Qasus

Qasus’ heart thudded dreadfully against his ribs. "Am I going to make it?" he brooded sluggishly, talons pounding against the sand to the same rhythm as the rapid, thundering beat in his ears.
Behind him, his pursuer lunged, sending the black sand underfoot flying, stinging the fleeing Coatl’s hind legs. Qasus could almost feel its volatile talons closing around him, the hot breeze as his pursuant barely missed, heard its scream of annoyance rip through the air, a maniacal cry that buzzed deep into his skull.

The panicking Coatl refused to think about his sore, aching limbs, alternatively focusing on the portal ahead. He had no idea how it had got there, however, it radiated a sort of peace, of serenity. The sooty air of the Ashfall Waste was suddenly scented with the smell of musty shelves, of- magic?
Qasus lunged into the ingress, thoroughly enjoying the liquid suspended inside the doorway, cool against his hot skin. A feeling of elation coursed through the Coatl’s form- he was safe. Safe somewhere far, far from the factories, the volcanoes, the molten rock that seemed to be everywhere- but most of all, safe from the Emperor that seemed intent on tearing into his flesh, just as a metalworker’s tools slice into searing iron.

Qasus awoke with a start- his pursuer’s claws at his throat, its dank breath reeking of its last meal. All eleven heads glared at him maliciously, as if savoring their capture.
Suddenly, what looked like a armor breastplate hurtled out of nowhere, clunking over at least three heads of the vicious Imperial, who keeled over, snarling and biting the other heads in confusion. Yet another piece of armor sailed over Qasus’ head, this time rendering the beast unconscious.
“You’re welcome,”called a voice. “By the way, name’s Farin.”