The creature’s shadow loomed over the carriages like a child leaning over a toy railway set. With each flap of its scaled wings, the track trembled under the small gale and dust from the canyon erupted upwards, clouding the little light not yet shielded by the dragon’s awe-inspiring blood-red body.

The shouts of men were hardly audible as the train let out a bellow of steam, and the steam trumpet whistled piercingly. Suddenly, there was a hissing from the sides of the carriages, and with the crank of cogs and wheels, small platforms emerged mounted with golden-rimmed turret contractions manned by men dressed in red greatcoats and elaborate black hats.

“Sir, awaiting orders,” shouted a pompous-looking redcoat to a solemn man in a medal-coated jacket of black and gold.

The solemn man, General Xavius, stared out the window of the front carriage, placing his glass of red wine onto the gem-encrusted table. He then tapped a small button, causing a copper tube to emerge from the wall of the cart.

“What is the dragon doing?” He asked, speaking through the pipe.

A quivering voice from the caboose responded.

“I-It’s slowing down, falling back to be-behind the train.”

Xavius frowned and ran a finger along the scar that stretched from the top of his left eye to the bottom of his chin. He thought back to his last skirmish with a dragon. He made his decision.

“Fire the grapples. Pull the creature forward.”

The great creature had raised its wings to make a hovering motion, allowing it to slow down. Suddenly, its throat glowed a deep-orange colour, and its eye flickered a menacing red. But, before damage could be done, there was a series of explosions, like fireworks, and several harpoons pierced the beast’s wings, shattering its scales and hooking to it with merciless efficiency. Following, an officer let out an inaudible shout, and each manned turret cranked, sending out jets of steam, as each soldier pulled back an oversized lever. The monster roared, but it was too late, the harpoons were tugging it forward, and it was losing height.

Meanwhile, the train was slowing under the immense force required to pull the several-ton dragon and, as the track switched from rocky terrain to a rickety bridge reaching over a canyon, there was a judder as several of the harpoon chains snapped. A moment later, a loud crack filled the air. The dragon was free again. Then, to make matters worse, from the depths of the canyon, scaling up the foundations of the bridge, came two much smaller dragons.

“S-sir, it has company! Redbolts, I think,” The quivering voice revealed.

Xavius grumbled a response and stood up, heading towards the exit of the carriage and taking a rifle from the weapons rack. The pompous-looking redcoat paled.

“Soldier,” Xavius said, “Alert the driver to stop the train.”

“But, sir, we’re on a bridge.”

“Stop the train. We don’t drive with Redbolts on our tail.”

The redcoat whimpered but obeyed, leaving the carriage from the opposite door to Xavius.

Outside, men were calling to each other, pointing frantically at the two smaller dragons that were now airborne and circling like vultures above the train.

Meanwhile, Xavius exited his carriage, passing through a cargo cart full of gold and silver before beginning to climb a ladder. The train screeched and jolted to a halt; Xavius reached the roof of the carriage.

For a moment, it was silent.

“Turrets, focus on the big one. Infantry, shoot at the Bolts,” Xavius bellowed, his voice echoing across the canyon.

The turrets hummed as their cogs creaked and spun, and the soldiers aimed the machines towards the grand dragon. It had now landed on the bridge, causing the entire train to shudder and the wooden foundations of the track to crack slightly.

As this went on, the infantry, who manned the caboose of the train, aimed their rifles towards the circling Bolts in the sky. Yet, when they shot, only one was hit. The other had locked in on Xavius and darted towards him with extraordinary speed, like the lightning bolt the breed was named after.

Xavius, however, stood firm and aimed his gun forward with determination and the confidence that only comes with experience. He pulled the trigger.

The bullet was an unstoppable force, filled with power and unparalleled destructive capabilities. The Redbolt was also unstoppable, laced with the strength of lightning. When the two collided, therefore, there was only one possible outcome: A draw.

In one chaotic moment, the Bolt’s head was pierced, and its body crumbled as it became a corpse. Yet, still carried by momentum, the small dragon crashed into Xavius, and the two were propelled from the safety of the train roof towards the depths of the canyon. Towards the void. Towards death.

The other Redbolt, pierced by the bullets of the infantry, joined its sibling heading towards the graveyard of the canyon depths.

Meanwhile, the large dragon let out a ferocious roar and spouted a deadly stream of fire onto the track. While the metal carriages resisted the flames, the bridge burst into flames. Suddenly, an alarm was raised, and all down the train ran messenger children ringing bells and shouting, “Fire! Fire on the tracks!” For the communication pipes were too unreliable for such news.

The redcoat, still at the locomotive of the train, heard the yells, and within minutes the vehicle was spurred into action. All the while, the turrets let out a volley of hefty cannon balls that crashed through the flames of the dragon and slammed into its being, cracking bones and shattering scales.

Yet, it was not until the third volley and until the train began to pick up speed that the dragon was finally felled, taking down a portion of the bridge with it.

And, as the final shots were fired, Xavius hit the dusty floor of the canyon. A smile was on his face, for, at the very least, his men had done their job. His honour and reputation were secured; The war efforts could on. The sky was black with smoke.