Savior.
Ha! Wait until they hit the magical barricade.
Haplo ignored them, chased after the dog, and saw the animal leap up onto the porch.
“We’re coming!” shouted Paithan.
“You’re not the only ones,” Haplo muttered.
The tytans had begun their advance, moving with their silent, incredible speed. Haplo looked at the dog, looked at the large group of elves and the humans hastening toward his ship. The first few had already reached it, were endeavoring to get dose, had discovered it was impossible. Runes on the outside hull glowed red and blue, their magic guarding against intruders. The mensch were shouting, clasping their arms around each other. Some turned, prepared to fight to the death.
Savior.
Haplo heaved an exasperated sigh. Swearing beneath his breath, he lifted his hand and swiftly traced several runes in the air. They caught fire, glowed blue. The sigla on the ship flickered in answer, their flames died. His defenses were lowered.
“You better hurry up,” he shouted, giving the leaping, dancing dog a swift kick that landed nowhere near its target.
“We’re going to have to run for it, Quindiniar!” shouted Zifnab, hiking up his robes, revealing a broad expanse of bony leg. “By the way, you were wonderful, Lenthan, my friend. Superb speech. I couldn’t have done better myself.” He laid his hand on Lenthan’s arm. “Ready?”
Lenthan blinked at Zifnab in confusion. The elf’s ancestors drifted back to a time beyond memory, leaving behind the wreck of a middle-aged man. “I’m ready,” he said vaguely. “Where are we going?” He allowed Zifnab to propel him along.
“To the stars, my dear fellow!” cackled the wizard. “To the stars!” Drugar ran after the others. The dwarf was strong, his endurance was great. He could have gone on running long after the humans and the elves had collapsed by the wayside. But with his short, stocky legs and heavy leather armor and boots, he was no match for them in a race. They had all soon outdistanced him in their mad dash for the ship, leaving him far behind.
The dwarf pressed on stubbornly. He could see the tytans without turning his head; they were behind him, but fanning out on either side, hoping to capture their prey by enclosing it in a huge circle. The monsters were gaining slowly on the elves and humans, more rapidly on the dwarf. Drugar increased his speed, running desperately, not out of fear of the tytans, but out of fear that he would lose his chance for revenge.
The toe of his thick boot caught on his heel. The dwarf stumbled, lost his balance, and pitched facefirst into the moss. He struggled to stand, but his boot had slipped down halfway over his foot. Drugar hopped on one foot, fighting to pull the boot on, his hands slippery with sweat. Smoke stung his nostrils. The tytans had set fire to the jungle.
“Paithan! Look!” Rega glanced behind. “Blackbeard!”
The elf skidded to a halt. He and Rega were within a few strides of the ship. The two had stayed behind the others to act as rear guard, protecting Zifnab, Haplo, and Lenthan, pounding ahead of them, and Roland and the furious Aleatha. They had, as usual, forgotten about the dwarf.
“You go on.” Paithan started back down the slight slope. He saw the flames shoot up out of the trees, the black smoke swirl into the sky. It was spreading fast, toward the house. He wrenched his gaze away, kept it on the floundering dwarf, the approaching tytans.
Movement at his side caused him to glance around. “I thought I told you to go to the ship.”
Rega managed a twisted smile. “Make up your mind, elf! You’re stuck with me!” Paithan smiled wearily back, shaking his head, prevented from saying anything by the fact that he had no more breath with which to say it. The two reached the dwarf, who had, by this time, torn the boot off and was hobbling forward—one boot on and one boot off. Paithan caught hold of him by one shoulder, Rega grabbed the other.
“I don’t need your help!” growled Drugar, glaring at them with startling vehemence. “Let me go!”
“Paithan, they’re gaining!” Rega shouted, nodding over her shoulder at the tytans.
“Shut up and quite fighting us!” Paithan told the dwarf. “You saved our lives, after all!”
Drugar began to laugh—a deep, wild bellow. Paithan wondered again if the dwarf was going mad. The elf didn’t have time to worry about it. He could see, out of the corner of his eye, the tytans getting nearer. They didn’t stand a chance. He glanced at Rega, she glanced at him, shrugged slightly. Both tightened their hold on the heavy dwarf, and started running. Haplo reached the ship ahead of the others, the runes traced on his body doing what they could to bolster his flagging strength, tent speed to his stride. Men, women, and shrieking children straggled over the deck. A few had found the hatchway and had gone down into the ship. More were standing at the rail, staring at the tytans.
“Get below!” Haplo shouted, pointing at the hatch. He pulled himself up over the railing and was starting—again—for the bridge when he heard a frantic whimper and felt a tug at his heel.
“What now?” he snarled, whirling to confront the dog, who had nearly pulled him over backward. Looking out over the lawn, peering through the gathering smoke, he saw the human, the elf, and the dwarf surrounded by tytans.
“What do you want me to do? I can’t—Oh, for—!” Haplo caught hold of Zifnab, who was trying unsuccessfully to pull himself and Lenthan Quindiniar up over the railing. “Where’s that dragon of yours?” The Patryn demanded, yanking the old man around to face him.
“Flagon?” Zifnab blinked at Haplo like a stunned owl. “Good idea! I could use a snort—”
“Dragon, you doddering idiot! Dragon!”
“Dragon? Where?” The old wizard looked highly alarmed. “Don’t tell him you saw me, there’s a good chap. I’ll just go below—”
“Listen to me, you worthless old geezer, that dragon of yours is the only thing that’s going to save them!” Haplo pointed at the small group struggling valiantly to reach the ship.
“My dragon? Save anybody?” Zifnab shook his head sadly. “You must have him confused with someone else—Smaug, perhaps? No? Ah, I’ve got it! That lizard who gave Saint George such a nasty rime of it! What was his name, now there was a dragon!”
“And you are implying that I’m not?” The voice split the ground. The dragon’s head shoved up through the moss. Shock waves rolled, rocking the ship, throwing Haplo back into a bulkhead. Lenthan clung to the railing for. dear life.
Pulling himself up, Haplo saw the tytans come to a halt, their eyeless heads swiveling toward the gigantic beast.
The dragon’s body slid up out of the hole it had created in the moss. It moved rapidly, green scaly skin rippling, glistening in the sunlight. “Smaug!” the dragon thundered. “That vain-glorious fop! And as for that sniveling worm who took on St. George—”
Roland reached the ship, lifted Aleatha up over the railing to Haplo, who caught hold of the woman, dragged her on board, and turned her over to the care of her father.
“Get up here!” Haplo offered his hand.
Roland shook his head, turned, and ran back to help Paithan, disappearing in the gathering smoke. Haplo peered after him, cursing the delay. It was difficult to see now—much of the jungle was completely engulfed in flames—but Haplo had the impression that the tytans were falling back, milling about in confusion, caught between their own flame and the dragon.
“And to think I ended up with a worthless old faker like you!” the dragon was shouting. “I could have gone someplace where I would have been appreciated!
Pern, for example! Instead, I—”
Coughing, tears streaming down their cheeks, the small party made its way through the smoke. It was difficult to tell who was carrying whom; they all seemed to be leaning on each other. With Haplo’s help, they managed to climb up over the railing and collapsed on the deck.