Linsha heard the snap of a bowstring, the whirring flight of an arrow, and Menneferen jolted back and groaned. Frantic for him, she struggled to clear her vision and finally saw a Tarmak arrow penetrating his rump. It was not a fatal wound, but it was painful and it bled enough to make a dark red patch on his hide.
“You may go now,” Lanther said with a wave of his hand.
Limping, the centaur jogged out of the clearing and took the most direct route toward the peak.
Linsha felt herself picked up and slung over the shoulder of a burly warrior. She lifted her head enough to see the others rounded together and led off into the trees. There was nothing more she could do for them but hope she would see them again. Callista waved once to her, and they were gone out of sight in the heavy woods.
Then there was no more time to wonder. She was carried through the trees and brought out into another valley where a string of large horses stood in the shadows of the pines. Linsha recognized them as Damjatt horses from Ithin’carthia. Lanther and his guards mounted and readied themselves to ride while Linsha was placed behind Lanther on his horse. He took an extra length of rope, wrapped it around her wrists, and tied it to the horn of his saddle.
The riders urged their horses into a trot and rode in single file through the woods around the base of the hill. Linsha’s head cleared enough so she could see where they were going, but she wasn’t strong enough to do anything about it. She had enough sense left to know that Lanther held the rope tied to her wrists, and if she jumped or fell she would only break something. She sat behind him and nursed her strength for a better opportunity.
In the shelter of the pines, the riders stopped and waited.
Linsha looked around. She still felt dizzy and her back ached from her fall, but her vision was clear and her strength was returning. She saw the peak ahead of them, looming against the blue sky. The Tarmak riders were on the west side now, for the sun was behind them, and they were very close.
“There he goes!” a warrior said in Tarmakian, and they watched the bronze dragon charge out of the cave and take wing. As soon as he was out of sight, the riders kicked their horses into a gallop.
The Damjatt horses burst out of the trees into the sunlight. They may not have been fast, but they were very sure-footed. They galloped across a wide, open field and up the steep, rocky foot of the volcano without missing a step.
Linsha held on to Lanther as the horses plunged up the slope and came to a sliding stop on a wide ledge in front of a hole in the side of the peak. The hole was rounded, large enough for an averaged-sized dragon to slip through, and it penetrated deep into the flanks of the volcano. The Damjatt horses caught the scent of dragon and balked at the entrance.
The Akkad-Dar and his warriors slid off their horses. Several Tarmaks took the reins and led the horses away from the cave’s mouth, while the others loosened their swords and lit torches. Lanther yanked Linsha off his horse and wrapped the end of her binding rope around his hand to keep her close.
“Inside.” With a jerk of his head, he indicated the cave entrance. “We will drink the Awlgu’arud Drathkin this night!”
The warriors cheered.
“No!” Linsha screamed.
He was turning to answer when a warrior yelled, “Akkad-Dar! He comes!”
All heads snapped around; all eyes stared toward the woods in the valley where the Tarmak army lay hidden.
A winged shape soared over the trees as fast as his wings could bear him. Sunlight shone on his bronze scales. He bellowed his fury and loosed a powerful beam of fiery light into the trees where the thickest numbers of warriors waited. The trees exploded into flame. Wreathed in smoke and swirling ash, the dragon banked toward the peak and charged at the group on the volcano’s ledge.
Shouting a curse, Lanther dropped the rope and lunged for the horses. It was only then in the sunlight by the side of the cone that Linsha noticed another thing Lanther had brought with him. It was tied to the back of one of the horses, and as a warrior unwrapped it and brought it to the Akkad-Dar, Linsha recognized its rusty-red barb and the long black shaft-the Abyssal Lance. Her fear for Crucible grew tenfold. The Akkad-Dar hefted its weight to his shoulder and gave Linsha a vile look. He mounted a horse and leveled the barb on the bronze dragon.
“Crucible! Crucible, no!” Linsha screamed. She ran in front of Lanther’s horse, but a Tarmak snatched her arms and heaved her up over the saddle in front of Lanther. She landed hard on her belly and lay gasping, her chest aching and her head ringing with pain.
The dragon’s roar thundered off the peak, and dragonfear radiated from him like waves of heat. He shot one short burst of flame at the warriors, killing several, and flew by, his head craned around to look for Linsha.
Linsha felt the whump of wind from his wings as he passed overhead. A storm of dust and grit blew up from the ground. In almost the same moment the horse carrying her and Lanther reared in terror, and the surviving Tarmak warriors fell on their faces, groveling in fear.
Linsha struggled to stay on the terrified horse, for she knew as well as Lanther that Crucible would not attack him as long as she was in the way. If only she could get Lanther to drop the lance. She twisted her head up and saw Crucible curve around.
“Tarmaks!” bellowed Lanther. “On your feet! Use the steel arrows! The poison will bring him down!”
Linsha went cold. What poison?
Obedient to the Akkad’s will, the warriors struggled to their feet. They drew out arrows tipped with barbs forged and tempered in the smithies of Ithin’carthia. Lifting their bows high, they stood firm and sighted on the approaching dragon.
Lanther’s horse squealed in terror. In spite of the horse’s panicked attempts to bolt and Linsha’s added struggles, the Akkad-Dar stayed on his mount and kept his grip on the lance. With a ferocious jerk of the bit, he forced the horse’s head around and settled it briefly on its feet.
Linsha heard the flap of Crucible’s wings and the snap of bowstrings. The dragon fired another bolt of searing fire at the warriors, then he lurched sideways and snarled in pain.
“Did you hit it?” Lanther yelled.
Those few still standing gave a ragged cheer. At least one of the specially made arrows had penetrated the dragon’s tough scales.
Frantic, Linsha caught a glimpse of Crucible in the sky. He winged upward then angled around to make a third pass.
All at once the dragon’ head lolled and his wingbeats slowed into a ragged flap. As he lost control of his flight, his heavy body fell. Writhing and twisting in the air, he dropped out of the sky and crashed on the slope of the volcano a few hundred feet downhill from the ledge. His body lay motionless; only his wing vanes twitched in the wind.
Linsha could not make a sound, so stunned was she by his sudden fall.
Filled with triumph, the Akkad-Dar shouted a warcry, raised the lance, and kicked the big Damjatt down the hill toward the fallen dragon.
The saddle banged painfully into Linsha’s ribs and stomach; her arms throbbed from the strain of holding on. She fought to stay on the horse, not just to help Crucible this time but to prevent herself from falling on the rocks or under the horse’s heavy hooves. Her hands clutched at Lanther’s legs and his waist, and her bouncing weight dragged at his unsteady balance. He cursed her, but he could not drop the reins or the lance to push her off.
Grimly they hung on while the horse charged down the slope toward the stricken dragon. In a flash of panic and fear for the bronze, Linsha summoned her strength into one desperate effort. She hauled her upper body off the saddle and made a grab for the red shaft of the lance.
Her sudden movement threw the horse off-stride. He staggered sideways, and the black barb that was aimed for the dragon’s rib cage jerked sideways, slammed off a boulder, and stabbed deep into Crucible’s haunch, penetrating his poison-induced stupor. The bronze roared, his agony drowning out all other sound in the world.
The sudden impact knocked Linsha and Lanther from the ho
rse and sent them tumbling to the ground near Crucible. The horse, relieved of the thrashing weight on his back and the vicious pain in his mouth, bolted down the hillside.
Linsha lay sprawled on her back while the world whirled around her and tears trickled down her face. Crucible had stopped screaming. She hurt in every bone, muscle, and fiber of her being. She didn’t want to move, but she could hear movement from Lanther in the rocks and Crucible’s labored breathing. At least the dragon was still alive.
She rolled over to her side and pushed herself to her knees. Dizziness and pain shook her, but nothing seemed to be broken-just bruised, battered, lacerated, and pounded. She felt like a side of meat prepared for the fire.
“Curse you!” Lanther shouted at her. He staggered to his feet and drew his sword. His mask had been torn off in his fall, and blood streamed down the blue paint on his face from a wicked gash above his eyebrow. He limped forward and lifted his sword, ready to drive the point through Crucible’s eye into his brain. Linsha reached for the closest weapon at hand-a fist-sized chunk of rock-and heaved it at the Akkad-Dar’s back. Years of juggling had given her excellent eye to hand coordination, so the rock flew unerringly and struck him on the back of his neck.
He pitched forward, his arms flailing to keep his balance, and the sword dropped from his hand to fall close to Crucible’s head. He reached for the sword as Linsha grabbed for another rock. She drew back to throw again when Crucible stirred. One eye crept open; his head moved.
Lanther barely snatched his hand away from the sword before the dragon’s teeth clashed together just above the blade. Thwarted from the sword, Lanther lunged after the Abyssal Lance that hung at an angle from Crucible’s back leg.
“No, you don’t!” hissed Linsha, and she pelted him with more rocks.
Frustrated and enraged, the Akkad-Dar backed away from the dragon. Emotions crawled over his blood-stained face-hate, anger, jealousy, and pain, then his blue eyes flared like lightning and he turned on his boot heel and ran up the hill toward the cave.
Linsha knew where he was going, but she could not leave. Not yet. She clambered around to Crucible’s head, her eyes shimmering with tears.
“You’re still alive,” she marveled and touched his cheek, his eye ridges, his neck as if she could not quite believe the evidence of her eyes. “Stay with me! Fight the poison. Fight it!”
I will try. His message came to her mind in barely a whisper.
Her hand wrapped around the scales on her chain and she reached deep into herself to summon the healing power of the heart. She had to heal him, for the thought of his death tore at her like a nightmare. Try as she did, she could not complete the spell. Her magic bubbled in her blood and immediately drained away, sucked out by the souls of the dead around her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Don’t be. Go. His eyelid slid closed. Save the eggs.
Her tears fell on the shining scales of the dragon’s nose, and it took all of her will to leave him lying on the side of the volcano and pursue the Akkad-Dar. She left Lanther’s fallen sword where it lay, for it was too heavy for her to handle. There would be others on the ledge. She hurried up the rocky slope.
When she reached the ledge, she discovered all but two of the Tarmak warriors who had accompanied them were dead. The two survivors stared at her as she scrambled over the edge onto the level ground in front of the cave. Their swords drawn, they moved toward her.
Horns blared in the trees to the north and were echoed on the skirt of the peak to the south. The two Tarmaks stopped and stared out at the meadow below. The ranks of warriors that had survived the dragon’s fire were pouring into the meadow below to escape the smoke and flames. Their horn-blowers answered the challenge with a pealing call of their own. All at once a dark flight of arrows soared out of the trees and dropped with deadly accuracy into the milling crowds of warriors. The Tarmak horns sounded another warning as a long line of mounted Plainsmen and centaurs came out of the trees. There was another flight of arrows, and the horsemen charged underneath them into the line of waiting Tarmaks. A thunderous clash of bodies and weapons, the shouts of fighting men, the screams of horses, and the pounding beat of drums filled the valley.
On the ledge of the peak the three antagonists stared at the attacking army of Plainsmen. The two Tarmaks glanced uneasily back at the cave and scowled down at the battle, now joined in ferocious intensity. Linsha took advantage of their distraction. She darted past them for the cave, snatched up a sword from a dead Tarmak, and loped to the cave’s entrance. The two Tarmaks did not follow.
She hurried inside, and the sunlight faded quickly behind her.
23
Maternal Instinct
The tunnel lay straight and true, its sides smooth and its floor level. Dense darkness surrounded Linsha, forcing her to move to the wall and follow the tunnel by touch. She noticed immediately that the air was warm and dry and smelled faintly of molten rock. She jogged blindly down the passage and feared with a sick certainty what she would find when the tunnel ended-the eggs in a nest, waiting to hatch. Lanther would smash them, and she would fail. She wondered briefly where Varia and Menneferen were and hoped they had left when Crucible flew away.
Shortly she saw pale light ahead and realized the tunnel was about to come to an end. She didn’t bother to slow down but hurried toward the chamber and the light. The Akkad-Dar, she knew, would be waiting for her. Her sword gripped in her hand, she stepped out of the tunnel. Her eyes widened with surprise and she looked up with wonder at a mound in front of her.
Crucible had found a chamber fashioned long ago by the internal workings of the volcano’s fiery core. He had leveled the floor, enlarged the chamber, and bored two small ventilation shafts through the side of the cone that allowed both air and light into the cave. He had also built a nest in the center using sand and earth to create a mound for the eggs. It sloped up nearly eight feet and was about twenty feet in circumference. A thin shaft of light from the western ventilation shaft penetrated the gloom and shone on the side of the mound like a beam from a thief’s lantern. The air was very warm in the cave, prompting Linsha to wonder if Crucible had heated rocks or something to add extra warmth for the nest.
“Come up here.”
She looked up the mound and saw Lanther standing on the top holding an egg. It occurred to Linsha that he was not using gloves to carry the round orb. Had the eggs cooled that much?
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Come up here, or I will smash every one. Leave your sword.”
Linsha knew she had little choice. There was no sign of either Varia or Menneferen, and no one else knew she was there. Her heart in her throat, she jabbed the sword into the dirt at the base of the mound and climbed warily up the steep slope.
At the top the mound fell away into a bowl-shaped depression lined with sand. Nestled in the warm sand lay eight of the nine eggs. They were darker than she remembered. They appeared softer, too, for she could see indentations and creases in the shells she hadn’t remembered before. One of them rocked slightly.
Linsha blinked. She looked again, but the eggs stayed motionless. Surely not, she thought. It was too soon.
“You never had any intention of giving me those eggs. You would have said anything to persuade me to come to Ithin’carthia. What made you think I would be the mother of a Tarmak demi-god?” she asked, her soft voice full of derision. “Or that you would be the father?”
Lanther was gazing into the distance, his attention drawn to something only he could see. At her words, he jerked slightly and focused his eyes on her face. “Afec foretold it,” he replied. “And I saw it in my vision from Takhisis when I took the Test in Neraka. From my goddess I saw it all-the fall of the Missing City, the conquest of the Plains, my union with the Drathkin’kela. Our son will he Amarrel, the Warrior Cleric who brings peace and prosperity to my people for a thousand years.”
Linsha leaned forward and said, “Takhisis is gone
. She abandoned this world. You have been deceived. And I will die before I ever bear any get of yours!”
A smile as cold as the winds from the Ice Wall lifted his lips and frosted his eyes. “You are wrong, my lady wife. Takhisis is here, in the world. She has come to claim this world for her own.”
The Akkad-Dar’s face was masked in blood and dirt, and his skin was disguised by blue paint. But there was no mistaking the gloating arrogance of victory that exuded from his body in an almost palpable aura. With cold deliberation he slammed the dragon egg to the dirt and smashed it with his foot.
It did not shatter as Linsha would have expected, but split with a sickening crunch and tore open under the impact of his boot. A small dragonlet flopped on its back in the ruins of its shell. It cried piteously, waving its legs. Lanther’s laughter filled the cave.
Horrified, Linsha snatched at it, but Lanther’s arm rose and he slammed the point of a dagger into the small body. He held it up by the limp neck for her to see. She screamed in rage and threw herself at him and brought them both crashing to the dirt. Her hands groped for the dagger as they rolled and strained on soft earth.
It wasn’t the smartest way to attack a man taller, heavier, and better trained, but Linsha’s only thought was to protect the young lives contained in the eggs. The body of the dead dragonlet mocked her. The pain of its murder galvanized her into a fury. She fought hard with fists and feet, elbows and knees, to reach the dagger and get Lanther away from the eggs.
The Akkad-Dar struck back, equally determined to punish her. He punched her hard in the cheek with a sharp jab and wrenched away from her. His dagger flashed out with deadly speed in the soft light and ripped through her sleeve, slashing the skin of her forearm.
Linsha caught his arm and forced it aside. Her face throbbed and her arm burned, but she hardly noticed. She slammed the palm of her hand into his nose and noted with brief satisfaction that the cartilage crunched under her blow and blood poured down his mouth. She hit his broken nose again, then again, blood spraying them both. His eyes rolled, and she lunged again, struggling to take possession of the knife, but he stumbled backward and the blade remained just beyond her reach.
Return of the Exile l-3 Page 25