The Dragonswarm (18 page)

We tore through fields of waist-deep wheat at a dead run. I had to drop the wizard's sight to run, but I strained my ears. The first cry for help was not repeated, and I began to fear we would arrive too late. As fast as I was running, Caleb was already three paces ahead, and he was quickly pulling away from me.

Then a burst of light exploded before us, like a lightning strike in arm's reach, and I was blinded. A wash of heat rolled over us as Caleb roared wordless defiance, and I heard the slap of his boots on earth as he charged, but I could see nothing. My second sight confirmed my fears, though—the soul-stealing black of a dragon hid everything else from sight. Caleb was only visible by his motion, a lighter shade against that ancient darkness.

It took only seconds before I could see, but I didn't wait. I threw what threads of air I had around Caleb in a weightless robe, hoping it would give him some advantage. I saw the beast's long neck stab down, away, and while Caleb had the dragon's full attention, I darted around the other side.

Gradually the purple afterimage faded from my sight, and as soon as I could make out shapes I rushed forward and leaped high up on the monster's back. As I flew, the Chaos blade formed in my grip and I stabbed it hilt deep, heaved myself up, and drove a new blade in higher up. I drove at the monster again and again, aiming for the soft skin just in front of the hind legs while I climbed up toward its spine.

The dragon screamed in pain, a shriek that battered against the defenses I'd raised in my mind. But a heartbeat later the sound cut off. The body sagged beneath me, suddenly limp. I jumped clear without looking and landed in the midst of a blaze.

We had fought on packed earth—a wide wagon road that stretched north and south—but the fields of wheat grew right up to the road's edge, and the dragon's flame had caught in the grasses. I cried out in surprise more than pain, but in an instant I caught the threads of half an acre's worth of wildfire, reeled them in, and bound them to the earth at my feet. Between one breath and the next flames flashed out and darkness fell once again, held at bay only by the one bright little blaze at my feet.

Then I looked around. The shadowy mound of the dragon's motionless body was within arm's reach. I reached down and scooped up the tiny wildfire, holding it harmlessly in the palm of my hand. Then I raised it like a torch to look around.

The dragon's corpse wasn't whole. The neck ended about a pace from its shoulders. The rest of the neck and head lay cleanly severed two paces away, at Caleb's feet. I saw the greasy nothing of the dragon's power pooling around him—pouring toward him as it had done me when I killed Pazyarev's red before.

But the power didn't bleed into him. It didn't stain his hearth-hot blood. It bubbled and boiled and burned away around his feet, dissipating into nothing. He stood in the midst of the black vapor, entirely unaware, staring grimly down at the cooling corpse. He held the two-handed sword still extended before him, and as I approached he swung it warily in my direction, squinting against the unnatural light. Then he shook himself and lowered the blade.

"You lived. Good." His breath came heavy, but otherwise he seemed utterly calm as he tore up a handful of grass and scrubbed the dragon's blood from his blade. "That was...rewarding." He crossed to the heavy corpse and bent down, grabbing hold of two scales. Then he grunted and heaved upward on the dragon's bulk and shoved it backward with his shoulder. The whole body rolled back several inches. His broadswords were both buried to the guards in the dragon's breast. He pulled them free and examined the blades critically, then wiped them clean as well and sheathed them.

He nodded at me again. "Good work. Clean kill." He dusted his hands together, then clapped me on the shoulder as he passed, already heading back to our campsite. I let him get three paces before I said quietly to Caleb, "You've forgotten someone." I checked in my second sight, nearly stumbled on the even road, and switched back to the light from the dragon's flame. I needed only another dozen paces before the light revealed an open wagon, and a human form slumped against one wheel. The figure groaned as I walked over.

I left the little flame suspended in the air, just above head height, then bent to examine the man on the ground. He gave another coughing groan as I knelt before him, and while I was still looking for the stain of blood I realized the man was laughing.

"Did you see that?" he croaked. "Wind and rain, I've never in my life...big green bastard nearly had me for dinner, then the Islander came in like a shadow out of midnight."

I heard Caleb's footfall just behind me. "Who's this?" he asked.

"The one who yelled for help."

"Screamed for help!" the figure said. He grunted and pushed with an elbow and lifted himself up onto his knees. "Give me some room and I can probably stand."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Thanks to you and the shadow there. Strangest fight I've ever seen. He comes in screaming, and the dragon spins around to attack him. It rears up. It opens its maw and I thought for sure he was a dead man."

"It looked that way," Caleb said, utterly unconcerned.

"But then the monster just froze. It looked confused. Silliest damn thing I've ever seen."

"Haven's name," Caleb grumbled. "Who is this?"

"Jake," the figure said. "Finest turnips west of Whitefalls. And mighty obliged to you both. How did you do it?"

"Three paces of steel, judiciously applied," Caleb said. "It's easy when they don't fight back."

"I confounded it," I said, catching at Caleb's sleeve. "Just give me a moment next time."

"Oh, but thank you for your haste this first time," Jake said. "Otherwise I'd be broiled dry."

"Jake is strange," Caleb said from the other side of the wagon. "And now you should ask him why he called for help."

It seemed a senseless question, but instead of laughing, Jake suddenly went pale. He threw a nervous glance out into the night. He scanned the darkness for a moment, then turned back to me. "I was attacked."

Caleb said, "By men." It was not a question. He came around the wagon carrying a heavy crossbow bolt. He tossed it to me, then turned to Jake. "How many? Did they seem organized?"

Jake shook his head, "I wish I could say, but I didn't see a one of them. All I know is they were over that way." He pointed out over the fields to the west. "One o' them bolts smashed into the seat right next to me, and I screamed and jumped down on the other side o' the wagon. Then I hear a noise right above me, and I look up, and the whole world goes hot and yellow. Then along comes the heroes."

Caleb nodded, but his eyes were distant. After a moment he noticed I was watching him and nodded toward the wagon. "Go look at the other side." I did, and Jake followed one step behind me.

The wall of the wagon was a pincushion of dozens of heavy bolts. The driver's seat was just as heavily hit. There was no sign of the horse, though most of the harness lay in a mangled heap in the middle of the road.

Jake let out a low whistle. "Wind and rain."

Caleb grunted. "Has there been much activity around here?"

"Oh, aye!" Jake nodded vigorously. "They're always out at night, but not this close to town. I didn't expect anything, I can tell you that." He looked out over the fields again, wariness in his eyes. "You think they're still out there?"

Caleb looked to me for an answer, but I was still out of my depth. I glanced sideways at Jake, then gave a little shrug and asked, "Who?"

"Bandits!" Jake said.

"Organized," Caleb said. "The old rebels. They're building a power base along the marginal trade routes."

I thought of the long-ago attack on Tirah, and of Vechernyvetr's words as he offered to help me end the rebel siege around Teelevon. I thought of all the things I'd learned in his lair. "The dragons chafe at our organization," I said. "If there's any kind of power base forming, the dragons will assault it. I suspect that was this one's real goal."

Jake blinked. "It was trying to save me?"

"No," Caleb and I said at the same time. I nodded. "The dragons will kill everyone. They just kill the powerful first."

Jake paled. "Aha." He brushed absently at his shirtfront and looked around. "I uh...I seem to have lost the services of my cart and horse. And the night is full of surprises."

"We are headed to town. Would you like to travel with us?"

"As it happens, yes," Jake said seriously. Then he went to the bed of his wagon and began rustling through it in the dark. "And I'm sure you wouldn't mind shouldering a little load?"

Caleb grumbled something sarcastic, but I shot him a dark look to shut him up. "We would not mind at all," I said.

Jake tossed me a heavy burlap sack stuffed full, and it nearly took me off my feet. After a moment's effort I slung it over my shoulder, in time to see Caleb easily managing a sack in each hand. Jake dragged one in the dirt behind him, too.

I sent the little magic flame drifting down the road ahead of us, lighting our way, and wove another thin fabric of air to hide us from above. Then I glanced over to see Caleb frowning at one of the sacks he carried. "These must be valuable goods you're transporting to have drawn so much attention from the rebels."

"Oh, aye," Jake said. "Precious indeed. I should've known better than to travel at night."

Caleb tested his grip on the sack, prodding it as he tried to guess at the contents. "What is it? Leather armor? Some kind of flask? Heavy for that."

"Not even close," Jake said. "Your friend here knows."

He jerked a thumb at me, and I blinked in surprise. And then I laughed out loud.

"What?" Caleb asked. He started clawing at the knots at the top of one of his bags, but I shook my head and stopped him.

"Turnips," I said. "Jake is famous for them."

"Even a bandit's got to eat," Jake said proudly. "They'd have feasted for a week on these fine beauties."

Caleb frowned at him for three paces, then frowned at me for four. "Why are we bringing him?" he said.

"So I won't have to conquer this town," I said. "And so you can sleep on a feather bed. Is that reason enough?"

"That seems a fair reward!" Jake laughed. "They don't like strangers most of the time. But they'll let you in with me."

"I don't like strangers much either," Caleb grunted.

I glanced at Jake, but he didn't seem to take offense. He shrugged his shoulders and turned down the corners of his mouth good-naturedly, then trudged along. I met Caleb's eye. "He gets us in," I said. "That's what really matters."

Dawn was already touching the sky by the time we hauled Jake's harvest to the rough-cut gates of the next town, but the guards standing duty there nodded a familiar greeting to the old farmer and let us pass without a hint of challenge.

As we moved through the streets, the few townsfolk up and about seemed far more curious about us than concerned. Even the fearsome Caleb would have been a hard man to tremble at as he lumbered down the packed dirt road under two heavy sacks of turnips. By the time we dropped them in the town square, Caleb and I were the talk of the town. Strangers armed and bloodied as we were would always draw attention, but this time it set rumors flying instead of broken bricks.

And Jake was true to his word. He led us straight to the big inn's kitchen door and knocked one time before the innkeeper himself let us in. The common room wasn't yet open, but a big cook fire was already blazing, and the innkeeper put together breakfast for us while Jake rolled out a handsomely embellished version of the night's events. The tale was enough to earn us room and board for a night, and Jake promised to see us on down the road with a pack full of turnips at half the market price.

A serving girl showed us up to a pair of empty rooms just as the rest of the place seemed to be coming awake. I doubt Caleb slept. He never seemed to need it. But after the hearty meal and a full flagon of spiced wine for breakfast, I scrubbed my face and hands and feet, then slept the sleep of the dead. Caleb woke me just at dusk.

When we came down, the common room was set for dinner, and with the winter market on in town the common room was crowded tonight. A dozen sturdy wooden tables stood scattered across the floor, each surrounded by five or six wooden chairs, and the walls were lined with deep booths, all illuminated by glowing candles. A great fire blazed in the hearth at the south end of the room, and the innkeeper bustled out from behind the bar to lead us directly to a long table next to the fireplace.

"Best table in the house, this is, and it's only fitting we offer it to our heroes. Now take a seat, take a seat."

Warm mead and plates piled high with food appeared with surprising speed. I was just slicing into a pork cutlet when Caleb caught my eye across the table. "Watch yourself," he said under his breath. "Everyone else is."

I leaned back and looked around. A soft bed and a few warm drinks had knocked some of the edge off my suspicion, and it had certainly tempered the animal fury I'd felt before. I saw a few curious faces among the inn's patrons, but nothing menacing. I gave Caleb a frown.

"Nobody seems to be paying us much attention."

He grunted. "And they're spending a great a deal of effort doing it."

Before I could answer, a stranger stepped out of nowhere and clapped me on the shoulder. He was short—he would barely have come up to my shoulder if I'd been standing—but he was dressed in finery compared with the other people of the town.

I saw Caleb start, as surprised as I by the short man's sudden appearance, but the newcomer gave no notice to the sudden potential for violence that flashed across my companion's face. Instead, he gripped my shoulder like an old friend and spoke as if in answer to Caleb's last quiet comment.

"Pay no mind. They're just excited. News of last night's adventure is the talk of the town."

Caleb eased himself back into his seat, eyes narrowed to slits. "Who are you?"

The newcomer sank down in a chair next to me and threw Caleb a big grin. "Stephen Dehl! I'm mayor of this town, and the way I hear it I owe you two a great deal of gratitude."