FanStory.com - Ond-Nattby Roxanna Andrews

"Dyster!" called Joshua in a frantic attempt to rouse the dragon. He managed to right himself feet from the ground. Ond-Natt had recovered first and flew above them. Dyster, unafraid, flew upward to meet his sibling.

Lucas did not have to guide the salivating Ond-Nutt, as his instinct told him what to do. He and Lucas seemed to move and think as one, each sensing the desire of the other. Lucas knew there would be no stopping him with such a beast at his command. He saw himself as a king or emperor, ruling the world, having the choicest of women for his wives, and many sons to carry on his legacy. He would have riches beyond anything he could imagine.

He was brought from his daydream by a searing pain in his shoulder. Lucas looked down to see an arrow embedded in the flesh and blood spreading from the wound. He broke it off, and looking up, he locked eyes with Lyse. Seeing movement behind her, he watched as Nyla raised her bow and let another arrow fly.

Lucas pushed Ond-Natt into a dive and the arrow missed its mark. Coming up under the women's dragon, he slashed at the underbelly, his sword tearing a wide gash, blood flowed and entrails protruded. The dragon screamed as Ond-Natt made a turn and went in for the kill. He brought his massive head back and loaded the pockets in his throat with chemicals that would shoot out as a blazing fire.

Faltering in his flight, Ond-Natt whipped his head around to see his bloodly stump of a tail. Behind him Joshua raised his bloodied sword in a salute. More than half of Ond-Natt's tail had been sliced off, and the mammoth beast screamed in pain. He brought his head back again, ready to unleash his white hot rage on Joshua.

Ally dragon riders watched as the huge black dragon circled Joshua and Dyster. They hurried to his aid and as Ond-Natt bent back his head, the archers let fly with their arrows. They found their mark as more than twenty arrows pierced Ond-Natt's unprotected and scale-less throat. Smoke poured from the wounds, causing the monster to choke and begin to suffocate. As his massive head fell forward, Nubian arrows found their mark in the soft tissue between the dragon's eyes.

The huge dragon plummeted downward with Lucas hanging on, screaming as he fell. Ond-Natt hit the ground and died soon after. He raised his head once, looking at Lucas as the light faded from his red eyes. The pockets in his throat, exposed to the air, erupted and burst into flame.

Lucas rolled off his back and as far away as he could from the burning dragon. In great pain and the air knocked out of him, Lucas lay in the snow, trying to catch his breath, and muster the stamina to stand.

Looking about, he realized he was close to his encampment and managed to get to his feet. Making his way to his tent, he fell just inside and lay there panting, thinking of what to do next.

The defeated leader was enraged that they had killed Ond-Natt. He knew he had lost the battle and must get to his horse.

He lay with his eyes closed, his unstable mind busy with plotting. Hearing someone enter the tent, he opened his eyes and saw a pair of worn fur boots at his side. His eyes traveled upward, seeing a man leaning on his spear, dressed in ragged fur. The man looked down at him with fierce eyes in a face painted blue.

The warrior slaves hadn't time to put on the blue paint that they usually wore on raids to intimidate and frighten their victims, but this warrior had taken the time to paint his face and color his beard and hair. The face was painted half solid and half in jagged lines. Blue hair jetted out in spikes from head and chin, giving the man a terrifying countenance.

Lucas didn't recognize the slave. He felt the chill of fear in his stomach, but bluffed his courage.

"Bring me water," Lucas ordered. "Then bring my horse."

The man did not move, but stared down at Lucas with a slight smile on his lips, his eyes dancing with anticipation. Lucas felt another chill.

"Did you hear me, you filthy slave?" Lucas screamed.

"I have dreamed of this day," Jarle's voice came out in a harsh whisper. Raising his spear above his head with two hands, he brought it down with all his strength into Lucas.

Jarle, no longer a strong man, captivity taking its toll, did not shove the spear in as far as he thought. Still a look of surprise distorted Lucas's features, his eyes wide and his mouth open.

Jarle bowed his head, and turned away overcome by emotion. Filling his lungs with air and throwing back his head, he whooped a war cry. Though not as loud as he would have liked, it was none the less joyous. His enemy was finally dead and it brought him to tears knowing he had preserved his honor.

Distracted by vindication, Jarle did not see Lucas raise his sword.