The great blue had already laid his claim to Iyesta’s lair. He sat in the courtyard and watched while the remains of the palace roof were removed from the throne room. Prisoners from the city had been impressed by the mercenaries to do the backbreaking work of hauling out the tons of rock and debris. They worked in long lines with ropes and sledges, under the watchful eyes and cruel whips of their guards.
Thunder saw the Brute and his guard approach. His attention went back to the work on the throne room. He planned to do the last excavation himself to clear the stairs to the treasure room, and he wanted no interference.
The general made a short, almost insolent bow. “Your lordship, the city is ours.”
“Good.” The dragon stamped a foot on the ground in emphasis. “Soon Iyesta’s defeat will be complete. Her lair and her hoard will be mine.”
The Brute general nodded, his arms crossed over his bare chest. His ceremonial gold mask shone in the reflected firelight of the torches. “I hear, too, that the eggs are yours,” he said casually.
The dragon was not really listening. He was too busy gloating. “Yes. On your information, I looked for them last night. They are in my keeping now.”
“But you did not see fit to seal the tunnels or do anything to prevent the city’s forces from escaping through the labyrinth,” the general said coldly.
“Did they?” The dragon did not even look at him. “That is your problem, General. I brought you here to capture the city. You have done so. If you wish to wipe out the rest of those so-called defenders, you may chase them across the Plains. I have other things to do.”
The man thought fast. He had not become general of a warrior race because of his blue skin paint. He was intelligent, strong, cunning, and merciless when the need arose. If his informant was correct, the forces that slipped out of the city were exhausted, demoralized, and nearly wiped out. However, they had found refuge in a place that would be very difficult to attack without Thunder’s help, and if they stayed there long enough, they could rebuild their strength and mount a counteroffensive. What he needed was something to lure them out into the open where they could be captured or wiped out completely-including the bronze dragon. Ideally, he would like it if they could rid him of Thunder in the process, but he did not believe they were capable of such a deed. At least not without a little help.
He would have to speak to his informant.
He bowed briefly to the blue dragon, who did not notice, and backed out of his presence. He’d like to know the whereabouts of those eggs. The brass dragon eggs would bring those people out of their holes. If the dragon had found the eggs the night before, the general surmised, they still had to be close by. Thunder, he knew, was moving the contents of his lair in the Plains to this place, so it would be here that the dragon would hide the eggs. The dragon was stupid with overconfidence.
The general smiled beneath the mask. The campaign, he thought, was shaping up well. What he had to do now was ensure the militia knew where to look, then he would know where to find the militia.
The Scorpion Wadi lay in the stark, barren sand hills north and west of the Missing City. It had earned its name not only for the vicious little black scorpions that lived in its dry beds but also for its curved shape. Centuries ago griffin riders had reported the eroded dry river bed looked like the tail of a scorpion from the air. The name had stayed long after the elves disappeared. It was a place of overhanging ravines, washes, crumbling cliffs, undercut caves, and sculptured, narrow canyons. With the right force and enough water, it could be defended for months.
To this hot, arid sanctuary, Linsha, Mariana, Varia, and Crucible led the remnants of Iyesta’s once proud militia and dragon’s guard, a few battered survivors of the city watch, some civilians, the surviving Solamnics, and Falaius with a small contingent of Legionnaires. The general and the commander, the Solamnic Knights and the Legion, centaurs and civilians met in the shaded canyon at dawn. They silently gazed at one another, hollow-eyed and exhausted, unsure of what to do. They had all suffered a calamity, but this was the first time they had all gathered in one place and faced it together.
Linsha watched them, wondering if they could unite after all they had suffered. General Dockett moved forward with a smile and a cup of wine and greeted Falaius with undisguised relief. With the help of those already settled, the newcomers were treated for their wounds, fed, and given places to sleep in the shelter of a large undercut cave.
Sir Remmik ignored Linsha, a response for which she was grateful. The way she felt that morning, she was not certain she could have refrained from removing his face if he suggested putting her under arrest. The remaining Knights watched her as if they were not sure what to make of her. Sir Remmik declared she was guilty of a heinous act, and she had escaped from the cells. But oddly enough, she did not run away, she fought for the city, and she was partly responsible for their rescue and the deliverance of the nearly six hundred of the militia and city forces. These facts did not sit well on the Solamnic conscience.
Linsha didn’t care. She had tramped for over fifteen hours through the dank, dark tunnels-some of which hadn’t seen a two-legged walker in over four hundred years-and she was tired to the bone. She left the main group in the cave, and taking an old cloak for a blanket, she wandered into a gully nearby. The small gully was an old wash full of twisted rock formations, sandbars, and layered cliffs. A low overhang offered some shade and a sandbank made a comfortable enough bed. She spread out the cloak and fell asleep before her head hit the ground.
Varia flew to a shady perch on the ledge just over Linsha’s bed. The orange cat limped into her shelter and stretched out beside her to rest his injured leg and side.
You will have to tell her eventually. The owl hooted softly.
The cat understood. I know.
Are you afraid of her reaction?
There was silence for a moment then the cat yawned and grumbled in his throat. Shut up, bird. You talk too much.
Linsha woke just before sunset from a deep, dreamless sleep, feeling better than she had in days. She yawned, stretched, and crawled out from under the overhang. Something to eat now and she might feel human again.
“Ah, good.” Lanther’s voice came to her from somewhere near the ground. “You’re awake. You can call off your bodyguard now.”
She scanned the ground in surprise and finally saw him behind a nearby hump of rock and gravel. The Legionnaire lay flat on his back in the sand while the orange tomcat sat on his chest and growled menacingly. Varia watched impassively from her perch.
With a chuckle, Linsha plucked the cat off the man’s chest and sat down on a rock, the cat cradled in her lap. “He may look like a cat, but he’s still a dragon,” she said, “which makes him stronger, smarter, and much more powerful than any cat you’ve ever seen.”
Lanther climbed to his feet and dusted off his already disheveled clothes. He leveled a glare at the orange cat. “I won’t forget that,” he muttered. “Falaius has called a meeting. He sent me to find you.” He wheeled, ready to stamp off.
“Lanther!” Linsha hurried to him. “Don’t be angry. Crucible doesn’t know you yet. These two-” she indicated Varia and the cat-“are very protective of me.”