The general pressed his fingers harder. The pain grew worse. “Answer me, woman. Where do we find the bronze?”
Linsha screamed but she would not answer. Her father Palin had held out for months against the horrible tortures of the Dark Knight mystics. His daughter was made of the same stern stubbornness. She could not betray Crucible.
After a while, the Tarmak general pulled back from the Lady Knight and eyed her unconscious form. A second Tarmak officer stepped into the tent.
“Is she dead?” the man inquired in their rough, guttural language.
The general tossed the cup to the ground. “Of course not. It would take more than I gave her to kill her. She is strong.”
“Will she take the bait?”
“If she is as clever as I have been told, she will take it.”
“And if not?”
“Then I will give her to your men. They can kill her as they wish.” He turned away from his prisoner. “Has Thunder returned from his lair?”
“No, sir. Not yet.”
“Good. Then let us go make our preparations.”
Together the two men walked out of the tent, leaving Linsha hanging on the pole.
The Lance
23
In the half light of dawn when colors had not yet become visible and the landscape was still half-hidden in grays and shadowed blacks, an owl soared out of a pine tree and circled over the tents of the Brute encampment. The few guards left in the camp paid no attention to her, and no one noticed when she swooped down to the ground near the largest tent. On the ground she was almost invisible. She hopped to a place in the back where sections of the tough fabric were stitched together. Several quick snips of her beak opened a hole large enough for her squeeze through.
Step-hopping, she made her way across the rugs on the floor to the woman’s body tied to the tent pole. Varia satisfied herself that Linsha was still alive and began to climb up the Lady Knight’s leg to the padded mercenary’s tunic and the leather thongs that held her to the pole. The leather was tougher than the tent fabric and took some time to snip through. Finally, she nipped through the last strand, and Linsha toppled to the floor.
“Ouch,” came a muffled protest from the prostrate woman.
“Ah, you are awake,” said the owl in her whispery voice. “I am pleased they left you alive.”
“Barely.” Linsha groaned and tried to roll over, only to discover her feet were still tied to the pole. “Would you mind?”
Varia snapped through the last leather bindings, and Linsha pulled free. She pushed herself onto her back and lay staring at the roof of the tent as if she were trying to remember how she got there.
“Are you well?” asked the owl.
“No. That bastard knows sorcery. He used some sort of drug on me and a spell that I thought was going to shatter my skull. Gods,” she groaned, “what did I tell him?”
“We need to get you out of here. The general and his officers are gone, but there are a few guards left.”
Linsha did not take the hint. She lay very still, her forehead creased in thought. “It’s odd. I remember he asked me questions. I don’t think I answered. He knew too much about me, that’s for sure. But he answered some of my questions. Why would he do that?”
The owl fussed around, pulling off the leather thongs and checking her bloody wrists. If she had been a little bigger, she would have hauled Linsha to her feet and dragged her out, but she had to be patient and wait for the Lady Knight to find her own strength.
“Varia, what is an Abyssal Lance?” Linsha asked.
The owl chirped in surprise and hooted softly. “Why?”
“The general said something about one.”
“There were only a few made, as I remember. Some smiths serving the Highlord Ariakas made them as an evil variation of the dragonlance. They were dreadful weapons.”
“Is that one?” Linsha raised a sluggish hand and pointed at the ceiling.
Varia cut her eyes to the roof of the tent where a long, black shaft hung on golden cords from the tent roof supports. Her dark eyes widened to pools. “So that’s how they did it.”
“It will kill a dragon, won’t it?”
“They were not as effective as a dragonlance, but yes, they could kill a dragon.”
Linsha pulled herself upright and, using the pole for support, hauled herself to her feet. “Come on, we’re taking that thing with us.”
She took a step toward the general’s couch and fell to her knees. The tent swayed around her with a sickening spin. She took several deep breaths and put her head between her knees.
“Where are the centaurs when you need them?” she moaned.
Varia said nothing. She fluttered to her hole in the back of the tent, slipped out, and flew into the trees. Linsha did not notice. She concentrated on her breathing and her dizziness until she could bring both under control, then she sat up and climbed to her feet.
At that moment there was a shout outside, a clashing sound, and hoofbeats. Suddenly, a centaur yanked open the tent entrance.
Azurale stuck his head in. His black eyes were shining with eagerness and a crossbow dangled from his hand. “I hear you need help,” he offered.
Linsha did not take the time to ask what had just happened. She accepted his help and together they lowered the black weapon down from its hangings.
In the growing light of day, Linsha was able to take a closer look at it. Varia was right. It was a dreadful weapon. It had a cruel, barbed head of rust red set in a black shaft about fifteen feet long. The handle ended in a cowl that helped protect the wielder. Linsha flinched at the touch of the thing, for it was imbued with an evil enchantment that tingled under her fingers like trapped lightning.
Azurale made a face as he helped her carry it out of the tent. “You sure you want this foul thing?”
“If it can kill Iyesta,” she growled, “it will kill Thunder.”
Outside the morning sun tipped the horizon and spilled across the plains in horizontal beams of yellow light. Linsha lifted her face to the sun and closed her eyes. The heat caressed her skin and touched her pale cheeks with rose.
“Varia said you had an Abyssal Lance.” Crucible said behind her. “Is that it?”
She was so startled that she nearly dropped it. Belatedly, she glanced around the encampment and saw the bodies of several dead guards lying in the dirt. The smashed and mangled bodies made it evident what had happened to them. The half-dozen guards had been no match for a dragon.
The tents were empty, the headquarters deserted. That’s convenient, she thought. The Brutes leave her alive in an empty camp with a weapon at hand. What was going on here?
Crucible watched her over the palisade, his dragon head gleaming with metal brilliance in the morning light.
She blinked at him. “What are you doing here? Did you find the eggs?”
“They are not in the labyrinth. I think Thunder has taken them to the treasure room. He made several trips back to his lair last night, and now he is reconstructing his skull totem.”
Linsha flashed a worried frown. “You saw it? Is it complete?”
Crucible shook his heavy head. “I do not believe so. I think he still needs a bronze skull.”
“Lady, if you don’t mind,” Azurale called. “This is getting heavy. What to you want to do with it?”
Linsha stared up at the bronze dragon. “I cannot carry this alone, Crucible. It is a weapon for a dragonrider. Do we leave it here or take it with us?”
He snorted that she would even ask such a question and flexed his injured wing. “Bring it. We will trap him below ground like he did Iyesta and make him feel his own weapon.”