“It’s called dragonfear,” said Grallik. The wizard had been the one to grab him. “The great beasts exude it. A second skin, the fear, though I’ve been told they can suppress it if they want.”
Direfang’s chest heaved, and still he rubbed at his eyes.
“It probably saw the fire,” Grallik continued matter-of-factly. “Curious, it must have flown over and discovered a meal spread out all over this bluff and beyond.”
Bone-chilling screams reached the wizard and Direfang. The dragon roared again, and they heard the thunderous sound of its clawed feet striking the ground, plucking up victims.
“How do we fight this … dragonfear?” Direfang managed to gasp.
Goblins raced past them, more falling and being trampled, some trying fleetingly to look brave and defiant, but then giving in and rushing headlong as fast as their legs could pump. The screams were mixed with the sound of the dragon feasting.
“Wizard … how to fight this?”
“I don’t know,” Grallik said. Sweat ran down his face and soaked his shirt. His blond hair, blackened by the smoke and soot, was plastered against his head; he looked pale and exhausted, defeated. “I’ve been trying. But I’ve no spells to combat it. Not like Horace had.”
“So … the fires … attracted the dragon.” Direfang’s hands dug into the bark behind him. He closed his eyes tight and tried to breathe slower, thinking furiously. Still, the screams slammed into him, and still, his legs shook. “The fires …”
“I didn’t start them, Foreman. I know that was your first suspicion. But in your heart, you know that isn’t true.” Grallik poked his head out around the tree, looking for the dragon, seeing nothing but chaos. “We’ll all die here, you know. We can’t fight a dragon. Not one of that size, no matter how many goblins are here.” He sucked in air and swung back around to hide behind the tree. “The gods’ joke, Foreman, bringing death to me here. I should have died in Steel Town. Saved myself the trouble of this arduous trip. All this way, just for death.”
With that speech, lengthy for him, Grallik pushed away from the tree and drew his hands up in front of his face, lips working feverishly as he began to bring down a great gout of flame. Staring in wonder, Direfang peeked around the tree, seeing Grallik’s column of fire rush to strike the dragon’s head. Goblins caught in the beast’s mouth were instantly incinerated. More goblins were caught under its front claws, some of them burning, one screaming. Direfang recognized poor Cari.
“How do … we fight … this … fear?” Direfang took a deep breath, inhaling chlorine mixed with the scents of burned goblins, burned homes, and the dragon’s stench. The hobgoblin spit and spit, trying to clear the redolent mix out of his mouth as he made a decision. He jumped up and dashed around the tree, straight toward the huge monster, pulling his axe free with one hand and reaching for a long knife at his side with the other.
He screamed as he ran-a lunatic sound that drew the dragon’s attention. The maw opened again, and the dragon inhaled, sounding like all the air from the goblins’ sprawling city was being sucked into its lungs. Direfang knew another cloud of chlorine gas was coming his way, and he held his breath.
At the same time, another whoosh of Grallik’s flame struck the dragon’s head. Its tail flailed like a whip, batting away Boarhunters who were darting in to battle it. The force of the tail sent goblins flying against trees and past Direfang, who was getting close. The dragon’s neck snaked out, jaws snapping with fetid breath. Direfang raised both weapons just as its leg muscles bunched and propelled the creature into the air. Its wings flapped, the wind flattening everyone on the bluff.
Direfang had dropped his axe and knife, but he was quick to grab them up again.
“Cari!” Keth hobbled toward his mate, using a branch to help him walk; his right leg was twisted and useless.
“Cari! Cari! Cari!”
With one glance, Direfang could tell Cari was dead, her small chest crushed and head twisted at an unnatural angle. Dozens of goblins lay dead and broken or charred. Dozens more were injured-broken limbs from either the dragon or being trampled by their clansmen, skin blistered from the horrid gas, most rubbing at their eyes. Two hung limp from low branches, where they’d been propelled by the sweep of the dragon’s tail. Qel was tending the hobgoblin Sully; a piece of flesh hung loose from his arm, and it appeared she was trying to reattach it.
Direfang looked up. The sky was clear and cloudless, and there was no sign of the green beast. “Gone,” he rasped. “Grallik’s fire chased it away.” He looked for the wizard, wondering if he had survived, and quickly spotted Draath at Grallik’s side.
The wizard was on his hands and knees, retching and shaking. His clothes and hair were drenched, and as Direfang ran toward them, he gagged on the overwhelming smell of chlorine. The dragon had breathed that way before it launched itself skyward, and Grallik had taken the brunt of its final attack.
Direfang helped Grallik to his feet. The wizard’s face glistened, his eyes were puffy and rimmed with red. It looked like the scars on his left cheek were blistered afresh. “Chased away the dragon,” Direfang muttered awkwardly. It was as close to a thank-you as he would give the half-elf wizard.
Grallik’s head bobbed and he wiped at his lips. “Too big of a dragon, Foreman, for my fire to defeat.”
Suddenly it began to rain on Grallik and Direfang, Draath quickly stepping out of the way. The water felt good, and the hobgoblin held his face straight up into it, breathing deeply, opening his mouth and swallowing as much water as he could. The wizard tipped his head up too, nodding toward Orvago, who had supplied the miniature cloudburst. It didn’t heal but it helped.
“I hurt the dragon, Foreman,” Grallik continued, pausing to gulp a swallow of the rain. “But I didn’t hurt it much. The dragon was too big, a very old one, from the size of it. It’ll return.”
“Didn’t die in Steel Town,” Direfang mused. “Didn’t die here.”
“Not yet anyway.” That came from Orvago as the rain stopped and he padded closer, carefully eyeing Grallik. “You hurt the dragon, like you said, but I can’t imagine that you hurt it enough to scare it off permanently.” He waved a hand behind him, indicating the droves of goblins slowly returning.
Their incredulous gazes flitted from one corpse to the next, their voices rising in fear and anger and grief. One pointed to Direfang and sputtered something that couldn’t be heard over the ruckus. Others pointed angrily at each other.
“I suspect the dragon will seek vengeance,” Orvago said quietly, so only Direfang, Draath, and Grallik could hear. “I’ve no experience with such creatures, never having seen one before today. But I’ve heard tales from some of the healers on the island, and-”
“Dragon!” Qel’s thin voice cut above the chatter. “The dragon is-”
Though there wasn’t a cloud in sight, a bolt of lightning had appeared, shooting down on the north edge of the city. It was followed by another and another lightning bolt, and for a brief moment, Direfang wished it was Mudwort returning.
But he knew better. More goblins had picked up the cry of “dragon!” as Direfang stared up at the sky. Through a gap in the foliage of the tallest maples and oaks, amid the lightning bolts, he saw the dragon’s serpentine neck and its tail.
“How is this possible?” a despairing Direfang shouted at the magic-users as he waved goblins away from the corpses and toward the bluff. “Lightning from a dragon?”
“I said it looked to be an old dragon,” Grallik said, tucking his hair behind his ears, his chest heaving. He was preparing himself for another spell. “Like me, it has magic. Though I suspect it is the greater wizard.” He began gesturing.