It had been a very long few weeks of extremely rigorous training, and while Flynn felt exhausted and in absolutely no shape to fight a dragon, he was stronger. Could physically feel it— muscles tight beneath his skin that looked about as defined as his piercing eyes.
He took hold of the hilt of his sword, now decked out in full plate armor with the exception of his helmet. He always hated helmets, and figured they weren’t honorable enough. If he were to defeat the dragon, he figured they deserved a glimpse of his face while he did so.
Though, Flynn really had no intention of killing them. At most, he would knock them down and get them to the point where they forfeit, and then stop the duel.
He clambered up the mountainside once more, stopping at the cave entrance as he drew his sword passively and waited for the dragon to appear.
Crow had spent a lot of time climbing up mountains, to feel the frigid, thin air as they got higher and higher and the quantity of air lessened. But when they saw their little knight, they climbed down at once and dropped to the ground behind him with supernatural strength and speed.
Say, a few weeks ago, Flynn would have sputtered and flipped around like a scared puppy. But now, with the way his training weighed on every single part of him, he simply stayed standing. He tightened the grip on his sword, and glanced behind him to where the dragon stood.
He turned fully, bowing to them with his sword shoved into the ground below.
“Salutations,” he said blankly, eyes seeming to see right through them. He was already dreading this fight, even if the sight of the dragon made his heart race— in a way he wasn’t familiar with.
“Greetings, little knight. So you finally decided to show up.” they said, fire coming out their nostrils just the slightest bit, leaving smoke curling in its wake. They raised one of their six, unfortunately fleshy human arms and held it out to shake hands with Flynn. “If we are to duel, I would prefer to have my armor.” Crow said.
Flynn shook the dragon’s hand, bowing his head in response.
“Of course. I have armor. It’s only fair,” he replied, even though he wasn’t even banking on getting a single hit in. If anything, he’d evade all of the attacks if he could— simply waiting until his muscles didn’t work anymore.
He didn’t want to hurt this beast— if that was what he could even call them. It was a living being, and while Flynn had never been a softie when it came to the safety of his kingdom… this felt different.
Crow shrugged. They could practically smell the weakness in the man’s every word. Compassion, what a thought! An idiotic thought, no doubt, simple and dull and worth none of their time. And yet, when they looked into their little knight’s eyes…
“I’m going to get my armor now.” they said redundantly. They walked off, turning their face away so the blush would be less obvious.
Flynn just nodded, the grip on his sword growing steadier by the moment. There was something so confident in the way he stood, like he knew the worst that could come out of this was death, and that he had made his peace with it. In all reality, he had made his peace with that. While he was training physically, he had also said his goodbyes and made it a blunt fact in his mind that there should be no hope of getting out of here alive. So why was his heart beating so fast? It couldn’t be nerves, could it? Couldn’t be the way the dragon looked at him, like he was some kind of petite little boy under the wing of a wizened man…? Or the little twinkle in their eye that almost seemed like something else— something Flynn couldn’t put a finger on.
Crow put on their armor, the symbol of it weighing on their mind more than anything. It wasn’t like them to be all like this, but here they were, like… this. Whatever this was, they didn’t know. All they knew was they were likely losing their head.
Flynn stayed where he was, for a moment lost in his mind completely. He could feel the heat of the volcano, as well as the weight of his full armor, pressing down on his body. While it was so excruciating, it was nearly comforting— like a giant, full-body hug that brought the false promise of security.
He stared off, in a sort of brooding or grizzled manner, cutting his sword through the ground absently.
Crow’s armor was crafted from the finest ingredients, primed for peak protection and mobility. It was well adorned as well, a work of art just as much as a work of function. They stepped out, bowed to Flynn, and stepped forward.
“How do you want to begin?” they asked, looking almost… bored. Despite this, their heart raced in some strange anticipation when they saw the knight.
Flynn could feel the sweat already begin to drip down the lengths of his neck, hair messed and ruffled by the long trek up the mountain. He could feel his lungs tighten with each smoky breath. Or maybe that was just the way his heart beat too fast for his liking. Or perhaps the combination of both which— frankly— he wasn’t too thrilled about.
“First, I would love to know your name,” Flynn replied, his voice steady. He tried to speak with the same leverage, tone equal and emanating from his chest like a growl. “Simply for formality purposes. I think we both deserve certain… ignorant pleasantries.”
He shoved his sword into the ground, giving the dragon a full bow and staying there, continuing, “My name is Flynn Scotts. I’m a soldier for the Kights of the Crown. Son of Sullivan, and worshipper of the Serpent God Isdis.”
He flicked his fiery amber eyes back up to the dragon, like they were almost filled with magma themselves. He stood slowly, keeping his sword where it was lodged into the rock below.
“I am Maker Crow. Of the Seventh Section. Of the Once Bitten, Twice Born. I have many titles, but Maker is the only one I have risen to, so you may use that only.”
“Funny, that we both worship gods from the same root. I worship the Buried Queen, if it matters to you. You wouldn’t have heard of her.” Crow smirked.
“I recommend taking your sword out of the magma. It will melt into a misshapen mess if you leave it any longer.”
As will I, Flynn thought to himself, quickly dislodging the sword. Now, with his talk, his only goal was to procrastinate. Delay the duel as long as he could, for the sake of… not getting injured, or worse— injuring the dragon.
Again, he wasn’t entirely sure why he cared. “Maker Crow” was a monster, right? It was in the kingdom’s best interest that he took the beast down, or died with justice fighting it. So why did he care so much to avoid this?
“Maker Crow,” Flynn repeated, nodding. It was either the name itself or the way the dragon had said them that sent the shivers down his spine. He made his best attempt to not show it at all.
“I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but…. that wouldn’t matter, would it? I don’t think you would believe me.”
“I would, perhaps, if you weren’t a knight. But you are, and we both have to live with that. Blade at the ready, now!” they said with surprising kindness in their eyes despite the harshness in their voice.
(Sorry for the short reply. I’m a bit uninspired.)
Without thinking twice, Flynn steadied his sword before him, feeling the sheer adrenaline rush through every single vein. His breath was steady, nearly as much as his sword, even and consistent despite the fire burning in his chest. It almost matched the external heat, and he narrowed his eyes, stepping back and angling his body for combat. While it may not have been the best tactic, Flynn offered the dragon the first move. While he was a knight, he was also one of the few respective people he knew.
(No worries at all!)
Crow was almost hesitant, but wasted no time springing upon the man to tear his throat out. They would not die today, they had things to live for. Not much, mind you, but at least something in that realm. They swept their blade at Flynn, moving fast and with force unlike that of a human.
Flynn’s mind worked overdrive, moving faster than his body to launch himself out of range of the sword. It nicked just the side of his armor, sending a deep crack through the metal on his pauldron. Flynn skittered to the side, kicking up rocks from below as he huffed.
They’re fast and strong? he thought to himself, keeping his posture low and his sword before him to counter before making his next move.
An unreadable glint in his eyes, Flynn kicked off from the ground below, sending himself flying sword-first toward Crow.
Crow stepped out of the way, allowing Flynn to fall to the ground as they drove their sword into the ground next to him.
“Had enough, little knight?” they asked, grinning an incredibly smug grin.
“Had enough?” Flynn repeated mockingly, still kneeling. He had landed on his feet, although slightly off balance, and had stayed there.
“Now, what’s that supposed to mean?” he uttered, breathing steadier than he thought was possible. “You barely got a nick in, love. You really think humans are so fragile, don’t you?”
“Well, you are. All those squishy parts of yours, so easy to,” they traced a claw under his chin, drawing blood, “snap.” they withdrew their sword in a blur of movement, hurtling toward the knight at neck-breaking speed.
Flynn made a futile effort to dive out of the way, twisting himself into safety as he frantically lifted up his sword. But the collision and the fact that he held it one-handed left his sword scattering to the side and his wrist nothing better than absolutely broken. There was a visible wince as Flynn bit back the pleasure of cursing. Nonetheless, he was happy to still have his heart in his body. If the blade hadn’t been set aside by his own sword, it would have pierced directly through his chest.
Flynn grabbed the hilt of his sword with his other hand, jumping aside and wiping the blood from his face. He could tell his left arm was out of the picture— the wrist was a mess of broken bones and sheered tendons.
Crow felt an unwanted pang of sympathy at the man’s injury, but waved it off as a temporary weakness. They had to fight this knight, as reluctant as they were to do it. Their next swing was much more halfhearted, something to be easily blocked.
Flynn, with as much strength as he could muster, parried Crow’s sword aside. It didn’t hold enough power to send it flying or barely even knock it out of Crow’s grasp, but it worked enough for him to dodge out of the way of a follow-up.
His entire method of just dodging didn’t seem very achievable now. Crow was faster than he had expected, so Flynn either had to speed it up of start countering, and fighting back.
With a last begrudging huff, Flynn sliced forward once, then another, but his movements were never desperate. Each one seemed calculated and intentional, even with one less hand.
Crow blocked his movements with ease, they weren’t a fool after all. But, they were careful not to damage the knight too much with the force they blocked with, taking care to make sure Flynn hadn’t fallen off balance or injured his hand further.
They began to climb, looking to get some time to think. They were fast, and clever, so it was no time at all that they reached a place that would take quite a while to reach.
Flynn kept himself stagnant, squinting slightly as Crow began his ascent. He nearly choked as the pain flooded through his body, the adrenaline going hand in hand with the way it felt. The cut on the underside of his chin stung, his wrist overpowering it even more.
With gritted teeth, Flynn stuck his sword in the side of the rocks and began climbing, too. He was much quicker now, energy stemming from fear and anticipation. He didn’t care where it came from, as long as he was keeping himself alive and distracted. One-arm climbing was too difficult, so he simply bit down on his lower lip and latched on, trying to ignore the piercing white throbs.
"You won't be getting to me any time soon. Give up, little knight." they said, looking wholeheartedly disinterested in the man.
Flynn shook his head, breathing too heavy to reply as he continued his ascent. He wanted to bit back with some kind of snarky remark— something that would bite into Crow’s skin under his armor. But he couldn’t find the right words, the right voice, that held the right defiance and the right bite. So he simply kept climbing, biting down on his lip so hard it began to bleed. So be it, if it took any attention away from the situation at hand.
It had been longer than he wanted when he finally got to where Crow perched. It was difficult, and he nearly hung off the side of the cliff as he viciously stuck his sword in the ground on top and pulled himself up. In another futile attempt to steady himself, he stood upright, looking piercingly into Crow’s eyes.
“I suppose I’ll have to move again.” they said, rushing higher up the mountain with superhuman speed and strength. They cursed to themself. They cursed against Flynn. But mostly, they cursed to their patron Goddess, and all the others they could curse to without getting smited. How would they get out of this without yielding?
It was probably too long before Flynn caught up to the dragon again, and he could feel his wrist worsening by each rock he grabbed on to. His chest heaved with each ashy breath and it hurt, everything burning into his skin. He could barely see through the maroon haze of his own mind, but as he got up once more and stared Crow right in the eyes, he found the courage to speak.
“What game are you playing?” he choked out in short breaths, barely audible. “I thought this was a d-duel. Not a chase, dragon.”
“I’m trying to save your life, if you’re wondering. Dragons don’t yield, that’s all humans. If they found out I yielded… the shame would be too great. I would never sell any of my creations again. My honor would be in tatters. Either you yield, or I kill you. And neither of us want that.” they growled.
