***
I've been sitting here concerned we are being far too obvious. That they will realize it's a trap. Just to have them bumble in here in a long row like they own the place.
Thivoll wasn't kidding when he said draks just go straight into the fray. Of course, there are six of them, and two of us, so we look like easy prey.
I let out a snort. I probably only count as a fifth of a person to them, if I'm counted at all.
With a shake of my head, I get back into my role, let out a fake scream of terror, fling myself off Drasuk's back and run into the trees.
From the rumbles of laughter that are still coming closer, they didn't catch on to just how terrible my acting skills are, but from the very quiet snicker I hear above me, Ree sure did.
I flip her off, not even sure if she can see me, then scramble up the rock I chose as my initial perch.
Drasuk made me promise to not start shooting until after he accepted a formal challenge, which is fucking stupid, but I can tell it's important to him, so I hold off while they exchange insults, my gun poised as I wait for the final sweep of movement he said indicates he's done playing Mister Knightly and Noble.
I pull in a few long breaths to steady myself, wipe my hands on my black suit, and settle into a comfortable position. I swing my gun toward Xar'Ar'ax, just to dream, but keep moving to another target.
I also promised not to snipe that bastard, although it is the obvious strategic choice to take him out when they are puffing up their chests and posturing.
Whatever. I swing the gun over to his brother, Mar'cte, then curse at myself when I realize that I don't want to make his death quick.
Hypocrite, I chide myself, but then move my aim to one of their cronies.
I pick the largest one, at least. A big, dark-blue freak that looks like he had the genali mutate him into a bloated caricature of a drak. His spines are hard to make out among all the added muscle, but from what I can tell, he has even more arrogance than Drasuk.
Impossible, I know.
When I see Drasuk move into the last stage of accepting Xar'Ar'ax's challenge, his tail sweeping in an intricate pattern, I stop pondering and start shooting.
One careful squeeze and all that muscle is useless because the bloated fucker is stone cold dead with a shot through his eye.
Shots from Ree and Thivoll ping off two others, missing anything vital, but they do provide another opening for me as one of the smaller draks, a purple and black bastard with half his tail missing, roars out his rage.
He doesn't seem to like a bullet down his throat a moment later.
And six become four, three of which are now barreling toward us, leaving Drasuk and Xar'Ar'ax to their fight.
We keep shooting, but they are on to us now, slitting their eyes mostly closed and keeping their mouths shut. I shatter a few of the larger green one's teeth just for fun as they run at us, but know the time for guns has passed.
The smaller green one is the fastest, which means he's the one that dies when Thivoll drops out of a tree, thumps on top of his back, whips his tail around and I assume pumps a load of venom in him because a moment later the drak is screaming.
Thivoll takes advantage of his momentary incapacitation to pivot his body, kick him onto his side, and then start tearing at his stomach like a giant, enraged tomcat. I shiver at the sight of it.
Big cats have always been terrifying to me and I'm glad he's part of my squad.
I yell out, taking shots of Mar'cte to make sure he's pissed off enough at me to not double-team Thivoll, or worse, figure out where Ree is.
Her tree perch isn't much protection against a drak.
The bigger green one reaches Thivoll a few beats later and without the benefit of surprise he has a much harder fight, but I can't focus on it because Mar'cte is almost to my rock, his eyes promising death.
A quick glance to Drasuk lets me know he's holding his own so far.
I take a few more shots at Mar'cte's teeth, making sure he loses a couple, then I scramble up to pull out my sword. Not exactly a marine's weapon of choice, but a dagger isn't going to do much against the enraged red drakonid.
He leaps at me, easily jumping up the dozen feet to the top of the rock. I stab out at the junction of two of his belly armor plates and the blade sinks in as I scream out to increase my braceaaer enhanced strength. Mar'cte roars in pain, but continues the swipe of his enormous arm, launching me backward off the rock.
After a few moments airborne, I land hard on my back, then struggle to get air back into my lungs. Mar'cte doesn't even bother removing my sword, just skitters down the rock, moving far quicker toward me than I have time to recover my breath.
