A Dangerous Encounter

• Estelle Hollinshead, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2017

The humid air plastered her hair in clammy clumps. She clung to her sword- its weight familiar and comforting even in her slippery palms. Her only light source in this oppressing darkness was the soft glow of the sword itself. Sweat trickled down to Urela's chin, turning red as it fell to the ground as it mingled with the blood on her cheekbone.
The blood caught Urela's eye. She raised her hand and tentatively touched the still throbbing wound, it felt damp and slick, and her hand came back, ruby red. She hoped her foe couldn't sense her above the acrid smell of mould that was making her nose wrinkle in disgust. It dribbled down to her mouth, metallic and awful. She remembered the fall down the rocky cliff- saved by an outcropping seven metres below, only one of the perilous obstacles she must face. She remembered the Kings words. They echoed onside her skull.
"You must find the Ranadorae sword. Then, and only then, will I give you back your family."
She was lucky she survived. Despite the muggy closeness, Urela shivered.
Without warning, the ground shuddered. An immense burst of brilliant auburn fire erupted in front of her. An ear-splitting roar, again and again and again shook the cave walls, the very core of her existence. Urela's breath caught in her throat as a towering silhouette lunged towards her; she was paralysed as it flashed of ever shifting colours, scarlet red, emerald green, sky blue. Colossal black wings etched with gold scars beat with powerful force, whipping her hair into her stinging her eyes.
Urela brandished her sword, and realised what she was up against. A dragon.
The stiletto was out of her pocket and hurled at the dragon’s scales. No impact! Not even a mark! Not even a flinch to suggest it had met its mark!
Another bout of fire, the fiery breath close enough to burn her. The dragon struck! White heat of one thousand razored knives sliced through her arm as the dragon’s talons made contact. Was that her scream that echoed off the cavernous walls? Tears sprang and vision blurred. The taloned foot reeked of blood and dirt and battle. NO! She would not give up! Panicked, Urela bit down on the dragon, tasting cold blood and grime, bit down, hard, feeling the bones in her jaw resist. The dragon howled in pain, and suddenly its weight was gone... Urela scrambled to her sword, it was calling her, leaving bloody handprints in her wake. Above her, she sought a weak spot in the dragon’s armour of multi-coloured, seemingly weapon-proof scales... and saw that its underbelly was deprived of this protectiveness.
The dragon dove from above. Once more it roared, a wild cat pouncing for his prey. Too late! Urela's sword sank into soft flesh. A flower of blood bloomed on the dragon’s belly. The beast swayed before hitting the ground with a ‘THUMP’. She had done it. She smote the dragon.