Chapter 33: The Hunt
Under Lilith’s shocked gaze, Nidhogg loosed her own bone again—an ivory bolt tearing the air with a whoosh.
The Black Dragon’s aim was merciless. The method made Lilith’s mind reel, but every shot still found a mark, and every mark was a head.
The Undead wore heavy iron helms, yet the impact hit like a falling anvil. Skulls burst to grit, and only undead instinct tugged head and body back together like a puppet on stubborn strings.
After dropping two, Nidhogg shifted with the Little White Dragon in her arms. Lilith’s vision still spun like a boat on rough water when a giant arrow—taller than Lilith—slammed into the spot they’d stood, thudding like a felled pine.
Cradled against the Black Dragon, the Little White Dragon wriggled around to face the downhill riders. The archer she’d once killed hefted a bow nearly two Liliths wide; his arrows were lances in all but name.
“Whoa, that’s scary!” The shaft hit by Nidhogg’s feet, dust geysered up, and Lilith yelped. Nidhogg ignored the cry, hugged with her left arm, raised her right, and fired again.
Moving threw her aim off. The bone meant for a visor smashed a skeleton horse’s chest; white ribs flew apart, and the lance rider toppled. A following mount stomped his head with a crunch.
Lilith knew she was dragging the Black Dragon down. The Little White Dragon was a melee mage; at range her spells barely dusted armor. She wrapped her tendrils tight around Nidhogg, so she wouldn’t fall and Nidhogg could spare the worry.
A troop led by a greatsword rider lowered their points and charged the black-and-white pair. Nidhogg coolly shot at the vanguard. He chopped the bone aside with a ringing clang.
She’d never meant to hit him. As his guard rose, she halted, sighted past him, and loosed a second bone. An archer dropped like a cut kite.
The last ranged fighter snapped off a shot that shaved a strand of Lilith’s hair. Cold sweat prickled down her neck.
“Easy. We might have to go close,” Nidhogg murmured. “They’re faster than I guessed. I may not clear them all.” Her hands never stopped. Another bone took the second archer out of the saddle. Now they had no range left: one greatsword, one warhammer, two lances, and two with slim one-handers.
But they were already on them. Nidhogg only had time to send the two one-handers to the dirt before the greatsword came crashing down.
[Back]. She invoked her Word Spirit Magic. Gold flared in the Black Dragon’s eyes. The massive blade that should’ve crushed them snapped backward and hammered its owner’s helm.
The tall knight tumbled. A teammate’s hoof stamped his chest; bones cracked like dry twigs. He writhed, unable to stand.
No breath to spare. Two lances came from opposite flanks.
Nidhogg slipped past one charge. The Little White Dragon, snug in her arms, seized the opening and released the spell she’d been palming. A blizzard bloomed over the rider; frostflowers ate half his body.
His balance vanished; he fell with a clatter. The Little White Dragon drew a freezing ray across his helm and sent him to watch his respawn timer tick.
Only then did the other lance arrive. Nidhogg didn’t dodge. Her right hand rippled into a claw scaled in night. She gripped the lance mid-shaft, killed the charge cold, then heaved and tore the rider clean off his mount.
She strode to the two still on the ground and popped their heads under her heel.
Before Lilith could process how it ended so fast, Nidhogg had wiped the squad as lightly as brushing dust from a sleeve.
The Black Dragon took a sound skeleton horse and set the Little White Dragon on it. The little one’s calf was hurt, so she had Lilith sit sidesaddle. One hand pressed the horse’s skull; the other steadied Lilith’s waist, and they took the road again.
“That thing—what was it?” Only now did Lilith catch up to the way they’d blitzed that troop; she was still dazed.
“Which thing?” Nidhogg asked. The Black Dragon didn’t seem to get what she meant.
“The part where you shot a bone out of your arm. What is that? It looked terrifying.”
“That? That’s a Black Dragon knack,” Nidhogg said. “Our bodies are built like fortresses. We can do things other folk think impossible. Firing our own bones is one of them.”
“I just don’t like fighting that way. If you want to know why, I can tell you,” she teased.
“I want to know!” Lilith’s eyes lit up. Curiosity flooded her, pushing her to press for the answer.
“Sit tight first.” Nidhogg patted the Little White Dragon’s good thigh. Lilith went still at once, big blue eyes fixed on Nidhogg, brimming with wonder.
