Authors: Joanne Bertin

Dragon and Phoenix (77 page)

BOOK: Dragon and Phoenix

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For that man was the focus of the magic that kept him here. But now Pirakos was going to mend that, *Ohyesohyes
ohyessss
.*

Maurynna followed as the dragon’s lumbering gallop turned into a clumsy, clanking run. This moving on four feet was trickier than she’d guessed it would be; if she thought about it, her feet tangled. So she kept it from her mind, concentrating instead on what she gleaned from Pirakos’s hate-filled memories, although much of it turned her stomach. She let that revulsion fuel her rage over how the dragon had been treated, and swarmed through the tunnel after him.

Amura stood with the other slaves, watching as the last of the procession disappeared into the tunnel. He slid a glance sideways at his friend and partner here in the slave camp, Chuchan the Dwarf.

Chuchan was doing the same. Their gazes met, worried. What if Shima and the northern girl—Maurynna—were still at the dragon’s prison? Would they be able to complete their mission? Or were they lost inside the mountain?

Thousands of questions and no answers.

So he stood in the sun, in a line with the others, baking as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky.

Wisps of a vile odor slipped past the heavy scent of the incense. Haoro nearly gagged; only steely determination kept him from clapping a hand to his nose. He would
not
show such weakness.

Others were not so strong of will. The chanting faltered. All around him came muffled gasps of, first surprise, then muffled choking. The sounds bounced off the stone and echoed around him like something from a bad dream.

Then a single determined voice rose above the others; at first it quavered, but moment by moment it grew stronger. As if it were a call to arms, the other voices rallied and once more the hymns that he’d waited so long to hear filled Haoro’s ears.

He let the sweet praise drive away all apprehension.

The feel of moving air grew stronger by the moment. Still hard on Pirakos’s tail, Maurynna craned her neck, hoping for a glimpse of daylight beyond the truedragon. She opened her mouth to draw in a huge draught of fresh air, heady as wine with the promise of freedom.

Augh! What was
that?
Something tickled the back of her throat, some kind of smoke, she thought, but sweet. She stopped, coughing. Pirakos rounded a curve in the tunnel and she lost sight of him.

Then the screaming began.

Haoro’s litter fell to the ground with such force that the air was knocked from his lungs. Gasping, and half-stunned from the fall, he saw legs running past him as he sprawled on the tunnel floor, and wondered what was happening. How
dare
these dogs ruin—

A sound of metal dragging across stone penetrated his mind. He looked up to see a huge mouth filled with long, sharp fangs diving at him.

“No! No!” Haoro shrieked, awakening at last to his doom. He tried to crawl away, but the feather cloak had twisted around his legs. “Noooo!”

The great jaws caught him; it seemed a thousand knives stabbed him—and stopped short of the mercy of death. As the dragon’s head came up, Haoro begged and pleaded and screamed for a quick death.

It was not granted.

Fifty-seven

Shima angled his wings and
veered. Something far below had caught his eye. It was not Pirakos, that he knew; but it still bore investigating.

Men—armed men. At least fifty, perhaps more, and riding for the pass into the valley beneath Mount Kajhenral.

Oh, Shashannu
—
why does the damned relief troop have to come
now!

He had to stop them before they reached the temple. Hoping that these soldiers had no arrows tipped with dragonsbane, Shima folded his wings and dove.

The sudden, shocking sounds made Maurynna fall back on her haunches. Dear gods, what—

A roar of triumph, then a voice bellowed in her mind,
*Now I have thee! I will rend thee limb from limb, truehuman filth! Now die!*
The last word skree-led in her head like a paean of hate.

Maurynna raced around the bend in the tunnel. The horrific sight before her brought her to a stunned halt.

Broken figures lay strewn across the tunnel floor. For a moment, Maurynna couldn’t believe these had once been human. Surely these were just toys smashed and torn apart by a deranged child in a tantrum. Weren’t they?

Please don’t let it be real … .
Her mind retreated from the carnage before her.

Then the hot scent of fresh blood assailed her nostrils, clearing her head like a whiff of burning vinegar, and once more she heard the screams. There were far fewer voices now to cry out. She raised her head and saw Pirakos stopped ahead of her. Beyond him, she caught a glimpse of daylight. A rumbling, chest-deep growl brought her eyes back to Pirakos.

The truedragon’s long neck whipped back and forth, and there was something clutched in his mouth. He looked for all the world like a puppy playing with a rag doll. But rag dolls didn’t shriek like damned souls and wave their arms.

A flutter of gold caught Maurynna’s eye, and she recognized the cloak of feathers that had garbed the hated figure in Pirakos’s ravings.

Then came a wet, muffled crunch. Blood ran down the truedragon’s jaws; the rag doll went limp. With a howl of triumph, Pirakos cast it aside.

What had once been a man wearing a cloak of sun-colored feathers slammed into the wall and slid down it, to become a crumpled pile of offal.

Talons closed on it, swept it up and threw it to land against the other wall, again and again and again, Pirakos jumping from one side to the other to scoop up the body and throw it.

Maurynna wondered if a dragon could be sick to its stomach. If she watched much longer, she would find out. Besides, there was that glimpse of daylight she’d seen before; if she could edge past Pirakos … .

No. He was too big, filled up too much of the tunnel, even without the mad leaping from side to side as he batted the dead man about; now he looked like a cat playing with a dead mouse. Frustrated, Maurynna looked once more at the daylight beckoning to her.

There was less of it.

For a moment, Maurynna couldn’t understand what was happening. Then she knew.

Pirakos! They’re closing the doors! We’ll be trapped in here—

Forever.

“What’s that?” Chuchan dared whisper.

Amura woke from the standing half doze every slave learned. He immediately glanced at the soldiers near them, ready to throw up an arm to ward off a blow.

Was Chuchan mad? He knew better than to—

But the soldiers ignored Chuchan’s transgression. Instead, every soldier’s attention was focused, as well as Amura could tell, on the entrance to the tunnel. Uneasy looks passed between them.

Amura shuffled a little closer. The soldiers ignored that, as well. He listened so intently it felt like his ears were growing as long as a Jehangli donkey’s. Yet he heard nothing, nothing at—

Wait! That was a scream; it had to be. No chant he’d ever heard held such panic, such … terror … in it.

By all the Spirits, what was happening in there? And where were Shima and the northern girl in all this?

More screams; this time there was no doubt what they were. Then came a low, rumbling growl that sang of death. Amura felt the hair on his arms rise.

“Close the doors!” the sergeant of the door guards yelled. “For the sake of the Phoenix, close the damned doors!”

Even as he spoke, he rushed to the enormous door panel closest to him and tugged frantically, futilely upon it. It was far too large and heavy for a single
man to move. After an instant’s paralyzed surprise, his remaining men ran to help him. Even those guarding the slaves forgot their charges and threw themselves upon the door.

At first, nothing happened. But with panic came inhuman strength. The doors began to move, infinitesimally at first, then more and more. The men pushed and shoved, cursing the weight; the doors moved ponderously upon their hinges. Soon only a gap the length of a man’s arm from elbow to fingertips remained; then only the width of a man’s hand. Men ran to fetch the massive crossbar that would seal the doors forever if need be.

Amura held his breath. Did he wish them luck or wish them to hell? In a matter of heartbeats it would be all over; the crossbar was in position … it was almost home … .

Then the doors burst open once more with a violence that tore one portal from its hinges, and nightmare incarnate burst through them with a hideous roar.

The soldiers had seen him; so much for his chances of landing and surprising them. Not that Shima had had any real hope that something as large as he was now would go unnoticed. He heard shouts of surprise, fear, disbelief; perhaps they would run? He could always hope.

But no—the commander shouted orders, rallying his men. They would stand and fight, and Shima knew he must face them.

Wait; the
men
might stand and fight … . If he could have smiled in this form, Shima’s grin would have well-nigh split his face in two.

Yes, the men might stand—but the horses certainly wouldn’t. Shima waited until he was just beyond the range of the powerful bows, and roared as he passed overhead.

Green fire sparkled and flashed in the harsh sunlight. Amura stood like a man bespelled as a huge creature hurtled through the open portal, the sun glinting off its scaled hide. As it cleared the doorway, great wings unfurled as if to soak in every bit of sunlight possible. The soldiers unlucky enough to be close by fell beneath its taloned forefeet and snapping jaws. Their more fortunate comrades ran and hid. The dragon ignored them.

So
this
was one of the northern dragons his aunt had spoken of! Who could have dreamed of such terrible beauty? Maurynna had seemed such a quiet girl. All around him men hurled themselves to the ground; Amura remained standing, transfixed by the sight before him.

The scaled head stretched up to the sun, eyes almost shut as if the bright light burned them. Jaws stained with blood opened; a high keening filled the air.

“Get down, you fool!” Chuchan whispered, and an arm across the back of his knees brought him down. “Do you want to get eaten?”

Amura rolled onto his stomach and behind the rock Chuchan crouched behind. “Maurynna wouldn’t—”

“Dolt! Look again. That’s not the northern girl. This beast wears shackles.”

Shaken, Amura did as the dwarf bade. By the Spirits, Chuchan was right! This, then, was the dragon that had been chained beneath the mountain for untold lives of men.

So Maurynna and Shima had succeeded. But where were they?

Concerned, he stuck his head above the rock to look for them—and found himself staring into a red eye gleaming with bloodlust. The big head swung toward him and the great jaws opened.

It worked even better than Shima had hoped. Horses raced in every direction, their riders either dumped unceremoniously in the dirt, or clinging desperately to their saddles. As he’d thought, the horses had more sense than their riders.
They
had no intention of becoming dinner.

A fine sight indeed, Shima thought, laughing to himself. Then he sobered again, and flew back toward Mount Kajhenral.

Damn
Pirakos! He had paused just outside the wretched doorway, blocking her. Maurynna snarled deep in her chest; she wanted to see the sky once more, and she wanted to see it
now
. She’d had more than enough of these cursed tunnels; even now there still came faint mewling cries behind her that caused both hackles and gorge to rise. She tried to mindcall the other dragon, but he was so stunned by his sudden freedom that she couldn’t reach him. Nothing for it but to shove Pirakos out of her way.

She backed up, then lowered her head like a bull.

There was the temple. But what was this? Priests streamed forth from the buildings like ants from a disturbed hill. Shima watched from high overhead as they ran for the narrow road that led to the valley.

Amura’s blood ran cold. This was a death he’d never imagined, and he was too paralyzed with fright to even attempt escape.

Not that there was really any place to hide on this barren slope, besides a few stray boulders.

He only hoped it would be quick. Suddenly the dragon roared, nearly deafening him. Now it would strike—

But no; instead it jumped and slewed around quick as a snake, turning upon …

Another dragon that had charged from the tunnel and run into it from behind. Amura rubbed his eyes.

The second, smaller dragon shone like a peacock’s tail in the sun, all iridescent blues and greens. This, then, was the girl he’d led to the tunnels. Now she was completely in the open and facing the shackled dragon—a dragon that was larger, stronger, more experienced … and mad. He watched the larger dragon’s head snap back as it made ready to strike.

Linden no longer needed the mysterious mindvoice’s guidance. For miles now, he had felt the power ahead pulling at him like a lodestone, magic calling to magic.

And now it was below him. He circled over a magnificent structure arranged in a square around a huge central courtyard of white marble paths and gardens. Within that courtyard, in the exact center, sparkled a column of white quartz, the height of two men, stretching up to the sky. With a scream of rage, Linden dove at it.

At the sound, small figures wearing saffron robes spilled out from the temple, looking all around. At last one looked up; with his sharp dragonsight, Linden saw the tiny figure pointing at him. Then all looked up.

He roared again, and spat forth a long gout of fire to warn them. Now he was close enough to hear shrieks, and the priests ran in panic. None, he was certain, would stand against him.

He landed and, letting the rage that burned deep within him—Rathan, his dragonsoul’s rage—fuel his strength, Linden wrapped his tail around the column and heaved.

It came free. Though it was heavy, he flung it into the columns that supported the roof of the walkway around the courtyard. The roof collapsed, burying the stone under a pile of rubble.

Then Linden leaped into the air, knowing where he must go next.

It was silly what irrelevant detail could catch your attention when you faced death, a detached part of Maurynna’s mind observed. The hot dust stirred up underfoot tickled her nose, just as the dust in the riding arena did during the practice bouts. She wanted to sneeze.

With the dust came a memory:
If your opponent has the longer reach, get inside it if you can
.

Before Pirakos could strike, Maurynna sprang forward, snapping at his throat. She missed—just barely—as he scrambled back.

Pirakos snarled and sprang into the air. Startled, Maurynna hesitated, losing her chance to stop him.

*Thee will not again prevent me from slaying truehumans
.* With the taunt
came an underlying image of city after city bursting into flames.
*I will cleanse this la—*

He stopped in mid-word. His wings beating furiously to hold him in place in the air, Pirakos cocked his head as if listening to someone else.

This was her chance. Despite knowing she had no more likelihood of stopping Pirakos than a kitten had of stopping a snow cat, Maurynna took wing, straining to close the distance.

A roar as sudden and loud as a clap of thunder surprised her so much that she ducked and almost forgot to fly. A thought raced across her mind: Pirakos had seen her and was attacking.

But when she looked, the green dragon paid her no attention. Instead, he still listened to a voice only he could hear. His eyes glowed with excitement.

If that wasn’t Pirakos, then who
—
?

*The first stone falls—I feel it!*
Pirakos howled in her mind with mad glee.
*I go
—
I go!
*

BOOK: Dragon and Phoenix

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