“It’ll take time to gather such wealth,” Pakito said. “We’re riding west. How will we ever get the ransom, if the great elf chief agrees?”
Karada pondered for a moment. Her eye fell on Kepra, scarred inside and out by fire.
“We will give them one year’s time,” she said. “Let the Silvanesti meet us then on the south slope of Mount Ibal. There the ransom will be given over... if Balif still lives.”
The last four words were added in a mutter, but the elf lord agreed with surprisingly little rancor. Four noble elves were cut loose to deliver the message. At first they were reluctant to present such shameful words to the Speaker of the Stars, but Balif convinced them. They were given their meager supplies and sent off. The hoof-beats of their mounts faded quickly into the night.
The nomads dispersed to make preparations for night camp. Soon Karada and Beramun were alone with the captive elf lord.
Balif sat down on the ground. “Congratulations, Karada,” he said.
“For what?”
“You are treating with the mightiest ruler in the world,” he said, almost bemused. He looked past the nomad chieftain standing over him, focusing his gaze on the starry sky. “By doing so, you and your people cease to be a band of scavengers and vagabonds. Now you are a nation, like mine.”
“Like yours?” she said, spitting the words. “Spirits preserve us from such a fate.”
3
At first, the flashes in the clouds below puzzled him. They couldn’t be lightning. When a bronze dragon was aloft, any lightning in the air would naturally collect around him, not far beneath in some broken clouds. If not lightning, then the flicker of fire in the air had to be something else, something unnatural. This possibility filled his tired limbs with new energy.
Duranix had been airborne eleven straight days, keeping on the trail of his mortal foe, Sthenn. More than a thousand leagues had passed beneath his hurtling shadow: ocean, islands, continents, and more ocean. His days had been a grim routine of flying, eating on the wing, and straining his senses for clues.
Some five or six days into the chase, Sthenn had switched to a spear-straight course due west, no longer dodging and doubling back to confuse his younger adversary. Just as Duranix was adjusting to his foe’s headlong flight, the aged serpent tricked him again. Losing the trail completely, Duranix wove north and south for several days, seeking remnants of the green dragon’s passage.
There were a few signs—a small blasted area in a dense forest, the half-eaten carcass of a whale floating in the ocean, an errant smell of decay on the high winds—yet never an actual sighting.
Sthenn’s new elusiveness was disturbing. Until now the green dragon had been careful not to lose Duranix. By keeping him on the chase, by leading him farther and farther from the Valley of the Falls, Sthenn was clearing the way for Zannian to destroy Yala-tene.
Duranix accepted those risks—the possibility of his own death and that of Amero—in order to sink his claws and teeth into his ancient enemy.
Now, thousands of leagues from Amero, Duranix sensed Sthenn’s purpose had changed. Perhaps the ancient creature was growing tired. Maybe he thought enough time had elapsed for his human minions to ravage Duranix’s territory. Whatever the reason, the green dragon was no longer leading Duranix astray, offering tantalizing glimpses of himself and leaving obvious markers to his passage. He seemed genuinely to be trying to evade his pursuer.
Scarlet and yellow flashes rippled through the lower clouds again. A distant boom arrived a little later. Duranix knew the air was too dry and cold to birth a thunderstorm. Perhaps he’d found Sthenn at last.
Shortening the spread of his wings, he dropped swiftly through the clouds. White lines of surf were visible to the north, evidence of a beach. Sunlight slanted through the tattered clouds, illuminating the tossing waves. The sea was shallow here, shallow and green as emerald.
Duranix emerged from the lowest level of clouds and found himself buffeted by searing flashes and loud claps of thunder. Heat flashed over his metallic hide.
Slitting his eyes to shield them, he saw the sea below was thick with boats, like the canoes made by humans but larger and more elaborate. Some were very long, with many slender oars protruding from the sides. They resembled giant centipedes. Other craft, shorter and blockier, pushed through the frothing waves propelled by a paddle wheel on each side. The centipede ships were roofed in timber and painted with stripes of red and black. The paddle-wheelers were sheathed in bronze plates. Duranix couldn’t see what sort of creatures were operating the craft, but they were fighting each other, centipedes versus paddlers.
The strange thunder and lightning came again, and he immediately saw the source of the fury: machines, mounted on platforms atop the paddle vessels, were hurling pots of fire at their foes. When a pot hit a black-and-red centipede boat, it burst apart with a loud report and the craft, burning, sank.
There was no sign of Sthenn here, so Duranix pointed his nose west again. His wings had not flapped three times before the ocean exploded behind him. He thought it was more of the sea battle until he heard a reptilian shriek of fury. Craning his long neck around, he spotted Sthenn protruding from the waves. Water streamed from his neck and tree-trunk sized nostrils.
Got you! Duranix exulted. The craven Sthenn had tried to hide by lying submerged in the shallow, green waters, but had misjudged Duranix’s position and emerged too soon. Now he was caught!
Duranix came diving back, chin barbels whipping in the wind. He thrust out his foreclaws and let his mouth gape wide. Too often on the chase Sthenn had managed to dodge Duranix’s energy bolts. He’d always been airborne, able to maneuver. Now he was chest-deep in wind-tossed waves, standing on the sea bottom. Duranix let fly.
The sizzling blue bolt caught the green dragon squarely in his ancient, withered throat. He erupted in a howl of pain. Heat from the blast caused the water around Sthenn to steam. Slowly, like a great tree falling, he toppled backward into the waves.
Duranix flashed over the spot so low his wingtips flicked saltwater onto his back. He sped past a line of black-and-red boats, which back-oared frantically to avoid him. The paddle-wheelers hoisted pennants and closed in to finish their opponents off.
Duranix turned and strove hard to gain height. Strange, there was no sign of Sthenn. He couldn’t possibly have succumbed to a single strike... but then, the green dragon had been traveling hard, and he was not as young or strong as Duranix.
The sea battle continued to rage beneath him, but Duranix ignored it. He had no time for anything but the destruction of his enemy.
The water was a perfect cover for the green dragon. Cursing his inadequate vision, Duranix tried to probe the surging depths with his other senses, but the scene was too confused.
Just as Duranix banked left, Sthenn reared up in the midst of the paddle craft. The green dragon had a deep wound in his chest that bled black ichor into the sea. Bilious jets of toxic fumes billowed from his mouth. The poison couldn’t kill Duranix, but it did mix with the clouds to form a murky vapor. What effect it had on the creatures in the boats Duranix didn’t know
Sthenn reached down with both foreclaws, grasped the nearest boat, a flag-decked paddle-wheeler, and hoisted it into the air. The paddles on each side of the tubby hull continued to turn, water sluicing from them. Wheezing with pain, Sthenn hurled the vessel at Duranix.
The bronze flapped vigorously for altitude. The boat tumbled end over end as it came. Duranix dodged, and the craft plummeted back to the sea. When it landed a huge spout of green water was thrown up, and the battered boat rapidly sank.
A curious thing happened next. The boats ceased battling each other and attacked the dragons! Not just the paddle-wheelers but the centipede vessels as well—scores of craft turned their attention to the giant beasts in their midst. The centipede boats were equipped with sharp metallic prows, which they tried to ram into Sthenn. He swatted the craft aside while spewing poisonous breath over them.