‘Come on, you,’ said Bel, playfully grabbing her ear as if she was a recalcitrant child. She grinned up at him cheekily: either his excitement was contagious or she was gleeful after running amok through a treasure trove. ‘Listen to that, you’re already clinking when you move. I saw you eyeing off that statue too – did you really think you could lug such a weight all the way home?’
Jaya shrugged. ‘A solid chunk of pure gold is worth considering. Even if it’s carved to look like some ugly old man.’
Losara had recognised the statue as a bust of Raker, the Shadowdreamer Battu had overthrown. No wonder he did not mind removing it from the castle.
Jaya came to her feet, managing to keep hold of some of the coins while others slipped from her fingers. ‘You can’t blame me,’ she said. ‘It’s not every day I get set loose in a dragon’s hoard.’
Laughing, the two of them led the way back to the passage. Hiza followed quickly and, as M’Meska went, she also snatched a handful of coins from the ground, shooting Losara a look that dared him to object.
‘You think just because I not a thief,’ she said, ‘I not can spend such pretties in tavern?’
‘You’ve earned it,’ said Losara, forcing a smile.
As they walked, a welcome breeze of fresh air came down the tunnel, shearing the edge off the powerful stench of the lair. Soon they were outside in the sun.
‘What now?’ said Hiza.
‘We make for Kahlay,’ said Bel. ‘Back the way we came.’
‘Look.’ M’Meska bent to touch the ground. From the cave’s entrance ran footprints, off past a group of large rocks and heading east. ‘Mireform go that way.’
‘Good,’ said Bel, glancing briefly at the tracks. ‘Let them crawl back to Fenvarrow empty-handed. We’ve got what we came for.’
He held the Stone aloft in the light.
The Warriors
The return through the woods was largely uneventful. It seemed to Bel as if somehow they made better progress than when they’d actually been rushing. Maybe in their haste they had got off track – but that didn’t make sense, for they followed their own trail back. Maybe anxiety had made the time seem to pass more slowly, and elation at their success had the opposite effect. Anyway, it hardly mattered – he had the Stone!
Darkness set in about an hour after they passed the clearing they’d slept in the night before. As they set about making camp, Bel could not help but have distrustful thoughts over those tracks they’d seen leading away from the cave. Would the Mireforms really give up so easily? Or had his other given them orders not to engage him? That made more sense, for he knew Losara did not, could not, wish him dead.
As he thought of the Shadowdreamer, he remembered Gellan’s words at the cave mouth about Fazel. He watched the green-robed figure sitting glumly, skeletal elbows resting on his knees, bony chin on his hands. Gellan had been right, of course – if Losara had known they headed to the dragon’s lair, surely he would know who it was that guided them.
‘Fazel,’ he said, and the skull gaze turned to him.
‘Yes?’
‘Show me again your old face – your true face. Please.’
The mage paused quizzically, then passed a hand over himself. The skull rippled away, replaced by the bearded old man with grey eyes.
‘Why do you not wear this face more often?’ asked Bel.
The mage prodded at the ground with a stick. ‘It saddens me,’ was all he said.
He should release Fazel, Bel knew. Not only was it the prudent thing to do, it was also the right thing. But they were not free of the dragon’s territory yet, and there was also the possibility that the Mireforms would come back. Although the beasts were resistant to magic, that did not void a mage’s power against them. Directly targeted spells would do no good, but there were always indirect methods – such as bringing trees crashing down, or opening up pits in the ground.
‘Perhaps,’ Bel said, ‘I shall make you a promise, Fazel – that once we get a little further away, I will free you from your service once and for all.’
Fazel looked at him a long time then, but for all his reaction he may as well have still been a skeleton.
Gellan offered to sit first watch.
‘I’m not sure you are the wisest choice,’ said Bel. ‘If the Mireforms come after us, you will not sense them.’
‘Neither will you,’ countered the mage, ‘but my eyes work just as well as yours.’
Bel did not argue too hard, for he was tired, and soon was lying on a bedroll with Jaya snuggled up close against him. As he was just about to doze off, a sound in the distance made him sit bolt upright.
It was soft at the start, a low and mournful howl that seemed to strain with great pressure behind it. The pressure released, and the howl erupted into full-bodied despair, on and on in one wavering note, until the trees around them shook. It rose and fell, ululating between rage and sorrow, echoing throughout the wood.
‘I think the son may have found his mother,’ said Fazel.
The sound ceased abruptly and they waited for a long while, listening …but there was nothing more.
‘Better try to get some sleep,’ said Fazel, almost good-humouredly.
As Bel lay back with his eyes wide open, somehow the canopy of branches above them did not seem adequate cover from the starry sky.
Daybreak brought with it a feeling of being more tired than when he’d lain down. Bel guessed that he’d managed an hour’s sleep at most, and the ground seemed harder and more uncomfortable than ever before. He rose to find M’Meska tucking into a raw rabbit.
‘Want eat?’ she said, proffering a half-chewed corpse. ‘No fire, don’t want risk for to be seen.’
‘No, thank you,’ said Bel.
Soon they were on their way once more. As dawn turned into the blaze of day, they found themselves at the forest’s edge. Beyond lay Valdurn …and the scent of meat cooking and the sight of smoke rising. Bel’s stomach growled before he had the terrible thought that what he smelt could be the funeral pyre.
‘Very quiet,’ said M’Meska.
‘Let us move carefully,’ warned Bel.
They stepped out amongst the huts, but this time there were no bodies to be seen. The man they’d met must have done the grisly work of clearing them all away. Bel wondered if he was still here, or what miserable shape they would find him in.
‘Seb?’ called Hiza. ‘Kera?’
‘Shhh!’ said Bel.
‘We should never have left them,’ said Hiza.
‘What choice did we have?’ said Bel defensively.
He led them around a slashed-up hut, coming in sight of the village square. A great black pyre smouldered there, in which could be seen bones not yet reduced to ash. A short distance from it, a group of figures hunched around a smaller fire, roasting meat.
‘Survivors?’ whispered Jaya.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Bel. ‘Survivors would not fill their bellies so close to the remains of their still-smoking friends.’
One of the figures glanced up, got to his feet. They were men, six of them, wearing leather armour and carrying swords and shields; they were battle-scarred and grizzled. They looked like a band of mercenaries.
‘Ho there,’ called the one standing. ‘We didn’t realise anyone was left alive here!’
Behind him the others all but ignored the newcomers.
‘Bel …’ said Gellan warningly.
‘I know,’ said Bel. ‘Everyone stay close.’
He moved to stand on the other side of the square, then came to a halt with his hand on his sword hilt.
‘I appreciate your wariness,’ said the man, ‘but you have nothing to fear.’
‘How did you come here?’ asked Bel.
‘From the south,’ replied the man. ‘We heard this village was beset by monsters, and thought to offer our services. As you can see,’ he gestured around, ‘we arrived too late.’