Naeir,’ said the other one supporting his shoulders. ‘It was a sapling, bent back sideways, sharpened stakes on the end. We never saw it, not till it hit Naeir,’ he babbled frantically.
‘Did he hit his head as he fell?’ Kneeling, Kheda felt the unconscious man’s abdomen but the chain mail, dirty with fragments of wood and leaves, frustrated his searching hands.
/ can’t tell how badly he’s hurt without getting his armour off But getting it off could make things worse, if he’s bleeding inside. Liver or spleen could be ruptured, even his stomach. Then there ‘11 be no saving him. Dev appeared and set the warlord’s physic chest down beside him. ‘How old was the trap?’ he asked. The men looked at him, uncomprehending.
‘How old was the trap?’ Dev repeated himself with scant patience. ‘Was the wood still green, with leaves on the twigs? Did some sly bastard set it this morning to catch you lot if you came looking for him? Or was it dried out from being rigged there half a season ago?’
‘That’s a good question.’ Kheda looked up at Dev.
As the barbarian opened his mouth to say something more, a sudden storm of shouts and screams swept across the beach. Startled, Kheda was rising to his feet when a brutal buffet of sand-laden air and a deafening roar knocked him to his knees again. Before he could recover his footing or clear his stinging eyes, someone grabbed him by the arm and dragged him, stumbling, across the sands into the dubious shelter of the trap-laden forest. They dropped behind a tangle of sard-berry bushes choked with striol vines.
Kheda spat sand and fragments of things he didn’t want to think about out of his mouth. What—’
‘Look!’ It had been Dev who had dragged him off the beach. Now the barbarian was crawling and twisting through the bottoms of the bushes, his chain mail scorning the striol thorns.
Kheda wriggled after him on elbows and knees, the metal plates in his leggings digging into the backs of his legs. He swallowed hard. ‘What is that?’
Dev looked at him as if he couldn’t believe the question. ‘It’s a dragon, Kheda. You’ve heard of them, I take it, even down in these godforsaken islands?’
The warlord gaped at the wizard. ‘What’s it doing here?’
‘Whatever it chooses,’ Dev answered with strangled sarcasm.
Yes, you asked for that, didn’t you? Kheda lay as flat as he could beneath the inadequate cover of the stunted bushes and gazed at the beach with utter incredulity.
This can’t be real. This can’t be happening. No? Then what’s that? A mist-dream conjured by some barbarian smoke addling everyone’s wits?
Stars above, it’s as big as the Gossamer Shark! The dragon, wherever it had come from, had landed on the widest part of the beach, where the sea swells left the sand untouched. It stood, four massive clawed feet firmly planted and its thick, muscular tail curling around as it folded its awesome wings. A crest of thick scales running down its spine and tail glowed like living flame in the bright sun, culminating in a heavy ridged spike at the tip of its tail. The overlapping scales along its back and haunches were dark red as the bloody heart of a recalcitrant fire—and a formidable defence, that much was obvious. As the colour of its hide lightened down its flanks to an orange-tinted gold, the scales gradually grew smaller. As the creature shifted its stance, the flexible folds of skin between limbs and body stretched and bunched, pale as sunrise in the angle of its hind leg and belly.
It turned its enormous head to look at the triremes now fleeing the beach and lashed its tail, the heavy spike gouging a deep furrow in the sand. All four vessels were rowing frantically for open water, oar blades chopping the sea into a frenzy of foam. The lighter Brittle Crab was already half a length ahead. The dragon dropped its snout towards the water, fine forked tongue flickering out, never quite touching the rising and retreating surf Scales framed its head with a lethal ruff of spines that would baffle any opponent trying to seize it by the neck. Heavy crimson scales armoured its broad, blunt-nosed muzzle, softening to lighter colours in the folds beneath its long jaw. That softer skin didn’t extend far below its head, however. The underside of the long, flexible neck was armoured with more elongated scarlet scales.
After a few moments, it turned away from the water and surveyed the beach, slowly and deliberately. Its eyes glittered like liquid rubies, lit from within by a single spark of feral intelligence. It glanced over at the mined stockade now blazing fiercely. The dragon drew its coppery lips back in a snarl that revealed a single row of long, pointed, pure white teeth. It opened its mouth and hissed; a low, menacing noise, as its red tongue flickered in and out.
Abruptly, it sprang, the colossal power in its hind legs sending it across the beach with barely any need to spread its huge wings. It landed on top of the stockade, crushing the pyre beneath its great feet. Lashing head and tail from side to side, it scattered the fire, snapping at the gouts of flame with a growl deep in its throat. The blaze died instantly to leave black ash and cold cinders. The dragon snuffled at them, sending a flurry of sooty dust into the air.
Movement caught Kheda’s eye. Everyone had fled the beach in utter panic. Two swordsmen burdened with the unconscious Naeir had only managed to reach a knot of young nut palms standing some distance from the sparse margin of the forest. With the dragon apparently occupied, its back towards them, they seized their chance to try for better concealment, Naeir carried awkwardly between them.
The dragon’s head whipped around. It sprang a second time, unfolding the outermost crease of its wings to glide through the air. It landed, sending a tremor through the sand like the aftershock of a distant earthquake. With a bellow like the roaring fury of a forest fire, it swept the nut palms aside with a single sweep of a forelimb. The tree trunks landed half a ship’s length across the beach, snapped into splintered pieces.
The swordsmen dropped Naeir and fell to the sandy ground, curling up in a hopeless attempt to save themselves. The dragon crouched, belly to the sand, cocking its head. The fire in its eyes brightened as it reached out one forefoot, a single claw adroitly extended. Ignoring the other two for the moment, it prodded the unconscious Naeir. Getting no response, it bent its massive head closer while running that single vicious claw down the length of the man’s hauberk.
The grating noise sent a shiver of icy dread down Kheda’s spine. He watched, frozen with honor, as the beast drew back its head to consider the fallen warrior, long neck arcing as it looked at this mystery first from one side and then the other.
It doesn’t know what to make of the armour. It’s like that young matia you saw when you were out hunting with Sirket. It was doing well enough with the little lizards but it hadn’t a clue what to do when its mother brought back that jungle scun-ier. Even when she’d bitten between the shiny orange and black segments to break its back, the youngling hadn’t wanted to risk its pincers as it writhed in its death throes. The dragon bent its head to Naeir’s feet, mouth agape.
Then it changed its mind, twisting its maw as if to bite his head. At the last moment, it stopped, long tongue flickering out to run delicately along the brow band of the senseless swordsman’s helm.
That was too much for one of the other cowering warriors. He scrambled to his feet and ran for the forest, prompting a stifled outcry of encouragement from the swordsmen hidden among the trees and brush. This incautious outburst died on a note of despairing horror as the dragon rose and reached out one massive forefoot. The swordsman disappeared beneath it, crushed into oblivion in the sand. The dragon hauled his body back and bent to sniff at it. The ruff of scales around its head flared and its eyes burned hot scarlet as it opened its mouth to hiss on a rising note.
Abandoning the contemplative approach, it seized the armoured corpse between its teeth, head shaking from side to side. The swordsman’s arms and legs flopped loose and rattled against the creature’s scaly jaws. It spat him out with a growl of irritation and smashed its great foot down on him once again. After a moment, it repeated the blow and then stamped down a fourth time before bending to lick delicately at the oozing blood now obscuring the steel of the dead warrior’s hauberk. Lifting its head, it studied the gory mess for a moment, then carefully extended one claw and drove it through the dead man’s neck, pinning the body to the ground. Bending down, it nipped his legs between its vicious teeth with surprising precision, metallic lips drawn back. With a single tug, it ripped the broken torso out of the chain mail, the head left pinned, and devoured it in a single bite. Now that it had the trick of it, dispatching and consuming the other two men was the work of a few moments for the beast.