Krarvathar pulled the khopesh from the elf's belly with one hand and, with the other, yanked the two arrows from his own shoulder.
He noticed that the elves flying on the sand creature had stopped shooting. They might hit Garhlieash if the dragon dodged.
"Clever, but now…" — his thoughts were interrupted when he raised the sword to block Thswoner's strike. The elf's scimitar was surrounded by a mist of dark sand.
The dragon's opponent had far superior swordsmanship. Krarvathar was forced to retreat. With a backward leap, he reached the top of the dune.
"Are you all right?" Thswoner asked his companion.
"Y-yes!" Garhlieash replied, still alive. Five elves jumped from the wyverns down to their fallen comrade. The others, still flying, resumed shooting.
"I'll take care of this," Thswoner declared.
Krarvathar retreated further, deflecting the arrows with the khopesh. He had learned to use it after observing the Meanings. It allowed him to defend himself like an experienced swordsman.
"The sun… my body…" Krarvathar thought, feeling a growing heat inside him. He finally understood why he had dodged instead of attacking Thswoner right away. "The wounds…"
After the Meanings had taught his body, he guided both his conscious and unconscious mind to follow that defensive logic, mimicking the way the elf attacked.
Thswoner had climbed the dune and found the dragon already standing on firmer ground, near the destroyed rocks.
"Abomination!" the elf roared. The wind had grown stronger, and the tie in his hair had come loose, letting his black locks whip freely. His dark green cloak was covered in dust. But none of that bothered him more than the sight of Krarvathar.
The elf grew more and more furious with the situation. He had noticed that, somehow, all the wounds they had inflicted on the dragon had "healed," that he looked more human than in their last encounter, and that he was now wielding a weapon meant to kill him with surprising precision.
"What are you?" he shouted angrily at Krarvathar. The dragon smiled, for he had noticed the same things and, unlike the elf, he had the answers.
"Me? Well…" Krarvathar smiled, swinging the sword. He could no longer deny it. All of this was clear evidence. "I am a dragon… and, it seems, a human as well."
His arrogant golden eyes met the elf's furious green ones.
Thswoner smiled with contempt, glanced at the sun, and then turned his gaze back to Krarvathar.
"Are you wondering if it was the sun?" Krarvathar asked, throwing the khopesh toward Thswoner. The elf looked genuinely surprised and caught the base of the blade as it came close.
"I don't need that. I don't want to fight like you," the dragon declared, puffing out his chest. He opened his arms slightly and stretched the phalanges of his hands, tensing them. Krarvathar tasted something strange in his mouth — the taste of gas. His skin felt colder despite the desert heat, his teeth trembled slightly, and his gray hair seemed more spiked and pointed.
Garhlieash climbed the sand hill after his wound had been healed. He stopped near Thswoner, his face stunned. Another five elves were there as well, armed and frightened. The wyverns had landed; something about Krarvathar weakened them, and keeping them after the long journey demanded great control of harphesh.
The sand around Krarvathar began to float, transforming into small, bright particles of glass that reflected the sunlight.
"I will kill you all, just as I killed your ancestors. I will turn your bodies into ashes and dust, and the desert wind will carry them for all eternity, so that the name Krarvathar is whispered in the ears of anyone who listens."
His pupils dilated and he charged forward at a speed none of the elves could react to.