greater than it was. They topped the bare rock crest of the second hill within an hour, and saw the cottage on the far side of the valley.
Peren had let the two catch up to him. “Where did you see the dragon when you were here before?”
“Over there,” Tobas said, pointing to the remembered rocky hilltop just a few hundred yards to their right.
“Where that smoke is?”
A sudden uneasiness swept over Tobas as he saw the smoke Peren indicated, a thin, pale wisp rising from behind a high, jagged heap of stone and thinning out to nothing in the crisp autumn air. “Yes,” he said, reaching for his athame.
As he had feared, an instant later the dragon’s head reared up from behind the jumble of rocks. It was looking directly at them; even as they realized this, it clambered out of concealment, spread its great wings, and took to the air, flapping clumsily toward them.
“Gods!” Karanissa hissed; she stepped back, tripped over a break in the stone, and fell down, landing awkwardly on one hip.
Tobas reached back to help her, but before his hand reached her, Peren yanked him upright again. “Tobas,” the albino shouted, “do something! It’s coming right for us!” He pointed at the approaching dragon.
“I know that!” he shouted back, still trying to reach his wife. “Let go of me!”
“Do something!” Peren insisted.
“Do what! All we can do is run for it!” He pulled his arm free.
“You stopped it before with that spell of yours!”
“I didn’t stop it, and that only worked when its mouth was open.” He turned and saw that the dragon was much closer and coming much faster than he had realized; already it seemed almost upon them. Even if he could get Karanissa to her feet, even if she were unhurt and able to run, they had no chance at all of making the shelter of the trees, more than a hundred yards away. “Oh, gods!” he said, as he found a pinch of brimstone.
The dragon’s great blue-green wings seemed suddenly to block out the entire sky as it swooped upward over their heads, apparently intending to drop down right on top of them. Petrified, all three of them stared upward, certain they had come to the end of their adventures.
The monster opened its mouth in what looked almost like a mocking grin.
Tobas guessed it was probably just baring its fangs for its final lunge, but the reason didn’t matter; knowing this would probably be his only chance, he flung his spell.
The dragon’s face erupted into yellow flame, and it screamed with fury, but this time it did not stop, nor even slow its attack; it folded its wings and plunged toward them, still screaming, fire dripping and spattering from its jaws.
Tobas, with a sudden inspiration, remembering what had happened in old Roggit’s shack when he had tried to put out the fire there and what Derithon had written in his Book of Spells, scrabbled desperately at his belt for more brimstone, meaning to fling the spell again.
The creature opened its wings again, breaking its fall, catching itself in midair; the sudden downrush of air knocked Tobas and Peren off their feet, and Tobas felt the heat of the flames he had kindled washing across his cheek.
The entire sky was filled with the metallic gleam of blue-green dragon wings and the yellow glare of its uncontrolled fire as he finally found his little vial and poured part of its remaining contents into his hand. The beast craned down its neck, mouth agape, saliva sizzling and flame flickering wildly as it considered which of its three stunned victims would be the tastiest morsel.
Tobas struggled to calm himself; if he stammered while speaking the spell’s single inhuman word or if his hands shook too much during the passes, the magic would not work. He forced his hands to steady, made the two simple gestures, then called out the incantation and threw the Combustion upward at the dragon’s still-burning jaws.
Instantly, the dragon’s mouth and throat exploded violently, the flash and roar blinding and deafening all three of the humans; blood and red-hot scales spattered hissing across the rocks. Fragments of the lower jaw sprayed like bloody hail in one direction, rattling on the exposed stone, while the rest of the fearsome head tumbled wildly in another. The great body slumped to the ground, collapsing with a loud, sodden thump only inches from its intended victims. An outstretched foreclaw smashed Peren flat on his back, raking his chest, and gory scraps of dragon flesh battered Tobas and Karanissa. All three were drenched in smoking, stinking red-purple blood.
The wings thrashed once, then were still; the huge crimson eyes above the shattered jaw blinked once, then slowly glazed over in death.
Tobas found himself sitting atop the hill, Karanissa lying on one side, Peren on the other, all three of them soaked to the skin in the monster’s ichor and surrounded by the thing’s scattered remains.
“Ick,” he said, looking about in disgust.
Then he fainted.
CHAPTER 30
The lump on his head throbbed dully as Tobas sat on the rock and studied the immense carcass. Karanissa sat beside him, one hand rubbing at her bruised hip as she worked what healing she could, while Peren, his ruined tunic reshaped into a rough bandage, tried to lift the battered remains of the dragon’s head.
“It’s too heavy,” he admitted at last, as he came panting up to join them. “I can’t get it off the ground.” “We could roll it down the hillside,” Karanissa suggested. “Or I can sort of slide it by witchcraft, but I can’t lift it any more than you can.”
“If we can’t move it, neither can anyone else who comes across it,” Tobas pointed out. “I say we go back to Dwomor and get men, horses, and wagons and come back for it.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Peren said.
“Of course he’s right!” Karanissa said. She took her hand from her hip and shifted uncomfortably, then remarked, “I don’t think I can do any more healing today; it takes too much energy.” She picked at her blood-soaked gown critically and added, “I wish I had thought to bring more clothes.”
“Well, we did come through the tapestry a little unexpectedly,” Tobas pointed out.
“I know.” She ran her hand over her skirt experimentally, and the blood ran out in a thin stream, leaving clean fabric.
“How did you do that?” Peren asked.
“Witchcraft, of course.” She did not bother to look at him but went on brushing at her clothes, separating fabric from gore.
“Wait a minute,” Tobas said as he saw the dark fluid spilling out onto the ground. “Don’t waste that stuff! Dragon’s blood is worth a fortune; half the high-order spells use it. Wizards back in Telven pay one-fourth its weight in gold, when they can get it at all.”
She looked up for a moment, then went back to cleaning her skirt. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “There must be gallons of the stuff in that carcass over there.”
“Besides, Tobas,” Peren said, “you’re already rich, anyway! All you have to do is go back to Dwomor and collect the reward. You killed the dragon single-handed, with your one silly spell!”
“That’s right,” Karanissa agreed. “They owe you a thousand pieces of gold!”
“That’s right, isn’t it?” Tobas stared at the dragon’s head in wonderment. “I killed the dragon. With a single spell.”
Then he shook himself, wishing that his clothes weren’t damp and sticky and already beginning to stink. “You were with me, Peren, I’ll tell them you helped. Karanissa and I won’t leave you out. You can marry a princess, if you like, and have a position in the castle and a share of the gold.”
“Thank you,” Peren said sincerely. “A few months ago I might have turned that down, since I didn’t do anything, but I’ve learned better now; I’ll take what’s offered in this world. I’ll choose Princess Tinira, if you don’t mind, and take however much of the gold you can spare.”
“Which princess you marry doesn’t concern me in the least,” Tobas replied. “I’ve got a wife, thank you, and
