David Wilson - Heart of a Dragon

At that moment, there was another cry. It wasn't as loud, but there was an echo of the dragon's scream buried deep in the sound. Donovan spun back to the park in time to see Snake leap into view. The Dragon leader had his head back and his face to the sky. He screamed in answer to the beast and spun, just in time, to catch one of Anya Cabrera's bald servants by the throat. The black man was much larger than Snake, but the Dragon gripped him with one hand and lifted him. A quick shake of that hand, and the big man's head lolled one way, and then the other. There was a horrible snapping sound, and Snake released him, turning again. This time he saw Amethyst and Donovan approaching.

For just a second it seemed he would come at them. Donovan braced himself. His hand went to the hilt of the slender dagger he wore on his hip. Then Salvatore stepped from the fog, the flagpole gripped so tightly in his hands that even from where he stood Donovan saw the boy's knuckles were white with strain. Salvatore's eyes had a glazed, far-away expression, so different from Snake's that Donovan's hand fell away from the handle of his blade in confusion. It was obvious the young artist saw nothing that happened around him. He stood very still, and a white light flickered up and down his arms. It shimmered on his hair and cast a brilliant glow on the ground at his feet.

Over head, the flag flapped and waved. As it moved, the dragon emblazoned across it swooped and dove. There was such a sense of motion and life, that Donovan found his gaze drawn to the sky above them once again. Somehow he knew that the dragons were connected. Salvatore was the key.

Two more Escorpiones leaped into sight. One came at Snake from the front, and the other literally climbed his back, clawing at his hair, scrambling to get higher and reach over to the Dragon president's eyes. Snake bellowed and rolled forward, flinging the attacker off his back. Donovan drew his blade and moved in. He had to step to the side to get around Amethyst without disturbing the spin of the crystal globes, and in that instant, everything changed.

There was a screech of rage from off to their left. A small form moving very quickly darted out of the mist. It was a young Hispanic woman. Her skin glowed a sickly yellow, and her hair spun out about her face madly. There was something familiar in the woman's gait, and in her voice. Donovan dove forward to try and intercept her course, but she was like a screeching bolt of lightning. As Donovan closed on her, he heard her chanting, and his heart glazed with ice.

"Anya!" he cried. "Snake! Look out!"

Snake spun. He saw the girl coming for him and he slipped to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack. He stepped back, but his motion was too swift, and Salvatore was lost in some vision the rest of them could not see. The two collided, and just for an instant, Snake was off balance. In that moment, the woman struck. She dove at him and drove a long, thin blade into his heart.

Snake reeled from the blow. Even as he lost his balance, he managed to grip the woman by the hair and toss her to the side. She spun with another screech of rage and came in low. Snake tried to dodge her again, but he was bleeding from the knife wound, and still tangled with Salvatore, who stumbled blindly back as if unaware of the encroaching danger.

"No!" Donovan cried. He flicked his wrist, and a rolled bit of parchment slipped into his hand. He raised it and began to speak, but even as the first words left his lips, Anya struck again. Snake screamed and clutched his chest where her blade bit deep. She drove it in again and again, and he toppled.

The moment lasted an eternity. Snake fell hard into Salvatore, driving him back and down. Even as they fell, the young artist clung to the flagpole. They struck the ground at the same moment and bounced once. Snake fell across the painted image of the dragon, his blood pouring freely from a wound directly over his heart and blended with the brilliant red paint — the Rojo Fuego. The mist faltered, and as Donovan stepped forward, holding the small parchment before him like a shield, the park grew deathly still.

Amethyst stepped up behind him. She stopped whirling the crystals and stood just behind his shoulder. Donovan felt her pressing close, and heard her mutter under her breath.

"My god," she said. "What have they done?"

In the second that the world grew still and Donovan hesitated, Anya Cabrera regained her balance and spun on them like an enraged cat. The girl she possessed was lovely, but with Anya's spirit twisting her features she looked like a wild, feral animal. Donovan stood his ground. He held the bit of parchment before him and continued to read. His words were steady and measured. There was little or no variance in his tone. The sound was soothing, mesmerizing, and its effect was immediate.

Tendrils of light materialized from the air surrounding Anya. They began above her and out of her line of sight, but as she moved to attack they dropped over her in glowing ringlets and formed a net that stopped her in her tracks. She tried to break through, but it held against her assault; where her skin touched the links of light, sparks shot out in all directions. She screamed in rage and backed away, only to find that the net had dropped behind her as well. Donovan's voice grew in strength and volume and he took a step closer.

Anya grew very still. She watched him approaching, her eyes black pits of hatred, and then — without warning — she began to laugh. The sound grew from a low, crackle like waxed paper flapping in a breeze to the deep cracking of ice breaking in a river. It rose in volume, stretched out and increased in power until the web of light around her shimmered and wavered. She reached out with one hand, almost casually, and plucked at the net with a long nail. It shivered. One frail strand stretched, and though the sparks still flew, and there must have been incredible heat and pain, Anya continued to pull.

Donovan felt Amethyst move up behind him. She laid a hand on his shoulder, and in the periphery of his vision he saw a golden glow emanate from something clutched in her fingers. She leaned in and read over his shoulder. The parchment contained only a single, two stanza charm. She whispered softly and carefully, and wound her voice in with his. The net around Anya Cabrera flared suddenly and grew strong. The old Houngan pulled her hand back with another screech of pain and rage.

"You will fail," she cried. "You will fail because your net is meant to cage a mortal, a human captive. I am no longer a part of your weak, puny race. I walk two planes. I share the power of the Loa. It flows through my blood and you have no power to bind it. There is no power in this world to bind it."

As she spoke, she stepped forward. She reached out and slid her fingers through the links of light, gripped tightly, and began to pull. Smoke rose from her fingers. Donovan heard the sizzle and pop of skin, but still she did not relent. She pulled, and the strands of light stretched. Amethyst gasped and leaned against him. The energy they were expending to create the web of light drained his strength, and he knew it was weakening her as well. They could only hold on for so long, but there was nothing else to do. She was too powerful.

"I can't hold it," Amethyst gasped. She clutched at him with her free hand, gripping so tightly he thought her nails might have pierced his shoulder. He used the pain and focused it. He drew power from deep within himself and funneled it through his lips. He pulled the words from the small paper, words he knew well, and flung them into the night. The web surged again, and then again, and once more Anya stepped back with a screech. Her smile didn't falter. She knew he couldn't keep it up. It was only a matter of time until the trap failed, and she was free. When that happened, he wasn't even certain the two of them would make it out of the park alive.