The Mighty Diesel Dragon

Gus’s horrified scream echoed across the meadow as the kobolds continued to rage in and on the car.

“Kill them!” Caeriel ordered sharply.

The elves slid into position, bows drawn, silent as shadows. Then the first volley of arrows hissed through the air.

Most of the kobolds fell to the ground, pierced and choking, while the rest backed away. 

Two of them charged straight at Caeriel, tiny spears in hand, but with a double shot she dropped them easily.

Then, suddenly, a barely audible rustling in the brush behind her.

A kobold crept closer, spear raised, only a few steps away from her.

Gus noticed by chance, his heart racing. “That little bastard’s sneaking up on her, we gotta help!”

“Wait, we’re tied up, how are we supposed to...”

But Gus didn’t listen to Marcus any further.

For a moment he stared at the kobold, sweat trickling down the back of his neck.

Screw it.

Gus lunged forward.

With his arms still bound together, he slammed into Caeriel, knocking her aside.

The spear whistled past her face and buried itself deep in the earth.

An arrow from a ranger struck the kobold seconds later.

Gus lay panting in the mud, on top of Caeriel, her body pinned beneath his. 

Her eyes were wide, lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but for a long second, neither moved.

Then she shoved him off, cheeks blazing, her voice icy.

“G-get off me, you idiot!”

She brushed herself off as though tainted by his touch, turning her face away, yet for the briefest moment, something flickered in her eyes.

“I… I didn’t need any help!” she hissed after him.

Gus gasped, a crooked grin on his lips.

“Yeah, sure. Totally looked that way.”

But Caeriel was already turning away, joining the other elves as they began inspecting the car.

Marcus stumbled up to Gus, leaned in and muttered:

“Man… gratitude really is wasted in this world.”

---

Most of the kobolds were dead or scattered and the meadow lay quiet, only the old car stood crooked in the grass, dented and battered.

Gus stumbled forward, ripped at the rope on his wrists with his teeth, and snatched his sunglasses off the ground.

“Finally! Back where they belong.” He put them on and posed like a washed-up Hollywood star.

“What a hideous artifact.” Caeriel folded her arms, eyeing him coldly.

“Hideous!?” Gus pushed the glasses deeper onto his nose. “This is cultural heritage. High-end technology! Here, try it on.”

He balanced the glasses on Caeriel’s nose. She flinched, ready to rip them off, but Gus nodded seriously.

“No, leave them. Looks good. Gives you that… Terminator vibe.”

For a heartbeat, the hint of a smile touched her face, until he added, dryly:

“…especially with that grumpy expression of yours.”

“I am not grumpy!” she snapped, ripping the glasses off.

The elves whispered suspiciously as they examined the car.

“Perhaps a demonic relic…” , “Or a disguised weapon…”

Marcus cleared his throat theatrically.

“Ahem! If you’d be so kind as to untie us, we’d be happy to show you how our vehicle works.”

But one ranger barked back:

“Better not! If it truly is a demonic weapon, we can’t allow them to use it!”

“Are you kidding me!?” Marcus’s voice cracked. “Gus just saved your boss’s ass, and you still think we’re working with demons!?”

Caeriel narrowed her eyes, silent for a long moment, then she nodded curtly.

“Cut the ropes. But if you try anything…”

The rangers hesitated, but her glare brooked no argument. Reluctantly, they slashed the bindings.

Gus rubbed his sore wrists and spread his arms. “Finally free! About damn time…”

Marcus gestured grandly at the Car. “Behold: an artifact of our world. Half horse, half dragon! A mechanical marvel of German engineering: the VW GOLF IV!”

“…Golf?” Caeriel raised a brow.

“Exactly! Now watch closely.” Gus clapped his hands, climbed into the driver’s seat with a triumphant grin, and slipped the key into the ignition.

The elves edged closer, wary.

“What are you doing?”

“Relax,” Gus grinned. “Just a little magic from our world.”

He turned the key.

With a cough, a rattle, and a growling roar, the engine came to life as black smoke puffed from the exhaust, the chassis shuddered as though ready to break free.

The elves recoiled, bows snapping taut.

Some stumbled back, one nearly dropped his bow. 

Even Caeriel stepped away, eyes wide, her grip on the bowstring tight.

Marcus, seated next to Gus, clutched his stomach, laughing.

“Dude, look at them! They’re terrified of a Golf! Of the mighty Diesel Dragon! Hit the horn! Hit it!”

Grinning, Gus obeyed, pressing the horn and the gas at once. 

With a noisy lurch the car jerked forward a few meters.

But Caeriel sprang onto the hood, bow drawn.

“Stop this… thing! Now!” she ordered, her voice tense, almost trembling.

“Fine, fine, no joyride,” Gus called innocently, shutting the engine off again.

The elves’ murmurs grew darker as the two men climbed out.

“They control demonic machines…”

“This can only be the Demon King’s work.”

Caeriel pressed her lips together, then she raised her hand.

“Enough. We’ll take them to Haltharan, along with the machine and the rest of their things.”

A ranger stepped forward, raising his hands, as blue sparks danced around his fingers, the air crackling. 

With a jerk the car lifted from the ground as if weightless, hovering with a groan.

“Dude…” was all Marcus managed, as he and Gus stared, wide-eyed.

But the car suddenly shuddered, vibrating violently as if protesting. 

Then it sagged to the side, a rune shattered with a dull crack, and the mage staggered.

“It’s too heavy, Lady Caeriel!” he gasped. “It resists!”

Caeriel’s eyes narrowed, fixating on Gus. “You can control it?”

“Exactly,” Gus said, half proud. “Only I can! But if you’d like some driving lessons…”

“Silence! You’ll drive it yourselves, but don’t even think about escaping!”

“We wouldn’t dream of it…”

The engine roared to life again, and with grinding wheels the old vehicle rolled forward, flanked by elves watching its every move.

Soon they left the uneven ground behind, reaching a wide trade road packed hard with clay.

Marcus patted the dashboard. “Finally, a real road! I swear I was about to puke!”

They passed the first wagons: merchants with barrels and baskets, pulled by oxen and horses. 

Men and women tugged hard on reins, eyes wide, mouths open.

A child by the roadside pointed at the car in delight, until its mother yanked it away.

“Keep moving,” Caeriel ordered, her voice like iron.

At walking pace they continued westward, toward the first towers of Haltharan gleaming in the evening light.

Towers of pale stone rose above ancient treetops, bridges of rootwork spanned from trunk to trunk, and lights glowed like stars in the dusk.

Marcus whistled softly. “Damn… a real elven city!”

Before they could take it in, they were herded onto a wide square.

“Stop! This is far enough. Out,” Caeriel commanded.

Elves gathered, whispering, pointing at the strangers, some curious, most contemptuous.

Just as they stepped out, a squad of armored elves approached. 

At their head stood a captain, tall and imposing in silver armor, chin raised high, blue eyes cold.

“Caeriel,” he began, his voice dripping with arrogance, “how dare you bring these filthy humans into our sacred city?”

She straightened her shoulders, bowing stiffly.

“Captain Jathiran. They may have useful information. And besides, the king...”

“Bah!” he cut her off. “Your duty was to protect the princess and slay intruders! Not parade them in like honored guests, after they sullied her with their filthy human eyes! Even your father showed more honor than this.”

A shadow flickered across her face, but she said nothing.

Marcus and Gus exchanged outraged looks.

“Hey, who are you calling filthy!? Look in the mirror, you pompous ass!” Marcus shot back.

A murmur rippled through the guards. The captain’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes flashed.

“It seems these creatures are not only filthy, but also stupid.”

He raised a commanding hand. “Throw them in the dungeons.”

The guards seized Marcus and Gus roughly, dragging them away.

“Hey, hands off! I’ve got sensitive joints!” Marcus protested.

“But Captain...” Caeriel started. “They have...”

“Enough!” he cut her off, not even looking at her. “You’ve disgraced your duty enough already. Not another word!”

Her mouth stayed half open, but she clenched her teeth shut. 

With a dark look she watched as the guards dragged Marcus and Gus away.

The iron gates clanged shut behind them.

Footsteps faded. 

Darkness crept into the cell.

Gus pressed his forehead to the cold wall. “Great. Really smart, insulting the important-looking guy in shiny armor. Brilliant move.”

Marcus dropped into the straw, sighing. “Sorry, man… but guys like that just make my blood boil…”