Kickass Anthology (42 page)

AUTHOR

A cartographer by day,
A.L. Boyd
spends most of her free time with her horses, gardening, or reading. Becoming an author happened by accident. She never intended to be a full time writer, but sometimes the stories just popped into her head so she sat down and wrote them out.

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7213484.A_L_Boyd

ILLUSTRATOR
Kate Pavelle

STARFALL

Keira Andrews

SO DRAGONS really
did
breathe fire.

Simon’s sword wavered, the handle slick from his sweaty palm. Another gust of hot air roared across the abyss, and he could smell the ends of his hair burning. Every instinct screamed for him to flee.

Keeping his eyes on the beast, Simon ducked as another blast of flame filled the air. The sword slipped, and he scrambled for it, the rubies encrusted on the hilt digging into his skin as he held on.

There were pockets of fire burning in the ceiling of the cavern, lighting the grim place well enough for him to see even when the dragon wasn’t huffing and puffing. Smoke clung in the dank cavern air, and Simon’s eyes watered as he hefted the sword.

He’d played with cheap wooden weapons as a child, and even parried with his father’s iron sword before his mother had sold it for flour and a roast boar to keep their bellies full another week.

Father’s sword had been a child’s toy compared to Lord Vyner’s. Called Celestia, it was made of starfall, the rarest of substances, and the strongest and sharpest steel in the kingdom. Somehow it was also the lightest, for which Simon was exceedingly grateful at the moment.

Holding Celestia aloft, he squinted across the divide and swiped a hand across his eyes, blinking away salty sweat. Lord Vyner remained crumpled to the blackened stone where the dragon stalked, and Simon’s belly clenched. If only his lord would move or make some sound.

Lord Vyner hadn’t worn his chainmail and helmet on this expedition, and his short golden hair gleamed against the scorched earth. His breeches, tunic and boots did nothing to protect him. Nor did Simon’s. Not that full armor would be a match for the dragon’s fire.  

Another bellow filled the air, and Simon nearly tripped over his own feet as he backed away from the edge. The dragon’s breath had scorched much of the rock in the Tunnels of Arin, and here in this wide cavern where it seemed to make its home, all was burnt.

As for what lay at the bottom of the abyss between Simon and the other ledge where his lord remained captive, it was anyone’s guess. Simon inched back to the edge, gripping the sword. What was certain, however, was that a tumble into the black would be the end of him—and Lord Vyner.

In the silence that descended after another roar of fire, the dragon’s talons
click-clacked
on the stone. It hunted back and forth, beady yellow gaze locked on Simon. He wondered what it was waiting for. If dragons ate people—as his mother had always warned—why didn’t it eat Lord Vyner?

Simon’s heart thumped as he considered the possibilities. The notion that the dragon was playing with him and having a bit of fun made the situation all the worse somehow. For there was no chance Simon could cross the divide to rescue his master, and no way he could ever leave him behind.

No, Simon had served his lord faithfully since he was a boy, and he would serve him to the end. The years had passed so quickly, and he was no boy anymore. He should have moved up in the household and taken one of the serving wenches as a wife, but Simon had been content to stay a squire.

He knew others in the keep whispered and wondered why Lord Vyner kept him on. But the lord was a strange man. He’d never married, and didn’t seem to give a moment’s thought as to what anyone might think of that. His castle was small and orderly, and his people well cared for. When not drawn into skirmishes with the hostile people of the Marshlands, he seemed content to hunt with his grown squire at his side.

In the deepest dark of the night, curled on his pallet outside his master’s chamber, Simon liked to believe Lord Vyner felt even a fraction of what Simon did for him. But that was utter foolishness—a flight of fancy Simon could not afford to indulge. Certainly not here in the heart of the dragon’s lair. 

It had to be twenty feet across the chasm, and the short length of rope usually coiled on his belt had been knocked loose somewhere in the tunnels. He had Celestia, plucked from the ground after the dragon had made off with Lord Vyner, but what good was it? Even if Simon could get close enough to the dragon to wield the sword, the beast was covered in hard, reddish scales.  

With a soft groan, Lord Vyner moved. Simon’s heart leapt, and he scurried to the very edge of the divide and dropped to his knees. “My lord! Do not fear!” Such useless words, but he was compelled to say them.

Lord Vyner shifted and extended his powerful arms and legs. The dragon loomed over him, its forked tongue flicking in and out.

“Please remain still. It hasn’t tried to eat you yet. Perhaps it won’t.”

There was a soft rumble that might have been a chuckle. “That’s my Simon. Always hoping for the best.” He tensed. “Simon? Where are you?”

“Here, my lord. On the other side.”

Lord Vyner rolled onto his belly and lifted his head. “Good god. What are you doing?” His voice was gruff. “Run! Get the hell out of here!”

“No! I shan’t leave you, my lord.” Even at a distance Simon imagined he could see the deep green of his eyes. The thought that those eyes would go dark—that Lord Vyner would die here alone in the belly of the earth was too much for him to bear.

“I command you to flee. Do you hear me, Simon? Leave me.”

“No. I will do my duty.”

Lord Vyner clenched his jaw. “To the devil with your duty! Go! There’s no escape for me.”

Simon glanced at the dragon, who seemed to be listening, its beady eyes narrowed. “If no escape for you, then none for me.”

Shoulders slumping, Lord Vyner closed his eyes. “Oh, Simon. Please. I beg of you.”

Simon opened his mouth to object, but sat back on his heels without a word. Only once had Lord Vyner begged him for anything, and the memory of it made Simon’s blood burn as though the dragon breathed fire through him.

The battle had been swift, at least. Lord Vyner was too exhausted for a full bath, so once he was stripped of his chainmail and underthings, Simon pulled out a bench and gently urged him to sit while he cleaned him with warmed water.

Standing behind him, Simon tentatively wove his wet, soapy hands into Lord Vyner’s golden locks. In all these years, he’d never bathed him—Lord Vyner always insisted upon total privacy. But he put up no argument as Simon caressed his scalp, and in fact he leaned into the touches with a sigh.

Simon bit his lip, ordering himself to keep control. He inched back lest Lord Vyner feel his growing hardness. It was shameful, but Simon couldn’t help himself. So often had he dreamt of touching his master—even kissing him.

It was madness, but Lord Vyner never had to know. Yet as Simon rinsed his hair and soaped his broad shoulders, sweeping his hands down Lord Vyner’s muscular back, the desire was overwhelming. Simon breathed through parted lips, trying to muffle how quick his breath came. He yearned to follow the path of his fingers with his lips. It would be so easy…

“Simon?”

Blinking, he froze, his hands pressed against Lord Vyner’s shoulder blades. He realized his master was trembling. “Sir? Are you well?”

Lord Vyner’s voice was choked. “Go now.”

Simon swallowed thickly, his throat gone bone dry. His body vibrated with need, the laces of his breeches straining. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Go.”

He should leave at once, but Simon found himself rooted to the spot. His hands stroked down Lord Vyner’s back.

“I beg of you.”

The desperation in his master’s voice finally spurred him to obey, and Simon fled the chamber without another word. He didn’t stop running until he was deep in the forest, where he could touch himself and imagine he hadn’t left, and that he’d tasted Lord Vyner’s wet skin.

The dragon’s screech sent Simon reeling back from the edge, sword in hand.

“That’s right. Go now. Save yourself, Simon.” Lord Vyner pushed himself to his hands and knees in the shadow of the dragon. “I’ll keep its attention here. Now run!”

He’d scuttled back to the tunnel that led away from the cavern, and Simon did as he was told.

He ran.

Thighs straining, he launched himself into the abyss, the sword outstretched as he soared. He didn’t make it to the other side, but of course he’d known he wouldn’t. As the arc of his flight came down, his pulse pounded so hard he thought he might explode. All was blackness, and he was falling.

With every ounce of his strength, he rammed Celestia into the side of the abyss. Pain lanced through his shoulders as the sword found its mark and he jolted to a stop. One hand slipped from the hilt, and he wheeled his arm wildly, swinging himself up to take hold again.

“Simon!” Lord Vyner’s cry rent the darkness.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down.
Simon’s muscles shook as he reached for the nooks and crannies in the rock wall. Above him the dragon roared, and his lord screamed back words Simon couldn’t make out. They were about ten feet above him, and Simon crawled up, using Celestia as he’d once seen men with picks scale a sheer rock.

The starfall somehow sliced into the rock and held firm, and then slid right back out as Simon inched his way to the ledge. He could still hear his lord shouting abuse at the dragon, who huffed, its talons clattering louder and faster. Simon’s muscles screamed, but he pushed himself faster.

He could feel it in the oven-like air—the adventure with the dragon was coming to a head, and any moment Lord Vyner would be charred to a crisp or eaten—or perhaps both.

“Do your worst, you son of a whore’s dog!”

Gasping, Simon peeked over the ledge, digging his toes into a fissure and shoving himself up. The dragon loomed several feet to the right, and beyond it Simon glimpsed Lord Vyner on his feet, fists clenched and gaze wild.

The dragon’s ribs expanded as it sucked in a giant breath.

With Celestia in his grasp, Simon vaulted onto the ledge and scrabbled up the dragon’s tail. Roaring, it bucked beneath him, and Simon held on, digging into the places between the beast’s scales to climb higher. He distantly heard the familiar rumble of Lord Vyner’s voice, but couldn’t make out the words.

Fire blasted into the cavern along with the dragon’s screech, and the heat was blistering as Simon reached the dragon’s head. The creature’s yellow eyes went crossed as it tried to shake him free, shrieking.

Just as the starfall had sliced through stone, it cleaved the dragon’s skull between its eyes. With a shout, Simon sunk the sword to the hilt, and the beast went rigid. Simon’s lungs burned as he yanked Celestia free.

For an impossible moment, the dragon stood frozen. Then, with a final fiery exhale, it toppled over. Of course the dragon was falling right into the never-ending dark of the abyss, and Simon leapt blindly the other way, hoping for the best.

His breath
whooshed
from his lungs he crashed into Lord Vyner’s waiting arms, sending them both to the blackened stone. His master cushioned his fall, and Simon sprawled atop him. He clutched the sword in his right hand, and only let it go when Lord Vyner eased it from him, examining Simon for injuries. They were both sweaty and sooty with the odd splash of blood thrown in for good measure, but they were alive.

“You’re all right?” Lord Vyner asked, peering at him anxiously.

He could only nod as his breath caught in his throat. His master’s hands had traveled to Simon’s face, which he cupped tenderly. The pad of Lord Vyner’s thumb grazed Simon’s lower lip.

With a rush of affection and want, Simon ducked his head and kissed his master. He pressed their dry lips together forcefully for three quick heartbeats before jerking up.

Oh heaven. What have I done?

But when he would have leapt to his feet, Lord Vyner gripped Simon’s hips. Simon was straddling his master now, and the feel of the firm body between his thighs sent a shiver up his spine. His throat felt as if it was coated in ashes. He croaked, “Forgive me,” and waited for his master to speak.

Yet Lord Vyner did not. Instead, he smiled—a slow dawn of a smile, like a trickle of water flowing into a stream. His teeth gleamed whiter than usual in his dirty face. He caressed Simon’s hair.

“Oh, Simon. So long I’ve waited for you.”

A thousand questions swirled through Simon’s mind, but all that squeaked out was, “Pardon?”