Will Ye page 11
Removing his sheathed sword from its mooring on his own back, Sourjack thrust it into the mouth of the beast and pulled on the strap on either side of its head.
Mount Doom was too far away to be walking to it at night, especially with the
weredragons about, but perhaps he could find another means of getting there.
Soon, the creature took off in flight -- which is just what Sourjack wanted.
Holding on and directing his captured ride upwards, he wondered if they could
break through the Interlocken branches; but just before they had hit, the beast
let out another stream of flames, burning a hole for them to pass through.
Above the opening was that thick mist he had seen above the cave opening, but
soon they went high enough that there was nothing above them but tiny specks of
light -- and two very large shining orbs that threatened to blind them both with
their light.
Sourjack tied to shake himself out if it mentally, as both he and the weredragon
were thrown into a state of confusion.
Struggling to keep them both aloft and him in control, he nearly crashed them
into the top of the Interlocken trees, but was soon guiding the beast towards a
pinnacle he had glimpsed as they had rotated around several times.
It must be the top of Mount Doom, he thought to himself; and it seemed far away,
even if he traveled in a straight line -- which wasn’t easy, as anyone who has
ridden a weredragon can attest to.
But they were there, soon enough, and he felt wonderment and awe taking him over.
For Mount Doom was truly a high mountain, and there was a sort of wide ledge
going all the way around it just above the mist. This ring-like precipice, a
circular field high in the air, was covered in some sort of plants that varied
widely in their shapes. They seemed to have odd looking leaves surrounding a
central raised small dome. He wanted to take a closer look, but his eyes were
still smarting from the globes in the sky, which he had just looked at again, to
his dismay.
Permitting his eyes to adjust a bit more to the darker surroundings, he let the
weredragon come to a rest beside an outcropping of rocks that it could be tied
to -- he didn’t want it to come after either him or Smilerina -- took his
sword out of its mouth, and headed down a narrow path he had found nearby.
The beast began to roar again, but Sourjack ignored its pleading. After all, it had tried to kill him, so its life was now his to do with as he pleased.
