Beau Bergeron was running up the hill as fast as a guy with probably a couple of cracked ribs could be expected to do. In the back of his mind (the part not focused on pain and movement) he remembered sports stories marveling at athletes’ ability to do just this activity with this kind of injury back home. Now the sharp jolts of pain told him why.
His trained assassin’s eyes and ears took in his surroundings through the chaos. The servant girl knocked the wizard to the ground, and the lookout was shouting for the team to head to the thick woods. Lafitte had fired his bolts but to little effect, the arrows merely pinpricks against the ravenous beast that was the dragon.
His bowmen were following the shouts of the lookout, one had already made it past, but such was not the good luck the man hoped it would be. The dragon let out his full breath upon the man in the redcoat, and he roasted upon contact. The other three saw their commander motioning for their return to him, and with a trained precision moved on from their comrade’s death and ended at Beau’s side.
“Give me a bow!” Beau shouted, and one of his men gave him a spare from his back. Beau took an arrow and began to load the weapon. The pain was excruciating as he pulled with his abs, strained by blows to the ribs. The crackling of flame and the hiss of rain vaporized to steam upon its contact were his focus as he maintained his mind and avoided a blackout.
This dragon was an obstacle on his journey of revenge, and it was an obstacle he intended to overcome. Beau lined up his shot. “Aim for the knees!” he shouted. He didn’t expect to slay the beast, not with weapons such as these, but if the lookout’s plan was to be followed, the beast would have to be slowed. Wounds to the knees would take time to heal, and they’d be on their way.
Beau held his breath to steady his body, closed one eye and lined up the sight. Fired a bolt, and was rewarded with a thud.
Now he just hoped it would accomplish the goal.