“Yes, Captain,” the younger man replied. “They’ll have a half-dozen spears ready by morning, with Telastrian heads affixed. Additional replacement shafts will be finished by the time we’re home in the evening.”
Gill nodded and did his best to smile. He took a deep breath. “You all know of the Chevaliers of the Silver Circle?” he said.
Beausoleil and Val both nodded. Cabham only shrugged. With a sigh, Gill explained.
“The Silver Circle were founded to combat dragons in the dying days of the Empire,” Gill said. “Then their skills were forgotten as the need for them abated.” He drew the Cup from his purse, regarded it for a moment, then placed it on the table in front of him. “This cup is responsible for some of their success.” He paused, allowing the statement to sink in. It would take them a moment to make the connection, but he preferred it if they came to the notion of magic by themselves, so when he had to use the word it would come as less of a shock.
Val was the first to react. “Is it … magic?”
Beausoleil frowned, then gasped with indignation. The idea that the old swordsmen would have relied on magic was an insult to their modern descendants and his was an understandable reaction. Cabham, whatever he felt on the matter, revealed nothing.
“It is, and it helped give them an edge in a fight they would otherwise have perished in.” Val was hanging on every word, Cabham remained unreadable, but Beausoleil was having none of it. Guillot continued. “I’ve seen brave men and women, skilled and determined, die painful deaths fighting these things. I barely escaped my first encounter with my life. I would not have prevailed in the second without this cup’s help.”
“What does it do?” Cabham said.
“It seems to protect you from fire, and also give you a sense for where the beasts are. I think that can be developed to track them.”
“So you’ll be casting a spell on us?” Beausoleil said.
Gill couldn’t work out if his tone conveyed anger or fear. “Not in the way you might think. ‘Medicine’ might be a better way to put it. We take a drop of water from the Cup, say some words, and that’s it.”
“That’s it?” Beausoleil said.
“All I can tell you is this. I found it, discovered how to make it work, tested it, and found that it does. I won’t force any of you to take a drop from it, but I can guarantee you a much better chance of living through a fight with a dragon if you do. Although I’d like to get the process out of the way this evening, it doesn’t take long, so I can wait until morning for your answers.”
There was no immediate response, which Guillot had realised was too much to hope for. All in all, it had gone well. He waited a moment longer before speaking again. “I’ll give you your leave to consider it, gentlemen.”
Gill got up and left without a further word.
“Isn’t it cheating?” Val said, having followed him out.
“Pardon me?”
“Using magic. Isn’t it cheating?”
Gill shrugged. “When the game you’re playing requires one participant to die for the other to win, the only rule is do everything you can to make sure you survive. In any event, dragons are creatures of magic. Using magic to combat them levels the scales.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a scream from outside.
The taproom had emptied by the time Gill got there The crowd had spilled out into the square, where the darkness was illuminated by jets of flame and patches of fire. Cabham and Beausoleil were only a few steps behind him.
“Gods alive,” Cabham said, drawing his sword.
“What do we do?” Beausoleil said.
Gill had no idea. Perhaps with an arbalest or something similar, they could shoot one of the creatures from the sky, although they moved so fast he didn’t have any great hope of managing that even if they had one.
“Try not to get killed?” he said.
There were villagers running about the place: men, women, and children, all of whom he had been brought to Venne to protect. They were panicking and each bright jet of flame that illuminated the sky brought a fresh batch of screams. Even the bannerets and other swordsmen were rushing about without direction. Guillot had to do something, the only question was what. Without the Cup’s boon, he would be as vulnerable to the dragons’ flames as a rick of dry hay. Unless he could convince one to land so he could try to finish it with his sword, he didn’t see what he could do. He looked about frantically. All the houses were brick-and-timber-frame constructions with wooden shingles tiling their roofs. They were as susceptible to fire as any of the buildings in Villerauvais, and he could remember only too bitterly how that had turned out.
“The church,” he said to himself. He looked about for a local, and when he spotted a man without a sword at his hip, Gill grabbed him. Terrified, the man struggled to free himself from Gill’s grip.
“The church,” Gill said, “it’s roofed with slate, isn’t it?” He had given the building only the most cursory of glances when he had arrived at the town.
“It is. Let me go!”
Shouting, “Get to the church. It’s the safest place,” Gill released the villager, but he wasn’t sure if the man understood as he raced away.
Guillot turned to Val, Beausoleil, and Cabham. “Get as many people into the church as you can. The stone walls and slate roofs will give the best protection against the flames. Go!”
He began to follow his own orders, seeking out clumps of people. “The church,” he shouted. “Get to the church!”
Two dragons circled above the town square, illuminated from below by the fires they had created. For a moment Gill stood transfixed, watching them in all their magnificent, destructive brilliance. It was the type of sight a man experienced only once in his life, and as terrible as it was, it was captivating. The heat was intense, but now that the initial surprise of the attack had passed, he wasn’t afraid or confused. Only angry. This was what had happened to Villerauvais, only there hadn’t been anyone to stop it. He was here now, and he had to make a difference. But how?
The others were hurriedly urging everyone they could see to the church. That was all well and good, but unless he made some effort to stop the beasts, Gill knew he would be considered a fraud, assuming anyone survived the night.
He had nothing to knock them from the sky with, nor did he think he would be able to correctly recite the Cup’s words with all the havoc going on around him. The only thing that occurred to him was to try to lure the creatures away from the village.
Spotting Edine outside the mayor’s house, he shouted at her to make for the church, but she didn’t seem to hear him. A memory popped into his head, of Solène saying that dragons were attracted to gold. Then he recalled the pile of fused coins in the first dragon’s cave. He ran toward Edine.
“The town treasury—is there any gold in it?”
She frowned at him, clearly suspicious.
“Why?”
“Dragons are attracted to gold. I’ve a few coins in my purse, but I doubt it’s enough. Do you have any more?”
She looked confused, trying to process his request against the backdrop of fire and chaos. “It’s mostly silver, but there’s some gold.”
“Bag every bit you have and bring it to me as fast as you can.”
She nodded and went back inside. Gill spotted Val herding people toward the church. A burning wooden beam exploded in a shower of sparks across the square, sending them scattering.
“Val!”
The boy met Gill’s gaze.
“Saddle my horse and bring it around. Fast as you can.”
Val nodded and charged off. Gill looked around; the square was deserted and it seemed almost everyone was in the church. He prayed to the gods that it would keep them safe.