‘The fastness,’ Drutheira snarled, cracking her staff over Bloodfang’s writhing neck.
The dragon roared its hatred, twisting its long jaws around and snapping at her, but the defiance was all for show – Drutheira dominated the creature entirely now, like a kicked cur goaded into the hunt. Bloodfang rolled awkwardly in the air, twisting its sinuous body and powering towards the citadel.
The survivors of the first attacks had barricaded themselves in there, trusting in its thick walls and heavy-beamed roof. Retreat had been the only strategy open to them, but it hemmed them in and sealed their doom. Bloodfang threw itself at the citadel’s smoke-darkened flanks, hurling cascades of fire across the stonework. Narrow windows exploded as raw dragonflame washed across them, showering the ruins below with blood-coloured glass. The dragon reared up and slammed directly into the walls, latching on with all four claws and grinding into the stone.
Drutheira was nearly thrown from her seat by the impact and had to scrabble to hold her place. ‘Not so clumsy!’ she cried.
By then, though, there was no stopping it. Perched halfway up the steep citadel walls, the dragon started to tear its way towards the soft interior, ripping the thick shell open and sending stone blocks thudding to earth.
A buttress collapsed, sending cracks racing across the reeling fortifications. A huge sandstone lintel dissolved into debris as Bloodfang’s tail slammed into it, further weakening the structure. Drutheira heard muffled screams from within.
They would be cowering now, huddled in the deepest recesses and praying for deliverance. That was fine – it was what she wanted them to do. To turn those screams into aethyr-born echoes was the most trivial exercise of her art. The preparations had already been made, the blood-sacrifices performed. The death of Kor Vanaeth would echo in the hearts of any who cared for it.
Bloodfang grabbed a mighty block of wall-section in its jaws, ripped it free and flung it to one side. The heavy chunk of stonework sailed through the air before thumping down amid the destruction, rolling twice and toppling into the skeletal frame of some burned-out dwelling.
That left a gaping wound in the citadel’s outer fortifications. Drutheira could make out torchlit movement within – a score of desperate defenders with what looked like long pikes, backing up in the face of Bloodfang’s bludgeoning entry.
Drutheira couldn’t help but laugh. It was like watching ants rush to staunch the breaches in their nest. She ran her fingers along her staff, pondering about adding some agony of her own to Bloodfang’s relentless assault – perhaps they would be more amusing to watch with their skins pulled inside out.
‘Burn them,’ she ordered, her eyes going flat with delight.
But Bloodfang did not obey. The dragon pounced clear, dragging half the wall-section with it. The sudden movement caught Drutheira off-guard, and she rocked in her seat, nearly slipping for a second time.
‘What are you doing?’ she shrieked, snatching her staff up to strike the creature’s flesh.
Bloodfang climbed fast, pulling away from the burning wreckage, its huge lungs wheezing from the sudden effort. Drutheira felt a shudder pass through its body, like a ship turning too rashly in a hard swell. She twisted around, scanning the rapidly tipping horizon for what had got the creature spooked.
It didn’t take long. She wondered how she hadn’t sensed it earlier.
‘There she is,’ she hissed, projecting witch-sight into the north-west.
Still far off, half-lost in the gloom of the dusk, a scarlet dragon was tearing towards them, burning up the air around it in its haste and fury. The creature came on fast. Terrifyingly fast.
Drutheira felt a sharp thrill of excitement shudder through her. A real dragon, not the ruined, sorcery-spoiled monster she had charge of. This should be interesting.
‘Away,’ she ordered, seizing control again, swinging around and into the south-east. Bloodfang responded, weeping fire and anguish, its silver eyes rolling with battle-madness. Together they raced from the ruins, out over the forest and towards the Arluii.
Drutheira looked over her shoulder. She no longer needed witch-sight to see the blazing dragon on her tail – it devoured the air between them, racing along hungrily, its wings a smoke-clouded blur.
Come to me, then, thought Drutheira greedily, watching the dragon rider’s vengeful progress. The last time you pursued me I was alone, but now I have such delightful toys.
She struck Bloodfang hard, goading it onwards.
To the mountains, you and I. For the reckoning.
Chapter Fifteen
The meeting broke up in the evening, just as the shadows began to lengthen. Caradryel had watched it all with interest, hanging back in the margins and taking care not to become conspicuous.
It was good to be back among the civilised; the stench of the dawi had become wearisome. The food they had given him had been all but inedible – heavy sourdough breads slathered in some form of meat dripping washed down with the bitterest, darkest, foamiest liquid he had ever imbibed. He’d struggled to keep it in his stomach, though he couldn’t deny it had given him endurance to keep marching.
Imladrik had been appreciative of his efforts in bringing Morgrim to the table, though there had been little time for the two of them to confer since his return. Caradryel had not been able to pass on properly his worries over division within the dwarf ranks, though Imladrik would surely have guessed much of it. Most of the dawi army was thirsting for blood still; it would take only the merest hint of a spark to light the fire again.
‘Worry about our own people,’ Imladrik had told him. ‘That is your task now.’
Since then Caradryel’s eyes had been firmly fixed on the asur delegation. He’d watched Gelthar try his best to hide his uneasiness, Caerwal his impotent hostility, Aelis her frustration at being sidelined. They were all of them chafing for
