Dragonfire (6 page)

As if the essence of evil itself surrounded and embraced him, he unleashed a torrent of hate. The
very people who had hailed Dahl’s birth now became enraged and clamored for his death. It was only by a miracle that I managed to save him and escape. All that we who loved Dahl could do was put him out of reach of the evil ones until he was old enough to return and fight for his rightful heritage.”

The fire had burned itself into embers. The Protector’s face was lost now in the darkness.

“Until several days ago he was safe,” he went on. “How they found him, I know not, but I recognized their messenger. I tried to hunt him down, but he eluded me. I knew then that the time had come to return.”

“What about the child who was put in Dahl’s place?” Catryn asked. She leaned toward the Protector and stared at him fiercely.

“No one knows who he is, nor whence he came, but a devil child he was, and a devil ruler he has become.”

“And you,” Catryn said. She sank back down, wonder in her voice now. “All these years you have been Dahl’s mentor. Teaching him. Preparing him. And I knew it not.” She turned her eyes upon Dahl. “I knew only there was something different about you. Something that drew me to you…”

Dahl looked away. He could not meet that steady gaze. What would Catryn think of him if she knew how he really felt? If she knew the fear that ate at him more and more hungrily?

The fire hissed and came briefly to life again. The Protector’s eyes glittered suddenly in the renewed light. He drew his cloak close around him and sank into its folds.

“Today I spied and eavesdropped all I could. I have heard and seen such misery—it is far worse than I had feared. Even though it is sooner than we had planned, perhaps it is well that we have returned now. If we had waited longer, it might have been too late.”

It might already be too late, Dahl thought, if it rests upon me to remedy this. He stared into the blackness of the surrounding trees.

He slept only fitfully that night.

“We have far to go today,” the Protector said after they had broken their fast the next morning and packed up the camp. “The way ahead grows yet more dangerous. The trail drops into another narrow valley where the woods rise close on both sides. We draw nearer to the realm of the Usurper, and his power grows stronger with every step we take.”

Dahl felt suddenly cold despite the heat of the rising sun. He looked quickly at Catryn. She turned to make a great show of seeing to the horse. If she
were frightened, too, she was not going to let him see it.

“…There are things…” the Protector continued, breaking into Dahl’s thoughts.

Dahl glanced up sharply as the Protector’s voice faltered. He had never heard the Protector speak with less than complete assurance.

The Protector began again, seeming to search for words. “You will see things,” he said slowly. “You must not heed them. They will harm you only if you allow them to. I will be on watch from above. I will aid when I can, but you must keep to the path. Above all, do not leave it, no matter what you see or hear. As long as you do not stray, no matter what threatens, you should be safe.”

“What things?” Fear put an edge in Dahl’s voice. “Tell us of what you speak, that we may be prepared.”

“I cannot. I know not what shapes they will assume—how they will attack. Evil is cunning. Evil assails each man or woman according to his or her own weakness. You must find your own defense.”

“How can we defend ourselves when we have no knowledge of these things?” Dahl’s voice rose. “I thought you would protect us.”

“I do what I can, but it is as I have taught you, Dahl. It is you who will save Taun, or Taun will not be saved.”

The horse neighed softly.

Before Dahl could protest further, the Protector spread his arms wide. His cloak flared out around him, and the air shifted. Where he had been standing, a hawk hung once again, motionless in the air. Then, with a thrust of its mighty wings, the bird wheeled and shot up into the lightening sky.

Dahl watched until it disappeared beyond the treetops. When he turned around, it was to discover that Catryn had already mounted the horse, with the aid of a large boulder to step on, and her hood was pulled low over her face.

“Shall we go, Dahl?” she asked. Without waiting for his answer, she urged the horse on. Dahl had no choice but to follow.

At first nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Then, gradually, Dahl became aware of rustlings following their progress. He looked skyward nervously, but the hawk was nowhere to be seen. The trail became narrower and steeper, and the trees rose on either side to create a tunnel. The horse seemed skittish, and shied once or twice for no apparent reason. Dahl held the halter closely. He heard Catryn speaking to the animal in low tones.

They met no one. They continued on in an eerie,
hollow silence. The horse’s hooves lifted and fell, but made no sound. Even the wind seemed to die. There was nothing to be seen either ahead or behind them, except the tree-shrouded path. No way to judge how far they had come. No way to judge even if they were advancing. Panic nibbled at the edges of Dahl’s thoughts. What if they weren’t going anywhere? What if the evil had them in its thrall already, without their knowledge, and was keeping them in one place—giving them only the illusion of movement? He looked again, futilely, for the hawk, but, except for the narrow band directly over them, he could no longer see even the sky.

Catryn must have been having some of the same feelings. Her voice broke the quiet; it was so hushed it only made the silence seem all the greater.

“How long do you think this will continue?” she asked.

“I know not,” Dahl answered.

“Do you hear anything?”

Dahl looked back at her quickly. There had been a quaver in her voice.

“I hear silence. But behind that—rustlings. I thought I was imagining them.” He could not refrain from asking, “And you?”

“I hear whisperings. I, too, thought I imagined them, but then I heard my name…” Her fingers grasped the horse’s reins with such force that her knuckles turned white.

Another rustling. Beside him. Dahl’s head swiveled toward it, but there was nothing there. He forced himself to take yet one more step forward, then another.

You will see things,
the Protector had warned them.
Hear things. You must not heed them.
But how could he not? The sense of danger all around him was overwhelming. The horse was sweating now, sidestepping and dancing nervously, but still its hooves made no noise. It took strength to hold it in check despite Catryn’s murmurs of reassurance.

A black, wolf-like shape darted out of the shadows of the trees beside Dahl. The horse reared. Dahl lost his grip on the halter. Catryn cried out and dropped the reins, then grabbed the horse’s mane as it plunged and pawed the air with its powerful forelegs.

Dahl snatched at the dangling leather strap. Before he could secure it, yet another shape flew by him. It passed him so closely that he felt the wind of its charge. There was an impression of ivory fangs, crazed eyes, then a host of the devil-beasts swarmed toward him. He whirled to face them, fear rising like sickness out of his belly, but they disappeared, blacker than black against the darkness of the forest into which they melted.

The horse calmed, but shuddered. Catryn reached for the reins again, then suddenly screamed and covered her ears with her hands.

“No!” Her cry pierced through the dead-again stillness of the air. “Call me not! I will not come!” Before Dahl had time to realize what she intended, she slipped off the horse. For a moment she stood, staring at the woods. “I will not come!” she cried again, but even as she uttered the words, she stumbled away from the horse, off the path, toward the trees.

“Catryn! Leave not the path!” Dahl threw himself at her. Together, they fell at the very edge of the trees. As he struggled with her, the narrow beam of sunlight that shone above them was blotted out. A shadow fell over them. The air was suddenly heavy and rank with a foul stink that was instantly familiar to Dahl. A ponderous, hissing noise filled his ears.

Wings, monstrous beyond all imagining, beat the air above them with a noise as of thunder. There was an impression of an immense black-green scaled body overhead, and then, as the beast banked in the air and rose sharply above the trees, Dahl saw it clearly. The dragon out of all the stories he had ever heard bore down upon them. Its eyes blazed as they fastened onto Dahl. The cavernous mouth opened to a gleam of teeth as long as curved swords.

Suddenly, the hawk was there. Above the beast, it hovered motionless, wings spread wide, then it dove. It plummeted down past the dragon, checked its stoop, and swung upward toward the beast’s eyes. The dragon, fixed on Dahl, did not see it.
Dahl’s heart leaped with a momentary hope, but, as if sensing the danger, the monster’s gaze shifted. He saw the hawk hurtling toward him. A roar issued forth from its open mouth—a sheet of flame. The hawk’s feathers blazed for an instant, then, where the bird had been, there was nothing.

Dahl felt his very soul shrivel with horror. He lay rooted to the spot, staring up at the impossible terror above him. A trumpeting neigh sounded. He looked back to see the horse challenging the beast. Its hooves flashed as it reared, and yet another shriek of defiance rent the air. The dragon swept past, and roared in reply. The horse veered toward Dahl and Catryn and galloped to them, stopping in front of them in a spray of flying dirt. Its head lowered, one front hoof pawed the ground furiously. Dahl sprang to his feet. The shadow of the dragon swept back toward them, and at the same moment Dahl felt the obscene touch of slimy fur as yet another black shape flowed by him. Catryn crouched beside him, her hands covering her ears. She seemed in her own world, her eyes unseeing, blind to what was happening around them.

The horse neighed, a trumpeting, insistent call. It tossed its head high and reared again, hooves pawing the air as if seeking freedom from the earth beneath them. It shuddered. Its massive, misshapen shoulders heaved. As Dahl watched, the deformed lumps swelled. The skin stretched and rolled as if
something were striving to be born beneath them, and finally parted. Feathers appeared, slick and greasy with moisture as they forced their way out, indistinct at first, but growing larger and stronger with each second. With a last, tremendous heave, the horse shook out two mighty wings, the color of smoke itself. The feathers dried on the instant and flared as the horse gave a first, tentative wing beat. The animal looked again at Dahl and tossed its head. This time the command was unmistakable.

Dahl grabbed Catryn and dragged her back to the safety of the path, still unresistant and unaware of the real danger bearing down on them.

“Stay here,” he cried. “Do not move, no matter what happens!” Without waiting to see if she had understood, he threw off his cloak, clutched the horse’s reins, and swung himself up on the animal’s back. His knees found a hold beneath the roots of the wings as naturally as if they had been practicing that movement all of his life.

As the stink of the dragon creature overwhelmed them again, Dahl reached back and drew his sword. The horse’s wings beat strongly once, as if testing themselves, then once again more surely. They surged into the air.

As the horse wheeled upward, the dragonfire, released at last, burst forth from its eyes and raced to meet the dragonfire that was bearing down upon them.

The dark form hurtled toward Dahl, blotting out the sun and the sky. The flames, still hungry, reached for him. Dahl made a grab for the horse’s mane as it wheeled, high above the forest below, and came up above and behind the dragon. For a moment the monster hung motionless in the air, its head swinging back and forth as if searching for its prey. It roared again, furious at having been tricked. Dahl drew in a deep breath. He forced his hand to tighten on the sword’s hilt. In the wild instant when the horse had wheeled away, Dahl had seen what
might be the dragon’s only weak spot. Under the massive jaw was one small place not covered by scales. If he could thrust there with his sword…It was an impossible hope, but it was the only one.

The horse seemed to sense Dahl’s thoughts. Before the dragon could locate them, it flew down and under the monster. Dahl grasped his sword and made ready, but the dragon saw him at the last moment. It, too, wheeled and twisted.

Too late! Dahl tried to stop his lunge, but his sword hit the scaly neck and bounced back off. The shock of the blow nearly tore the weapon from his hand. Pain shot up through his arm, into his shoulder. The horse wheeled again, trying once more to get above the dragon and behind it. The dragon was not to be fooled this time, however. With a dexterity hardly to be believed in such an enormous beast, it swung its body and its long tail around in a tight circle, and Dahl found himself once more facing those blazing eyes. The maw opened, and a wave of fetid air hit him like a wall.

Dahl braced himself for the final blast of fire, but again the horse evaded it. It folded its wings suddenly and dropped. The flames passed over them, so close Dahl smelled singed hair. A searing pain burned across his right cheek. He screamed. Then, in the midst of his agony, he heard another scream echo his own.

This time the horse did not circle, but unfolded
its wings and rose up—straight at the dragon. Through a haze of fire and smoke, for the briefest of instants, Dahl saw the dragon’s weak spot within reach.

Now! he thought. It’s my only chance. He grimaced with pain, but drew back his sword arm and, with a mighty effort, summoned up the strength to make one last desperate thrust. The blade struck true. It sank deep into the beast. As Dahl pulled back, blood spewed, steaming, out of the wound, foaming and black.

The dragon shrieked. The air around them seemed to reverberate with the sound. The horse checked its flight and turned sharply, but not quickly enough. In its dying agonies the dragon lashed out and slashed the animal across the neck with one razor-sharp talon. Dahl felt the horse quiver beneath him. He tensed, prepared for another attack, but the dragon faltered, wings thundering through the air with an uneven beat. Then the wings ceased their movement altogether. The dragon writhed. Flaming blood spewed from its mouth and poured in molten gobbets onto the trees below. One final scream of fury rent the skies, then the body fell. Turning over and over, slowly, with a kind of evil majesty, it plunged into the heart of the forest beneath them. A plume of inky smoke shot into the air. The trees closed over their prize. The sudden silence was shocking. There was no sign of
the fallen dragon at all. It was as if it had never existed.

Dahl gripped the mane of the horse and stared down at the spot where the beast had disappeared, unable to believe what had happened. He had killed it! He and the horse. But as he looked, the trees below began to swim up toward him. Instinctively, he grasped more tightly onto the horse and let his head fall onto the animal’s neck, fighting the dizziness that threatened to overcome him. The horse’s wings faltered. The next instant they were plunging to earth, the horse’s neck and shoulder streaming blood.

Dahl was thrown hard as the horse landed. The horse itself staggered, sank onto its forelegs, then managed to regain its feet. It stood, sides heaving, blowing heavily. Dahl shook his head to clear it. A wave of pain coursed across the right side of his face. Blackness overwhelmed him. Then, suddenly, a mirror vision of his own face arose in his mind, the dragon’s brand scarlet down its left cheek, burning with the same newness that flamed on Dahl’s own face. It was his face, but not his face. The fury leaping out from it was more than he had ever felt. More than he could ever imagine.

The Usurper had gained entrance to his mind yet again. But even as Dahl realized this, he realized something else as well.

When I was wounded, Dahl exulted, he was
wounded, too! He is not invincible. He, too, has his weaknesses.

“Dahl—you’re burned! And the horse…!” Catryn was at his side.

Dahl looked at the animal. Its head was down, blood poured from its wound. Its mighty wings trailed on the ground. The feathers were singed and blackened. Dahl’s exultation died. The horse was terribly injured. Then, with a rush of pain and despair, Dahl remembered the Protector—the hawk consumed by flames. He looked back at Catryn, unable to speak.

“Where is the Protector? We need his help.”

Catryn’s tone was desperate, but still Dahl couldn’t answer. He willed his mind to work, to think of something, but he was numb with shock. Was it over? Was everything finished? So soon? They had barely begun, but his Protector was dead; the horse, its incredible secret discovered only moments before, now mortally wounded. How could they possibly go on?

“Dahl? The Protector, where is he?”

“He is gone.”

“Gone? Gone where? Why has he left us now?”

“You did not see…The dragon…It killed him.”

“
Killed?
” Catryn stared back, eyes wide and filled with horror. “How can that be? What are we going to do?”

A rustle in the bushes beside Dahl sent needles of ice through him. Catryn no longer seemed to hear whatever it was that had been calling her, but the dark shapes that had tormented him—were they coming back? He put out a hand to warn Catryn.

“Hush! There is something…Do you not hear it?” He grasped the hilt of his sword tightly and whirled around to face the trees.

At first he saw nothing. No dark shapes whispered by. Then a bush moved. He tensed.

“What is it?” Catryn’s voice pierced the unnatural silence that had fallen around them once more.

The bush rustled again. A stirring spread through the bushes like ripples on a pond.

“Dahl!” Catryn moved quickly to stand beside him. The forest seemed to be coming alive as they watched.

Dahl’s heart, still hammering from the battle, began to pound even harder against his ribs. He fought against it for breath. Catryn grabbed for the nearest thing she could find. It was a sturdy branch, but it would be a useless weapon against the dangers of this hostile world.

A form suddenly appeared out of the brush in
front of them. Dahl stared unbelievingly. Almost human in appearance, but covered in shining, sleek blue-gray fur, the being advanced toward them. It was perfectly proportioned, even delicately built, but its head barely reached the level of Dahl’s waist.

“It would seem you might be in need of assistance,” it said calmly.

Before Dahl and Catryn could collect themselves sufficiently to answer, the bushes parted to reveal a multitude of other forms, all apparently identical to the first.

“We are the Sele. I am called Sele the Parent because I was the first of our race. You may sheathe your sword.”

Dumbly, Dahl did as he was bade.

The being turned to Catryn. “And you. Your branch. Please drop it. Weapons of any kind annoy us.”

She dropped it.

It turned again to Dahl. “That was a brave fight. You did well.”

“You…you saw it?” Dahl brought the words out with difficulty.

“Of course. It is our business to see everything that goes on in our country. Good and evil.”

“The dragon…” Dahl stammered.

“Ah, yes. Not a very large one, as dragons go, but a nuisance. We are not sorry that you have rid us of it.”

Dahl felt anger rise within him. The dragon who had killed the Protector, who had so sorely wounded the magical horse and who had so nearly killed him—so easily dismissed?

“You say this is your country. What do you mean?” The words came out with belligerence.

“We mean exactly what we say. We always do. It prevents confusion. This forest and the area just beyond it are ours. The Country of the Sele. We do not usually have visitors here. There are dangers here for those from outside. From time to time we do permit passage through, when we are asked. Your people begged our permission, although we warned them of the perils. It seemed that it was necessary. But you people, your minds betray you in this place. You bring your own horrors with you and then you cannot face them.”

“The animals that pursued me out of the darkness, the voice that called to Catryn…?”

“All your own creations. All let loose by you, yourselves. The animals—the embodiment of your own terrors and fears, perhaps, Dahl. The voice—could it have been the voice of one you fear, Catryn?”

The color drained from Catryn’s cheeks. Before she could answer, however, Dahl broke in.

“The Protector said it was the forces of evil that could attack us here,” he cried.

“And are you not evil then? Is there no evil in
you at all? When that force which is greater finds a lesser host waiting for it, can it not combine and twist it to its own purpose?”

“You don’t understand. I am not evil! It is the Usurper of Taun, he who now rules the city of Daunus—my city—who is the enemy. It is I who am to find and fight him. To conquer him!” All caution forgotten, the words were out of Dahl’s mouth before he could stop them.

“It is you who still do not understand, Dahl,” Sele the Parent said. “You have already found him, and he has already found you. But enough. Your horse needs urgent attention. And you, as well. You have not escaped from this encounter unmarked, I see.”

Dahl’s hand rose to touch his cheek. As he did so, the branded face, the mirror image of his own, flashed into his mind again.

The Sele turned to Catryn. “Lead the horse, Mistress, if you will. We will show you the way.”

“But it is my…” Dahl burst out.

The Sele regarded him quietly. “
Your
horse, I believe you were going to say? Because it took you to battle? A horse that carries dragonfire within it belongs to no one, Dahl. It belongs to itself, and it goes with whomsoever it chooses. With you to wage war, perhaps, but with the maid to wage peace, I think.”

The way seemed lighter, following the Sele. The multitude of other beings that had shown themselves disappeared back into the forest, but the continuous rustling of the bushes along their path told Dahl they were accompanied. This time, however, he felt no menace in it. There was something about the Sele that comforted him. He did not, now, even regret his outburst. The Sele were to be trusted. He knew it somehow, without understanding how he knew.

The horse faltered from time to time, but plodded resolutely on. It continued to bleed and grew obviously weaker. Catryn urged it forward and pressed wads of grasses to the wound to try to stanch the blood, but her efforts were to no avail. She had not spoken since they had begun to follow the Sele.

Dahl thought back on the Sele’s explanation of the horrors that had attacked Catryn and himself. Almost, he could believe that the obscene black beasts were his own terrors given shape. If his terrors could take form, that was exactly how he would have imagined them. But what about Catryn’s voice? Of whom was she so afraid? He would have asked, but watching her, seeing her face so white and pinched, he did not dare.

The sun was low in the sky, and the narrow trail had grown almost as dark as the forest around it, when they finally rounded a bend and the trees abruptly ended. Ahead of them stretched a meadow of tall, swaying grasses. Sele the Parent strode confidently into it and was immediately lost to sight, but Dahl could follow the creature by the moving path it made through the grass. By the time they reached the other side of the meadow, the horse was stumbling with every step and seemed to be on the point of dropping. Dahl was numb with fatigue and shock. Catryn, walking beside him, seemed too weary for speech. Dahl felt nothing more than relief when the Sele finally stopped at a clearing; he was beyond incredulity. The clearing was dotted, apparently at random, with small grass houses.

Sele the Parent reappeared. “You are so big,” it said. “We must build you a shelter of your own. You will not fit into one of ours. Sit here and rest while we do it. We will tend to the horse, as well.”

The Sele emerged from all sides. Two of them brought baskets filled with ointments and began cleaning the horse’s wound and rubbing medications into it. The blood stopped flowing almost immediately, but Sele the Parent did not seem satisfied. “It is sore wounded,” it said. “Dragons’ talons contain a fearsome poison.”

In the meantime, the other Sele, with a speed that seemed impossible, were erecting a hut identical to
theirs in all but size. Beside it, a shelter arose for the horse. As soon as both were completed, the Sele, talking softly among themselves in words that Dahl could not make out, disappeared into their own huts.

“You will need a fire,” Sele the Parent said. “We have no need of such a thing, but the night will be cool here for furless beings such as you. It will be for warmth only, though. We do not cook. We will provide you with food.”

The Sele who had been tending the horse led it into the now-completed shelter. With an exhalation of air that was almost a sigh, the animal buckled its forelegs and sank onto the ground, head stretched out. Its eyes—the dragonfire dimmed—stared blankly at the two brilliant stars now rising on the horizon. Its wings trailed limply in the dust beside it.

Catryn let out a cry of concern and would have thrown herself down to her knees beside it, but Sele the Parent restrained her.

“Rest now. We can do no more for the moment. You must eat and regain your strength.” It beckoned to yet another Sele, who approached, bearing a small jar. Sele the Parent took it from him and held it out to Dahl. “Rub this on your cheek. The brand will be on you for the rest of your life, I fear, and you might never be completely free of the pain of it, but this will ease it for a while.”