“Let us hope that Rkard still lives,” said Caelum. “And that the hour is not too close to dark.”
The dwarf led his wife into the ravine.
As the pair disappeared, Sadira slipped a nugget of dried nyssa resin into her mouth and chewed. She plucked a lash from her eyelid and, when the gum had grown soft, wrapped it inside. Pinching the resulting wad between her fingers, she whispered an incantation. Her body slowly faded from black to gray, then grew translucent and finally became completely invisible.
The clatter of shifting stones echoed up from the gorge, and Sadira knew Neeva and Caelum had begun their descent. She reached into her pocket to prepare her next spell.
“Did you hear that?” Rikus whispered. “It sounded like clattering stones.”
The mul lay facedown on the brink of a small cliff. To one side, the precipice dropped about thirty feet to a plain of broken basalt. To the other side, a mound of loose stones rose fifty paces to a rounded crest that overlooked the Dragon’s waiting place. Above the summit of the ridge, Rikus could see the top of the arch, with its snaking yellow runes, silhouetted against the crimson sky. Of course, he could not see over the hill to tell what was happening in the ravine.
“I assume Neeva and Caelum are descending.” said Sacha. He was floating beyond the cliff edge, well out of the mul’s reach. “Be ready.”
“I am,” Rikus growled. He drew his sword and peered over the cliff edge at Tithian.
Having transformed himself into something resembling a giant scorpion, the king was using the claws of his six legs to climb the cliff. The Dark Lens was pressed against his back, held securely in place by his curled tail. In place of the arachnid’s claws, he had created a pair of arms as long and powerful as those of a half-giant. Only the head remained Tithian’s, looking at once demented and pitiful, with his brown eyes glaring from deeply sunken sockets, his hawkish nose slimmed down to a crooked rib of cartilage, and wild shocks of gray hair sticking out at all angles.
“Remember, I’ll be watching you,” Rikus warned.
The king smirked up at the mul. “We’re on the same side in this fight,” he said. “It’s time you accepted that.”
Rikus looked back up the hill. “I’ve been stung by one scorpion already,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”
Neeva sprang from one teetering boulder to another, her eyes watering and her throat burning from the caustic fumes of the ravine. Most of the brown vapors in the immediate area were swirling around her axe’s head, sinking into the enchanted blade and disappearing from sight. The few wisps that escaped were enough to make her glad for Sadira’s protection.
They had already traveled most of the way down the gorge. The great arch stood less than fifty paces away, at least five times as tall as a giant. A Balican schooner could have sailed through the gap between its pillars. Even the yellow runes on its face, now writhing madly, were the size of faro trees.
The Dragon continued to stand in the shadows beneath the arch, his head cocked as he watched them approach. The closer they came, the harder it became to see him clearly. The glow rising from the abyss at his back grew brighter with each step, until the glare blurred the edges of his scaly body.
Neeva had expected Borys to attack by now, but it did not disturb her that he had not. The closer he let them approach, the longer Sadira would have to position herself.
The warrior glanced at her axe head. They were all keenly aware that the Dragon ahead could be a double, like the one they had faced in Samarah. One of the enchantments Sadira had cast on the weapon was to make the blade reveal the true appearance of anything reflected in its dark sheen. The image Neeva saw was that of Borys.
“Watch yourself!” Caelum cried. “He may be attacking!”
The dwarf pointed at the top of the great arch. One of the sigils was glowing white and whirling madly. An instant later, it vanished in a bright flash.
Neeva pressed herself close to her husband’s side, holding the axe between them and the arch. Before she could ask what he expected to occur, a sheet of steaming white sludge sizzled from a long fissure in the canyon wall. She thought they would be swamped, but the sheet split apart as it neared them. A huge glob struck Neeva’s axe and swirled into the blade in a great whirlpool. The rest of the muck fell around them, blanketing the rocks on the ground. A harsh hissing and popping sounded from beneath the white shroud, as it quickly dissolved into brown vapor and rose up around them in a caustic cloud.
Neeva swung her axe through the choking vapors, clearing them away with a single pass of the blade. Both she and Caelum looked back to the arch immediately. To their relief, no more of the runes disappeared.
They advanced farther down the gorge, until they were close enough to see that the yellow runes in the arch’s face consisted of flowing ribbons of molten stone. The bright glow behind the Dragon sent blazing daggers of pain shooting through Neeva’s eyes, and blasts of fiery wind gusted up from the depths of the abyss to sear her flesh. Determined not to show her weakness, Neeva continued to advance without shielding her eyes or looking away.
A loud, spiteful voice came from beneath the arch. “Stop there, and we will speak.”
The warrior and her husband obeyed, keeping a watchful eye on the yellow runes above. “What do we have to talk about?” Neeva asked.
Borys stepped to the front edge of the arch, his body now blocking most of the glare. He lowered his serpentine neck and fixed his scorching gaze on the two intruders. The spiked crest on his head stood completely upright, the barbed tips of its spines gleaming with orange light. A scorching light shone in his beady eyes, and wisps of yellow smoke fumed from his dark nostrils. The Dragon’s beaklike mouth gaped open. Neeva brought her axe around, fearing he intended to spray them with his fiery breath.
Borys did not attack. “If you give me Tithian and the Lens, I’ll return your child and let you live,” he offered. “I’ll even leave Tyr alone.”
Neeva looked up at his hand, far above. She could see Rkard’s feet and hands protruding from between the Dragon’s claws, but nothing else.
“How do I know my son’s still alive?” Neeva asked.
The warrior found herself croaking the words. She did not know whether the dryness in her throat was due to her fear or the parching wind blowing in her face. Borys poised a claw over the center of his palm, approximately where Rkard’s chest would be. “Would you like to hear him scream?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Neeva glared up at the Dragon for a moment, then faced her husband as if to speak with him. As badly as she wanted to agree to the terms, she did not trust Borys any more than she would have trusted Tithian. She had no intention of revealing the Lens’s location, but she was simply trying to buy Sadira a little more time to maneuver into position.
Caelum turned a palm upward, calling upon the sun for his spell. To Neeva’s horror, a spout of glowing red ash shot down from the sky to lick at her husband’s hand. The dwarf’s eyes went wide, and a sound like roaring wind howled from inside the arch.
Neeva spun around, holding the flat of her blade before her. Borys had drawn himself up to full height, his bony chest puffed out with air. His snout gaped so far open that she could see a yellow glow rising from deep in his gullet.
At least we’re holding his attention, Neeva thought.
The beast dropped his head and spewed a cone of white-hot sand at the warrior and her husband.
Rikus saw a strange spout of crimson ash whirl down from the sky, descending into the gorge just a short distance from the great arch. Then came a roaring sizzle he recognized from previous battles against the Dragon: the blast of scorching breath. Clouds of blazing hot sand billowed up around the ash. The spout quickly dissolved, drifting away in a fog of gray flakes. Borys’s breath continued to roar.