And as the smoldering shrapnel rained down around me, as processed meat splattered and plunked, as buns flitted down like dying birds, I finally got the hint:
This wasn't a dream.
And I wasn't waking up.
* * *
Like a low-flying jet, the dragon thundered by, veering over a church and began a wide, arching turn. Apparently, dragons didn't have much of a turning radius. The SUV's of the monster world.
With it gone for the moment, I now realized I had more pressing matters. Yes, even more pressing than a fire-breathing dragon. A very large horse was bearing down on me. And sitting atop the very large horse, was an insane-looking knight wielding a long and pointed joust.
Good God! I'm going to get gutted by something from Middle Earth.
I should have run; I should have done something. Anything.
But I couldn't move.
The ground beneath me rumbled. Someone nearby screamed. Actually, that someone turned out to be me. The horse veered slightly to the left to give its rider a good angle to pierce my heart. I closed my eyes. My bowels turned to water.
The horse snorted. Its hooves thundered.
I had just wondered if I would even feel the sharp lance, when someone tackled me off my feet, knocking me to the ground, just as a rush of air swooshed past me.
My fingers went straight to my heart, groping, feeling. Good news: everything was intact. Bad news: the attacker was turning back around.
Yet more good news: Arthur was standing over me and he was holding a glowing Excalibur.
Very, very good news indeed.
* * *
The rider tossed his javelin aside and withdrew his sword. He then snapped his reins hard and charged, leaning forward in the saddle, raising his sword high.
Arthur never flinched, and if he was scared, he didn't show it. Instead, he calmly raised Excalibur with both hands. He opened and closed his fingers around the leather grip.
The rider thundered hard, bearing down.
"Let's go, let's go!" I yelled.
But we didn't go, and Arthur never moved. Instead, he spoke to me without taking his eyes off the approaching rider.
"Do not move, James. Stay behind me."
"I couldn't move if I wanted to," I said.
"When I dispose of him, I want you to take his sword."
Dispose? Holy crap!
"And do what with it?" I asked.
"You'll know what to do with it, old friend," he said.
Old friend? I was about to ask him what exactly he meant by that, but the horse and rider were upon us.
* * *
The knight slashed down hard from high in the saddle, just as Arthur swung Excalibur around, heaving with all his strength. Both swords clashed with a mighty clang and a hail of sparks. To my amazement, the rider exploded out of his saddle, nearly flipping backwards, and landing hard on his shoulders. He lay in a motionless heap as his riderless horse continued on.
"Get his sword!" shouted Arthur. "Now, James!"
I was still on the ground and, at Arthur's urging, found myself crawling forward until I found my feet. Stumbling, I hurried over to the downed rider who still hadn't moved.
Was he dead? I didn't know.
His sword lay next to him. Not as nice as Excalibur, but a serious piece of weaponry. It also looked heavy as hell. Just as my hand reached for the well-worn grip, my feet were suddenly swept out from underneath me. In a blink of an eye, I was on my back. Air burst from my lungs.
I turned, half expecting the brute to pounce on me, but my assailant wasn't in any condition to do much assailing. The leg sweep was apparently all he had left in him. Now he lay in a pathetic heap, holding a broken arm, and watching me with pitiful eyes.
"The sword, James. Hurry!" Arthur shouted. From somewhere nearby came the sound of thundering of hooves. More guys on horseback. No doubt, more guys with swords on horseback.
Great.
Keeping an eye on my injured friend, I reached over and took hold of his fallen sword. It was as heavy as I thought; hell, even heavier. As I stood, I used both hands to heft the weapon. Recalling that the downed knight had wielded it with one hand made me feel less than manly.
Still, as I hefted it, he watched me closely. He was dressed in full chain mail. How he didn't roast to death in that thing I didn't know. He expected me to kill him, that much was obvious. Wherever he was from, apparently people played for keeps. He closed his eyes and muttered what appeared to be a small prayer. Or perhaps a really big prayer.
"Dude, relax," I told him. "I'm not going to hurt you. We really should get that arm of yours looked at - "
"Forget him, James. Over here!"
And forget him I did. Hey, his prayers worked! No doubt someone would call an ambulance for him, right?
Anyway, lugging the sword behind me, I was soon by Arthur's side. A good thing, too, because now two riders were bearing down on us. And the dragon was flying low just behind them.
"Mama."
Chapter Twenty-two
The dragon swept low over the street, its outstretched wings somehow just missing street lanterns and store awnings. Papers, leaves and various other debris swirled and trailed behind it like the tail of a comet.
With ridiculous speed, it swept past the two riders and flew directly over us. Arthur never moved, staring up at it calmly. I nearly soiled myself. As it passed, I swear the thing looked down at me with eyes as big as bowling balls. Black smoke curled up from its flared nostrils. I shuddered like a frightened field mouse and made a conscientious effort to control my bladder. The dragon veered away, just missing a flag-pole. The flag itself whipped and snapped in the dragon's wake.
"Sweet mother of all that which is holy," I said.
"This is fun, no?" Arthur said, grinning.
"No," I said.
Back on terra firma, the ground shook as the two riders drew closer. One was shouldering a lance and the other wielded a sword. Both were bearing down on us.
"I'll take the one on the right," said Arthur.
"What about the one on the left?"
"He's all yours, James."
"What?"
"Simply parry the lance with your sword," said Arthur, shrugging. "You have more mobility than he does."
"Or I could just run like hell."
"Sure," said Arthur. "But why haven't you?"
Good question. I didn't have a ready answer. Perhaps I had a death wish. I looked at Arthur; he looked at me. He grinned.
"And it's not because I'm having fun," I said. "I assure you."
"If you say so, my friend."
"Well, I do say so," I said, but my words were nearly drowned by the thundering of approaching hooves.