Medieval Switch Blade (Preview)
Author: Tikaani Wicker

The last thing Sergeant Drake remembered was picking up a medieval blade out of a blast crater left by British rebels. The sword was missing the top half of the blade and rusted to the core. It would have made one exceptional collector’s item. Then it seemed like he blacked out of existence.
He was hoping this was some kind of nightmare. Now he was staring down the throat of a black, four-legged monster that nearly doubled his size. The slimy lizard skin was cold to the touch as the Sergeant’s forearm was holding the monster’s throat back. At least he thought it was his forearm.
The monster’s lower jaw was separated into three sections of razor sharp teeth and a long black tongue. The amount of drool dripping on the Sergeant’s face reminded him of his ex-wife’s stupid bulldog. He could barely make out the sharp yellow eyes on top of the monster’s bulbous head. Its front right foot was pinning the Sergeant to the ground and nearly crushing his chest.
Drake processed his situation in under a split second. Then he saw the glow in the back of the monster’s throat. In an ‘Oh Crap’ moment, he shifted his left forearm up the monster’s throat to make the napalm fire pass over his head. The intense heat was almost unbearable.
He needed a way to get this monster off of him. In his right hand, he had a polished sword that was stained with some poor soul’s blood. His left arm was about to give out to the force of the monster’s neck. In seconds, the napalm would claim its victim. He put his fear aside and launched the sword with all his strength into the jugular of the fire breather.
It yelped in pain as its fire stopped. The blade made it half way through the thick reptilian skin hitting something vital. When Drake tried to pull the sword out, it shattered into half with the tip still lodged in the throat. The monster began clawing at its throat with its front left foot trying to dislodge the blade.
This just placed more of the weight onto Drake’s chest. He quickly withdrew his legs into a defensive position placing his soles of his feet on the monsters stomach. With a strong thrust of his legs, he sent the monster back two meters into the air. It landed with a great thud that reverberated through the ground.
Their was no way that Drake could of done that with his own strength. He sat up grabbing onto his chest that somehow supported the thousand pound creature. When he felt his chest with his left hand, he noticed that his chest was covered by a metal plate with a perfect impression of the monster’s foot.
What freaked him out even more was his left arm. It was made of small, silver scales that were somehow tough but flexible. His hand consisted of five razor sharp claws. Then he saw his legs. The top half was covered in armor similar to his chest while the bottom half looked broken below his knee. The three gigantic claws on each foot sent chills up his spine. He was left wondering what the rest of his body looked like.
The monster giving one last yelp caught his attention. Then it just gargled before turning to dust and forming a black cloud that dispersed into the air. All that was left was the black blood and the upper half of Drakes blade.
Drake looked at the sword in his right hand and angrily threw it down. He was still trying to catch his breath and hoping that this was a messed up nightmare. The adrenaline stopped pumping into his system. Then the pain from the attack shot through his chest and arms. “Definitely not a dream,” Drake told himself trying to rub his chest.
The screaming in the background finally woke him up from his own confusion and plight. He looked to his right just in time to see a second beast rip a knight in silver metal armor off his steed. Napalm was raging in random spots around the battlefield. A third beast ran through a barricade of infantry with shields and spears. All around Drake were dead men in black armor; some still burning.
Questions would have to wait. Drake grabbed a spear and shield as he stood up and charged the second beast with lightning speed. When he was 2.5 meters away from the monster, he leaped up and ran his spear through the heart of the beast. Or at least he thought it was. The beast looked at him with extreme anger not hinting to a single bit of pain.
Before Drake could disengage, the big leg of the beast knocked him back. It felt like a sledge hammer hitting his chest. If it wasn’t for the chest armor, he would have surely been killed.
The landing wasn’t graceful as he slid on his stomach, face first through the charred dirt. He came to a stop at about three meters. He could feel the ground shake as the monster charged him. He quickly rolled out of the way before he was trampled. The monster slid to a stop and faced the Sergeant with the same glow in his mouth just like the other beast. Drake quickly lifted up his shield to block the incoming fire breath.
It stopped the fire from reaching Drake, but the heat was intense as the napalm like fire dripped from the shield. When the monster stopped, Drake made his move. He rotated the disk and held it like a Frisbee hoping that his new dragon like skin could withstand the fire. “Catch,” Drake shouted as he threw it with all his strength straight at the beast.
It landed straight into the monster’s left eye shredding the soft tissue. Black blood gushed out of the open socket. The monster yelped as it tried to reach for its face with its left leg.
During the time the shield impacted the beast; Drake closed the distance and picked up a sword from a dead soldier in black armor. Just as he predicted, the monster swung with his left foot that was holding his face. Drake slid with his left foot first as if he was stealing home in a Yankee’s baseball game. The attack missed Drake’s head by mere centimeters. He quickly rotated his body with his right hand in a stabbing motion straight for the monster’s throat hoping for a kill shot like before.
Drake pulled the sword out and then rolled to his left as the black beast gave one last cry of pain. It landed in its own pool of blood before turning into black dust just like the other one from earlier.
The Sergeant stood up and spun the sword in his hand as a symbol of ‘who’s next.’ He would have preferred his assault rifle, but he was no stranger to sword fighting techniques. Now he wished he listened to his commander about the rusted sword that he picked up. He couldn’t change his past so he pushed any thought of regret or uncertainty for his future and chose to move forward to help the soldiers with the third beast. He was a British SAS soldier and fighting was what he did best.