Chapter 15 #2
The tribesman on the trunk continues his cautious advance while the other two wait on the bank behind him.
One of them points toward the smoke rising from our fire.
The other says something I can't make out.
Whatever they're discussing, they seem convinced they've found something worth investigating.
I glance toward the jungle where Vyrathion disappeared. “Come on,” I mutter. “ For once in your life, show up when you're supposed to.”
The lead tribesman is nearly halfway across when movement catches my eye. A dark shape emerges from the undergrowth behind the three warriors.
At first they don't notice him. Then one of them turns. Everything happens very quickly after that.
The tribesman shouts and swings his sword. Vyrathion casually sidesteps the blow as if avoiding an annoying insect. His hand closes around the warrior's wrist. A moment later the man is airborne before he hits the river with a tremendous splash.
The second warrior hesitates just long enough to make a fatal mistake. Vyrathion drives a shoulder into his chest and sends him stumbling backward. The man pinwheels wildly, loses his footing on the muddy bank, and disappears into the current beside his companion.
The third tribesman makes a considerably wiser decision. Instead of attacking, he turns and runs. For a moment I think he'll escape. Then Vyrathion catches up with him in three long strides.
The dragon simply grabs the back of the warrior's loincloth, yanks him around, and says something.
I can't hear the words from this distance. Whatever he says has an immediate effect: The tribesman nods frantically. Then he limps back into the jungle as fast as his injured leg will carry him.
Vyrathion watches him disappear before looking toward the river. The two men he threw into the water are already being swept downstream. Both seem more interested in surviving than returning to the island.
Only then does he stroll toward the tree. He crosses the trunk with the same relaxed confidence he uses when walking through camp. The entire encounter appears to have annoyed him far more than it excited him.
I stand up slowly. "Did you just fight three warriors?"
Vyrathion glances at me. "Certainly not. They fought me. There is a difference."
"You threw two of them into the river."
"They were standing near the river. It seemed the right place for them." He reaches the island and places one hand against the massive trunk.
"What are you doing?" I ask, worried.
"Removing a problem."
Before I can say anything else, he shoves. The enormous tree moves. Roots tear free from the opposite bank. Mud explodes into the air. Then the entire trunk slides sideways and crashes into the current.
The river immediately grabs hold of its prize and carries it away.
I stare. The bridge is gone.
Vyrathion dusts off his hands and walks toward the fire. Just like that. As if throwing warriors into rivers and relocating entire trees belongs on an ordinary morning schedule.
For several seconds I can only watch him. Then I notice a dark stain running along one forearm.
"You're hurt."
Vyrathion follows my gaze and scowls. The wound isn't serious. It's only a shallow cut near his elbow. Still, a faint line of shimmering golden ichor glistens against his skin. His expression darkens immediately. "One of them managed to scratch me."
The way he says it makes the injury sound personally offensive.
"It doesn't look bad."
"It looks horrific. My precious skin!" He sits beside the fire and examines the cut with obvious displeasure. "Drawing dragon ichor is sacrilege."
"Yeah, you told me. But do the tribes know that?"
"Hopefully they do now."
I bite back a smile. Only Vyrathion could sound insulted that complete strangers failed to respect ancient dragon customs.
He’s now bled twice. Just a little, but still it bothers me more than it should. He seems so invincible, and he acts as if he’s invulnerable to everything. But he’s plainly not. How weak has his lack of gold made him?
My eyes drift toward the river. Well, he can’t be that weak if he could just toss that thing into the water. And yet the missing bridge leaves me with mixed feelings. On one hand, tribesmen can no longer wander onto the island. On the other hand, our easiest route off the island just floated away.
Then another realization strikes me. "Clyde is still over there."
Vyrathion shrugs. "He'll return eventually."
I scratch my chin. "How?"
"He appears to be a professional wanderer. I'm sure he'll think of something."
That’s not a great answer, but I don’t say so. “It sounds exactly like something Clyde would do.”
The fire crackles softly between us. For the first time in what feels like days, sunlight filters through the trees overhead. The storm has finally broken apart. Beyond the island, patches of blue sky are beginning to appear.
I look around properly. The island seems different now. Smaller than before, certainly, but also peaceful.
The river has retreated from its highest mark. Birds are returning to the trees. Water drips from leaves instead of pouring from the sky.
A thought occurs to me. "You know," I say, standing up, "we've been trapped here for days."
Vyrathion narrows his eyes suspiciously. "I will remind you that I have not."
"Okay, but we haven't actually explored the island."
"There is an island. I have already observed it."
I gesture toward the trees. "There might be something interesting here."
"I’m only interested in gold. I sincerely doubt there is any here."
I carefully place one hand on his forearm. "You can’t be sure, though. Can you?"
He allows the touch. "I sense no gold anywhere. If there is some, it must be buried."
I start walking anyway.
Behind me I hear a long-suffering sigh. "Morgan."
"Come on," I encourage him.
"There is almost certainly no gold here. This is a waste of time."
I grin despite myself. "Maybe. But for the first time in days, it isn't raining, the monster isn't attacking us, and nobody's trying to kill us. And ‘almost certainly’ leaves some room for doubt. Let’s see how right you are."
A pause follows. Then I hear his footsteps behind me.
"I would like you to keep in mind," Vyrathion says, "that you are wandering close to the edge of what a dragon will accept in a subordinate."
"I’ll keep that in mind," I say gravely. Somehow, everything feels a little brighter than it did yesterday.