocating smoke. But most of all she remembered the smiles—the smiles of the men who had laughed and jeered as the home was choked by flames. Not even Smaug had cackled when he had smothered Lance in dragon fire. The turmoil and uncertainty shining in her gaze vanished and she stared back at Loren with ice in her eyes.
"Ordered to or otherwise, I would never have done what they did," she spat. "You can all burn together."
The smirk dropped from Loren's lips and his eyes grew cold.
"Try to see it as the lesser of two evils," he attempted once more, voice rough with irritation.
"Oh I would," Arya assured, "but you see, I don't think that's the case."
Loren threw his hands up in the air in exasperation before turning on her with a ferocious snarl. "Fine. Have it your way, wench."
He called over his shoulder to one of his men.
"Round up the horses and whatever supplies we have and prepare to leave."
"One of 'em ran off into the woods during the fire last night."
"Find it, and then we'll leave."
"Got it."
"Oh, and Frey?" his eyes met Arya's. "I do believe we'll be needing a bit of rope too."
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Arya had never ridden a horse before (they weren't really all that available back in Esgaroth, what with the town being nothing more that floating chunk of wood), and she found it very uncomfortable. Perhaps that was because facing backwards with her arms roped behind her back and her legs bound to the saddle was not the proper way to ride. She also doubted that this saddle was meant for more than one person. Perhaps two children could have fit comfortably in the leathery seat, but she was no child… and neither was Frey.
Of all the people to get stuck with on a horse riding off to hell knew where, Arya was both content and upset that she was saddled with Frey—if Frey was his first or last name, she was unsure.
She was content because Frey was a silent man, or at the very least, he was while in her presence. From the way he kept sending her timid glares over his shoulder, she thought he may have even been afraid of her. Which was ridiculous, seeing as the chances of her beating him in some kind of brawl was somewhere along the lines of negative ten thousand to one. Of course, she did have a massive dragon hurdling after her, so that may have been a bit intimidating.
She was discontent because dearest Frey was a rather bulky man. The muscles in his shoulders were practically the size of her head! A single hand could have easily swallowed her face or broken her neck. Even on his own he may have been too big for the saddle, let alone with her squished onto the back half of it.
It seemed like they'd made a decent amount of progress. The house and the clearing had disappeared within a minute after they had started their journey and now they were… they were… Well, Arya actually had no idea. Somewhere secluded she assumed. She could make out a decent sized hill up ahead, but other than that, there was nothing but trees and grassy paths as far as the eye could see.
Slowly and carefully, the horse plodded up the hill and Arya watched as more and more of the land became visible. The higher they went, the more she could see. And in the distance, she could see… Arya squinted. There was smoke climbing over the trees. It rose into the sky, mixing with the clouds overhead. She inhaled through her nose, but could smell no ash. It must've been very, very far away still. She crossed her fingers beneath her bindings and then her toes too, for extra luck.
If you get me out of this, I swear I'll never call you 'Smaug the Stupid' again.
From his place at the front of the group, Loren paused. He too looked over the trees and, seeming to notice the same thing that she had, spurred his horse forward with a call for everyone to pick up the pace. The men who were stuck walking groaned in annoyance, but the lucky handful on horses easily urged their mounts into a light trot.
"So," Arya hummed. "Where are we going exactly?"
Frey didn't reply, but she felt him stiffen against her back as she spoke.
"How long do you all plan on running from Smaug?" she asked. "You know he'll find you all eventually. And the longer he has to chase you, the angrier he'll get."
Frey flinched, but didn't reply.
Arya sighed and slouched in the saddle with a depleted sigh.
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The blue sky was starting to erupt with pinks and yellows. Arya yawned and flexed her legs against the leather of the saddle.
"We need to rest," Airen demanded, pulling his horse to a halt next to Loren's own steed.
"We need," Loren bit back, "to keep moving."
"The men are tired! They need to rest!"
"If they want to survive the night, they should fight to keep going—"
"Listen here," Airen snapped, veering in front of Lauren's horse. "The majority runs this group. If we stop, then we stop."
Loren blew out through his nose. He peered around the group of men, each looking at him with dark, tired eyes. He stared at each of them individually, eyes landing at last on Arya before he turned with a heavy sigh. He brought his horse in a small circle before dismounting and tying its reins to a tree.
"Fine. Have it your way."
Airen smirked before dismounting his own horse.
The men each plopped ungracefully to the ground, some massaging their sore legs while others simply rolled onto their backs—already dead to the world.
Frey dismounted and, in the process of removing his gigantic frame from the back of the horse, brought Arya down ungracefully with him. She landed on the ground with a painful thud that knocked the breath from her lungs and rattled her bones. The large man paused, unsure what to do.
"Leave her."
Ass hole.
Arya craned her neck, trying to get her face off of the ground. She spat, grass and clumps of dry dirt falling from her mouth.
"Whatever you say…"
She closed her eyes with a heavy sigh and gave up moving. The combination of the broiling hot sun and the horses swaying throughout the day had made exhausted her—mentally and physically. The dark sky above was welcoming. So Arya let herself sleep.
.
.
.
"DRAGON!"
Arya jolted awake, but fell forward in an awkward heap when she caught on the ropes holding her hostage.
The first wave of fire swallowed five men whole. A few others were caught by the edges of it and ran screaming, arms or legs smoking. One of the flames jumped up, spitting sparks. This time, rather than biting her arms, they bit at the rope before fading away. Arya flexed and tugged and the burned rope fell apart around her wrists. With her hands free, she worked the rest of the rope off and stood liberated.
Three more men were eaten by dragon fire. Then, the scaled beast touched down, sending tremors through the earth. Immediately, he lunged for the last three thieves remaining.
Wait. Three?
Arya counted the fallen in her head. There were twelve originally, so there should have been four left. Wait… where was Loren?
Ah. There he was.
She spotted him hiding behind one of the trees, panicking and dripping sweat. Smaug had taken care of the rest of the men, she might as well help with one of them.
Arya hefted a heavy stone into her hands. It was very much like the one that she had hurled at Smaug all those months ago. She passed it back in forth between her palms, feeling the weight of it against her skin. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Loren draw his sword and move towards the dragon. Her mouth fell open into a monstrous snarl.
"Hey!"
Loren turned, sword in hand and eyes aflame.
Arya smashed the rock across his jaw and he fell forward with a crash, blood gushing from his mouth.
"That's for taking Smaug's gold!"
WAM.
"That's for the family you killed!"
WAM.
"And that's for me, you ass hole!"
Arya went to bring down the rock once more—just to emphasize her point, of course—when Loren kicked out and hit her square in the chest. She flew backwards with an oof and landed heavily in the dirt.
She sat up, huffing and puffing and trying to get some air into her lungs. Loren stood over her, equally breathless and a bit more bloodied. The tip of his sword pressed into her cheek. She felt a dribble of hot, red, liquid roll down her cheek and she began to panic.
"You," he snarled, panting. "I should have put my sword through your neck back in the Lonely Mountain!"
The cold metal pushed deeper into her skin.
"Well, you know what they say!" he laughed. "Better late than never."
He lifted the sword high above his head, eyes caught in flame.
A snarl.
A roar.
And then, Smaug's jaws closed around Loren's torso. The scream was short, but it was satisfying none the less. Crunch. Smaug tilted his head back and swallowed the still squirming and bloodied man. A bit of gore dribbled down his scaled lips.
He shook his head and his long tongue poked out to run across his fangs, as if he was trying to get a bad taste out of his mouth. Not that Arya could blame him. She doubted Loren tasted very good at all. Smaug flexed his wings, turning this way and that to get a good view of the chaos he had caused. Once he was finished proudly observing the desolation around him, he turned to Arya.
She peered up at him and slowly an impossibly large grin curved her lips.
In a quick burst of happiness and courage, Arya ran forward and wrapped her arms around Smaug's muzzle. The scales were hot and rough, but she didn't mind. She inhaled deeply through her nose. She had missed the scent of dragon.
She stepped back, grin still in place. She laughed a bit, eyes cheerful.
"I can't believe that I actually missed you, Smaug the Stupid."
Well, so much for that internal promise.
Smaug snorted.
"I do not believe I can say the same, little oaf. It was quite peaceful with you gone."
Arya rolled her eyes. "You're such a charming creature."
"Do you think that flattery will get you anywhere?"
"Oh, of course not." Her stomach growled and Smaug's golden eyes narrowed. He lowered his head and his nostrils flared as he took in her scent.
"Did they not bother to take care of you after stealing you away?"
"Not at all," Arya frowned. "Actually, all they did was convince me that humanity is far worse than I remembered it being… And now I just want to go home."
The dragon pulled his head back, scaled lips slowly twisting into a sneer.
"Oh, do you?"
Arya looked at him hesitantly. "What? Is there something wrong with that?"
"You seem to be under the unfortunate impression that I desire for you to return to the mountain with me."
She rolled her eyes. "You came to find me."
"I came for my treasure."
"Yet unlike like them," Arya gestured to the charred remains of land and people alike, "I'm not lying in ashes. Care to explain?"
Smaug scoffed.
"I do what I like, little oaf. You have no right to question any decisions I make."
Arya rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to reply, but Smaug interrupted her off.
"I set you free."
"I still don't see why—"Grey eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
The dragon turned, using his claws to sift through the desolation around him to locate the stolen gold and jewels.
"You are no longer needed in the mountain. Having a pet, particularly one such as yourself, is far too much trouble for my liking." The words themselves were somewhat nasty, but Smaug (for once) did not sound condescending or cruel.
She arched a brow.
"So you're saying that after all those times when nothing would have made me happier than getting out of that mountain, now, when I actually want to go back, you're asking me to leave?" She snapped her fingers. "Just like that?"
Once the treasure was unearthed from the ashes, he pushed them her way.
"Are you even listening to me?"
"I believe that should be enough for you to get by."
Her mouth fell open. "Are you serious?" she narrowed her eyes. "Or are you going to toast me the second I turn to leave?"
Smaug snorted, sending a cloud of black smoke into her face.
"You give yourself too much credit."
"Saying you'd kill me is giving myself too much credit?" Arya snickered. Slowly, her good humor began to fade and her smile slid from her face. She met Smaug's golden gaze. "I can visit though, right?"
"If you are able to climb the mountain, feel free. But I doubt you would be able to do so, what with those pathetically weak muscles and bones that all you humans seem to possess—"
"Okay, okay. I get it." She waved her hand in dismissal. "Humans are pathetic."
"It is nice to know you realize the inadequacies of your species."
"I can't wait until the day that you finally realize the defects of yours."
The two stared at one another for a moment in content silence before the dragon turned. He took a few steps, looked at her once more, and took off into the air with a flap of his monstrous wings that sent Arya's dirty hair whipping around her face. She grinned up at him as he circled above, waving like crazy. Smaug roared, loud and clear in her ears. He shot a jet of hot fire into the air, screeching out once more before beating his red wings and soaring back towards his Lonely Mountain.
Arya stood, waving after him long after he had disappeared from her sight and wondering just what on earth she was supposed to do now.
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One chapter left and it's all over.
I'm both ecstatic and horribly sad at the same time. This was all kind of… rushed feeling to me, and I apologize for that. But my brain is far too focused on the next chapter. I already have a chunk of it all typed out. So.
See you all next week for the end of Dragon's Bait!