Climbing, he wondered then concerning the ghostly bond which permitted him to communicate with Moonbird. Their proximity and spell-involvement in the caves of Rondoval during the two decades of the spell's effect had worked that linkage. He had never communicated with the dragon except at close range, though it occurred to him that now only a thin layer of rock might be all that separated them.
Moonbird! Do you hear me? he cried out in his mind.
Yes, came a distant-seeming reply.
Where are you?
Climbing. Still climbing.
I'm in trouble.
What kind of trouble?
I'm being pursued, Mouseglove told him, by those people who worked for Mark.
How many?
Six. Eight. Maybe more.
How unfortunate.
There is nothing that you can do?
Not from here.
What shall I do?
Climb fast.
Mouseglove cursed and looked back. All of his pursuers were nearing the cone's base--and one heavily muscled man was drawing back his spear for a cast. Mouseglove drew his pistol and fired it at him. He missed, but apparently spoiled the other's aim. The spear flew wide, clattering against the cone far off to his right.
He fired again, and this time the nearest of his pursuers dropped his club and clutched at his right shoulder.
What was that?
I had to shoot at a couple, Mouseglove replied, remaining low, continuing up the slope.
Did you find what you sought?
Yes. I have explosives. But my pursuers are too scattered to make them an effective weapon.
But you can use them from a distance?
Yes.
When you reach the top throw them down to the place you dug.
How far up are you?
That is not important.
They make quite a blast.
It should be amusing. Not worry.
Mouseglove looked back again. Three of his pursuers had reached the base of the cone and were beginning to climb. Halting, he took careful aim and fired at the foremost. The man fell.
He did not pause to assess the effect of this upon the others, but turned and put his full strength into his ascent. He was nearing the top now. His pursuers were strong and agile, but so was he. He also weighed less and was fester, so he had managed to acquire a good lead.
Finally, he reached the rim and mounted it, passing over its lip immediately, for cover. Only then did he look down. He made a soft noise at the back of his throat.
Moonbird, dragging his ponderous bulk slowly up the steep wall, had only succeeded in climbing about a quarter of the distance to the top.
I can't throw these things, he told the dragon. You're too near.
I have flown through thunderstorms, came the reply, when the heavens came apart all around. Yet I lived. Throw them.
I can't.
We die if you do not. And Pol...
Mouseglove thought of his pursuers, primed one of the grenades and hurled it down toward the now darkened area where he had been digging earlier. He covered his ears. He heard the blast and felt the vibration. Afterward, he heard the sounds of falling and shifting rocks.
Moonbird! Are you all right?
Yes. Throw another. Hurry!
Mouseglove complied and braced himself again. After the second explosion, he inquired: Moonbird?
Yes. Another.
The reply seemed slightly weaker, or could it but have been the roaring in his head, submerging it? He threw the third explosive, pressing himself back against the stone until the detonation occurred and the force of the aftershock had abated.
Moonbird?
There was no answer. He peered downward, through the clouds of dust and the shadows. The area where Moonbird had clung was now totally obscured.
Answer me, Moonbird!
Nothing.
As the ringing in his ears subsided, he thought that he heard scraping noises of ascent from the outer surface of the cone, though they could possibly have been the sounds of falling rocks. He dared not cast a grenade back over the lip of the crater because of its possible effects upon himself, there on the inside.
Quickly, he began his descent.
The dust irritated his eyes and nose, though he was able to refrain from sneezing. He tasted it and he felt particles of grit when he clenched his teeth. He spat several times but could not rid himself of it completely. His way darkened perceptibly with every movement of descent.
His eyes turned regularly in the direction of the area Moonbird had occupied, but he could detect no sign of the great dragon in the darkness below.
Mouseglove continued his descent, wishing, as he groped after a new foothold, that there were some manner in which he could manage to move more rapidly. For now the foremost of the small men was lowering himself over the edge above and two others were moving to follow. Just as he was about to look away, he saw a fourth figure come up and join them.
Cursing, he reached for the next lower hold. Before his hand located it, however, the rest of his body detected a faint, general vibration in the rock to which he clung. A rumbling sound followed.
Below him, waxing and waning but brightening in the overall process, an orange glow had begun in the heart of the crater. The growling noise came again, accompanied by a wave of heat.
There was a shout above him. His pursuers--five now--had halted. They began climbing upward as he watched, their movements touched with panic.
My bombs tore something loose, he decided. It's starting again. Can't go up. Can't go down. Wait and die.
Come down. You will not be harmed.
It's going to erupt!
No. Come down. You will be safe.
What--what is happening?
Can't talk. You come.
Mouseglove's hand continued its long-interrupted motion, coming to rest upon a stony knob to which he transferred his weight.
As he descended, the light grew brighter. The vibrations continued, but they were extremely mild, almost an effect of the echoes which bounced about him. Suddenly, with a roar, a bright fragment of something shot upward past him, followed almost immediately by another, tracing glowing trails through the twilight high above.
Are you sure it is safe? he asked, pressed tightly against the rock wall.
But there was no reply.
Continuing downward, he realized that the temperature had not risen excessively, as might be expected this near the point of an eruption. Could Moonbird be playing games with his own flames, to frighten off the enemy?
No, he decided, looking down into the glow. It covers too large an area and burns too regularly to be dragonfire.
He reached the floor of the crater unharmed. Clots of fire continued to flee upward, but none rose from points near him. Walls and pillars of flame came up in great number here, though what it was they fed upon, he could not discern. There was a clear aisle through their midst, however, heading in the direction he intended to take. He followed it.
The floor of the crater was even more ravaged than he remembered it, as a result of his bombing. He picked his way through heavy rubble toward the heart of a large depression as he headed for the site of his earlier digging. After several more steps, he realized that a vast shadow loomed at its center, below him.
He took another step.
Moonbird... ?
It swayed in his direction, and he saw the great head of the dragon nodding toward him, an ornate rod held between the enormous teeth.
The scepter! You've found it!
Mouseglove extended his hand.
Get onto my back.
I do not understand.
Talk later. Mount!
Mouseglove advanced and climbed upon Moonbird, scrambling toward his shoulders. Immediately, the dragon began to move, climbing out of the pit, heading toward the northern wall, almost exactly opposite the place he had climbed earlier.
When they reached the crater wall, Mouseglove suddenly caught hold more tightly as Moonbird reared and commenced climbing.