The gleaming white shape was the cadaver’s glistening shadow, barely distinguishable from the mists curling around them. The phantasm seemed so independent. Why does it bother to drag the shell along with it?
“Stand clear, Sartan!” Haplo shouted. “Go on up with the others!”
“I’ll wait! Help you!”
“I don’t want your”—the next words were unclear, lost in the churning sound of the magma—“help!”
Alfred pretended he didn’t hear any of it, waited stolidly, back braced against the rock.
Haplo fumed on the shore, but there wasn’t time to argue. He checked the sword that he had thrust into his belt, made sure it was secure. Leg muscles bunched. He launched himself outward, hurtled through the air above the magma, and landed like a fly against a wall on the smooth-sided rock beneath Alfred. He began to slip. The dog, across the way, barked loudly.
Alfred reached down, caught hold of the Patryn’s rune-covered wrists, and pulled. Pain shot up his back, muscles gave way, feet scraped over the surface of the ledge on which he stood. He was losing his hold. He must let go or risk sliding over the edge.
Alfred refused to give up. He searched inside himself, found physical resources he never knew he possessed. He held on tightly and, with a last, desperate burst of energy, lunged backward. His feet slid out from beneath him, but not before he had pulled Haplo up onto the ledge.
The Patryn grabbed hold of rocks and Alfred and hung on until he caught his breath, then dragged himself the rest of the way over. Without warning, the dog sailed across in a graceful bound. Landing beside them, nearly crowding both off the ledge, the animal gazed at each of them with bright eyes, obviously enjoying itself immensely.
“More ships are crossing!” Jonathan reported from up above. “We’ve got to hurry!”
Alfred’s body ached, muscles burned. A pain in his side was like someone jabbing him with a knife. He was cut and bruised and wondered if he’d have the strength to walk, let alone climb over that shelf. And how many segments of this colossus remained left to cross? How many gaps, perhaps wider than this? He shut his eyes, then, drawing a breath that brought his burning lungs no relief, he wearily prepared to go on.
“I suppose I should thank you—” Haplo began in his usual sneering tone.
“Forget it! I don’t want your thanks!” Alfred yelled at him. It felt good to yell. Felt good to be angry and let his anger loose. “And don’t feel like you have to pay me back for saving your damn life, because you don’t! I did what I had to do. That’s all!”
Haplo stared at Alfred in blank astonishment. Then the Patryn’s lips started to twitch. He tried to control himself, but he, too, was tired. He began to laugh. He laughed until he was forced to lean against the rock wall to support himself, laughed until tears crept from beneath his eyelids. Dabbing at blood seeping from a cut forehead, Haplo grinned, shook his head.
“That’s the first time I ever heard you swear, Sar—” He paused.
“Alfred,” he amended.
They had made it safely across one gap but it was only the first of many. The steam-driven dragonships of the dead churned through the magma sea, black against fiery red. Alfred trudged over the broken column, tried not to look at the ships, tried not to look at or think about jumping over the next crevice. One foot after the other, over and over and over and—
“We’ll never reach the shore in—”
“Hush! Freeze! Stop!” Haplo hissed, cutting Jonathan off in mid-sentence.
Alfred jerked around, the alarm in the Patryn’s tense call tore through the lethargy of aching body and despairing mind. The runes on Haplo’s skin glowed, the normally blue color tinged purple in the red glare of the magma. The dog stood near its master, growling, ruff bristling, legs stiff. Frantically Alfred glanced behind, expecting to see hordes of dead following them across the colossus.
Nothing. Nothing was chasing them. Nothing blocked their path ahead. But something was wrong. The sea was moving, gathering itself together, rising up around them. A tidal wave? Of magma? He stared harder at the sea, attempting to convince himself it was an optical illusion.
Eyes! Eyes watching him. Eyes in the sea. Eyes of the sea. A fiery red head poked up from the depths of the magma, slid toward them. The unblinking eyes kept them under constant surveillance. The eyes were enormous. Alfred could have walked into the black slit of the pupils without ducking his head.
“A fire dragon,” Jonathan gasped.
“So this is how it ends,” said Haplo softly.
Alfred was too tired to care. His first thought, in fact, was one of relief. I won’t have to jump over another damn crack.
Smooth and sharp as a spear point, the dragon’s head thrust upward. Its neck was long, narrow, and graceful, topped by a spiky mane that resembled stalagmites. Scales glowed bright red when the body lifted from the sea. Contact with air cooled them instantly, turning them black, with a lingering red glow, like coals in a banked fire. Only the eyes remained vivid, flame red.
“I don’t have the strength to fight it,” said Haplo.
Alfred shook his head. He lacked the strength to talk.
“We may not need to,” Jonathan said. “They attack only when they feel threatened.”
“But they have little love for us,” added the prince, “as I have good reason to know.”
“Whether it attacks us or not, the delay could prove fatal,” Haplo poirited out.
“I have an idea.” Jonathan walked slowly and deliberately across the colossus toward the approaching dragon. “Don’t make any threatening moves or gestures.”
The beast glanced at him, but the red eyes were far more intent on the phantasm of the prince.
“What are you?”
The dragon spoke to the prince, ignored Jonathan, ignored everyone else standing on the broken column. Haplo put his hand on the dog’s head, keeping it quiet. The animal trembled, but obeyed its master.
“I have never seen anything like you.”
The dragon’s words were perfectly intelligible, clearly understood, but they weren’t spoken aloud. The sound seemed to run through the body, like blood.
“I am what was always meant to be,” said the phantasm.
“Indeed.” The slit eyes flicked over the group. “And a Patryn, too. Stranded on a rock. What next? The fulfillment of the prophecy?”
“We are in desperate need, Lady,” said Jonathan, with a low bow. “Many of the people in the city of Necropolis now lie dead—”
“Many of my people now lie dead!” The dragon made a hissing sound, its black tongue flickered. “What is this to me?”
“Do you see those ships, crossing the Fire Sea?” Jonathan pointed. The dragon did not turn her head, she was obviously aware of what was passing in her ocean. “They carry lazar and armies of the dead—”
“Lazar!” The slit eyes of the dragon narrowed “Bad enough the dead walk. Who brought lazar into Abarrach?”
“I did, Lady,” said Jonathan. His hands clasped together, holding tight, keeping his pain within.
“You will get no help from me!” The dragon’s eyes flared in anger. “Let the evil you have brought into this world take you down with it!”
“He is innocent of that charge. Lady. He acted out of love,” stated the phantasm. “His wife died, sacrificed her life for his. He could not bear to let her go.”
“Folly, then. But criminal folly. I will have nothing further—”
“I want to make amends, Lady,” Jonathan said. “I have been given the wisdom to do so. Now, I am trying to find the courage. . . .” Words failed him. He swallowed, drew a deep breath. Hands clasped tighter. “My companions and I must reach the opposite shore, ahead of the lazar and the dead they command.”
“You want me to carry you,” said the dragon.
“No . . .” Alfred shook in his shoes.
“Shut up!” Haplo laid a silencing hand on the Sartan’s arm.