Kith-Kanan shouted at Greenhands that now was the time to flee. Then he himself backed into one of the tunnels. The monster was shaking its injured claw, finally dislodging the sword from it. As the Speaker disappeared into the tunnel, the wyvern snaked its neck down and thrust it into the opening. Kith-Kanan retreated out of reach.
The wyvern turned on Greenhands, the only remaining target. The green-fingered elf was markedly unafraid, and he dodged nimbly about the chamber, throwing enormous pieces of stone at the monster. From the tunnel, Kith-Kanan shouted over and over for him to abandon the room, to make his escape.
Greenhands fought on. The power that had made him and given him great strength had also bestowed upon him lightning-fast reflexes and an instinctive knowledge of how to hurt the beast. After one near miss by the wyvern’s snapping beak, Greenhands found himself flat against the curving wall. A torch bracket was by his ear, and he reached up and snapped the black iron holder off the wall. The holder was ringed with iron spikes. With sufficient force, the points could pierce the wyvern’s skull.
Kith-Kanan saw his newfound son leap at the monster. The wyvern’s tail slashed around, destroying the last few burning torches in the room. Darkness seized the scene, though Kith-Kanan could still hear the sounds of the struggle. Now and then the iron bracket held by Greenhands would scrape on stone, and a fount of red sparks flared.
The wyvern howled—in pain or victory? Kith-Kanan couldn’t tell. He had taken a step back toward the room when the smell and sound of the monster filled the end of the passage. It hissed at him and began to force its way in. Only its yellow eyes, each as big as the Speaker’s head, shone in the darkness.
“Try it again! Come on, put your backs into it!”
Verhanna, Rufus, and the warriors braced themselves against the back of a giant boulder, which they had managed to lever out of the mountainside. The scavenged rope was webbed about the rock, and now they were trying to roll it into the cave opening through which Kemian had heard the Speaker’s voice. The boulder refused to budge more than an inch at a time.
“Weaklings!” Verhanna stormed, fear for her father manifesting itself in fury. And fear for Greenhands, to whom she owed her life. “You aren’t true Guards of the Sun! The Speaker is in danger!”
Kemian snapped, “We know that! Do you think—?”
“Shh! Hear that?” Rufus said, interrupting Lord Ambrodel.
Strange sounds filtered out from the tunnel opening into the early morning air. They sounded like footsteps. Someone was coming out. The sun was a sliver on the eastern horizon, brightening the scene. Verhanna pushed forward to peer inside.
A slim figure staggered into view.
“Ulvian!” she exclaimed.
“Help!” he gasped. Two elves rushed forward to aid him. They supported him to the boulder and gently let him down. “Dru—he’s become a wyvern! He’s got both parts of the amulet!”
“Where’s the Speaker?” demanded Kemian.
Ulvian closed his eyes and let his head sag against the rock. “Isn’t he here?”
“No.” Verhanna spat. “Neither is Greenhands!”
Kemian prodded the prince. “You left the Speaker to face a full-grown wyvern?”
“He told me to leave!”
The warriors and kender stared down at him. His face was still bruised from his beatings at the hands of the grunt gang, but his limbs were whole. Somewhere in the rear of the band, the word “coward” found voice.
Verhanna turned to Kemian. “The wind spell must be broken. We don’t need the boulder and rope anymore. Let’s go!”
“Wait. We can’t just rush in. We must plan our attack!”
Kemian paused, then added more calmly, “Half will go in, the other half will stay and watch for the Speaker or Greenhands to emerge.”
All except Ulvian volunteered to be in the contingent that went inside. In the end, Kemian made the choices. The attacking party included himself and Verhanna, who made it plain she was going in whether or not he chose her. She ordered Rufus to remain outside.
“But why? I haven’t ever seen a wyvern before,” he complained.
“Because I said so, that’s why. And I pay you.” She glanced at Ulvian, who sat leaning against the boulder, eyes closed. “You can guard Prince Ulvian,” she said contemptuously. “He’s an escaped prisoner, after all.”
Chagrined, the kender watched half the warriors file into the yawning cave. He shifted from one foot to the other, looking from the tunnel mouth to the remaining elves. They were as anxious as he to be part of the fight, but they stayed where they were, tense and expectant.
When the last elf entered the tunnel, Rufus could stand it no longer. He sprinted to an adjacent opening and promptly collided with Kith-Kanan. “Your Mightiness!” burst out the kender. “We thought you were monster food!”
“Not yet, my friend. The beast is about twenty paces behind me.”
“Yow!”
The kender darted around the Speaker to get a better look. The morning sun sent a roseate beam down the shaft, lighting the crawling monster’s head and serpentine neck. Its mouth opened and a shrieking hiss reverberated down the passage.
“So that’s a wyvern,” Rufus said matter-of-factly.
“You’ll get a much closer view if you don’t get out of the way,” Kith-Kanan stated. Kender and elf moved quickly away.
Kith-Kanan saw Ulvian scrambling to his feet by the rope-bound boulder. He also spied the unhappy warriors Kemian had left behind.
“Warriors! Get your weapons! The wyvern is coming!”
The ten elves ran to their horses and mounted, taking their lances from the conical pile they’d been arranged in. The wyvern’s head snaked out of the cavern opening. It saw Kith-Kanan and hissed in outrage.
“Go in and fetch Lord Ambrodel,” Kith-Kanan ordered the kender. Rufus saluted and dashed inside a tunnel.
A warrior brought Kith-Kanan a horse and lance. The tired, battered Speaker climbed into the saddle and couched his lance. The monster’s forelegs were free of the passage and it was wriggling the rest of its body out. The disk of the sun cleared the eastern mountains. The sky was bright blue.
The lancers charged the monster in ragged formation before it could get its wings, legs, and tail free. The first warriors scored hits on the wyvern’s exposed chest, but it snapped its beak over their lance shafts and tossed the elves aside like dolls. One was thrown over the edge of the plateau, to vanish in the deep gorge below. A second was hurled against Black Stone Peak and slid to the ground dead, his neck broken.
“For Qualinesti!” Kith-Kanan shouted, charging forward.
Pushing with its powerful hind legs, the, monster freed its wings. One of the leathery flying limbs hung limp, injured by Greenhands in the chamber; the other swept to and fro, upsetting horses and blinding riders. Kith-Kanan buried his lance in the wyvern’s neck but was knocked from his horse. Two warriors shielded him from the enraged beast. The wyvern snatched the closest in both foreclaws and shook him as a terrier worries a rat, then hurled his lifeless body to the ground. The other warrior succeeded in driving his lance through the monster’s uninjured wing. The elf let go of the weapon, turned his horse in a fast circle, and offered a hand to the fallen Speaker. Sore but spry, Kith-Kanan mounted behind the warrior.
The wyvern bled from half a dozen wounds and both its wings were damaged, but its strength hardly seemed diminished by the time it worked its legs free. The warriors drew off a short way on the lower plateau in order to form ranks and charge again. Kith-Kanan took the horse of a fallen fighter.
“Try to get behind it,” he told the elves. “I’ll try to distract it.” The warriors settled into tight ranks. “Now!”
They galloped at the beast, then split into two columns and surrounded the wyvern. It lashed out from side to side with its barbed tail, slaying elf and horse alike. The great beast suffered more wounds, but no one came close to piercing its heart. Kith-Kanan dueled furiously with its beaked head, slashing with his sword at the ugly, snapping mouth. At one point, the wyvern caught the crest of his helmet. Kith-Kanan frantically tore at the strap buckle, releasing it before the wyvern could tear his head off.