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.
“For the s-sake of my pride,” he coughed, resining the urge to just keel over. He could feel each muscle twitching from fatigue, the satiating burn festering just below his skin, like his blood was made from the magma that permeated the very volcano he stood on. “I wish not to yield. But may I ask you, why did you challenge me in regardless? If what you’re telling me is true, then neither of us wanted to kill the other in the first place.”
“I had to. For honor. I couldn’t just let you go, it had to be hard.” they said. “Dragon honor codes are lengthy and contradictory. But I think the logic is one way or another, someone will lose their honor.” they shrugged, unsure how to put it any other way.
“And what would be the consequence of calling it a draw?” he said, more of a statement than a question as the wind whipped at his hair, carrying his voice along with it. “A stalemate? Neither wins, neither goes against pride, neither loses.”
He couldn’t truly believe the conversation he was having. He felt like every single limb was consecutively on fire, yet his heart was cold, and he could feel a light shiver beneath his armor as it clinked against the other plates. And he felt like the dragon could tear him in two without a second thought, and that’s what he had prepared to endure. But now he was hearing words unusual to him— that the beast didn’t in fact want to kill him, just intimidate him to the point where Flynn gave up himself.
And he would have given up, if he didn’t find himself wanting to stay here, with the dragon, with the pain, for just a little longer.
“Then we both lose our honor. It’s a cowards move. Either you die or you run home, tucked tail and all.” they said firmly, holding their sword at the ready. “I’m serious.”
Maybe Flynn wasn’t thinking. Maybe his mind was elsewhere. Off of the pain, off of the sweat. Off of the cold wind above him and the molten rock below him.
And maybe that’s why he stepped forward, shambling over to Crow and standing right before them. Leaning in, looking into their eyes, with an expressionless face.
“Kill me, then,” he growled, yet his face still showed now emotion as his words shook. “Kill me, and we’ll see how this plays out.”
“Don’t make me do this. Please.” they said, stepping away from the man and stumbling over the rocks behind them. In this position they were open, vulnerable, could easily be killed just like that. And they didn’t move, didn’t care to move, none of it mattered anymore.
Flynn’s heart skipped slightly, his fiery eyes watching intently as the dragon stumbled back. They seemed almost like a puppy, even if it was their humanoid form. It hurt, about as much as Flynn’s broken wrist, to hear the sheer truth in their words.
He took a deep breath, feeling as the ash burned his eyes and his lungs ached— no, his whole body ached. He kept his eyes locked on Crow. And with one swift movement, he lifted his sword, and…
Stuck it, firmly, into the rocks just below Crow.
“Then … I forfeit.”
Crow flinched as the sword came crashing down towards him, and found himself…. completely unharmed? “What the…” he wondered, standing up. “You… you really forfeit? This isn’t some joke?”
Flynn stepped back from his lodged sword, stumbling slightly as he did so. He couldn’t tear his eyes from Crow, watching as the dragon brought himself to their feet, with Flynn’s own sense of calm defiance. His amber eyes were narrowed— crackling with each ember residing in the iris, and each ghastly flame from each and every nerve.
“No,” he said dully, voice still holding that pang of offense. “I don’t often jest with situations like this. I forfeit, dragon. Don’t make me repeat it again.”
With that, Flynn turned, leaving his sword lodged in the mountainside as he began to walk back to the edge.
“Fine. At least let me heal that wrist of yours, I have some good supplies to do so. After that, get out. Just say you killed me, I won’t make a big presence of myself after this. Don’t come back, don’t be all ugly and grateful like you humans so often do. Just take your leave.” they growled.
Flynn’s mind was so clouded to the point where he could only nod, his eyes dimming as the adrenaline wore off and the pain creeped in. He was hot, but not like fire— more like a brand, simmering to someone’s side. His wrist, however, was not one in the same; it felt more like a festering ember constantly being agitated.
“O-Okay,” he said, probably too quietly, but he still looked strong. Still looked stable and steady and equanimous, even if he was biting back the urge to thank Crow.
So instead he just bowed, but nothing extravagant. Just a tip of the head, eyes flicking closed for a moment before they re-opened, shining a brilliant reflection of the clouded sky.
Crow lifted Flynn in their arms, carrying him like a sack of potatoes down the mountain and into the cave, where they spread the man out on their cot. “Wait here. I have to make some preparations, I’ll be back soon.” they said, leaving him with nothing but blank walls and silence.
Flynn watched absently as Crow walked off, leaving him to his own devices. With careful movements, he removed his armor, taking every precaution he could when addressing his gauntlet. He didn’t know if he was imagining it, but his wrist was so misaligned he wondered if the bone was completely shattered. The initial impact hadn’t been what did it, however. That with the combination of climbing and his lack of caution completely decimated the joint.
He could see that clearly as he rolled up his sleeve, taking off the cloth layer below his plate armor. He could barely stand to look at it, continuing to bite his bloodied lip in his tensions. He looked completely beat up, blood running down the length of his neck and the sides of his mouth, needless to say, his wrist as well.
(Whoops! Sorry, I’ve been a little uninspired, I’ll get a response up soon-ish.)
