easy target.
As his dragon swooped away Lio!rt turned his head, expecting to see a dreadfully big cinder.
There was nothing there. Puzzled, Lio!rt turned back.
Hrun, heaving himself over the dragon’s shoulder scales with one hand and beating out his flaming hair with the other, presented himself to his view. Lio!rt’s hand flew to his dagger, but pain had sharpened Hrun’s normally excellent reflexes to needle point. A backhand blow hammered into the dragonlord’s wrist, sending the dagger arcing away towards the ground, and another caught the man full on the chin.
The dragon, carrying the weight of two men, was only a few yards above the grass. This turned out to be fortunate, because at the moment Lio!rt lost consciousness the dragon winked out of existence.
Liessa hurried across the grass and helped Hrun stagger to his feet. He blinked at her.
‘What happened? What happened?’ he said thickly.
‘That was really fantastic!’ she said. ‘The way you turned that somersault in mid-air and everything!’
‘Yah, but what
‘It’s rather difficult to explain—’
Hrun peered up at the sky. Liartes, by far the most cautious of the two brothers, was circling high above them.
‘Well, you’ve got about ten seconds to try,’ he said.
‘The dragons—’
‘Yah?’
‘They’re imaginary.’
‘Like all these imaginary burns on my arm, you mean?’
‘Yes. No!’ she shook her head violently. ‘I’ll have to tell you later!’
‘Fine, if you can find a really good medium,’ snapped Hrun. He glared up at Liartes, who was beginning to descend in wide sweeps.
‘Just
‘Run!’ shouted Hrun. He threw her away from him and flung himself flat on the ground as Liartes’ dragon thundered by, leaving another smoking scar across the turf.
While the creature sought height for another sweep Hrun scrambled to his feet and set off at a dead run for the woods at the edge of the arena. They were sparse, little more than a wide and overgrown hedge, but at least no dragon would be able to fly through them.
It didn’t try. Liartes brought his mount in to land on the turf a few yards away and dismounted casually. The dragon folded its wings and poked its head in among the greenery, while its master leaned against a tree and whistled tunelessly.
‘I can burn you out,’ said Liartes, after a while.
The bushes remained motionless.
‘Perhaps you’re in that holly bush over there?’
The holly bush became a waxy ball of flame.
‘I’m sure I can see movement in those ferns.’
The ferns became mere skeletons of white ash.
‘You’re only prolonging it, barbarian. Why not give in now? I’ve burned lots of people; it doesn’t hurt a bit,’ said Liartes, looking sideways at the bushes.
The dragon continued through the spinney, incinerating every likely-looking bush and clump of ferns. Liartes drew his sword and waited.
Hrun dropped from a tree and landed running. Behind him the dragon roared and crashed through the bushes as it tried to turn around, but Hrun was running, running, with his gaze fixed on Liartes and a dead branch in his hands.
It is a little known but true fact that a two legged creature can usually beat a four legged creature over a short distance, simply because of the time it takes the quadruped to get its legs sorted out. Hrun heard the scrabble of claws behind him and then an ominous thump. The dragon had half-opened its wings and was trying to fly.
As Hrun bore down on the dragonlord Liartes’ sword came up wickedly, to be caught on the branch. Then Hrun cannoned into him and the two men sprawled on the ground.
The dragon roared.
Liartes screamed as Hrun brought a knee upwards with anatomical precision, but managed a wild blow that rebroke the barbarian’s nose for him.
Hrun kicked away and scrambled to his feet, to find himself looking up into the wild horse-face of the dragon, its nostrils distended.
He lashed out with a foot and caught Liartes, who was trying to stand up, on the side of his head. The man slumped.
The dragon vanished. The ball of fire that was billowing towards Hrun faded until, when it reached him, it was no more than a puff of warm air. Then there was no sound but the crackle of burning bushes.
Hrun slung the unconscious dragonlord over his shoulder and set off at a trot back to the arena. Halfway there he found Lio!rt sprawled on the ground, one leg bent awkwardly. He stooped and, with a grunt, hoisted the man onto his vacant shoulder.
Liessa and the Loremaster were waiting on a raised dais at one end of the meadow. The dragonwoman had quite recovered her composure now, and looked levelly at Hrun as he threw the two men down on the steps before her. The people around her were standing in deferential poses, like a court.
‘Kill them,’ she said.
‘I kill in my own time,’ he said. ‘In any case, killing unconscious people isn’t right.’
‘I can’t think of a more opportune time,’ said the Loremaster. Liessa snorted.
‘Then I shall banish them,’ she said. ‘Once they are beyond the reach of the Wyrmberg’s magic then they’ll have no Power. They’ll be simply brigands. Will that satisfy you?’
‘Yes.’
‘I am surprised that you are so merciful, ba— Hrun.’
Hrun shrugged. ‘A man in my position, he can’t afford to be anything else, he’s got to consider his image.’ He looked around. ‘Where’s the next test, then?’
‘I warn you that it is perilous. If you wish, you may leave now. If you pass the test, however, you will become lord of the Wyrmberg and, of course, my lawful husband.’
Hrun met her gaze. He thought about his life, to date. It suddenly seemed to him to have been full of long damp nights sleeping under the stars, desperate fights with trolls, city guards, countless bandits and evil priests and, on at least three occasions, actual demigods—and for what? Well, for quite a lot of treasure, he had to admit —but where had it all gone? Rescuing beleagured maidens had a certain passing reward, but most of the time he’d finished up by setting them up in some city somewhere with a handsome dowry, because after a while even the most agreeable ex-maiden became possessive and had scant sympathy for his efforts to rescue her sister sufferers. In short, life had really left him with little more than a reputation and a network of scars. Being a lord might be fun. Hrun grinned. With a base like this, all these dragons and a good bunch of fighting men, a man could really be a contender.
Besides, the wench was not uncomely.
‘The third test?’ she said.
‘Am I to be weaponless again?’ said Hrun.
Liessa reached up and removed her helmet, letting the coils of red hair tumble out. Then she unfastened the brooch of her robe. Underneath, she was naked.
As Hrun’s gaze swept over her his mind began to operate two notional counting machines. One assessed the gold in her bangles, the tiger-rubies that ornamented her toe-rings, the diamond spangle that adorned her navel, and two highly individual whirligigs of silver filigree. The other was plugged straight into his libido. Both produced tallies that pleased him mightily.
As she raised a hand and proffered a glass of wine she smiled, and said, ‘I think not.’
‘He didn’t attempt to rescue you,’ Rincewind pointed out as a last resort.
