around. I could see the desperation and anger in its one working eye as it focused on the half-blood and me. This time it took the dragon three short grunts before it opened its mouth for one last blood-spitting shriek before it charged.
I watched in horror as it stomped toward us, the ground shuddering beneath us. The half-blood was yelling something in my ear, but all I could see was the giant face coming at me, slobbering and mad.
Soon I could take it no more. I ducked, hiding my face in Rio’s shirt and covering his body with my own. I nearly lost my mind as the dragon’s breath beat down on me. After a moment, when I did not feel the piercing and crushing of sharp fangs, I lifted my head.
The dragon’s face hovered right above me, gurgling and buggy-eyed. Unsure of what just happened but thankful that it had, I gripped Rio under the arm and helped him to stand on his uninjured leg. Together, we hobbled away from the dragon. Once we had gone a fair distance, the half-blood collapsed, and I risked a look over my shoulder. At that moment, the next volley from the archers on the ledge finally came.
The arrows hit the dragon uselessly in the head, but caused it to finally realize that it was dying. It let out a slow groan, its thick legs buckling. The great beast slumped to the side to reveal its fleshy underbelly. My eyes quickly found the gaping wound where Levent stabbed the beast in the chest.
He must have found hold on the dragon as it charged the injured half-blood and I, using his twin swords as anchors to climb toward the most vulnerable part of the creature. I stared as he wrenched his sword from between the dragon’s ribs, swinging it to flick some of the blood off before wiping it clean with the end of his cloak.
The dragon-kin walked toward me, a triumphant little smirk lightening his bloodied face.
The others finally slid down from their places on the ledge and ran toward Rio and I, quite ignoring Levent. They all looked worse for wear. They ran, very worried, to the half-blood, who seemed to have lost consciousness somewhere in the ordeal. His hand still gripped the blood-covered dagger.
My shoulder was suddenly grabbed and I was pulled backward. I staggered a bit as Bolivar knelt where I had just been and smacked Rio gently in the face. I objected to the rough treatment quite uselessly as he opened his eye.
“I’m fine,” he said unconvincingly. “S’just my leg. Have you got it?”