by Richard Due
And then she saw it, on one of the taller walls of the ruined keep: a slight flicker of firelight high up on the stonework.
All of a sudden, Lily felt very exposed. Quickly, she made for the deepest shadows. Her stomach growled at the idea of food cooking on that fire. She crept along, wondering whose firelight she might be looking at. Did she really want to find out? But retreating didn’t seem any better.
After several minutes, she decided a careful look might be best. So, as quietly as she could, she set out for the source of the light, keeping to the shadows, picking her way around fragments of stonework, and peering through the remains of shattered doorways. What survived of the walls and the fallen heaps of stone made a maze of the place. She passed a flight of stairs that led up two dozen steps before emptying into open air. Many of the old doorways were blocked, and many of the unblocked ones led to dead ends. Eventually, she found one that led through what were once long, rectangular rooms, their old walls no more than waist-high.
Rounding a corner, she froze at the sight of firelight spilling through a gap. She took a few breaths, waiting for her nerve. Then, cautiously, she chose a bit of wall to peer around. The adjoining rooms were like a courtyard. On the far side was a high archway, through which Lily could see the fire. It was large, and its logs wheezed and popped in the damp night air. Even from this distance she could sense its warmth. Lily leaned back into the shadows and listened for a very long time. She heard no voices or activity, just the sound of the fire. Obviously, it was a fire built for more than one person, but where were they now? Had they gone? She would have to get closer. Could they have taken refuge in what was left of the keep? Maybe the fire was just for turning back dangerous night beasts and warming up chilly teenagers from Pennsylvania. That seemed very possible . . . excepting the last part.
Lily gathered her courage and darted through the gap, hurrying as much as she dared. She approached the archway from an angle to stay out of the fire’s dancing orange light. Once across the expanse of ruined room, she placed her back against the stone arch and listened. Still no sounds but the fire.
Lily took a deep breath and peered around the edge of the stone. Around the roaring blaze, she could clearly see the remains of a hastily abandoned camp. She could smell something sour now, like spoiled food. The fire was contained by sizable stones, surrounded by a ring of even larger stones and logs that must have served as seating. She noticed baggage and gear stowed away in the shadows. The fire flared up and spit. On the other side of the flames, Lily could see dark crags that looked like entrances into what was left of the ruined keep.
All of a sudden, a dirty face leaned forward from one of the dark crags, and squinted at her as though it couldn’t believe what it was seeing. When it spoke, the pendant resting on her chest throbbed, and in her mind she heard, “By the moons! It’s a girl.”
Lily sprang backwards. Everything happened very quickly after that. Suddenly, there were people standing all around her in the dark. A man in strange armor stepped into the light that Lily had so studiously avoided. He dipped his sword and removed his helmet. He too wore a look of astonishment. She turned to bolt, and all at once became aware of someone standing directly behind her, blocking her flight. When she made to scream, a hand clamped down over her mouth. Before she could get her arms moving, they were pinned by a blanket wrapping rapidly around her body. And then she was lifted like a baby and carried into the encampment, where she was very carefully set down by the fire.
Now in the light, she could see that the man who had carried her was no taller than she was. His eyes were widely set. Tufts of short red hair stood out at odd angles atop his head, and the sides of his face were peppered with a scraggly beard. Men and women filed in from the shadows. There were more than a dozen of them. Lily couldn’t even begin to imagine how some of them had sneaked in without her hearing them.
“What have you trapped us, Quib?” said the man who had removed his helmet. “Not much of a dragon here, boys,” he chuckled, but he didn’t sound all that amused.
The swordsman sheathed his blade as he approached. With his gloved hand, he grasped Lily’s chin firmly and turned her face first to one side and then to the other, examining her in the light, as though searching for recognition.
Lily glared back at him, wresting her chin from his grip. His face was haggard and grimy, but Lily thought that, in a better light, it might be a handsome one.
Speaking lower now, the gloved man said, “Don’t be afraid. We’ll get you back to Bairne safe and sound.”
Then the redhead, Quib, said, “How’d she make it all the way out ‘ere? This is nae little wastrel, Dubb. Look at her cloak. Much too fine to be a farmer’s child.” Then, to Lily, he asked, “Are you alone?”
Lily nodded.
From out of the darkness staggered a great hulk of a man. Over his broad shoulders was draped a normal-sized man.
“I think we should feed him,” the big fellow said to Dubb.
Dubb tore his gaze from Lily and looked up distractedly. “Not now, Andros. Later. Just put him down for now, will you?”
Andros straightened and flexed his shoulders, letting the man drop—rather roughly, Lily thought—on a threadbare blanket next to the fire.
“For the love of moonlight,” wheezed Andros. “He grows heavier as the hour grows later, I swear it!”
The man beside the fire rolled onto his side and gave Lily an odd look, as though he wasn’t quite seeing her. He too wore the strange armor, but his arms and legs were tightly bound; his mouth, gagged. But his eyes were full of expression, and whatever he was mumbling into his gag was beyond the moon coin’s powers of translation. Lily took a better look at this mountain of a man, Andros. His skin was nearly white. He also wore the unusual armor, as did everyone except those in robes.
“You want me to ungag him?” Andros asked Dubb.
“No. Not tonight. Not until we’re closer to home,” he said, rubbing his eyes. Then, in a more commanding tone, he said, “Marred, why don’t you go and have a look around?”
“Not me,” answered Marred, stepping closer to the fire. He had a round boyish face, with short-cropped black hair and a dark complexion (or was that just grime?). “Listen, I’m telling you. That dragon is out there. And the last thing we want to be doing is looking for it in the night.”
“Marred,” said Dubb, looking pained, “you’ve been saying that for weeks. But if it was true, and if it was close, then how do you explain this girl? Wouldn’t she have been an easy snack?”
Marred considered this last bit. “All right. I’ll go take a look, but only if Andros goes with me and fires up that ring of his.”
“Dragon hunting in the dark, lucky me,” lamented Andros sarcastically. “Are our opportunities to die really so few that we need to go looking for more?”
Marred motioned to Andros’s huge hand. “The dragon won’t be able to see us with that ring going.”
Andros eyed the ring with a sudden look of distaste. “And just how do you know what a dragon can and can’t see?”
“You’ve used it around them before. I’ve watched their eyes. The one that almost got you was by sense of smell—”
Andros shivered. “How could you tell? It was looking right at me!” he exclaimed.
“But it was using its nose. I could tell. Trust me.”
Andros turned to Dubb. “I need a rest first—no more than an hour.”
“Sleep,” said Marred, in a dreamy voice. “Ah, now you’re talking. How about that, Dubb? Me and Andros here, we get a few winks, and then we go looking for the dragon.”
Another man, wearing enormous boots, stepped silently out of the darkness and sat down on one of the stones by the fire, where the light was good. He had a tall bow lashed to his back. In one hand he held a long shaft of wood; in the other, a short knife. He looked down t
he shaft of wood very carefully, then whittled a thin strip off one side of the shaft. With his elbow, he motioned to the bound body.
“Maybe we should let Tavin here have a little walkabout. If there’s really a dragon out there, I’m sure he’d be happy to volunteer.”
The bound figure—Tavin—perked up, looking avidly from face to face while vigorously nodding and making muffled sounds through his gag.
The man with the bow smirked, and Lily heard several others chuckling.
“Maybe you should go, Boots,” suggested one.
“N-o-o-o-o, not me!” rejoined the man with the bow.
Dubb seemed unfazed by this breakdown of his authority.
Lily considered the company before her. They looked asleep on their feet. And she thought it strange that the bound man was wearing a full suit of armor—stranger still that he was armed with long sword, daggers, and who knew what else, though his bindings appeared so thorough and tight that he didn’t stand a chance of setting so much as a pinky to any of them. But why hadn’t they taken away his weapons? It struck Lily as an unnecessary risk.
Dubb mumbled to himself. He removed his glove, revealing a heavily scarred hand, which he used to massage his mouth and chin. “I think not. If you are correct about the dragon, Tavin on his own would be nothing more than a tasty snack.” At that, Dubb pursed his lips, as if weighing the advantages and disadvantages. But he gave his head a violent shake, clearing these thoughts. Stooping, he retrieved a log from the woodpile and tossed it on the fire.
“So, are you well? Can you talk?” asked Dubb, turning his attention to Lily.
She nodded.
Dubb motioned to Andros. “She looks a bit like your youngest, but fair-haired, no?”
The giant stepped closer to consider Lily’s face. “Yes,” he said, sounding amused, “and it appears she shares the same knack for getting into trouble.” Then he smiled a warm smile, showing pink gums that stood out sharply against his ghostly skin and teeth.
Everyone laughed, then stopped, as if on cue. They all stared at Marred. His head was cocked to one side, and his face was screwed up with concentration. A moment later they heard a noise, very close, like a great hollow log being dragged over stones. Dubb made a silent hand gesture, and the group sprang into motion.
Blades leapt from scabbards, and shields appeared from behind cloaks. The man who had been whittling at the shaft of wood suddenly held a fully drawn bow, notched with arrow. Every head wore a helmet.
Dubb picked Lily up under one arm and made for a crevice in the rocks. Spying over Dubb’s shoulder, she watched Andros step over the bound man, pointing a wicked looking dagger directly at him. She gasped, but she couldn’t look away. Dubb and Andros locked eyes for an instant, and Lily thought she detected a small nod between them. Deftly, Andros raked the blade across Tavin’s bound body. Lily would have screamed with her next breath had Dubb not clamped his hand over her mouth. “It’s all right,” Dubb hissed.
The ropes holding Tavin’s limbs fell loose. Andros lifted him to his feet as if he were a child. Next, Andros made a fist and spoke a word. With a bright flash, an envelope of vivid detail bloomed around his whole body. He drew an enormous sword.
Darkness! thought Lily. Andros has the moon ring of Barreth!
Tavin pulled the gag down below his chin, revealing a wild, toothy grin.
“Dragon!” he breathed, his eyes darting about madly. Tavin took a moment to massage his wrists and forearms. He didn’t seem the least bit hurried, nor the least bit afraid. Indeed, as he adjusted his armor and boots, he began to whistle. When all was in order, he strolled away from the fire and into an area that might once have served as a great hall. He stood facing a long curving wall made up of grand arches that the firelight refused to penetrate.
Tavin cupped his hands to his mouth. “Here, dragon-dragon-dragon!” he yelled.
Lily stared in amazement. Well, that was bold, she thought, and stupid.
Dubb whispered in Lily’s ear, “I’m going to take my hand away. Can you keep from crying out?”
Lily nodded, and Dubb let his hand fall.
“What’s wrong with him?” she whispered.
“Yoooooo hooooooo!” Tavin teased. “Here, dragon-dragon-dragon!”
“Listen—” began Dubb.
With a sound of ringing steel, Tavin unsheathed his sword and held it high above his head. Suddenly, the night’s chill air filled with an equally chill metallic voice, high-pitched and full of glee.
“Kill it! Kill it! Kill the filthy beast!”
At first, Lily thought Tavin had changed his voice, because the sound came from where he stood. But Tavin was still calling the dragon as this second, unearthly voice rang out and shouted over him.
Dubb took Lily by the shoulders and shifted her behind him, pushing her deeper into the crevice. She could tell he was trying to be gentle, but his fingers were like vises. Dubb looked at her intently. “That’s my cue. Listen now, make sure you—”
His face froze. The blanket that Quib had wrapped so tightly around Lily’s shoulders had loosened and slipped down enough to reveal a bit of the golden necklace. With the sudden speed of an animal, before Lily could react, Dubb snatched the bit of exposed necklace and pulled out the pendant.
“By the grace of the moons!” he gasped.
Lily recovered her wits quickly and snatched back the pendant.
“Well,” said Dubb, “aren’t we full of surprises.”
A dragon bellowed then, and Lily felt her skin turn to goose flesh. Dubb’s eyes darted to the campground, but returned to Lily. “Stay here until someone comes to get you,” he commanded. And then, even more forcefully, “Do you understand me?”
Lily nodded.
“Good girl!” he said. “And keep that necklace out of sight.”
As he stepped away from the crag, Lily watched his face break into a fierce and terrible smile. She would see it many more times—a look fierce, terrible, and . . . happy. It was the face they all wore when going into battle, or whenever they faced death. The sight of it never failed to make Lily take a step backward, as though sighting some dangerous and unpredictable animal.
Speaking through the smile, Dubb said, “Let us hope this dragon has not yet acquired its breath,” and then he was gone, disappearing into the rocks and shadows.
Lily leaned forward to get a better look, but Dubb had vanished. Tavin, however, stood right out in the open, still calling for the dragon, whose thudding footsteps were loud and clear.
Across the way, not far from Tavin, Lily watched someone lean out of a shadow to toss him a large, heavy-looking shield. It was a good toss; Tavin needed only to reach out his free arm to catch it. But instead, as the shield neared him, he stepped aside and watched the shield drop into the dirt, looking at it as though he were uncertain as to its purpose.
“Pick it up!” urged a voice from the shadows.
Instead, Tavin took a step away from the shield and slowly began meandering, the sword extended before him shoulder-high, as though feeling out the dragon’s location through the blade. His eyes were closed, and a playful smile graced his lips. While facing one of the dark arches he paused, but only for a second.
“It . . . is . . . there!” whined the metallic voice. “It has come to do battle with us!”
At these words, Boots, the man with the bow, stepped into the firelight and loosed an arrow toward where Tavin’s sword pointed. The arrow whistled off and disappeared through the arch. THUNK! An instant later the ground shook, as though a great mass had landed heavily. The dragon bellowed, and loose dirt and rock shifted among the broken walls and boulders.
Tavin swung his head around to see where the arrow had come from. He looked very displeased.
“My dragon!” he cried, his eyes wild. “Mine!”
&nb
sp; His back was still turned when the dragon’s huge reptilian head sprang through the arch. Its face was wide, angular, and heavily armored with thick green scales. Its jaw stretched open, exposing tall yellow teeth and a lively red tongue. The blue fletching of Boots’s arrow stood out brightly, embedded deep in the beast’s snout. Old broken arrow shafts dotted its face.
Tavin sprang into motion, running recklessly at the dragon’s open maw. Lily gasped and crept to the edge of her crevice. The dragon’s long neck uncoiled like a spring, and for a moment, it looked as though Tavin would be swallowed whole. At the last possible second, however, he leapt sideways, landing lightly atop the ruins of an old wall running parallel to the dragon’s outstretched neck. At full speed, with daring leaps and jumps, Tavin ran the length of the wall—some parts were more like narrow stairs—right to the opening through which the dragon’s shoulders now strained. From here, Tavin buried his sword deep into the beast’s neck. The dragon bellowed in pain, coiling its long neck around for a bite at its tormentor. Tavin ducked under a crumbling stone dragoyle, all that remained of the majestic pair that had once flanked the arch. The dragon smashed into the dragoyle, breaking off its remaining wing and snapping off its stone head and upraised foreclaw.
As if this had been his plan from the beginning, Tavin lunged from his hiding place and thrust his long sword deep into the surprised dragon’s left eye. The howl that followed was the loudest and most terrible thing Lily had ever heard, even worse than the roar of a Rinn.
Out of the shadows poured Dubb’s warriors, heaving nets, spears, and throwing axes. From their belts they produced iron hammers and spikes, and quickly secured the loose ends of the nets, hammering them into the earth or lashing them around nearby boulders.
Boots, who had not paused once since his first shot, moved in closer now, expertly loosing his arrows with deadly accuracy towards the dragon’s one remaining good eye, which it kept shut tight—rendering it no less blind than if the eye had been lost. The dragon roared in pain, shaking its head, and attempted to retreat, but the nets held. Dubb shouted something, and his troops advanced with everything they had: spear, sword, and axe. The wounded dragon let out a long roar, and then began to inhale, making a sound at once both pitiful and terrible.