The Second Wave ... PART THREE

Eyebrows, nostril hair... this wasn't what he was here for...

 

 

But he didn't understand...

 

Why, when he had transfered his essence onto the rock, had he become so small?

 

He supposed the rock was small.

 

Yes, that would explain it.

 

But he had been so... big! He had been a terrifying, awe-inspiring, magnificent dragon! Xarnoth! The very mention of his name had caused folk to lose control of their bodily functions! Many a bladder had been emptied in his presence! And things.

 

But now, here he was, the last of his kind (probably), pecking at bits of old cheese in the corner of a pizza box, while people didn't so much tremble at the sight of him as say, "Ugh, what's that?"

 

It didn't bode well.

 

"Quit your moping," said a voice.

 

"Huh?" said Xarnoth.

 

"You heard."

 

"Wait. But who..." - he turned his head one way, then the other, then he felt a pinprick of heat at the back of his neck.

 

"Ow! What w-"

 

"Are you a dragon or a dryad?"

 

"I am a dragon, but who are y-?"

 

If Xarnoth had not been what he had said he was, that being of the species Flamus dragonius, the enormous gout of pink and orange flame which spewed forth from the orange and pink head which appeared before him would have produced a bubbling puddle of Xarnoth.

 

***

 

A dragoness, he thought, as consciousness slowly reformed around him.

 

Hot breath from the rear.

 

He turned.

 

They were on a grassy plain. An elevated mound, with views of fields and a scattering of dwellings for miles around. A ring of scorched grass, forming the standard magical protection against anti-dragon elements. It also created a shimmering wall of heat, which served as a kind of camouflage, which was a good thing too, seeing as the orange and pink dragoness who sat behind him was a hefty beast.

 

Not that he would have called her 'hefty' to her face. Not only because it betrayed her dramatic dragonian beauty, but also because she was his ex-girlfriend.

 

"Zimeldia," he croaked, then burst into a coughing fit that lasted two-and-a-half minutes.

 

"It was only a gentle flaming," said Zimeldia disdainfully. "You're not the dragon you used to be."

 

"Oh you noticed," said Xarnoth when he got his voice back.

 

"And to think I used to fancy you."

 

"I have been through some changes."

 

"Hmm," said Zimeldia, as she glanced over at her diminutive ex.

 

"Speaking of which," said Xarnoth, "what are you doing here?"

 

"I could ask the same," said Zimeldia.

 

So Xarnoth explained about the asteroid, the rock, the eyebrow and the nostril hair.

 

"What a legacy," said Zimeldia.

 

Xarnoth ignored the jibe. "So how did you avoid the awesome destructive power of the rock that fell from the sky?" he asked.

 

"I hid," said Zimeldia.

 

"Where?"

 

"In a big hole."

 

"Ah..." - Xarnoth hadn't thought of that. "So who else is there?"

 

"No one."

 

"Why?"

 

"The hole wasn't big enough."

 

"Oh."

 

***

 

"Come on," said Zimeldia, "it's time to lay waste to some villages."

 

"Do they still have villages?" asked Xarnoth, as he clambered onto his ex's back.

 

"It's a figure of speech."

 

And lo the dragons did cut a swathe of destruction through the realms of man.