* * * * *
They galloped down the familiar trail on the backs of horses, mules, camels, and oxen. Some even rode in pairs; whatever it took to arrive at the cave quickly and with their full strength. Spirits remained high for most of the journey; the reality of the danger they galloped towards had not yet settled in their minds. As Nephram disappeared behind them, the galloping hooves brought Netiro’s cave closer. When the sun peeked over the hills to the east, the bragging, the threats of vengeance, the jokes and cheers and signs of bravado faded with the dark of night. The horses slowed to a walk. Their nostrils flared and muscles twitched. Some snorted and fought the control of their masters’ reins. All were obviously uneasy by the smell of roasted meat in the air.
Nehemiah led the group with his two closest friends, Jerith and Bakuk on either side of him. The animals were growing too nervous; they were running the risk of jeopardizing their element of surprise. He gave the signal to dismount. The band of warriors traveled the remainder of the way on foot. Each man silent, caught in his own thoughts, trying to mentally prepare for what was to come. Finally, the wooded frame of the cave they loathed came into view. Giant footprints, crushed bones, and charred remains littered the ground.
“We are really going to do this?” Josef asked.
“That’s right,” Bakuk answered, looking into the dark cave.
“Do we have to go in the cave? Can we not fight him out here?” he asked.
“Now don’t get weak on us, Josef.”
“Look how small that cave is compared to Netiro.” Nehemiah whispered. “I would bet he can barely move around in there. But we can. Do you really want to stay out in the open where Netiro can move freely and fly and blow fire everywhere?”
“In there, he would burn himself if he tried to breathe fire.”
“Have faith my brother.” Bakuk added.
Nehemiah patted Josef’s back. “Ready, Jerith?”
“After you,” he said, smiling.
He looked at Josef, who nodded.
“Bakuk?”
“Fight safe brothers.” Bakuk playfully gave their backs a slap before he moved forward. Crouched low, he jogged silently over the bones and twigs until he reached the entrance and peered inside. He squatted down, his hand ready on the hilt of his sword, and stuck his head inside. His keen eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness; he sniffed the putrid air. The cave was carved deep into the terrain and seemed to consist of winding turns. The dragon could not be seen, but he was certain he was there. Bakuk looked back to the men and gestured with his head to proceed before he disappeared into the cave.
Nehemiah led the others, tiptoeing toward the entrance, weapons in hand. Jerith skillfully spun his sword, causing the air around it to whirl. Into the rocky chasm they cautiously followed. The cave was much deeper than Nehemiah anticipated, and descended downward, but thankfully it remained relatively narrow. All around them, the ceiling and walls were scarred from Netiro’s spikes. Nehemiah ran his hand inside one of the long gouges. If he could do this to solid rock, what could he do to his shield? Or, more importantly, his flesh? Nehemiah swallowed his fear and pressed on. After a short descent, they heard a growl that froze them dead in their tracks and made their hair stand on end.
“Is it possible he knows we are coming?” Josef whispered.
Nehemiah hushed him and listened to the rhythmic growls for a moment. He looked ahead to Bakuk, who pressed his back against the wall of the cave and peered around the next bend. He held his hand up, signaling for them to wait. He paused then slowly unsheathed his sword. Bakuk nodded and proceeded to slink around the corner, again disappearing into the darkness.
“No sense in stopping now.” Jerith muttered.
Nehemiah took a deep breath and signaled for them to continue. The narrow cavern opened upon a large chamber where Netiro was lying on his stomach snoring. Nehemiah waved his arm in a circle signaling for them to surround Netiro. He stood directly in front of Netiro’s massive jaws with Jerith to his right, Bakuk to his left, and Josef positioned at the rear. The other men filed in. Unlike Jerith, Nehemiah never liked to fight. But as he thought of all they had lost to this dragon, he felt enough rage to kill a thousand dragons. He turned and nodded to Jerith then to Bakuk. Jerith spun his large sword as he silently strolled toward Netiro’s head.
Nehemiah raised his sword above his head. For my family he thought, as he heaved the weapon down with more strength than he knew he had. Netiro’s eye shot open as Bakuk charged and jumped onto the dragon, plunging his sword into his side. The dragon roared in pain and reared as high as he could under the low ceiling. Nehemiah’s attack just missed his target. His blade only grazed Netiro’s neck instead of slicing through. The dragon tried to lash his tail, but Josef jammed his sword through it and into the ground, pinning it in place.
“Fools!” Netiro roared as the men continued to attack him. They jumped on him, slicing and stabbing as much as they could before they were violently thrown off. Netiro bucked and kicked in his limited room. Some were smashed against the ceiling; others crumpled under his feet.
Jerith and Nehemiah remained on the ground dodging his chaotic attacks. Jerith countered every one of Netiro’s strikes with one of his own, showing his true fighting prowess. The bulky man, amazingly agile for his size, spun under the whirling teeth and slashed the dragon’s neck. He then scrambled under Netiro’s flailing feet to where Nehemiah helped a fallen man to his feet and pulled him to safety.
“Nehemiah, he won’t die! I can’t count how many times I stabbed him and he just keeps roaring and kicking!”
“Don’t give up, Jerith!” he said, as he slashed a giant leg. “He is made of flesh and blood isn’t he?”
“Give up? Who said anything about giving up?” he yelled, dodging a freed but bloody tail.
“That’s my boy, Jerith!”
The battle went on, and on, but no one showed signs of weariness. Bakuk jumped atop the dragon again and again, only to be thrown off again and again. Eventually he reached the top of Netiro’s head.
“We just got one more advantage, Brothers!” he yelled as he jammed a dagger in Netiro’s eye. The dragon screamed and reared up. Bakuk was hurled against the rocky ceiling, ricocheted off and crashed to the ground below. He didn’t move.
Nehemiah saw Netiro’s huge feet coming down toward his friend.
“No!” He ran to Bakuk and slid to his knees under the descending foot, pointing his sword upward. Netiro screamed as the sword pierced through his foot. He jumped, simultaneously flapping his wings. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to enable him to burst through the rock, dirt and trees that made the ceiling of his home. Now able to move freely, he filled his den with fire. The men screamed and ran to escape. Nehemiah, ignoring his own flaming clothing, struggled with Bakuk’s limp body. He yanked him over his shoulders and carried him out of the blazing den.
“Get everyone out of here, Jerith!” he yelled over screams and roars.
“What do you think I’m doing?” Jerith yelled back, as he threw two men out of the smoky tunnel. Nehemiah patted the flames from himself and Bakuk.
“Where is Josef?”
He looked back into the den and spotted Josef rolling on the ground, desperately trying to put out the flames. Nehemiah ripped off his burning armor and ran back into the flames. Grabbing Josef in his arms, he ran for the tunnel but the fire became unbearable and he fell to the ground. He crawled, dragging Josef behind him, coughing and weakened by the struggle; eyes burning and blinded by the smoke.
“I’ve got you Nehemiah!” Jerith grabbed Nehemiah’s arm, dragging them both through the tunnel. It was filling with thick smoke, and they struggled to breathe as they helped each other exit the burning cave.
Bakuk’s head was spinning, but in the fresh air, his thoughts cleared. He rubbed his sore head and blinked a few times, forcing his eyes to focus. “Now what?”
“It’s not over yet. Look!” Jerith said. Netiro circled overhead like a vultu
re.
“Fools! You have lost for nothing. Tonight your whole village will be no more!” He roared.
“Not if I have anything to do about it!” Jerith yelled, as he charged the dragon with every remaining drop of strength. Two other men followed his lead.
“Nehemiah?”
Nehemiah patted Josef’s chest as he lay in the dirt gasping. “Rest, Josef.” he said, as he struggled to his feet, trying to ignore his own pain. He grabbed some small branches of brush and carefully laid them atop his wounded friend, hoping to protect him from the dragon. Finally Nehemiah picked up his sword. “We’re not done yet.”