Surprisingly, Knight Officer Morham Targonne was the first one to reach Cobalt's side. Without asking permission, he vaulted up the dragon's leg and swiftly checked Sara's condition.
Cobalt did not complain. He was too frantic to know if she was all right.
Sara stared blearily at the young knight. "Is the general… still alive?"
He shot a glance at the other fallen dragon and saw Mirielle climb out of her saddle, apparently unhurt. He nodded his answer.
"Then pull it out," Sara ordered.
Morham looked at the bolt in Sara's leg and shook his head. "You could bleed to death," he warned.
"Pull it out!" Sara demanded again. "I have to finish this." Technically the trial was not over until one of the opponents was dead or had surrendered.
Morham shrugged, but he gently worked the bolt tip out of the saddle leather and, placing a booted foot against Sara's leg to hold it in place, used both hands to pull the bolt quickly and smoothly out of Sara's thigh.
Sara bit off a scream. Clenching her teeth, she leaned into Cobalt's strong shoulder until the worst of the pain passed. Finally she gulped some air and managed to sit up. Fortunately the bleeding wasn't bad, assuring her that the bolt had not struck the large artery in her leg.
Sara patted Cobalt's neck. "Thank you, my friend. You are one glorious dragon."
Cobalt chuckled. "Of course."
"Rest here. I must finish this. Then we will go." While Morham watched, Sara pulled her sword out of the saddle scabbard and climbed down Cobalt's side to the ground. She limped unsteadily toward the body of the other blue where he had slewed into the snow.
Looking at Cerium, Sara knew he would fly no more. The dragon, in his attempt to save his rider, had broken his neck in the fall. He lay motionless in death, his color already fading.
The people gathered around Cerium saw Sara coming and silently stood aside. With the dragons out of the fight, the battle had to be continued on foot.
General Abrena hefted her own sword and strode forward to meet her. Her eyes glittered with the prospect of a kill. "Your dragon fights well," Mirielle shouted. "Can you do the same?"
With a wounded leg, against a well-trained, ruthless fighter? Sara doubted it. But she thrust every vestige of fear, pain, and doubt aside and emptied her mind of everything but her enemy and the feel of the sword in her hands.
The spectators, who had followed them from the arena, formed a large circle around the two women in the snowy field and kept up a steady chorus of cheers, jeers, opinions, and advice.
Mirielle and Sara ignored them. They circled each other for a few tense moments, their swords raised, their faces intent on each other. They moved at the same instant and came together in a clash of blades. Back and forth they struggled across the circle, hammering at each other with a rain of deadly blows.
Time and again Sara silently thanked Knight Officer Massard for the conditioning he had given her. Without the months spent in Neraka running and training and strengthening the talon, Sara knew she would not have survived the first five minutes of the duel. Her own years of practice served her well, too. As the blood soaked down her pants from her leg wound and her body grew weaker, more and more often her muscles reacted automatically with an oft-practiced defense against a vicious thrust or a heavy upward slice.
"You are weakening, Ariakan's woman," Mirielle taunted. "You were never worthy to be a knight."
"No, thank the gods!" Sara panted between breaths, and she brought her blade around in a swift parry.
Their swords clashed again, and for just a second, Mirielle's grasp on her leather grip appeared to slip. She recovered quickly and continued her attack, but Sara sharpened her focus on the general's physical condition, and for the first time, she recognized pain in Mirielle's golden eyes. Cerium's crash landing had battered his rider more than she let on, and the duel was taking its toll on her as well. Her face was slick with sweat and red from her exertions, and her lithe movements were growing clumsier.
As Sara watched the general, she realized the woman was favoring her left arm. Before she had time to act on that knowledge, however, Sara's foot slipped on an icy patch of snow. Her wounded leg couldn't catch her weight, and she stumbled sideways.
As fast as a cat, Mirielle leapt to attack. Her blade slid around Sara's and knocked the sword out of Sara's hand.
Sara did not even hesitate. In the back of her mind, she had anticipated such a possibility, and the moment she felt the sword leave her clasp, she scrambled upright and, with her last strength, ran away from Mirielle toward the edge of the circle where Cobalt crouched.
"You coward!" Mirielle screamed furiously. She charged after her quarry across the trampled snow.
The crowd hooted in derision.
"Cobalt!" Sara yelled. "The lance!" The short rider's lance she had taken into the battle was still attached to Cobalt's saddle. By trial law, it was still considered an acceptable weapon in the duel.
The blue dragon trumpeted his understanding. Shoving aside draconians and knights, he lumbered into the open circle and turned so Sara could reach the lance.
She scrambled up his leg, wrenched the lance free, and dropped to the ground just as Mirielle reached them. Cobalt reluctantly backed away to let Sara finish the battle alone.
The general skidded to a halt, her words of scorn congealing on her tongue. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to reassess this new weapon in Sara's hands.
Sara gave her no more time to think. As the general raised her sword to resume the attack, Sara furiously hefted the heavy lance and swung it as hard as she could at the general.
Startled by such a basic move, Mirielle tried to block the wooden shaft with her blade. The sword's edge sank into the wood and stuck there, and the momentum of the lance wrenched the sword out of Mirielle's hands. The lance, weighted by the sword, crashed into the general's left arm with an audible crack. The lance tip broke and the sword tumbled free, but Mirielle could not pick it up.
She fell to her knees, clutching her left arm, her face racked by pain.
Sara stumbled forward, picked up the general's sword from the ground, and held it to Mirielle's throat. "Surrender or die."
The general saw no mercy in Sara Dunstan's face. She meant every word she said. Briefly Mirielle weighed her choices and accepted her decision. What profit was there in dying by the hand of an exiled renegade? Sara had won the victory this time, but there would be another time in the future when the traitor would not be so lucky. Mirielle would be certain of that.
"I surrender," Mirielle said between clenched teeth.
Sara hauled the Dark Knight to her feet. "I have won my freedom, but I have not finished my task. Tell your knights to leave us alone, or I will kill you."
At the general's sharp command, the knights in the crowd moved away from Cobalt. Sara limped back to the dragon, taking Mirielle with her. The big blue stood unsteadily on his feet, waiting for her. Sara knew they both needed rest and medical attention, but she wanted desperately to see Kelena and the others before she left Neraka. "Could you carry us for a short while?" she asked the dragon. "We need to get to the Red Quarter."
Cobalt tested each leg and wing in turn and decided that indeed he could walk without too much difficulty. He waited patiently while Sara urged the general up into the saddle at the point of her own sword, and he carried the two women as quickly as his burned back would allow to the Red Quarter and the tents of the Sixth Talon.