“I know what Bzorch is doing,” she yelled at them all. “If you people didn’t know, the Dakahneese are our allies, not our enemy, yet Bzorch seems to want to help King Jarrek defend against them.” She glared at those who remained. “How did they cross the river?”
“I assure you,” Cozchin groveled. “I… We had no idea what he was intending to do while he was…”
“How! Did! They! Cross! The river?” Shaella screamed each word. Vrot’s head shot down and stopped only inches from Cozchin’s face. Hot fumes vented across the breed giant out of nostrils that the breed could have fit his fists into. Cozchin nearly choked on the rancid stench. It was all he could do to keep from running away.
“A barge,” Cozchin answered quickly, trying to get the words out before he retched. “They turned a lumber barge into a ferry.”
“Where?”
“At the old bridge.”
“You, you, and you,” Shaella pointed out three of the breed giants that hadn’t bowed or bothered to lower their weapons after recognizing her. “Step forth.”
After they hesitantly obeyed, Shaella motioned for Cozchin to step away. He didn’t wait to comply. His footfalls made large splashes on the wet road as he jogged a dozen paces to the side.
“Bow,” Shaella commanded the three before her. “I had you people destroy the bridge for a reason,” she said when they did. “I am your queen. If it were not for me, and me alone, you would still be freezing to death and eating each other in Coldfrost where King Balton left you.” She pumped a fist high and Vrot reared up and let out a deep rumbling growl. “How easily you forget my kindness. How easily you turn on me!”
Vrot snapped his jaws down on one of the breed that was kneeling before them and shook him violently. Before the other two could get up and move away the dragon tossed the mangled corpse from his jaws and blasted them with his acid breath. As they writhed and gurgled into bubbling puddles, Shaella continued her tirade. “This is how I repay treachery. Cozchin is your lord now. Bzorch will not survive this day. Anyone who crosses that river has crossed me, and you can see right here what fate that will bring you.” She spat at one of the puddles.
As if the gods meant to punctuate her authority, a crackling streak of lightning split the sky behind her, then thunder rumbled through the air. The people looked on in terror from behind lifted curtains, and between buildings. Vrot took one long smooth stride then leapt back into flight. He didn’t go far. Shaella had the menacing black dragon blast the ferry with his breath and watched until it sank out of sight. Then she had him tear down most of the tree trunk wall that had just been built around the city. It was only by some great stroke of luck that Sorvich, and the new gate tower, with its big swivel mounted dragon gun, didn’t come crashing down with it.
Sixty-four of the breed giants that survived the battle at Seareach were trudging north through the rain. They were less than a quarter day’s march away from the makeshift ferry that would take them home to Locar.
Only Bzorch and his personal dragon gun crew stayed behind. The breed lord was enjoying immensely the height of the pedestal the human fighters put him on. He had to admit, watching breed giants yank the hellcat out of the sky, and then him rushing in and pounding it to death, had to have been an awesome sight to behold. The arrival of the dwarves of Doon from the nooks and crannies of the Wildermont foothills had been amazing too. And now that the position at Seareach was fortified to the hilt, the mood in Low Crossing was celebratory.
Amid the drinking and storytelling and all the bonfire bravado, Jarrek was still busy making plans. He wanted Bzorch to be a part of them, so he asked the breed lord to stay around. The unexpected arrival of the Lion Lord and his party created a venomous tension. King Jarrek’s captains and the dwarves worked hard to keep the old enemies at a distance. Neither Lord Gregory nor Bzorch seemed ready to forget the bloody days they spent warring out on the tundra. Little did Bzorch know that the sixty-four breed giants he’d sent back to Locar were not going to make it. Their orders had been to prepare for Shaella’s retaliation, but Shaella and Vrot never gave them the chance. They showed them no mercy when they swooped down out of the sky and eradicated them.
The breed giants fought tooth and claw, as best they could, against the dragon. One of them managed to get a shot off with the dragon gun. The spear hit Vrot in the hind quarter, but the young black wyrm used his corrosive breath to eat through the attaching line before it could pull taut. Queen Shaella responded by casting a spell that blasted the breed with a ball of sticky yellow wizard’s fire that clung to them and burned even as they rolled and thrashed and tried to extinguish themselves. Vrot landed among them and dispatched a handful of breed with his claws while he disfigured half a score more with gouts of his potent acidy spew.
A patrol of Jarrek’s Highwander men rode out from an outpost and tried to help them, but only managed to get killed and corroded themselves. Shaella missed only one of the sixty-four traitorous man-beasts, and she chased that one south until she was sure it wasn’t Bzorch. She decided to let it live so that the absconder might plant the seed of fear into everyone he told of what had happened. Her only mistake was that she assumed Bzorch was among the group of dissolving corpses her dragon had dispatched. Had she known that he wasn’t, she might have flown south and unleashed some more of her fury on King Jarrek’s encampment at Low Crossing. As it was, she assumed Vrot had killed the alpha breed and decided to save the destruction of Jarrek’s forces for another day. She was spell weary, tired and wet. Vrot had part of a spear hanging out of his flank. It pleased her that her young dragon hadn’t complained about the wound. She knew it pained him. When they returned to Lakeside Castle she would reward him with a fat geka to sate to himself on. Flick, or the priests, could remove the spear and heal the wound. No, she wouldn’t trust the priests with her dragon. Flick she would trust with her life. Either way, she would make sure that Vrot was comfortable, and that his loyalty was not forgotten. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do. Gerard was off fighting battles of his own in the Nethers. She had already decided that she wouldn’t call out to him again, not until she knew he was ready to emerge. Just thinking about it seemed to ruin her otherwise wonderful mood. She spent most of the flight back to her castle trying to get him out of her mind.
The trap the red priests set for King Mikahl hadn’t been sprung. Shaella decided to worry about that after she’d had a bath and a meal. A few well chosen words of encouragement to the necromancers might rectify the situation. It seemed to her that Princess Rosa just wasn’t very good bait. Either that or the High King just didn’t care about her. At least she could use Rosa to halt Queen Rachel’s advance on Dakahn if she had to. The lives of Jarrek’s slaves, and revenge over Ra’Gren’s ambush couldn’t be worth her daughter’s life, could they? Shaella laughed, thinking that she just might find out very soon what Rosa was worth, and to whom. She would pay a visit to the Princess later as well. It never ceased to amaze her how weakness and fear poured out of the wretched girl when she confronted her. In the spirit of keeping the day’s mood aloft, she might just cut off another finger.
Phen re-read the incantations of the spell for what seemed like the hundredth time. It wasn’t the type of spell that you could cast and then release later with a word, so he wanted to be sure he had it memorized. The chance to use it might present itself anytime, and he was determined to be prepared. He’d learned a lot from Pael’s texts. Mostly trivial knowledge that wouldn’t help him or the Princess, but the spell he was working to memorize now would throw off the Dragon Queen’s entire scheme if he could just get himself in the presence of the Silver Skull again and cast it, especially if he could cast the spell while the red priests were using the artifact.
It turned out that the Silver Skull of Zorellin was really a skull that had been dipped in molten silver by a sorcerer named Zorellin. The birth name of whose skull it actually was, was also the key to the spell Phen found. Pael, or maybe Shaella, had written the name in the margin of the spell book. Now Phen knew it.
He finished the review and almost closed the book. He shook his head and sighed. Better to go over it one more time, he told himself, and started reading again. A hurried scrabble of footfalls from overhead stopped him. It sounded like Rosa had stumbled and fallen over. Her tangled hair fell down into the rectangular hole above him and she looked at him with worried eyes.
“Someone ees coming up, Pin,” she squealed. “Put the lemp eewt and hide.”
“Aye,” he replied. “Move away, I’m coming up just in case.” With a wave of his hand he extinguished the lamp and started up. Once he was in the nest with her, he closed the hatch door and scrambled to get the ring from his necklace onto his finger.
“Hurry,” Rosa whispered as the top of the lift came up into the room. Phen vanished just as Queen Shaella’s menacing smile cleared the floor.
“Who are you talking to?” Shaella snapped. Her eyes darted around the room quickly. “Who’s here?” It
