by Rob May
Kal didn’t want to think about that. There was no way back up if they ran out of options. But then the hot air and vapour had to be coming from somewhere down below, and if nothing else then surely they would eventually find the tunnels of the gold mine at the foot of the mountain.
‘Talk to me, Kal,’ Rafe said as they picked their way through. ‘What happened next with the dragon?’
‘Let me concentrate on where we’re going,’ she said. ‘Do you want me to twist an ankle? I’ll tell you all the stories you want when we get home.’
Rafe carried on regardless. ‘Oh, so you’ll still want to know me when we get back then? I don’t have such an exciting life back in Amaranthium, you know. Organising guard duty rosters, mostly.’
Kal stopped and sighed. She turned around and faced him. ‘You’ll be a hero when we get back!’ she said. ‘And of course I’ll want to know you. You’ll be the first person I’ll call on if my loft gets infested by trolls.’
Rafe laughed. ‘I’m qualified for that! Me and some lads in the Guard once had to chase off three sea trolls that had tunnelled into the city. Now that was an exciting day!’ He noticed something over Kal’s shoulder. ‘Kal, look,’ he said. ‘There’s light ahead.’
She smothered the torch and they both waited in silence while their eyes adjusted. Sure enough, there was a flickering glow coming from further down a tight, narrow tunnel. Kal led the way on her hands and knees. She thought she could hear the voices nearby. The glow was shining up through a crack in the floor. She lay down and put her eye to the crack. Below her was a cave that was flooded with torchlight.
Rafe shuffled up beside her. ‘It’s him!’ he breathed after taking a look.
They could see down into a cave that had been carved and flattened to make it more habitable. Animal skins were spread over the floor, and torches were set in alcoves in the walls. A large wooden table took up most of the space in the centre of the room, and a detailed map had been rolled out across its surface. Gron Darklaw, still in his black and gold armour, laid his helmet down on the corner of the table and addressed the soldier—one of the half-man, half-goblin brutes—who was with him.
‘The Senate have sent a replacement governor; his ship is due to arrive at noon tomorrow. Take a squad of some of the most restless men and intercept the ship here.’—Darklaw indicated on the map with a thick finger—‘Kill everyone on board and then set fire to the ship. The new governor may have brought his family—women and children. I know how depraved some of the men are, Gurik; this job should quench their appetites for the time being.’
The hobgoblin named Gurik nodded. ‘Yes, Sir,’ he growled.
Darklaw scratched his chin as he thought aloud. ‘When the town council gather to discuss the tragic news, I will offer them my services: money to build defences, and troops to protect them from the dragon that they think is terrorising Balibu. It will be an easy, bloodless invasion. Do you think the men will be able to restrain themselves? I am sure that in time I will be able to find some discreet outlets for their vices.’
The hobgoblin made a noise that might have been a grunt or a laugh. ‘They want to fight most of all, Sir,’ he said.
Darklaw’s finger traced the coastline around Balibu. ‘And they will. It won’t be long before the Senate sends an army to take back the town. The peninsula will force any army to pass through here. A spot like that will cost them … what do you think, Gurik? Ten of their men for every one of ours?’
Gurik laughed for sure this time: a horrible croaking cackle. ‘Yes, Sir!’
‘Good!’ Darklaw seemed pleased with his plans. ‘Go and prepare the men.’
The hobgoblin saluted and left the cave through a thick iron-banded wooden door that covered the entrance to a tunnel. Darklaw remained standing before his map. Kal and Rafe watched as the big man looked slowly around the room, making a strange sniffing noise; his broad, flat features taking on a bestial aspect.
‘You can come out now, Dragon Killer,’ he said. ‘I can smell you and your mate.’
IV.vi
Forever Under the Stars
Darklaw looked up. Kal jerked her head back, but not before their eyes had met. She couldn’t help but gasp: the last time she had looked him in the eye, over the card table, she remembered his eyes being a deep black. But now they were a bright gleaming yellow.
Darklaw immediately left the cave below. It was barely a minute later that Kal and Rafe heard smashing and pounding noises, as if someone was breaking through the rock with a pickaxe. ‘We can’t run or fight in these tunnels,’ Kal told Rafe. ‘We’ll just have to try and talk our way out of this.’ Rafe nodded in agreement.
The rockface ahead of them collapsed and sunlight came streaming through to their hiding place. Kal and Rafe crawled the last few yards towards the light and stepped out into the open. Small goblin workers wielding hammers and tools stood aside to let them through, and Kal and Rafe found themselves at the back of the enormous cavern that housed Darklaw’s flying machine. The canvas and timber dragon loomed over them, and all around it were hundreds of Darklaw’s larger hobgoblin soldiers. They sat in alcoves around the edges of the cave and stood around in groups, paused in the middle of weapon training exercises. They perched on wooden scaffolding and in the framework of the dragon itself. And in the centre of the cave, waiting to meet his new guests, was Gron Darklaw himself.
He sneered at Kal and Rafe. ‘I might have guessed that you would find your way here,’ he said in his deep growl. ‘You’ve had a small taste of my wealth and gold, and now you’ve come for more, is that it?’
‘We’re here on behalf of the Senate,’ Kal began. ‘We can negotiate a peaceful solution to—’
‘As Captain of the Senate Guard I challenge you to single combat,’ Rafe interrupted. ‘If I win, then we walk out of here alive.’
‘I accept,’ Darklaw replied instantly.
* * *
Ten minutes later, Kal and Rafe were in Darklaw’s armoury. He had graciously allowed Rafe to choose whatever arms and armour he required before their fight. Rafe seemed genuinely grateful, but Darklaw’s supreme confidence was eating at Kal’s nerves.
‘You’re taking an awful risk, doing this,’ she told Rafe as she adjusted the straps on a breastplate for him. ‘We know relatively nothing about this Gron Darklaw. We don’t know how well he fights.’
Rafe shrugged. ‘I know how well I fight. Darklaw probably imagines he fights better then he actually does, just as he imagined that he was the greatest card player in town the other night at the Croc. That’s his weakness, Kal: he wants to be this amazing fighter, general, governor, sailor, gambler … but he’s reaching too far. I knew that he wouldn’t be able to refuse the ultimate test of valour, especially when I challenged him in front of his men. He’s made a big mistake agreeing to take me on.’
‘Maybe …’ Kal was conflicted. She wasn’t the greatest judge of character, but was Rafe? ‘I just hope that you’re right. There: you’re all set.’
Rafe stomped about and swung his arms to test his range of movement. A forty-pound suit of armour, its weight spread evenly, was not much of a hindrance to a fit, strong man like Rafe. ‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘It’s not my own suit, but it will do the same job. I’m not the sentimental type!’
‘Really?’ Kal said, ‘So you won’t be needing this then.’ She held up Rafe’s blue Senate Guard surcoat.
He bent his head to allow her to put it on over the armour. ‘This is different,’ Rafe said. ‘Armour is armour, steel is steel, but this shows that I represent the Senate; that my cause is just!’
Kal handed him something else. ‘And what about this? What does this represent?’
Rafe was thrilled with the offering. ‘I may wear the armour of sub-human monsters, but I now carry the weapon of the gods,’ he said, strapping Kal’s dagger to his belt on his right side. He attached his own steel sword to his left side and was ready for action.
‘Let’s get this over with then,�
�� Kal said.
* * *
Escorted by guards, they walked hand-in-hand back down the sweltering tunnels to the giant cave. More and more hobgoblins had filled the space now, as well as many of the smaller regular goblins; short shambling primitives, milling around half-naked as was their wont. One of them carried a stone pitcher and gold goblet across the cave to where Darklaw was waiting. The big man took the drink and then sent the goblin away with a pat on the head that looked almost affectionate.
Darklaw had moved over to the mouth of the cave, where the low afternoon sun glinted off the black in his armour and set the gold in it on fire. The crowds formed a semi-circle around the shelf of rock that jutted out from the cave entrance. Darklaw had created an arena with a deadly drop-off at its edge. Kal frowned as they pushed their way through the mass of goblins and hobgoblins; was there a reason for this, or did Darklaw simply have a flair for the dramatic?
Rafe walked right up in front of Darklaw and gave him a cordial nod. Darklaw grinned, took a slug of his wine, and beckoned another goblin. This one came over staggering under the weight of a giant scabbard. Darklaw took up the fifty-inch bastard sword in one hand and made a show of inspecting the blade. Kal half expected him to lick it.
‘So we face one another once again,’ Darklaw said to Rafe, belatedly returning the nod. ‘But this time the stakes are rather a lot higher than those at the card table.’
‘All or nothing will be the motto on my crest after this,’ Rafe managed to retort.
Kal could hardly bear it any longer. She sat with her head in her hands between two of the toes of the wooden dragon. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she muttered.
Rafe didn’t hear her, but Darklaw did. ‘Why am I doing this?’ he said, looking over to her. ‘Some would consider it an honour to be invited to fight with a representative of the almighty Senate. A man of my standing is rarely afforded such respect.’
Kal looked up sharply. Was that it? Was this fight yet another feather in Darklaw’s cap; another rung in the ladder of greatness. Or did she detect a bitterness behind his words. Did he have some grievance with the Senate?
There was no time to think any deeper on it, though. The two men stood twenty paces apart, facing each other with swords drawn. Rafe was tall, but Darklaw had at least an extra two feet on him. ‘To the death then,’ the giant confirmed. ‘If you want to run … well, you’ll need to sprout wings.’ Darklaw had put on his golden dragon helmet. ‘Whenever you are ready, Captain.’
Rafe had also donned a helmet, a plain bascinet with a visor. ‘I’m ready—’ he began.
Darklaw wasted no time in charging forward across the cave floor. Rafe barely had time to raise his sword. Their blades met with a thundering metallic crash. Darklaw held on to his, but Rafe’s went spinning out of his hand. Rafe fell to the floor to avoid Darklaw’s follow-up blow, and rolled across the cave, his armour clattering, to where his sword had landed.
He jumped to his feet as Darklaw reached him again, and this time he managed to deflect his opponent’s blow with the flat of his blade, using his body weight to lean into Darklaw’s attack and to force his sword aside. As the giant struggled to regain control, Rafe brought his sword down hard on Darklaw’s right flank, smashing away the tassets that connected to the bottom of his elaborately-fashioned breastplate. Darklaw kicked out desperately and caught Rafe in the chest with one of his pointed sabatons. Rafe fell onto his back, the wind knocked out of him.
Instead of continuing his assault, Darklaw turned and walked calmly back to his goblet and pitcher and poured himself another drink. He gulped it noisily, blood-red wine dribbling down his chin. Rafe just stood with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. Barely a minute later, Darklaw broke the period of respite and advanced slowly on Rafe with his bastard sword raised high, like a serpent ready to strike.
Rafe wasn’t ready yet; he backed away from Darklaw, getting dangerously near to the edge of the rock shelf before he finally put up his sword and got back into the fight. This time Darklaw’s attacks were less urgent than before, and Rafe was able to match him blow-for-blow. But Kal could see that Rafe was giving up ground to Darklaw’s implacable advance. When Rafe was almost at the edge of the rocky plateau he hesitated, and Darklaw’s next blow tore his sword from his grasp again, this time sending it flying out over the edge and down the mountainside.
Rafe didn’t waste time regretting the loss of one of his weapons. He went down on one knee, pulled Kal’s knife from his belt, and stuck the bloodsteel blade deep into Darklaw’s side where his armour had been torn away. Darklaw seemed hardly to feel it, though; he kept his own sword moving in a practiced series of strokes, finally bringing it down on Rafe’s arm, chopping hand and dagger away at the wrist.
Kal rose in horror. Rafe howled in pain and shock. Darklaw kicked Rafe’s legs out from under him and pinned him to the ground with his foot. He placed the point of his sword over Rafe’s chest, over the spiral of stars on his blue surcoat. He paused there for a moment, then moved the blade down until it rested over Rafe’s belly instead.
‘I yield,’ Rafe groaned. ‘Mercy.’
Darklaw shook his head. ‘You won’t find that here,’ he said, and drove his sword deep into Rafe’s stomach.
Then Darklaw turned away from Rafe and walked to the back of the cave, clutching his wounded side. He passed Kal, who ran to where Rafe lay. ‘Give the girl a minute with him, then lock her up below,’ Darklaw ordered as he passed his troops. Then he was gone, taking his pitcher of wine with him.
Kal kneeled beside Rafe and removed his helmet. He looked up at her with stricken eyes. ‘He got me, Kal,’ he choked. ‘I’m going to die.’
She looked at his awful wound. ‘I know,’ she said, taking his hand. ‘It’s alright.’
The crowd of hobgoblins were getting closer, curiosity and hunger in their eyes. ‘Don’t let them take me,’ Rafe pleaded.
Kal took the fallen dagger from the cave floor. She brushed Rafe’s hair out of his eyes as she placed the tip of the dagger over the pulse in his neck.
Rafe tried to smile. ‘I told you we should have stayed hidden in our camp in the swamp …’
… forever under the stars. Kal swallowed a sob as she drove the dagger home.
A look of fear and confusion passed across Rafe’s face. Kal put her lips to his.
‘You’ll always be my knight,’ she told him as he died.
END OF PART FOUR
PART FIVE
THE DRAGON
V.i
Departure
Darthon Twill, miller.
Alfred Bone, innkeeper.
Tarla Yarrow, cordwainer.
Kalina put down the pencil. Was that it? No, there was one more …
Deros Brown, woodcutter.
She closed the book and put it away. That was all of them: the eighty adults and children who had lived and worked in Refuge, and who had been slaughtered by goblins as food for the dragon. The book would have to stand as the only memorial to them and to the village.
Kalina got up and stretched her legs; after three days underground her injuries troubled her less, but the confinement was almost too much to bear. She was thankful that their food supply was about to run out; they had no excuse to stay here any longer. She started filling a leather satchel with what little they had remaining: a stale loaf, some hard strips of bacon and three overripe apples. In the corner, Ben was doing his best to empty the cellar of what was left of the spirits.
‘Enough, Ben,’ Kalina said. ‘I want to walk out of here with you, not carrying you.’
‘It’s no good,’ Ben slurred. ‘The Dragon has been hunting down my family for hundreds of years. He wants to eat me then fly off with my sword and drop it off in some fiery mountain somewhere. Why else is he still here, Kal?’
What in the world was Ben talking about now? ‘It’s a dragon, not the Dragon. And it’s still here because it’s got nowhere else to go. Or maybe it can smell our scent around the nest and
figures we couldn’t have gone far. Either way, it’s an animal, Ben; a dangerous wild animal … It’s not your mortal enemy. You’re getting mixed up with the stories that you tell the children. Come on; smear on some ash!’
Ben heaved himself out of the chair and joined Kalina at the copper bath. In silence they both rubbed and smeared the foul mix of mud and ash over their faces and under their collars and sleeves. Kalina had found some dirty work clothes and a pair of boots stashed in the cellar. She and Ben looked like a pair of matching twins: refugees from some terrible disaster.
Ben strapped his scabbard and massive sword to his back. Kalina carried the supplies. As they double-checked everything they became gradually aware of a noise: a low rumbling thrum that rose and fell at regular intervals.
‘Is that me making that noise?’ Ben said, looking around.
‘No,’ Kalina snapped. ‘Be quiet and stay still.’ She went to the trapdoor and slid the bolt as quietly as she could. Lifting it carefully, she looked out.
The night was black: pitch-black. There were no stars in the sky …
… except that she wasn’t looking at the sky. She was staring up at the underside of the dragon’s wing. The beast was right on top of them, its enormous body resting on the ground, as big as a hundred bales of hay. The thrumming noise was louder, matching the rhythm of the dragon’s breath. It was snoring.
Kalina silently beckoned Ben and lifted herself up out of the cellar. When he climbed out after her he almost didn’t notice the dragon at first. Then he did a double-take and fell over in shock. Kalina put her hand over his mouth and helped him up.