Mary Herbert - Dragon's Bluff

Lucy opened her eyes and saw the two men circling their horses in front of her. Their bearded faces leered at her.

The Kapak squatted behind them, his leathery wings folded, his copper skin splashed with blood. His eyes glowed a bilious green as he tore the limbs off the bodies of the Khur guards and searched their clothes for valuables.

Lucy hurriedly dumped her hot potatoes into the skillet before her fingers burned. Worry and fear made her hands shake. The potatoes didn’t look quite right and felt much hotter than she remembered. The magic had worked, but something was wrong.

Then she had no more time. The two men dismounted and clambered up the tailboard of the wagon, daggers in their hands.

Challie cursed in Dwarvish.

Her heart racing, Lucy threw a potato at the nearest attacker. It struck him on his leather vest and burst like an overcooked baked potato: hot, mealy, and steaming. Lucy gasped in dismay. The man grinned and reached up to brush it off, but before he could touch it, a strange expression covered his face. The pale potato bits flared white hot, and where the potato stuck, flesh and fabric burst into flame. The man screamed a hideous, racking cry of agony and fell back, flailing at his burning body. His companion stared in horror.

Challie’s mouth fell open as she watched the man writhe in the dirt. She knew Lucy had been a sorceress at one time, but she had never seen anything like this.

Lucy didn’t have time to see the final effects of her potato bomb. The second man drew back and attempted to thrust his sword into the interior to reach her. Another potato left her hand and burst on his neck and shoulder.

The results were just like the first one. The split tuber burst into a brilliant white light that sizzled and hissed, setting the man’s clothes on fire. He beat frantically at his clothing, tried to tear it off, then he, too, collapsed, a screaming, smoking ruin. The first man was already dead. A hideous stench filled the air from the scorched corpses.

“Gods!” breathed Lucy. This wasn’t exactly what she had intended when she formed this spell.

Just then the Kapak looked up from its task of stripping the dead bodies. Its hooded eyes met Lucy’s and its breath hissed between its teeth in a snarl.

“You’re next,” Lucy muttered. She snatched up the last two potatoes, ignoring the heat that singed her fingers, and clambered down from the wagon. In the distance, somewhere down the ravine, she heard the ring of weapons and the shouts of fighting men. Far away, so soft she might have imagined it, she thought she heard the baying of hunting horns.

Her head lowered, her arm drawn back to throw, Lucy advanced toward the draconian. She needed a good shot, for she had only these two potatoes left, and her aim was notoriously bad.

The Kapak’s next move was so quick it caught her by surprise. It sprang sideways on all fours, then rose to its full height and leaped at her, its wings spread like a great cloak. That was its worst mistake.

Lucy had no time to adjust her aim. Her teeth gritted, she hurled the small potato at the beast and heard a soft splat before she dropped to the ground and covered her head with her arms.

The draconian sailed over her body and crashed to the ground. Crouching, it sniffed at the potato bits on its right wing and shoulder. Its lips curled into a grimace of pain just as the potato began to smoke. In seconds the draconian was enveloped in white fire. Hideous, piercing shrieks burst from its twisted snout. Kapaks never died neatly, and this one was no exception. While Lucy and Challie watched, its smoking body slowly stilled in death and began to dissolve. A dark, loathsome liquid oozed from its body, forming a puddle close to the wagon. Swiftly the entire body broke down and vanished into the liquid.

The ravine suddenly became very quiet.

Lucy thought she would vomit. She gingerly clutched the last potato and took several deep breaths. “No!” She called wildly to Challie who wanted to climb down. “Stay away from that liquid. It’s acid. Go out the front. We’ve got to find Ulin.”

She hurried around to the horses and found one dead in a pool of blood. The other lay trapped beside it, nearly dead itself from terror and exhaustion. There was no sign of Ulin.

Clutching her axe, Challie came up beside her. “Where is he? Why is it so quiet?” she asked softly, afraid to speak any louder.

Lucy’s answer came out like a sob. “I don’t know.” She hurried forward up the line of wagons.

They passed three stalled freight wagons before they heard angry voices and the hissing snarl of a draconian just ahead. One of the Khur drivers lay dead on the ground near his wagon, his face and neck ripped open.

An inarticulate sound escaped Lucy’s lips, and she hurried forward. The trail curved slightly, the rock walls blocking her view until she passed the third wagon, then the defile straightened and widened enough for several wagons to pass abreast. There the sun slanted down into the valley and illuminated four fighters: two Khur drivers, Ulin, and the second Kapak draconian. Lucy skidded to a halt and put out her arm to stop Challie.

The men did not notice the women at first. They circled the beast, using their swords to keep him within their circle. None of them had a shield. They were panting and drenched with sweat, and they looked exhausted. The draconian growled and stamped as it flapped its wings. It had only a long dagger, but Lucy could see from its unhurried movements and regular breathing that it was just biding its time until one of the men made a mistake.

“Lucy, keep away!” she heard Ulin yell.

“No, Ulin! Listen!” she cried. “Back away! All of you!” She edged toward them, the potato burning hot in her hand. “I made a spell. It worked! Just get away from the Kapak.”

The Khurs did not understand her. They stayed where they were, too close to the Kapak for her throw her weapon. Ulin understood, but he did not believe it.

“That’s impossible,” he yelled, one eye on the draconian and one on Lucy. “How could a spell work now?”

Lucy ignored the faint derision she heard in his voice. “It just did,” she insisted. “Now, get out of the way!”

She made her demand in Common, loud and urgent, and this time the drivers understood. They shot a startled look at the woman, then at Ulin, and stumbled back out of her path, leaving a gap in their defenses.

The opening was what the draconian was looking for. Giving a roar of defiance, it whirled to face Ulin, snapped its tail like a whip, and lunged to bury its claws and blade in the pale man’s chest. Ulin managed to avoid the viscous thrust and twisted out of the way of the draconian’s attack. Pivoting, the draconian sprang into the air, beating hard with its wings to lift itself up over Ulin’s head, and again it launched itself at the man.

The force of the draconian’s attack slammed Ulin to the ground. He fell hard, and the creature pounced on top of him, its heavy weight forcing the air from his lungs. Slavering and growling, it tried to stab him with the dagger as he struggled to defend himself.

Lucy screamed and threw her potato hard and fast against the draconian’s back. The tuber burst into white pulp against its dark, muscular back.

This strange new attack from the rear startled the Kapak. He sprang to his feet to face Lucy, his wings flat against his back. Then the pain hit him.

Lucy saw the smoke and the white fire ignite on his back, and she dashed to Ulin’s side. “Come on,” she told him. “Get out of its way. It’s going to die.”

Her urgency propelled him to his feet and sent him running out of range. He knew all too well what happened to dead Kapaks. The drivers, Challie, Lucy, and Ulin watched, awed and fascinated, as the draconian’s burning body collapsed and slowly dissolved into a smoking pool of acid.