Dragon's Winter (34 page)

“Well, companions, we have come a long way together.” Soft as the words seemed, they carried easily to the second line. “It is no small feat, to have crossed the ice from Dragon Keep to Mitligund in five days, against the will of a wizard. Never will it be said that the warriors of Dragon’s country arrived late to a battle...”

“Now comes the harder task. I know I have your swords.” A dry twig skittered under Smoke’s hooves; he shied. Karadur’s gloved hands tightened on the reins. “Give me your heart’s pledge, that you will honor the covenant you heard me make. You must stand, and watch me fight, and not interfere, unless and until your captains otherwise instruct you.” He glanced at Lorimir. “Do I have your promise?”

They did not shout, or pound their shields. They nodded, and gripped the hilts of their swords. “Raudri, sound the Advance.” He turned Smoke’s head toward the light. Raudri, beside Lorimir, blew a light trill on the horn, and raised the dragon banner. In slow procession they crossed the torn, pitted land. The eagle soared above them. As they rode, the sky changed from pale grey to violet to mauve. The riders formed a half-circle facing the Citadel’s iron gate. Karadur took his helmet from Derry, and held it on his saddlebow. Raudri blew the Challenge.

The great gate groaned as it lifted. Gorthas sauntered forward. Shem, collared and chained, crouched at his heel. Six men stood at his back. One bore a pennant: the white spiral on a black field. Gorthas wore armor, and his cloak showed the same device.

“You are punctual, my lord. My master bids you welcome once again. He regrets that it will be necessary for you to die here.” He scanned the line of silent men. “I have a message for your company. My master bids me say: if any of you would live, lay down your arms, here, now, and kneel at his feet. He is merciful, he will spare your lives—except for the little traitor, Azil. He is
mine.
” The sky turned ivory- white. No one moved. Karadur lifted the helmet, and settled it on his head. A cloud of ravens rose screeching from the battlements. Sunlight brushed the Citadel’s spires.

A massive shape rose over the castle’s roof. Sable wings unfurled like silken sails. The underside of the wings glittered in the morning sun. Horned and fanged head arched in triumph, the great beast flung itself into the sky. Its talons shone like razored steel. It was twenty-five feet from great fanged head to whiplike tail.

It hurtled toward the man on the black horse. Despite all discipline, the horses fought their bits and plunged in terror. “Mother of us all. A dragon!” said Lorimir. Wheeling Smoke swiftly from the path of the dragon’s deadly dive, Karadur drew his sword, and swung at the slicing claw. The dragon soared evasively into the sky, and drove downward. Its black, faceted eyes, big as a man’s fist, glowed with a pulsing, alien light.

Again Karadur guided Smoke out of its path, slashing at the dragon’s forelegs with the long, sharp sword. On the third advance, the dragon bellowed. An icy liquid spattered from the sky. It burned what it touched, like acid. The dragon circled like a wrestler looking for an opening. Again it dived, and again retreated from Karadur’s slashing blade. It swooped again. Smoke reared, whinnying wildly in pain. The dragon’s trailing claw had laid the horse open from flank to tail. Karadur leaped from the gelding’s back. The tip of the dragon’s talon snatched his sword from his grasp and sent it spinning across the pebbly ground.

Herugin seized Smoke’s trailing reins. Edruyn scooped the sword from the dirt. Whirling, Karadur held out his gloved hand. “Rogys!” Darting forward, Rogys slapped his spear into Karadur’s palm as a runner passes the baton.

Like spectators at a race, the soldiers cheered. Screaming fury, the dragon drove downward, talons spread to hold and rend. Bracing himself against the immense weight, Karadur thrust upward with the long spear into a soft place between foreleg and body. Tearing free, the beast climbed upward again. Its left foreleg hung freakishly. White blood dripped from the wound. It circled, then pounced. Karadur slipped the oustretched talons with astonishing speed and slashed at the dragon’s wing. The damaged membrane folded on itself. The dragon shrieked, and fell to earth. It landed toadlike on three legs, great muscles bunching. Opening its black mouth, it howled in rage. A fetid smoke spilled from its throat. It leaped forward, slashing at the dragon-lord with its fangs. He slipped the blow and swung the spear. The scales turned it. The beast snapped at him, and again he stabbed at the neck. This time the blow connected, driving deeply into the dragon’s flesh.

The beast shuddered and yowled. Its eyes closed spasmodically. Karadur hurled himself upward. Like a giant cat, he swarmed up the dragon’s scaly side and landed just behind the great arched head. His dagger blurred as he drove it to the hilt in the dragon’s throat.

Pale blood sprayed into the sun. He wrenched the dagger out and struck a second, and a third time. The horned, obsidian head tossed and twisted in agony. The long body fell, shuddering. Soldiers yanked their horses out of the path of the lashing tail.

Karadur leaped to the ground, bringing the spear with him. He waited, weapon poised. The dragon’s spiny tail twitched. A shiver rolled along the twenty-foot frame. Then the dragon’s body quivered, split, and opened like the unfurling halves of a chrysalis.

A great white worm uncoiled from the carrion reek. It flung itself across the dragon’s body, fangs snapping at the dragon-lord. Karadur met the charge with a blow from a mailed fist. The worm recoiled, then lunged again, and this time the fangs bit a tearing wound in Karadur’s right forearm. Blood streamed down his sleeve. The worm hissed like an adder.

Lorimir said quietly, “Archers. Take aim.”

Forty archers swung their bows up. The barbs glittered in the sunlight. Herugin, at Lorimir’s elbow, said hoarsely, “Captain. Don’t do it.”

Lorimir said, “Would you let him die?” The worm whipped its body forward again. Karadur stepped back. As the great ringed trunk extended, he brought the razor-sharp spearhead slashing across its tender belly, and in the same strike brought it over his head and down in a terrible lunge. It speared the worm through. Karadur leaned into the spear. Venom smoked along the worm’s ivory fangs; it thrashed and bit the air. Blood, pale as the dragon’s blood had been, trickled from the gaping wound.

Then the worm’s glistening integument seemed to peel away in translucent, papery sheets. Impaled by the spear, a fair-haired man, gasping in pain, lay on the stony ground.

Karadur took off his helmet His hair was soaked with sweat. He knelt. Tenjiro’s face was ravaged with pain. He lifted a feeble hand to grasp the shaft of the
spear.

“Kaji. Pull it out.”

Karadur said, “If I do, you’ll die.”

The gaunt face twisted. “No. I won’t die. He will not let me. You will see. Pull it out.”

“No.”

The ravaged face changed. Like an empty jar into which water is poured, it filled with malice. Hollow, inhuman eyes glared into Karadur’s.

“Curse you, then, Dragon brother. May your victory turn to ash and dust.” The reaching hand clawed for the dragon-lord’s throat. “You will never be free of me. My spirit will live, it will follow you, and doom you. I promise it.”

Karadur said, “Your threats are empty, Ankoku. When this body dies, you shall sleep.”

Again, Tenjiro Atani’s voice whispered, “Pull it out. Pull out the spear.”

“No.” Karadur touched his brother’s drawn forehead with his gloved fingers. “Tenjo, it need not have been like this.”

“You lie. You always hated me. In the womb you tried to kill me.”

Karadur leaned forward, “Tell me where my talisman is.”

Tenjiro Atani smiled. “Ah. Can you beg for it, brother dear? No, I see that you cannot. It is hidden. You will never find it. Damn you, Kaji. I should have been lord of the realm. I should have been Dragon.” The emaciated body arched in pain. “Ah, it hurts!”

“You were dragon,” Karadur said softly. Something eased in the haggard, racked face. Karadur’s steel-mesh glove pulled back. They heard, rather than saw, the hammering blow.

The towers of the Citadel seemed to waver like smoke in the wind. A deep rushing wail arose from the stone. Gorthas and Shem were nowhere to be seen. The soldiers ranged before the gate looked stunned. Karadur wrenched the spear from the corpse. He stood, balancing it on his palms, then whirled, and flung the spear at them. They scattered.

“Kill them!” the dragon-lord said.

Forty archers released their arrows. The men died. The ground beneath the castle shook; stones tumbled from the quivering walls. The air boiled with dust. The portcullis creaked, then roared like a live thing, and fell, iron spikes digging deep into the ground.

Karadur, head bent, stood over the body of his brother. Herugin raced to him. “My lord,” he said, “we must go. The castle is falling.”

Karadur said, unmoving, “I know. But we must take him with us.”

The castle’s south wall tottered. Herugin said, “There is no time.” Karadur seemed oblivious. Herugin laid a hand on his lord’s shoulder. “My lord, the men will not move to safety unless you do.”

Karadur looked slowly up. Then he seemed to hear the words. The castle’s east wall rocked on its foundation. He took a step toward the line. Horn notes floated cold and clear in the golden morning. The Atani war band fell back, as the walls of the Black Citadel rocked and slid and crumbled into ruin. Armed men, and others, clad in rags, clawed wildly through falling stones to escape the destruction.

“My lord,” Herugin called, “do we spare them?”

The dragon-lord shook his head. “No!” Coldly, swiftly, Finle and Orm and Edruyn and Huw aimed and loosed their arrows.

Suddenly Lorimir shouted, “Hold arrows!”

A huge, bearded man in dark leather struggled coughing out of the dust. His arms were filled with a human burden. The bearded man picked his way through the slag-heaps toward them. His yellow eyes glowed fiercely through the ashen tangle of hair.

Huw spread a cloak on the ground. Macallan brushed the long dark hair back from Hawk’s face. Her face was discolored, lips bruised and swollen. Her right eye-socket was empty, and scored with fire.

Bear said, “I found her in a cage. I was looking for the wizard.”

The physician ran knowledgeable hands along Hawk’s right arm and side. She flinched, and grunted. He moved her head. She winced. “You were hit?”

“Yes.”

“Can you say how long ago?”

“Not sure. In cage.” Hawk’s left eye opened. “Wizard dead?”

“Yes,” Azil said. “Dragon killed him.”

Her mouth curved in a small smile. “Thirsty,” she said. “Water.”

“Give it to her,” said the physician. “Slowly.”

Bear cupped a careful hand under Hawk’s head. Azil Aumson pushed forward. He held a waterskin between his ungloved hands. He tilted the skin to Hawk’s swollen, dust- filmed lips. She sipped slowly. “How long were
you
in a cage?” she whispered.

“Three years.”

She closed her eye. “Shem. Saw him in the castle. Is he safe?”

“Hiding,” the singer said. “Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”

Macallan said, “That’s enough speech.” He slid back, just a little. Karadur knelt beside him. “The right elbow is smashed,” he murmured. “Arm broken. Two ribs cracked.”

The dragon-lord laid one gloved hand lightly on Hawk’s uninjured shoulder. “Who did this to you, hunter?”

“Gorthas.”

Soundlessly the white eagle glided from the sky and landed in the dust. It cocked its bird head, and then became the mage. She leaned on her staff.

Karadur rose. “Lorimir, set a guard around that castle. The gods alone know what is hidden in that place. But if a mouse runs from beneath those stones, I want to know of it.”

Lorimir said doubtfully, “There can be nothing alive in that desolation.” The dust swirled around the stones of the broken castle. Only the spire with the banner, unsupported by walls, remained unfallen.

“Then bring me the bodies of Gorthas and the child.”

“We will search the ruins for them.”

“Do it. Whatever the men find—buttons, old shoes, dry bones—I want it dragged into the light.”

“Tell them to take care,” said the mage. “There is old evil in this place. If they find any books, warn them not to open them, and if they come across an unbroken mirror, let them cover the glass with cloth before touching it.”

“And if they find a box, a small, cold, black box”—the dragon-lord framed it in both hands—”they are not to move it. Make sure they understand that.”

“I will,” Lorimir said firmly.

Karadur glanced at Hawk. “Macallan, what can you do for her?”

“Strap the ribs. Bind the arm. Salve the eye, and cover it. I would ordinarily give poppy, for the pain. But I am afraid, if she were to sleep, she might not wake. It can happen if the head is injured. It would be best if someone were to sit beside her, and keep watch.”

“I will stay with her,” Bear said.

“No,” Hawk said. “Don’t want you. You stay.” She caught Azil Aumson’s sleeve in her good hand.

With a loud crack, a piece of the standing spire broke from its place. Thick dust laddered the air. Delicate as a coiled rope falling out of the sky, the remainder of the tower closed slowly in upon itself, and crashed to the ground.