Draxin Alistair (16)'s Arc

Chapter 17 of 22

Draxin got his knees under him. The snow burned his palms. Across the clearing, Gustavo's coat split down the back as white feathers pushed through. His face stretched long. Sabertooth fangs slid past his lower lip. Black spikes rose along his spine. What stood up was not a man anymore. It was a beast the size of two wagons, whiskered and hunched, claws sinking into the packed snow. Dante spat blood and stood. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. The cut across his stomach kept bleeding but he didn't look at it. He pulled a fresh cigar from his vest, bit it, and lit it off a curl of his own smoke. "Spike. Mimi. Fall back to the wagon," Dante said. "I'm holding him." "Boss, you're gutted," Spike said. "I said fall back." Smoke boiled off Dante in a black wall. He flashed forward and hit the beast across the snout. The beast didn't move. It swung one claw and Dante flashed out, reappeared behind it, hit it again. This time the beast turned and caught his scarf in its teeth. Dante went to smoke and slipped free, but slower than before. Draxin saw it. Dante was tiring. Draxin pressed his hand to his chest again. Warmth. Only warmth. He begged the scales. He pictured Spike's ink. He pictured his mother. Nothing came up his arms. Mimi crouched beside him. She grabbed his shoulder hard through her glove. "It's not coming," Draxin said. She pointed at Dante, then at the wagon, then at Draxin's satchel. He didn't understand. She shook him once and pointed at the satchel again. He opened it. Inside was his mother's scarf, a knife, and the small dry piece of Veyra thornbush the crew carried for wounds. He looked past that at what Dante had loaded that morning. A cloth-wrapped bundle. A signal charge. Dante had said it was for the tundra crossing, to bring down ice on a pass. One use. Big blast. Draxin looked at the wagon. Then the ridge behind Gustavo, heavy with old snow. "Bury him," Draxin said. Mimi nodded once and went. Draxin ran to Dante's side. "Boss. The charge. Hit the ridge. Bury him." Dante's eyes moved once to the ridge. He didn't argue. "Keep him looking at me." Draxin picked up a rock and threw it at the beast's face. It roared. The sound knocked him flat. Dante flashed in and out, cutting past its eyes, keeping it turned. Mimi climbed the wagon and lit the charge. Spike dragged Draxin back by the collar. The charge arced up and struck the ridge. The mountain cracked. Snow came down in a white wall and swallowed the beast whole. The clearing went quiet. Dante dropped to one knee in the snow, cigar still lit. "Move," he said. "Before he digs out."