Horror-stricken at the thought of the terrible fate he had unwittingly brought down upon his people, Konnal stared up at the green dragon that had been his bane. He opened his mouth to give the order to attack, but at that moment, his heart; filled with fury and guilt, burst in his chest. He pitched forward on his face.
Kiryn ran to his uncle, but Konnal was dead.
The dragon soared higher, circling, beating the air with his great wings, letting the dragonfear settle over the elves like a thick, blinding fog.
Silvan, his vision dimming, sank to the ground beside Mina He tried, even as he fell dying, to shield her body with his own.
“Mina!” he whispered, the last words he would ever speak “I love you!”
He collapsed. Darkness closed over him.
Mina heard his words. Her amber eyes opened. She looked to see Silvan lying beside her. His own eyes were closed. He was not breathing. She looked about and saw the dragon above the battlefield, preparing to launch his attack. The elves were helpless, paralyzed by the dragonfear that twisted inside them, squeezing their hearts until they could not breathe or move or think of anything except the coming pain and horror. The elven archers stood staring up at death, their arrows nocked and ready to fire, but their shaking hands were limp on the bow strings, barely able to hold the weapons.
Their general lay dead on the ground.
Mina bent over Silvanoshei. Kissing him, she whispered, “You must not die! I need you!”
He began to breathe, but he did not move.
“The archers, Silvanoshei!” she cried. “Tell them to fire! You are their king! They will obey you.”
She shook him. “Silvanoshei!”
He stirred, groaned. His eyes flickered, but Mina was running out of time.
She leaped to her feet. “Archers!” she shouted in flawless Silvanesti elven. “Sagasto! Fire! Fire!”
Her clarion call penetrated the dragonfear of a single archer.
He did not know who spoke. He heard only the one word that seemed to have been pounded into his brain with the force of an iron spike. He lifted his bow and aimed at the dragon.
“Sagasto!” Mina cried. “Slay him! He betrayed you!”
Another archer heard her words and obeyed, and then another and another after that. They let fly their arrows and, as they did so, they overcame the dragonfear within themselves. The elves saw only an enemy now, one who was mortal, and they reached swiftly to nock their arrows. The first shafts fired from fingers that still trembled flew none too straight, but their target was so immense that even the worst shot must hit its mark, though perhaps not the mark at which it had been aimed. Two arrows tore holes in the dragon’s wings. One stuck in his lashing tail. One struck the green scales on his chest and bounced off, fell harmlessly to the ground.
Once the dragonfear was overcome, the elves would not be affected by it again. Now the archers aimed for the vulnerable parts of the dragon’s body, aimed for the tender flesh the scales did not cover, under the front legs, so near the heart. They aimed for the joints where the wings attached to the dragon’s main body. They aimed for the dragon’s eyes.
The other elves lifted their heads now. Dozens at first, then hundreds shook off the dragonfear and grabbed up bow and arrow, spear and lance, and joined the battle. Cries of horror changed to fierce exultation. At last, they were able to face in combat the foe who had brought despair and ruin and death to their land and their people. The sky was dark with arrows and with the dragon’s falling blood.
Maddened by the pain, Cyan Bloodbane made a mistake. He did not retreat from the fight. He could have withdrawn, even now, grievously hurt as he was, and flown away to one of his many lairs to nurse his wounds. But he could not believe that the puny people who had been subject to his will for so long could possibly do him mortal harm. One enormous breath of poison would settle them. One breath would end it.
Cyan sucked in that breath and let it out. But the breath that should have been a killing cloud came out a gasp. The poisonous gas was little more than a mist that dissipated in the morning’s soft breeze. His next breath rattled in his chest. He felt the arrows sink deep into his bowels. He felt their points perilously close to his heart. He felt them puncture his lungs. Too late, he tried to break off the battle. Too late, he sought to flee his tormentors. His torn and broken wings would not hold the air. He could not maintain his altitude.
Cyan rolled over on his back. He was falling, and he could not stop his fall. Plummeting to the ground, he realized in a final moment of bitter despair that his last wrenching moves had carried him away from the battlefield, where his body crashing down on top of the elves might have taken many of his enemies with him. He was over the forest, above the trees.
With a last defiant roar of fury, Cyan Bloodbane fell onto the trees of Silvanesti, the trees that he had twisted and tormented during the dream. The trees were waiting to receive him. The aspens and the oaks, the cypress and the pines stood firm, like bold pikeman. They did not break beneath his weight but held strong and true as their enemy smashed into them.The trees punched through Cyan Bloodbane’s scales, pierced his flesh, impaled him on their splintered limbs. The trees of Silvanesti took their own full measure of revenge.
Silvanoshei opened his eyes to see Mina standing protectively over him. He staggered to his feet, dazed and unsteady, but improving with each passing moment. Mina was watching the battle against the dragon. Her face held no expression, as she watched the arrows meant to pierce her own body penetrate the body of her foe.
Silvan barely noticed the battle. He could see and think only of Mina.
“You brought me back from death,” Silvan whispered, his throat raw from the gas. “I was dying, dead. I felt my soul slipping away. I saw my own body lying on the ground. I saw you kiss me. You kissed me, and I could not leave you! And so I live!”
“The One God brought you back, Silvanoshei,” said Mina calmly. “The One God has a purpose for you yet in this life.”
“No, you!” he insisted. “You gave me life! Because you love me! My life is yours, now, Mina. My life and my heart.”
Mina smiled, but she was intent on the fight. “Look there, Silvanoshei,” she said, pointing, “This day you have defeated your most terrible enemy, Cyan Bloodbane, who put you on the throne, thinking you as weak as your grandfather. You have proved him wrong.”
“We owe our victory to you, Mina,” Silvan said, exultant. “You gave the order to fire. I heard your voice through the darkness.”
“We have not achieved victory yet,” she said, and her gaze was farseeing, abstracted. “Not yet. The battle has not ended. Your people remain in mortal danger. Cyan Bloodbane will die, but the shield he placed over you remains.”
Silvan could barely hear her voice over the cheers of his people and the furious howls of the mortally wounded dragon.
Putting his arm around her slender waist, he drew her near to him, to hear her words better.
“Tell me again, Mina,” he said. “Tell me again what you told me earlier about the shield.”
“I tell you nothing more than what Cyan Bloodbane to)d you,” Mina replied. “He used the elves’ fear of the world against them. They imagine the shield protects them, but in reality it is killing them. The magic of the shield draws upon the life-force of the elves to maintain its life. So long as it remains in place, your people will slowly die until at last there will be no one left for the shield to protect. Thus did Cyan Bloodbane mean to destroy everyone of you, laughing all the while because your people imagined themselves to be safe and protected when, in reality, they were the means of their own destruction.”
“If this is true, the shield must be destroyed,” said Silvan.
“But I doubt if even our strongest sorcerers could shatter its powerful magic.”