A Boat Made of Bone (The Chthonic Saga) (47 page)

“Making do,” Kate called back. She glanced up in time to see the tip of the dragon’s tail slashed across Will’s bicep. A bright line of blood appeared, but Will fought on, apparently oblivious to it.

“They’re weakest in their eyes, Kate. There’s also a hole in their skull, above their eyes, where the gladiators stab them during battles. It looks like an indentation in their skin.” Will jumped wide and fell into a roll as the dragon stamped toward him in a series of tail-whips and maw-snaps.

Kate studied the creature, feeling panic swirl around in her chest—she wanted to stop the fight, to save Will before something worse happened, but she had to be calm and collected. She needed to not be clouded by passion.
Why didn’t I carry a spare sword in my pack?
she wondered, regretfully.
A sword? If I’m bemoaning what I don’t have, why not a machine gun? That would certainly work better than a damn sword.

She rolled the rock around in her hand and looked for the spot Will mentioned. Their dodge and swipe fight continued and the dragon seemed oblivious to her fifteen paces away from where they battled. For a moment, the creature’s head swung around and it stared at her with those liquid golden eyes. An attack at its neck from a roaring Will made it scramble free of his onslaught.

“Kate, if you’re going to help, now’s the time. Not sure how much longer I can keep this up,” Will called, a note of exhaustion creeping into his voice.

How many chances did she have—one? Three?—before the lizard decided she was a real threat and came for her?

Kate sighted in on her target. She took several calming breaths that stilled her, then muttered a prayer, took a lungful of air, wound up like a pitcher and let the stone fly toward the dragon’s head where it loomed snake-like before Will. The rock struck it just below one eye and the creature’s head swept toward her with an ear-piercing scream. It was surprised, offended, wounded. But perfectly fine, as though Kate had tossed a kids’ bouncy ball at it.

The beast charged for her, still crying out in that offended tone, as though it had only come for tea and here she was throwing stones at it like a total jerk. 

“No!” Will roared, lifting his sword in one hand, reaching high for the weak spot in its skull, but losing all grace and control in the wild attack. The dragon’s head snapped around at the last minute and in a surprise twist of its nimble neck, dodged the sword and snapped off Will’s arm. He screamed and fell to his knees as blood began to ooze from the severed arteries and bone.

“Will, no, no, no,” Kate cried, her voice catching. This was her fault. Will’s arm . . . he’s going to die, again, because of her . . .

“Kate,” he said through clenched teeth, his voice a groan of anguish. “Now, now’s your chance.”

He was right. The dragon had tossed the severed arm aside, and with it, the sword. Both of them lay just six feet from Kate. She peered at it through fuzzy, teary eyes, noting that Will’s fingers were still clenched around the hilt. With a swallow, she strode forward purposefully, and without dwelling on it too much, she pried his fingers loose and lifted the sword. She faced the dragon and the wounded Will who was weakly fighting off the dragon with his remaining hand.

She lifted the sword in both hands like a kamikaze samurai and focused on the soft indentation on the top of the dragon’s head. The cruel beast got Will’s head between its teeth. Will screamed. Kate charged without a word. As the sword sank into the soft flesh of the dragon’s head, she let out her war cry. It tore from her lungs and burst like a solar flare through the mist. The dragon’s wings flapped even as its jaw relaxed and released Will. Its great body settled with a thunderous boom.

Silence.

Will’s breathing came in ragged pants. Kate shook the tears from her face and released the sword and pushed the dragon’s heavy, lifeless head off him with her entire body. Blood oozed down Will’s face.

“Thanks,” he croaked with a quivering smile.

“Oh Will,” she murmured. “This is my fault.” She fell to her knees.

“It’s OK, I’m dead anyway, remember?”

“You’re alive. That’s why it hurt,” she said, cradling his head in her lap. She wiped the blood away. “I’m—I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this to happen. I mean, who thought—” she struggled.

Will closed his eyes and sighed. “Then this will be my second death. This one will be better than the first. The first I was alone and broken by a life full of regret. This time the love of my life—my second life—is at my side.” He opened his eyes and smiled. His cheeks were smudged with dirt. His hair was matted with dragon saliva.

“No,” Kate said.

“No? You—you don’t love me?”

“No, you’re not dying. We’re not giving up. We can still get you out of here. There’s still hope, Will.”

She laid his head down gently and pulled her shirt off to try to make a tourniquet or something. Her sports bra was soaked.
How do I make strips?
she wondered. At that moment, she remembered the pocket knife and small first aid kit she always kept in her pack.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, checking to make sure the wounds on his head weren’t too deep. Satisfied that they weren’t, she ran to retrieve her backpack. When she came back, Will was breathing in shallow heaves and his color had gone ashen.

“Wake up,” she said, nudging him gently. His eyes fluttered open.

“What are you doing?” he rasped.

“Saving you. You saved me. I’m saving you, Will.” Kate flipped the blade open and began sawing through her shirt.

“And you came to Chthonos to save me, but who’s keeping track? I think I’m a lost cause, Kate. Let’s just—let’s just face the music and not drag this out. For you. I—I’m sorry. I love you.” He struggled to sit up.

“What are you doing? Don’t make it worse, Will. You’re losing a lot of blood, just let me get this around your head,” she said, pushing him gently back down by his shoulders.

He sighed and settled back. Beneath her knees, the ground seared her. Sweat dripped from the tip of her nose and chin and ran in rivulets down her chest and back. She lifted his head and slipped the strip of cloth under it. From her first aid kit, she pulled out ointment and alcohol and cleaned the bleeding tears from the dragon’s teeth. She applied the antibacterial ointment and then tied the makeshift bandage on the side of his head so it didn’t dangle in his face.

Then, carefully, she lifted his body to remove his chest-piece. He groaned and helped her as much as he could, seeming to lose consciousness as she worked on him. She poured alcohol on a section of her shirt and dabbed at the gaping, open wound through gritted teeth. The naked bone glared at her like an angry white eye. If she didn’t cauterize the arteries, he would bleed to death. She stood up and yanked the sword from the dragon’s head and fished the lighter out of her backpack. She knelt back down and flicked on the flame and held it under the tip of her sword until it burned the tip of her finger as she tested it.

“This is going to hurt,” she whispered, to the unconscious Will and then she touched the tip of the sword to the mangled arteries.

His eyes whipped open and he cried out as he sat up and tried to pull away from her.

“It’s OK, it’s OK,” she cooed and put her free hand to his clammy forehead.

He fell back with a heavy sigh.

She cut a large square bandage from her shirt, doused it in alcohol, and laid it over the hole where his arm had been. She secured it on his chest and back with the first aid tape.

There,
she thought, good as new. Her lower lip trembled.
Would it be enough? Would he last? Could they even go on?

She confronted the fact that what she’d come all this way for was about to slip from her fingers. Failure. Loss. What was the point? Was this why she never let anyone in—like Tom, like Ty?—because she just lost them, in the end? It made her lose control. It made her vulnerable. She’d never gone so far out on a limb for someone and the irony of it was, the minute she did, a dragon ripped his arm off and he almost bled to death.

Kate knew a tiny bit about first aid—a general she’d taken just for the hell of it—but she hardly knew whether or not a person could survive without an arm without immediate medical attention. And by medical attention, she didn’t mean first aid.

She looked up, having forgotten for just a few seconds where she was. The mist had descended again. The dragon was dead and now cloaked by the white mist as though covered by a blanket. She didn’t even remember which direction the river lay and which direction she should be walking. Did it matter anymore? She should just sit there and wait for Cipher’s other minions to come claim her.

“Kate,” Will said, pulling her from the little pity-party she had going.

She leaned forward, attentive to him and relieved to hear his voice. “I’m here. What is it?”

“Do you have any food?” he asked.

She laughed. “Just a little bit. And that’s a good idea. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

She helped him sit up and he ate a granola bar and washed it down with a gulp of her water. Kate noted that less than a cup of that precious liquid remained.

“I think I can make it,” Will said as Kate helped him to his feet.

“Good. You better. I didn’t come all this way to just let you die from a mere flesh wound,” she said.

“Monty Python,” he said with a laugh. “Only the finer things, Kate.”

“Exactly.” She shoved everything back into her pack, put it on, and picked up the sword. “We’re not leaving this.” She twisted the sword and held it up. It had saved them twice now—slaying the dragon and searing Will’s wound.

“Agreed.” He scanned the dragon’s corpse, which was already beginning to decay beneath the clinging mist, and then his gaze fell upon his severed arm, about ten feet from the dragon’s outstretched wing. Will blinked and frowned.

“Ignore it,” Kate growled. “You look better with just one anyway. I have a thing for one-armed men.”

He smiled and looked at the ground, then back up at her with grateful eyes. “Thanks, Kate.”

“Let’s go. This way, I think,” she slipped under his remaining arm and pointed with the sword.

***

Kate led them across what seemed like a furrowed field in the mist. After the confrontation with the dragon and Will’s loss of his arm, Kate found herself fearless. She kept a hold of Will’s remaining hand—she was numb even to the gravity of that thought—with no lingering concern for her own safety, concentrating instead on getting Will off the god-forsaken planet. Her mind had sharpened and become hyper-alert. Her hiking boots sank into the dirt. The smell of sulphur struck at her nose, tiny punches of that foul, pervasive odor. Will’s fingertips were strangely cold against the back of her hand.

Through the mist she made out strange, ghostly shapes and wondered if they were Cipher’s minions closing in on them, but nothing ever materialized.

Light ahead began to force the mist away.
Where was it coming from?
she wondered. Will asked as much out loud.

Suddenly the mist was completely gone and they were standing on the shore of the impossible. A lake of fire. And . . . possibly . . . brimstone. Kate laughed mirthlessly as the red and yellow liquid bubbled and seethed. Black islands of charred rock stood tall amidst the flame-colored lake. Some of them seemed to float, unmoored, across the surface.

“What the hell?” Kate proclaimed.

“Yes, odd. I guess there really is a lake of fire. For endless torment and such.” Will laughed, the sound as devoid of feeling as Kate’s had been.

To add to the miserable prospect of crossing the lake, Kate heard the keening cry of a new dragon as it swept by overhead. 

“Shit,” she cursed, glancing up in time to see the glowing underbelly of the beast as it glided over the lake.

“Leonardo planned for this, didn’t he?” Will asked, gazing up at the dragon with a lifeless expression. He seemed numb to the fact of yet another dragon.

“Not precisely,” Kate said. “The way he explained it was ‘the white one is for the first obstacle, the red one is for the second obstacle,’ and such. And he really didn’t prepare me for a dragon. Another dragon. Like I can blame him. I brought myself here. Not Leonardo. Well, at least, not directly.”

Will gave a sheepish frown. “Sorry about that. I should take the blame for this.”

The dragon continued to circle above them. Kate peered up at it, squinting, trying to determine its size. Maybe there was a bright side to all this. Maybe it was the runt of the dragon litter. “Wait,” she said with a soft gasp. “There’s someone riding that dragon.”

“Really? I didn’t see anyone,” Will answered. He rubbed his eyes and looked again.

“Yeah, he’s wearing clothing the same color as the dragon’s hide. There’s definitely a guy on him.”

“Oh, I see him now,” Will said.

“Waiting here isn’t going to help. As much as I relish the idea of not taking a pleasure cruise across this lake, we better get going,” Kate said. She shrugged out of her pack and pulled out the red stone. It was about the size of a dinner plate, dense, and laced with veins of black.

“Don’t tell me we’re going to skim over the surface on a salad plate?” Will said wryly.