Wizardness

Cyrus’s stomach was in his throat. He could barely keep down his lunch. Even after 50 years, Lilly, his Dragon, still managed to find new ways to shock Cyrus with her maneuverability.
Cyrus glanced up at the passing matte black dragon. Its own rider struggling to stay mounted. As they leveled out, Cyrus pulled his bow, aimed and loosed his arrow. The black dragon flew its rider directly into the arrow. The rider bounced down the dragon’s back pinwheeling into the clouds below.
Cyrus smiled at the surprised movement of the other dragon. He could see the widening of the eyes and the hitch in the wings. The dragon shifted its shoulders and then performed a flip that would have knocked a rider out. It just wasn’t something a person could stay conscious for. The dragon darted down away from Cyrus and Lilly.
Cyrus could feel Lilly sigh in relief below him. That dragon had its sights set on her. Cyrus shook his head. What bad blood was there between them, he wondered. This was the 1328th year of the war. Lilly had been Cyrus’s second dragon and he’d been flying with her for almost 40 years. This black dragon had been gunning for her every time they went out to fight.
Cyrus shook his head giving his bow a long look. This fight was never going to end, unless something changed. 1300 years is a long time. When the dragons first found this world, knights and swordsman ruled this world. The rest of the world moved on, though. Science dominated the rest of the world.
Cyrus was tired of that matte black dragon. He knew it’d be back soon. He pulled out the rifle from his bag. Lilly didn’t know he’d brought it. Dragon’s, generally, didn’t like the weapons. They refused to fight if their riders brought them into the battle. Besides, the rifles couldn’t hurt the dragons.
There. That black form. He saw it in his sleep. Cyrus would recognize the form of the wings in any sky. Of course, it was flying towards Lilly.
Cyrus took aim. He judged the wind and the speed of Matte, as he liked to call the Dragon. He pulled the trigger.
Cyrus held his breath. Lilly bucked under him. She screamed in his mind, “Why the fuck did you bring a gun, you ass?”
Cyrus did his best to keep his eye on Matte. The shot hit its mark. Cyrus saw a spurt through the dragon’s head. It dropped from the sky.
Lilly cried in horror, “What have you done?”
“That dragon will never chase you again.” Cyrus responded. He smiled, “Let’s go turn the tide of this war and push those bastards back.”
Cyrus felt his stomach lurch. Lilly was turning away from the battle. Cyrus’s vision blurred, then narrowed. He struggled to keep it from going fully black.
She clearly planned on him passing out. She cried to the other dragons, “General retreat. General Retreat! The Fallen’s greatest warrior, Black Mort, is dead.” He could feel Lilly shudder, “My mate is dead.”
Cyrus blinked, trying to maintain consciousness. He failed as Lilly continued to accelerate.
Cyrus found himself in the great hall. His great hall. The great hall his ancestors built to house humans and dragons. It was the warroom. The dining room. It was a place of feasts and mourning.
Cyrus’s gun was on raised platform where he and his most important guests sat during feasts. However, he was not at the table. Trihorn was lording over the great hall. He was glaring at Cyrus.
Cyrus tried to shift in his chair only to find he was bound. He glanced about the hall finding dozens of humans and dragons about. There was clearly a divide between most of the humans and the dragons.
“Why am I bound in my own hall?” Cyrus called at Trihorn. “Who are you to usurp a human in their own home?”
Trihorn snorted, he intentionally released smoke. These dragons didn’t actually breath fire or smoke, at all. They had decided to emulate the legendary dragons of Cyrus’s people. Trihorn thought his magical smoke would somehow intimidate Cyrus. “You killed one of ours with this.” The foreleg gestured towards the rifle. “You know these weapons are forbidden in the Great War.”
Cyrus snorted, “Is that because this war is a war between family members? That I killed Lilly’s mate? That you don’t want other Dragons killed?”
“HOW DID YOU MAKE A GUN KILL A DRAGON?” Trihorn roared.
Cyrus shrugged, “I’m a smith. I learned long ago how to reforge arrows. The arrows that YOU want us to use on the other riders. Arrows that will barely hurt a dragon. Even if we aim perfectly.”
Trihorn scoffed, “No arrows damage us.”
Cyrus looked to his left, “Damian, your bow, shoot Trihorn with one of my arrows.”
Damian started, “What my lord? Attack the great Trihorn? He is our ally.”
Cyrus shrugged, “It is no matter, you will do no damage to him.”
Trihorn gave Damian an inviting gesture. Damian shrugged. He quickly strung his bow and pulled one of his arrows. The arrowhead bore the mark of Cyrus’s family. He drew the bowstring to his ear, straining with the effort. He took a moment to aim, “I’m aiming for your right foreleg’s bicep.”
Trihorn seemed to hold his breath, suddenly anxious. When the arrow loosed a moment of fear crossed the dragon’s face. That flash turned into a cry of pain. Trihorn quickly pulled out the arrow and flung it to the ground. He rounded on Damian, ready to attack.
Lilly stepped forward, “Stop my lord. You ordered us to provide metal imbued with just a bit of magic to put a dragon out of the war for a day or two. This must be of that metal.”
“It is Trihorn. I took that metal and made the gun and bullets that are before you.” Cyrus coughed after yelling so loudly. “I wanted the matte black dragon to leave Lilly alone. Day after day, year after year, decade after decade, probably from the start of the war, Matte pursued Lilly. It was enough. That dragon had to die. We need this war to end. Generations of humans have died fighting this war. I’m almost 70. I have another 60 years to live, I don’t want to die while we’re still at war. This can end it.”
Trihorn lunged down and tried to bite the gun in half. The great hall echoed with the sound of dragon teeth shattering. The great dragon reared back in pain flinging the gun towards Cyrus.
General Bronze cried, “We must put this trial on hold for now. The Judge is seriously injured.”
“What trial?!” cried King Foolery. “This was a hearing to discuss this weapon. I never agreed to a trial. What are you trying Lord Cyrus for?”
“Murder.” Bronze replied.
Foolery burst into laughter. His men hesitantly joined in. “Murder?” the King asked incredulous. “Boy, this is war. There is no murder in war. We’ve killed dragons in the past. Some of your kin have fallen to those dragons and their riders. Never before had you held a trial.”
General Bronze scowled, “Dragons have been held for murder before.”
The king straighten, “On both sides?”
“Yes.”
“Never once has anyone held account for our deaths, yet you tell me you’ve held your people for murder of the enemy? Of the invading dragons? We are no less deserving of the same treatment.”
Trihorn started to laugh. It sounded of bone grating on metal. It set Cyrus’s teeth on edge. He noticed some of the men had moved closer to him.
Trihorn responded to the King, “Of course your lives aren’t as deserving as ours. Your man there, Cyrus, I think, said he was going to live to 130.” Trihorn laughed, “130? can you believe that there would be value in a life so short? Surely not. I will live to be 10,000 years old at the minimum. How can someone with such a short life span be considered worth while?”
Cyrus felt the ropes drop. He heard a number of the dragons gasp at Trihorn’s statement. There was a general hubbub as the dragons spoke over each other. A few speaking in agreement most crying that this was the whole point of the war.
Cyrus lurched to his feet and dove for his gun. He took aim at Trihorn. He pulled the trigger before the large dragon could act. The bullet went straight through the center horn and out the back of Trihorn’s skull.
Cyrus spit, “I hope you were already 10,000 years old.”
Trihorn’s body crashed to the floor. Silence settled over the hall. Lilly gasped, “What have you done?”