Doom of the Dragon (34 page)

“Aylaen!” he called.

“Here,” she said, her voice coming from the other side of the tapestry.

She and Farinn entered, gazing around in amazement, followed by Emerenta and Wulfe. The boy dashed past Skylan with a whoop of excitement that echoed loudly back from the walls, jarring Skylan and shocking Wulfe, who crouched in alarm.

Emerenta hissed, “You silly boy, you must keep quiet! Things are out there, listening!”

“I'm sorry,” Wulfe whispered, subdued.

“Where are we?” Farinn asked, awed.

“The Realm of Fire,” said Emerenta. “You must make haste. It is dangerous for you to linger.”

Aylaen turned to face Skylan, then stared past him. Her eyes widened in astonishment. She gripped Skylan's arm and pointed. “The tapestry!”

“What about it?” Skylan asked, turning to stare at it.

“I've seen one like it,” said Aylaen, marveling. “And so have you. In Owl Mother's house.”

“‘The wyrds of both men and gods together form the tapestry that is life,'” Farinn said softly, reaching out to run his hand over the fabric. “‘A single thread is fragile. The tapestry itself is strong.'”

The tapestry stirred at his touch, almost seeming to shiver. Farinn quickly withdrew his hand and cast a shy glance at Skylan.

“Those words are part of your song,” he said.

“Down the hall,” said Emerenta. “Make haste!”

Skylan cast a last lingering look at the tapestry as they left.

“This song is making me nervous,” he muttered.

 

CHAPTER

28

They passed under an arched doorway and down a short corridor that took them to the splintered remains of a massive oak door. Skylan pushed on the door and walked into desolation, the ruins of what must have once been a mighty city.

The sky glittered with stars. The moon looked much the same as the moon he had just left behind, except this one seemed tinged with a faint red glow. Cracked cobblestones were overgrown with weeds and covered with lichen that was black in the moonlight. The streets were filled with mounds of rubble. Not a single building remained standing; the field of destruction stretched as far as they could see.

“What was this place?” Skylan asked, speaking softly in a tone of respect, as one does in the presence of death.

“An old, old city of the Stormlords,” Emerenta replied. She seemed subdued, oppressed by the sense of doom. “I never knew the name.”

“What happened to it?”

“Who knows? Fearsome monsters, wicked Uglies. The Stormlords built a wall to keep out the evil.” Emerenta glanced over her shoulder, adding with a careless shrug. “It didn't work. And so the Stormlords fled—those who survived.”

The ruins were surrounded by a stone wall at least three times Skylan's height. Unlike the rest of the surroundings, the wall remained relatively intact, standing mournful guard over those it had failed to protect.

“Where is Tsa Kerestra?” Skylan asked.

“Through a portal in Starfall Tower,” said Emerenta.

“How far away is that?” Skylan asked.

“Not far,” said Emerenta, with a vague gesture. “Atop that hill. Keep to the shadows. Stay out of the light.”

Taking hold of Wulfe's hand, she struck out along a narrow path that hugged the wall. Skylan tried to see their destination, but a curve in the wall blocked his view and he moved into the street to try to see more clearly.

A mountain peak, far in the distance, was on fire, glowing brightly, and he knew now why the moon was tinged with red. He located the tower.

“Skylan, behind you!” Aylaen cried.

Looking over his shoulder, Skylan saw a monstrous creature, a hulking beast that looked similar to a dragon, only with a misshapen head, a single flaring eye, and a ponderous body with a thick, stubby tail. The beast dove at him, jaws gaping, flying fast. Skylan barely had time to fling himself to the ground before the beast was on him.

He flattened himself on the cobblestones and gagged at the smell of the hot, fetid breath. Drops of acid dripped from the beast's jaws, burning like red-hot pokers wherever they touched his skin.

The monstrous jaws snapped, barely missing him and the beast flew past with a growl of disappointment. Skylan scrambled to his feet and ran to where the others were crouched at the foot of the wall.

“Great Torval, look!” Farinn breathed.

Six more of the one-eyed monsters wheeled in the sky overhead, their huge wings obliterating the stars.

“Fool Ugly!” said Emerenta in disgust. “I warned you to stay out of the light!”

“What was that thing? Will it be back?” Skylan gasped, drawing his sword.

“We call it a One Eye.” Emerenta hissed at the sword with displeasure. “Put away your weapon! Iron is useless against such monsters and they will see the moonlight flashing off the metal.”

“Why did it attack me?” Skylan asked.

“The One Eyes are always hungry,” Emerenta replied. “They are distant cousins of the dragons and they will eat anything, including silly little boys who make too much noise and foolish Uglies who do not do as they are told.”

Wulfe cringed, chastened. Skylan glanced again at the monsters in the sky, seeming to be searching for prey. Fearing Emerenta was right about the moonlight, he reluctantly sheathed his sword.

“You're hurt!” Aylaen said, taking hold of his hand.

Blisters were forming where the drops of the One Eye's saliva had touched his flesh. The blisters burned like fire and he shook his hand, trying to shake away the pain.

“It stings, that's all,” he said.

Remembering the moment of heart-stopping terror when the jaws had snapped so close he could hear the clicking of gigantic teeth, he understood why dragons like Kahg had fled this land.

Emerenta hurried on, following the narrow path, staying close to the wall. She moved rapidly, using her wings to fly over rubble that blocked the path. Skylan noted that she was nervous and kept a close lookout, despite her claim that those with magic need not fear.

“The One Eyes have lost interest in us,” Skylan remarked to Aylaen.

Emerenta snorted. “More likely they saw something that frightened them.”

Skylan hoped she was jesting.

The ground rose steadily at a steep incline and the wall rose with it. Skylan could look down on the dwelling in which the portal was located and at the ruins of the city spreading out before it.

A tower at the top of the hill was silhouetted against the red moon.

Skylan was glad to see that they were close, perhaps only a half mile away. The tower was similar in shape and design to the stormhold, except that it was much taller. Long, narrow windows on each of seven levels must have once provided a magnificent view of the city. At the top, a rampart encircled a domed roof.

The tower's windows were placed so that the sinking moon shone through them. Skylan was startled to see a figure standing at one of the windows. The figure was in silhouette, black against the reddish moon, so Skylan could not make out any details. All he could see was a head and shoulders and part of the body. He had the impression that the figure was that of a man and that he was tall and wearing some type of cloak.

Skylan came to sudden halt, trying to get a better view.

“What is it?” Aylaen asked tensely.

“Someone is in that tower,” said Skylan, staring intently. “I can see a man standing in one of the windows.”

“Where? Which one?” Aylaen peered over his shoulder, as Farinn came up to join them.

“The middle row, third one up from the bottom,” Skylan said, pointing.

But even as he spoke, the figure left, moving on past the window.

“I don't see anyone,” said Aylaen.

“I did,” said Farinn. “A glimpse of a figure and then it was gone.”

“Do you think he saw us?” Aylaen whispered.

“We're in heavy shadow,” said Farinn. “I wouldn't think so.”

“We'll know soon enough,” said Skylan.

The three waited tensely for a warning shout sounding the alarm. Moments passed and the night was quiet. Emerenta and Wulfe had gone on ahead. Wulfe, missing them, came scampering down the hillside to meet them.

“My mother says to hurry—” Wulfe began.

Farinn interrupted the boy. “Hush! I heard something.”

“I did, too!” said Aylaen in a smothered voice.

Now Skylan could hear a strange sound—a feline growl and the clatter of hooves on stone.

Wulfe said excitedly, “Maybe it's a giant—”

“Quiet!” Skylan clamped his hand over the boy's mouth.

Aylaen drew her sword and stood near Skylan, watchful and alert. Farinn picked up a large chunk of rock. The hoofbeats continued for a moment, then pattered to a stop, as though whatever it was had stopped to investigate.

The hoofbeats started again, coming closer, moving faster.

Skylan drew his sword. “Take Wulfe and run!” he ordered Aylaen. “Keep him safe!”

“But I want to see the giant!” Wulfe wailed.

Aylaen hesitated a moment, not wanting to leave Skylan, then she grabbed hold of Wulfe by the arm and dragged him off, struggling and protesting. Hearing his cry, Emerenta stopped and turned around to see what was happening.

The feline growling grew louder and more menacing and a monstrous beast leaped onto a large pile of rubble in front of them. The beast stopped to look them over for a split second and then jumped on Farinn, striking him in the chest and dragging him to the ground.

“A chimera!” Emerenta yelled. “You cannot fight it! Leave your friend and run! He is finished!”

Skylan stared, paralyzed by shock. He had heard of chimeras all his life, but had never seen one; this was like something from a delirium dream. The chimera was a lion in the front with a leonine head and gigantic paws. A second head—that of a goat—vied with the lion head for their prey. The lion's head roared, the goat's head brayed, and its hind hooves stomped on the cobblestones.

Farinn smashed the rock he was holding into the lion's face, striking it on the nose, causing it to roar in pain and outrage. The goat's head, seeing an opening, tried to bite him.

Skylan dashed at the monster, thinking to stab it from behind and sever its spine while the two heads remained intent on Farinn. As he raised his sword, something seized his sword arm. The chimera had a snake for a tail and it had wrapped its reptilian body around his wrist.

Skylan struck at the snake with his fist, fighting to free his sword arm. The serpent loosed its hold and he staggered backward, almost falling, as the goat lowered its horned head. Skylan made a desperate jab with his sword. The curled horns and bony forehead struck him on the left shoulder and spun him around. He landed hard, splitting open his chin and reinjuring the ribs that he had bruised in the stormhold. He could scarcely breathe for the pain and he lay still a moment, gasping for breath.

Farinn shouted a warning. Grabbing his sword, Skylan pushed himself to his feet. He and Farinn had both drawn blood. The lion's head was bleeding from the nose and the goat had blood dribbling down the side of its neck. The chimera bounded up onto a pile of rubble. The lion's head snarled and the goat's head shrieked. The snake tail lashed in rage. The chimera stood poised atop the heap of broken stone, preparing to jump.

“Torval, with me,” Skylan prayed.

The chimera leaped at Skylan, who stood his ground and drove his sword into the beast's chest. God-rage bit deep, and hot blood washed over Skylan. The two heads howled and bleated in pain and rage as the wounded chimera crashed down on top of him. Crushed by the weight of the beast, Skylan was being slowly smothered and he desperately tried to shift the body. His arms were pinned and he couldn't move.

The stench was horrible. He could hear Aylaen and Farinn both shouting and then Aylaen cried, “Be ready!”

The chimera reared up, causing the crushing weight to ease, and then Skylan was free. Farinn seized hold of him and dragged him clear as Aylaen drove the sword of Vindrash into the goat's neck. The chimera crashed to the ground, dead, in a cloud of dust.

Skylan staggered to his feet. Aylaen cried out in dismay and he realized he was covered in blood.

“Not mine,” he gasped.

“Are you sure?” Farinn asked worriedly and pointed. “There's something wrong with your shoulder.”

Skylan looked to see his left arm hanging at an odd angle. Each breath he took was both a blessing and a curse, for it came with lancing pain.

Aylaen began to examine him, running her hands over his injured shoulder. Skylan stifled a groan. Even her gentle touch was painful.

“It's dislocated,” she said.

Aylaen turned to Farinn. “We're going to put it back.”

Farinn paled and swallowed. “I don't know how! I've never done anything like that!”

“I'll tell you how,” said Aylaen. She looked down at Skylan. “I'm sorry, my love.”

Skylan nodded. He had seen this done before and he knew what was coming. Lying on his back, he extended his left arm, stifling a groan as pain shot through him.

“Sit beside him,” Aylaen told Farinn. “Take his left hand, enlace your fingers with his, and hold tight. Put your left foot on the side of his torso. There, that's right. You're going to pull, slow, but firm. You can't stop. No matter what happens; no matter how loud he screams.”

Farinn settled himself into position, taking hold of Skylan's hand, twining his fingers through his and putting his foot into place. Aylaen clasped Skylan's right hand in both her hands. He gripped hold of her tightly.

“Ready?” Farinn asked.

Skylan managed to nod and Farinn shifted nervously. Sweat rolled down his forehead, his hand was clammy. He was in worse condition than Skylan. Just as he was about to start, Wulfe came dashing up to them.

“What are you doing? My mother says we have to leave now!”