She thought about calming the chicken, with no effect. Changing her approach, she imagined it slowing down, as though it was wading through treacle. Gradually its movements became less frantic, until it moved as though it was getting sleepy and running out of energy. Solène realised everyone in the room was moving slowly. Dal Drezony was speaking, but her words were slurred and impossible to understand. Solène turned, intending to ask her to repeat herself, but the world grew dark and she fell to the floor.
CHAPTER 28
Guillot was a sweaty mess by the time he reached the agreed-upon meeting spot near the entrance to the cavern. His undershirt was soaked through, his eyes stung, and his legs felt like jelly. The short time he had been wearing armour again had not been long enough to re-accustom him to it, nor was his fitness sufficient to carry the extra weight. He sat heavily on a large, flat rock near the others and prayed to any of the gods who would listen to help him recover quickly.
“You’re looking a little worse for wear, Guillot,” dal Sason said in a whisper. “Are you all right?”
Guillot cast him a sideways glance. Other than some extra colour to his cheeks, the banneret looked as though he had undertaken nothing more than a morning constitutional. The rest of them looked even fresher, and Guillot knew he couldn’t put it down to age—Leverre was at least five or six years older than he. Forced to admit that he had been found wanting, he gave dal Sason a wry smile.
“I’ve not been as diligent with my training these past few years. Didn’t expect to find myself on a dragon hunt. If I had, I’d have been sure to prepare.”
“Brother Hallot will take care of that,” Leverre said, his whisper sounding raspy. He nodded toward Guillot, looking at Hallot, and the red-haired Spurrier scrambled over the loose rocks to reach them.
“Try to relax,” Hallot said. He closed his eyes and held his hands out, palms only a hair’s breadth from Guillot’s body, but not touching.
At first, Guillot felt nothing. Then—and it took a moment to be certain he was not imagining this—his heart slowed its pounding and his legs started to feel fresher. The stinging, gritty sensation around his eyes from a night of little sleep also disappeared. Soon he felt better than he could remember.
“Well, that’s quite something,” Guillot said, when Hallot opened his eyes and drew back his hands. “Does it work on hangovers too?”
Leverre let out a short laugh—the first time Guillot had heard him do so.
“It works on anything,” Hallot said. “Comes in quite handy. Wish I’d been able to do it when I was at university, although you don’t seem to be able to do it to yourself for whatever reason.”
“Enough reminiscing,” Leverre said, any vestige of good humour gone. “We need to get ready.”
Leverre moved toward the cavern’s entrance, stepping carefully in an effort to be as quiet as possible. When he drew close, he got down on his belly and crawled forward until he could peer inside. He lay still for a moment, and Guillot’s heart quickened again as he wondered what the Spurrier might be seeing. As if in response, Leverre turned and silently mouthed the word “nothing.” Guillot did not know whether to be elated or disappointed, but the former seemed to be claiming the victory.
“What do we do now?” dal Sason whispered.
Guillot shrugged. “Wait until it comes home?”
As he thought about it, lying in wait for the dragon somewhere was an attractive option. The element of surprise could tip the balance in their favour—if he discounted a great number of variables like potentially superior sight, smell, or hearing. The dragon might be able to hear the beating of his heart from miles away, for all he knew.
“We should go in and take a look,” dal Sason said.
Guillot shrugged again. He had to admit dal Sason was probably right; it was foolish to come all that way and not at least have a snoop around. Standing, he gave Hallot a nod of approval when he realised how good his legs felt. Not only was the fatigue gone, they felt good and strong, much as they had when he had trained hard on a daily basis. Perhaps there was something to be said for magic after all. He didn’t like the idea of men and women who could win battles with the power of their minds, or whatever they used, but healers who could do what Hallot had just done could change the world for the better. That much was undeniable.
Following Leverre’s path, Guillot shuffled up beside the Brother-Commander at the edge of the entrance. Inside, he saw nothing but black, swirling darkness.
“You said something about a back chamber,” Gill whispered. “Might it be resting in there?”
Leverre nodded. “That was where it was when we were last here. Might be this time, too. We’ll need to be careful.”
“What’ll we do for light?” Guillot said. “Lighting the place up will wake it for sure if it is back there.”
“Close your eyes,” Leverre said. “This won’t last long—things will take on a greenish tinge when it starts to fail, so come to me when that happens and I’ll refresh it.”
“Refresh what?”
“Close. Your. Eyes.”
Guillot did, and felt Leverre touch a finger to his forehead.
“Open.”
Guillot looked around the cavern in amazement. The interior of the cavern was covered in a coruscating blue glow. The walls themselves were the source of light, and although it was not bright, he could make out everything.
“You weren’t lying when you said magic can make life easier, were you?” Guillot said.
Leverre raised his hands and shrugged, then resumed studying the cave. Guillot did likewise, quickly spotting a partially stripped set of ribs amid a pile of other bones that he could not specifically identify. They looked human, though, and Guillot suspected they were the remains of Leverre’s previous command. He wondered how the man must feel to see them there, eaten and denied a proper funeral. If circumstances allowed, perhaps the dragon hunters would give the bodies a proper burial before returning home.
He continued to survey the cavern, but other than the bones, saw nothing of note, or, more importantly, nothing that indicated danger. He realised the others had gathered behind him, and technically, he was the dragonslayer, so …
“I’m going in for a closer look,” he whispered.
Leverre nodded.
Guillot tested his grip on the spear, then hauled himself over the cavern’s lip. He stood tall and took a deep breath before stepping forward into the beast’s lair. Everything he did felt like one of the old Silver Circle stories, and he had to fight to silence the narrator in his head, who recounted every move he made, even when he scratched his arse. He couldn’t quite see that making it into the tale of their adventure.
He continued into the cavern, doing his best to avoid the scattered bones while paying attention to everything around him. After a moment, he heard movement behind him, which was a relief—he didn’t want to be stuck in the back of the cavern on his own when his magical night sight failed. He held the spear at guard and tracked his gaze with the tip, ready to strike at whatever came into view. However, there was nothing before him but rock.
He kept walking, his feet finally starting to remember their old precision of movement without conscious effort. When he was roughly in the centre of the cavern, he stopped and slowly turned around to look back at the others, who had ventured in behind him. Leverre gestured to the left and Guillot went that way. Although it was difficult to make out, the glow seemed to indicate a large passage into an antechamber. Entering the passage, he felt as if his stomach were being gnawed on by rats, so strong had his anxiety grown. He almost wished the beast would appear in front of him and get it over with. Despite Hallot’s rejuvenative treatment, his heart was working far harder than it had been in a very long time, and the ever-building tension didn’t help.