The Copper Promise - Part Two - Children of the Fog
By: Wydrin Williams 178
25
In this town they were fighting back.
It was late at night, but already many buildings were on fire, and the Thirty-Third had no difficulty following the movements of the people below from the second-storey window where she crouched. Behind her were the remains of the three men who had been hiding in the building. Their blood soaked unnoticed into the floorboards while the Ninety-Seventh rifled through the wooden desk, scattering paper onto the floor. Word of the brood army's advance was moving faster than they were, and this small town, with its neglected stone wall and half-hearted ditches, had gathered a force together to meet them, men and women in boiled leather and plate. They were different to most of the humans they'd met so far – the fear was still in their eyes, but it was held behind a shield of something else. The Thirty-Third couldn't quite name that shield, but it made her think of their father.
"Why do they do it?" she said aloud. "They must see that it is hopeless."
The Ninety-Seventh glanced up, her fists filled with paper.
"It is that or run and hide."
"Which would you choose?"
As the Thirty-Third watched, a group of men and women on the cobbled streets below brought their shields up and charged forward, trying to gain a few feet on the brood army facing them. There was a chorus of ragged shouts and screams as the crystal blades of her sisters glittered under the firelight, stabbing and piercing. Across the street the buildings were already burning, forcing the humans onto a narrow path.
"Run and hide?" snorted the Ninety-Seventh. She had found pieces of paper full of neat black handwriting, and her eyes were bright with hunger. "Who do we have to run and hide from?"
There was a deafening roar from outside and a blast of carrion stench. The Thirty-Third leaned out of the window and looked up just in time to see Cia come hurtling down from a star-studded sky and crash heavily into the burning buildings opposite. Flaming debris flew everywhere, killing half the humans outright, while Cia writhed in the destruction. Amongst the fire her scales were black and gold.
"Perhaps sometimes all you have left is the fight," said the Thirty-Third. To her surprise, the surviving humans were regrouping and heading towards the dragon. Several had long-shafted spears which they aimed towards Cia's belly. They charged, and their tiny human cries were just about audible over the roar of the fire and the dragon.
"See?" she said, gesturing at the fight. The Ninety-Seventh took no notice – she had found a pot of ink and was daubing things that almost looked like words across the paper. "Why do that? They will die now, certainly."
"They will die either way," replied the Ninety-Seventh, unconcerned.
Cia, body curling like a snake to face her attackers, could have killed all of them with one strike of her tail; instead, her great head shot forward and snapped one of the men between her jaws. His scream the Thirty-Third heard quite clearly.
"Mother is playing with them," she noted. She turned briefly to look at the bodies on the floor. She and the Ninety-Seventh had torn their throats out in short order, save for the fat one who had tried to hide under the desk. The Ninety-Seventh had poked him all over with her sword until he came out, and by then he was half dead. They'd left him to bleed slowly. Playing with the humans no longer seemed as satisfying as it had once been.
Outside, the group of men and women had broken, and now some of them were trying to run, but Cia slid her tail around to block their escape. Claws full of reflected fire stabbed at them with playful precision; one man was undone from his throat to his belly, while a woman who'd almost made it into a side street had her legs cut from under her. Cia bent her head, almost delicately, and the woman was gone.
The word 'nightmare' occurred to the Thirty-Third although she wasn't entirely sure what it meant.
The Ninety-Seventh joined her at the window. Her hands were black to the wrists.
"Look, there are more of them coming. They do not give up."
Even as their comrades were reduced to blood and gristle, more of the humans were marching up the street, bellowing, swords held high.
Cia turned towards them and both the brood sisters felt the wave of simple pleasure emanating from the dragon. It was like stepping from the shade into bright sunshine on a hot day.
"They don't give up because sometimes the fight is all you have left," said the Thirty-Third grimly. Her sister turned away from the window, not quite daring to meet her eyes. Her expression was guarded.
"That's what he would say," she whispered.
In the street below, Cia was spewing fire over the small human resistance, cooking them inside their armour. The smell of burning flesh wafted in through the window. The Thirty-Third thought of his eyes, cold and blue, and the memory of sky she had never seen.
"Our father would say that."
A/N: Thanks for reading, guys. Please comments!