“No idea,” Gill said, dropping it into the purse on his belt. “Found it on the ground.”
Leverre opened his mouth to say something, then abruptly turned his head to the cavern’s entrance. “I think it’s coming back!”
Guillot’s heart started to race again. Part of his mind wanted to fall back on his substantial military training and experience, but the voice of doubt screamed that it was all irrelevant, that to use methods applied to other men would get them all burned to a crisp, eaten, then dropped from a great height to fertilise the valley below.
“Spread out,” he said. “Try to take cover. If we can surprise it, all the better, but be prepared for the fact that it might already know we’re here.”
As he looked around for concealment, Gill realised the blue glow had faded and taken on a greenish tinge.
“Leverre,” he said. “The glow is fading.”
Leverre reached forward to touch Guillot’s forehead just as the glaringly bright opening of the cavern was plunged into shade.
“Get down,” Guillot shouted. He grabbed Leverre by the scruff of the neck even as the other man restored his night vision. They fell into the hollow of an outcrop of rock, Guillot letting out a groan as Leverre landed on top of him. The cavern exploded with light and heat as a jet of flame filled the air. Guillot could feel the touch of the super-heated air against his skin, but the outcrop they lay behind spared them from the worst of the blast. Someone had not been so lucky—Guillot could hear an agonised scream from somewhere. His heart sank as he wondered who it was. It sounded like a man’s voice, but there was so much noise in the echoey cavern that he couldn’t tell.
The flames continued for what seemed like an eternity. Gill squeezed his eyes shut as sizzling air rushed over him and wondered how long the beast could keep it up—surely it had to run out at some point?
“Are you all right?” Leverre shouted.
Even so close, it was a struggle to hear him. “Yes. You?”
“It’s hot!”
“I’d noticed.”
As suddenly as it had started, the fire stopped. The cavern fell completely silent; the blood thundering through Guillot’s body was the only sound. He tried to breathe as quietly as he could, difficult though it was with Leverre’s weight on top of him. Would the beast think they were all dead?
“What do we do now?” Leverre said.
Guillot opened his eyes. He could see smoke rising from Leverre’s head where patches of hair had been singed. Patting his own head, Guillot was thankful to find he seemed to have been spared.
“I suppose we should try to kill it,” he said. He looked at his belek spear, which had fallen nearby. The once-thick shaft had been charred to not much more than half its former size. “Do you reckon it has any fire left?”
Leverre looked at him, wide-eyed and silent. Guillot could hear the scratching of the dragon’s feet as it came farther into the cavern. He shuffled out from under Leverre and rolled across the ground to grab the spear. With little alternative, he stood up and turned to face the dragon. Despite his best efforts, he could not stop himself from gasping at what he beheld.
The creature was huge, almost entirely filling the cavern mouth. It was covered in polished black scales, part serpent, part—he didn’t how else to describe it. It stood on four limbs; two enormous wings were neatly folded on its back. Its tail was so long that the end still lay outside the cavern, and he could see several wicked-looking barbs on it. Poised on a long neck extending from muscular shoulders, its head resembled the shape of a dog’s, with an elongated snout containing an array of razor-sharp teeth. A small horn rose at the tip of its nose between two large nostrils, and it had a pair of horns on the crown of its head that curved backwards into wicked points. Its eyes were huge amber orbs; Guillot saw they had black, slit pupils like a cat’s, constantly changing size and shape as the beast regarded its surroundings.
Gill had to remind himself to breathe. He had grown up on stories of dragons, fearsome beasts that terrified children, but he had also known—as surely as he had known the sun would set each evening and rise the day following—that dragons were long dead. Until this moment, part of his mind still refused to believe what he had seen that night in Villerauvais, but now? Here it stood before him, and he was sober—he could not deny it. Despite his fear, he had to acknowledge what a magnificent creature it was. It seemed a shame to have to slay it, but everything about it was designed for the kill, from its fangs and horns to its talons and the barbs on its tail. It had killed so many people. People that had deserved better lives. He had failed them while they lived. If it took his death to make amends, so be it.
CHAPTER
29
Guillot surveyed the cavern to see if he could identify who had been caught in the flames. It was impossible to tell—he could make out some charred remains, and barely see the survivors taking cover behind rocks amidst all the smoke. He returned his attention to the dragon, who continued to ignore him. It was a curious thing to study the beast when it seemed to be unaware of his scrutiny. It sniffed at the air, causing the smoke to swirl against the backdrop of the cavern mouth. Guillot hefted the spear in his hand and swallowed hard.
“Hey!” he shouted.
The dragon’s head snapped around to face him, pupils narrowing as it fixed its glowing amber eyes on him. It felt like the beast was staring into his soul. Guillot looked over the beast’s body, wondering where to deliver his blow. The eyes were always a soft target, but unless the thrust was perfectly delivered and reached all the way to the brain, it would only enrage, not kill. A spear driven through the body was always a good bet. Living creatures had too many vital parts for such a strike not to hit anything important.
He targeted the dragon’s chest and charged. He was wound tight with tension, and unleashing it was a great relief. Sparing a word of thanks for Hallot’s healing magic, Guillot powered through each step. The dragon watched him approach, making no attempt to move. Was it confused? Or did it simply not care?
Guillot shouted in satisfaction as he felt the spear’s tip strike home. The beast’s scales were tough, like armour plate, and he felt the shaft flex as he tried to drive it through. With a great crack, the fire-damaged wood gave way and Guillot stumbled forward with nothing but a useless piece of lumber in his hand. With a tremendous blow, the air was knocked from his lungs and he was sent sailing through the air. He had enough time to decide that the dragon must have swiped at him with its paw, luckily without bringing its claws to bear, before he hit the ground with a clatter of metal plates.
Breathless from the impact, Guillot struggled to his hands and knees. The monster had turned to face him, and now bared its fangs, letting out a long, screeching hiss. Gasping, Gill finally managed to draw air into his lungs; he flung the remains of the spear shaft at the dragon. The cavern exploded into light and he felt hot air rush over him. With a burst of agility that would have done him credit on his finest day, Guillot flung himself to the side, his exposed skin stinging from the flame that passed through the space he had occupied a second before.
When the flame stopped, Gill checked himself over. He was grateful he hadn’t been able to breathe during that last manoeuvre—the air sizzled with heat that would have seared his lungs had he drawn it in. His armour was blackened and blued from the heat, and would likely never be fit for public wear again, but he seemed to be physically intact. His night vision had failed during the fiery onslaught, so it was the war cry that alerted him to Leverre’s attack. He heard the clatter of metal, and from the dragon’s lack of reaction, assumed the strike had been ineffective. Its eyes glistened in the darkness, fixed on Guillot a moment longer before it turned away.
With the dragon’s attention elsewhere, Guillot drew his sword and looked for a place to strike. He made for the dragon’s flank and the join between body and wing. He heard a cry that could only have come from Leverre, then the voices of the others; an instant later they were all drowned out by the d
ragon’s great, reverberating roar. The sound seemed to bounce off the cavern walls and assault Guillot’s ears a dozen times.
Raising his sword with both hands, he made to stab the patch of softer-looking flesh where the dragon’s wing connected to its body. The creature moved, putting his aim off, but the sword’s tip bit into the dragon rather than glancing off its scales. He drove the blade in as deeply as he could, then pulled it out for a second strike. The dragon turned quickly, letting out another roar, and swiped at Guillot with its paw, but he managed to roll out of the way. As he did, he spotted Leverre lying on the cavern floor. The dragon turned away and lit the cavern with fire. Guillot couldn’t hear any screams above the sound of the flames and the dragon’s roaring. It disappeared into the smoke and darkness as he got to his feet. Guillot knew he had hurt it, but he didn’t seem to have slowed it in the least. His body protested as he tried to stand straight, and his vision swam. He wished that he were anywhere else.
The cavern was becoming ever more choked with smoke and it was growing difficult to breathe. His throat burned and his eyes were streaming water. The smell of roasted meat was on the air, but Guillot did his best not to think about it. He tried to orient himself, but could not make sense of the hellish inferno before him. He had banged his head at some point and now struggled to think of what to do next.
He realised there was no way they could win in the cave. They had been fools to try to fight the beast in its lair. They had to get out or they would all die.
He went to Leverre, hacking on the thick smoke. Leverre was moving, but had been knocked senseless. Guillot sheathed his sword, grabbed the other man under the armpits, and dragged him toward the light of the cavern’s mouth.
“Dal Sason!” he shouted. “We have to go.” He wasn’t sure if anyone heard him. The dragon continued to thrash about in the smoky darkness, occasionally issuing bursts of flame. When he reached the cavern mouth, Guillot laid Leverre on the ground and drew his sword, peering into the cave. He could just about make out the dragon, its lumbering shape causing great swirls in the smoke.
Every fibre of his being screamed at him not to plunge back in, but he knew how he would feel if he did not at least try to get the others out. He took a few deep breaths of sweet, fresh air, and then, covering his mouth with one hand, went back into the cavern.
After a few steps in near total darkness, he began to think this was an exercise in futility. Something struck him and he flinched, fearing it was a talon or that wickedly barbed tail. He felt no pain, so he patted himself down and was horrified to find his hand covered in sticky blood. For a moment he panicked, then, realising the object that had struck him was still at his feet, he knelt. It was Brother Quimper’s head, and part of his torso.
Guillot fought down the urge to vomit. He had felt momentary flashes of panic on the battlefield, where his instincts demanded he turn and run. He had always overcome it, but never had he felt that compulsion so strongly as he did now. He couldn’t see where the beast had gone, though the smoke was starting to clear.
He spotted movement not far away, and crept over, staying low and relying on the thicker smoke at the back of the cavern to shield him. He heard a groan and found dal Sason, lying on the ground not far from Banneret Eston. Eston’s skull was split in two, its contents spilling onto the rock below. It was a gruesome sight, but would have been a quick death. Dal Sason was still breathing and appeared to be free of any major injuries.
“Nicholas, can you hear me?” Guillot spoke quietly by the banneret’s ear.
Dal Sason groaned, his breathing laboured. Guillot heard an angry rumble from the back of the cavern, followed by the sound of movement. He grabbed dal Sason and hauled him up onto his shoulders. He was convinced that Hallot was the source of that first agonised scream, and someone making such a sound does not survive it. He took a quick look around for Sergeant Doyenne, without success. There was something deeply unchivalrous about the idea of leaving without finding out her fate. He thought of calling out to her, but the risk of drawing the dragon’s attention was too great.
At the cavern mouth, Guillot unceremoniously dumped dal Sason beside Leverre, who was starting to come to his senses. Dal Sason groaned again.
“Eston and Quimper are dead,” Guillot told Leverre. “I think Hallot is too. I’m not sure about Doyenne.”
Leverre nodded with an expression that said he knew Guillot was talking to him, but couldn’t understand what he was saying.
Guillot cast a glance back into the smoke-filled cavern, hoping to see Doyenne stumble out of the gloom. He thought about asking Leverre for one of his magic touches of night sight, but knew at a look that the man was incapable at the moment. Guillot took a deep breath of fresh air, a panacea to his stinging throat, and sighed.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” he said.
* * *
Guillot found Sergeant Doyenne at the back of the cavern. The setting sun had dropped to just the right height to fill the cavern with its failing light. It became clear that the notable absence of the dragon while Guillot was rescuing the others was down to Doyenne. The smoke had cleared, revealing the woman standing a few paces in front of the beast, which had, if Guillot were to attribute human expressions to it, a look of bewilderment on its face. Doyenne looked to be concentrating fiercely. Her feet were firmly planted on the cavern floor and she held one hand out in front of her, her index finger extended.
“Quickly,” Guillot said, “we have to go.”
Doyenne’s eyes flicked to him for an instant before returning to the dragon. She seemed tired. Exhausted.
“You go,” she said. “Get the others out if they still live.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Guillot said.
“I’m already dead. I’ll hold it here as long as I can.”
“What in hells do you mean?” Guillot said. “Come now, we can all get out.”
“No, we can’t,” she said. “I’ve burned myself out and I’m not going to last much longer. Now go!”
There was such ferocity in her voice that Guillot didn’t even consider disobeying. He ran back to the others. Leverre looked more alert and dal Sason showed improved signs of life.
“Where’re the others?” Leverre said.
“Dead,” Guillot said. “Doyenne is in there with the dragon. She wouldn’t come out. Said she was already dead. Burned out. What in hells was she talking about?”
“I’ll explain later,” Leverre said, a grim look on his face. “We will be too if we don’t get moving.”
“Help me with dal Sason,” Guillot said.
They each grabbed dal Sason under the arms, and with his feet dragging behind him, pulled him out of the cavern, and down the mountainside as quickly as they could.
Going downhill was easier than the reverse, but only marginally. With each step, the scree beneath their feet gave way and they slid several paces. That made for a fast descent, but Guillot expected a leg-breaking fall at any moment. He refused to look back for fear of what he might see; the sick feeling of wondering what had happened to that brave young woman kept him company the whole way.
Almost before he knew it, his feet were wet again, and they were pulling dal Sason across the river. Although he knew the sanctuary it offered was an illusion, there was something heartening about seeing the stand of trees where they had camped the previous night. The dragon could no doubt torch it, and them, with only a single breath, but Gill had convinced himself that once they reached it, they would be safe.
As soon as he reached the tree line, he collapsed to the ground, his face pressed into the dirt and the pine needles. Letting his mind focus on the prickly sensation, he tried to distance himself from the ordeal he had just been through.
“Are you all right?” Leverre asked.
“As all right as you can be after something like that,” Guillot said. He allowed himself a moment longer to rest, then rolled over and sat up. He looked up at the cavern mouth from between the tree trunks. “Do
you think it’ll come after us?”
“It didn’t the last time,” Leverre said. “But who’s to say. I saw you wound it. My sword just seemed to bounce off it.”
“Lucky, I suppose,” Guillot said. “Maybe it was the Telastrian steel?” He leaned over to check on dal Sason, who seemed to be breathing easier, but was still in bad shape. “Nicholas has seen better days.”
“Nothing a session with a few of the Order’s healers won’t be able to fix,” Leverre said. “I could do with one myself.”
“You’re not the only one,” Guillot said, starting to notice all the bumps, bruises, and scrapes he had acquired now that the excitement was fading. “We should get away from here as quickly as we can.”
“I’ll send a pigeon from Trelain and get the Prince Bishop to dispatch help,” Leverre said.
Guillot hauled himself to his feet. “Let’s concentrate on getting ourselves to safety first.”
CHAPTER
30
Solène felt groggy when she woke, as though her sleep had been interrupted in the midst of a particularly vivid dream. As she worked out what was reality, and what was imagined, she realised that dal Drezony was sitting at her bedside. She jumped in surprise.
“Oh, you’re awake,” dal Drezony said. “Such a relief. How do you feel?”
“Tired,” Solène said. Her head was a muddle and her memory of the tests was fuzzy. “Did I pass the tests?”
Dal Drezony laughed. “Yes, with flying colours. The Prince Bishop was amazed by what you did. No one’s managed to complete all the tests in one go before, and for that I have to apologise. The Prince Bishop wanted to see what you were capable of. I should have stepped in and stopped things, but I didn’t, so I have to ask for your forgiveness.”
Confused, Solène said, “You have it.”
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