“How quickly can you perform your magic, Torak?” quipped the dragon.
“How quickly can you fly, dragon?” retorted the Torak. “I am skilled with both hands. If I only need one every hundred paces, a fast gallop would not be too fast.”
“Fortunately,” snorted the dragon as it landed in a clearing in the Sakova, “I am not a horse. Arrange your bodies as you want them. Let me know when to start this final run.”
Marak unwrapped his arms, and Lyra slid past him. She turned around and sat facing the dragon’s tail.
“You will feel me falling,” frowned Lyra, “won’t you?”
“You have never had a safer seat,” chuckled the dragon. “Are you ready?”
Lyra said that she was ready and the dragon leaped into the air. Lyra instinctively placed her hands on the dragon’s scales and heard Myka laugh. The dragon banked slowly in a long low flight far to the south of Duran. When she reached the Wall of Mermidion, she turned to the north and skimmed the surface of the cliff.
“Here it comes,” announced the dragon. “I will go slightly higher and bank to one side so that you can use both hands. If I am going too fast, shout quickly.”
The dragon suddenly shot up a hundred paces and banked steeply to one side. Marak saw the fissure coming and readied himself for the attack. He started throwing force bolts as quickly as he could. Lyra could only see the crevice after they had passed over it. She directed her force bolts deep into the yawning fissure.
“Faster!” Lyra shouted as she saw the vertical rock layer begin to sway.
Lightning bolts flashed in the sky again, and the Motangans in Duran began to shout hysterically. Thousands of men raced to the waterfront as the Wall of Mermidion began to waver. Unfortunately for the Motangans, there were no ships in port to swim out to.
Myka suddenly leveled out of her bank and soared upward, her tail coming forward to secure Lyra. Lightning crackled throughout the sky as the Motangan mages attempted to extract revenge for their coming defeat, but they could not anticipate the dragon’s moves as Myka zigzagged across the sky. Myka leveled out at a high altitude as the lightning ceased. Marak looked back at Duran and wondered if they had failed. The Wall of Mermidion still stood over the city of Duran, although the Motangans continued to run around hysterically.
Then it happened. The Wall wobbled like a man unsteady from too much drink. As Marak watched, one end of the Wall leaned slowly outward to hang precariously over the city. The rest of the Wall followed, and suddenly the entire layer of rock fell outward as if pushed by a mighty hand. Millions of tons of rock slammed down on the city of Duran, and well into the sea beyond it. The air thundered in a tremendous reverberating clap as the ground shook for hundreds of leagues around. A huge cloud of brown dust rose skyward, blotting out the sun and casting the ancient city into a veil of darkness.
The dragon moved deftly to avoid the brown column of dust as she dropped altitude and circled back towards the city. Marak peered through the dimness to gaze upon the results of the mission.
“You would never believe that a city had once existed there,” Lyra said softly. “I feel sad that it has come to destroying our own cities to protect our people.”
“There is only one person alive who is from Duran,” replied Marak, “and I do not think he would disapprove. At least his kinsmen are now properly buried.”
“Along with thousands of Motangans,” added the dragon. “I must get out of this foul air.”
“Take us home,” Lyra said to the dragon, “but land somewhere first so I will not be forced to view your tail for the entire journey.”
* * *
The Motangan soldier saw the officer approaching the campfire. He grabbed a spare mug and poured some hot coffee into it. He walked a few paces towards the approaching officer and handed him the mug.
“This wasteland chills you at night,” smiled the soldier.
“No one said Fakara would be a paradise,” chuckled the officer. “Are you on sentry duty?”
“No,” the soldier shook his head. “I took my turn hours ago. I just couldn’t get back to sleep.”
“Well, there will be no time for you to catch up on your sleep now,” the officer said as he sipped the coffee and gazed up at the sky. “Dawn will be here soon.”
“I prefer the daylight,” shrugged the soldier. “We never had such dark nights on Motanga.”
“That’s because there isn’t a living sole for leagues around us,” replied the officer. “The nearest torch is probably back in Meliban. The campfires give off enough light to navigate the campsite.”
“I have no problem finding my way around the camp,” offered the soldier. “It is beyond our camp that I want to see.”
The officer turned and frowned at the soldier. “I do not tolerate cowards in my command,” snapped the officer. “You had better adjust your attitude.”
“I am not a coward,” balked the soldier. “I will fight anyone at any time, but I would still like to see my enemy when he strikes. What are we doing out here in the middle of nowhere? There is nothing here for us to guard.”
“We are following orders,” the officer retorted harshly. “That is all that you need to know.”
The soldier shook his head with disgust and sat back down next to the campfire. The officer turned away with scorn and stared into the dark of the night. After a while he calmed down and considered the soldier’s question. He knew the lad was a fearless fighter, but he could not stand the thought of cowardice in any of his men. Finally, he turned and looked at the soldier again.
“We were meant to create a corridor for the Emperor to pass through,” the officer said softly. “Now that that is over with, I suspect that we will be returning to Meliban.”
“Aren’t we going to track down the Fakarans?” asked the soldier.
“We will,” nodded the officer, “but we will regroup in Meliban first. If it is any consolation, Premer Doralin was against our being out here, too. He felt we would leave ourselves too exposed, but I guess he worries too much. All that matters is that we have accomplished our goal. Our next outing will be to battle with the cowardly Fakarans.”
“I look forward to that,” smiled the soldier. “I just feel like I am a sitting target out here.”
“Do not spread that feeling to others,” warned the officer. “For those who do not know you, it smells of cowardice.”
The soldier nodded silently and stared into his mug of coffee, ashamed that he had presented such an image to his officer. His eyebrows rose curiously as he watched the coffee in the mug vibrate. At first he thought his hands might be shaking so he placed the mug on the ground and continued to stare at it. The light from the campfire was not strong, so he wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. He leaned forward and continued staring into the mug.
“Do they have earthquakes here in Fakara?” asked the officer.
The soldier’s head snapped up, and he stared at the officer. “Why do you ask?” he questioned.
“Can’t you feel it?” inquired the officer. “The ground is rumbling as if it wants to break free of itself. I have only felt that feeling once before, and it was a minor earthquake at the south end of the island.”
“That explains the coffee,” nodded the soldier. “I thought I was going crazy.”
The officer ignored the soldier’s remarks as he stared into the darkness. The rumbling grew even greater, and the officer became clearly agitated.
“Sound the alarm!” shouted the officer.