‘Any news from Liandra?’ Caradryel asked.
‘Not yet. I am choosing to be generous, and assume she does not know that the dawi are here.’
Caradryel looked sceptical. ‘It is still a desertion, is it not?’
‘As I say, I am choosing to be generous.’
‘Have you asked Salendor about her?’
Imladrik gave him a hard look. ‘Why would I do that?’
‘Perhaps you should. Just gently.’ Caradryel looked ahead to where the cluster of tents shivered in the early morning wind, and grimaced. ‘Another day of this. Blood of Khaine, I wonder if I’d prefer the fighting.’
‘What of Salendor?’
‘He’s been busy, talking to all sorts of people.’ He gave Imladrik a wary look. ‘I think he’s close to the edge.’
‘Then keep an eye on him. I can handle the others, but I still need your eyes and ears. Do you need more money?’
Caradryel looked mildly insulted. ‘I’ll come to you if I do.’
They reached the tent, its canvas walls glossy with dew. Two guards in the livery of Silver Helms stood to attention, clasping their fists against their chests in homage.
‘Does it ever get wearing?’ asked Caradryel as they passed within. ‘Being saluted by everyone?’
‘I live for it,’ said Imladrik, not really in the mood for Caradryel’s flippancy.
The dwarfs were waiting for them in the central chamber, sat as they had been the day before, looking just as mutely murderous. Aelis, Salendor, Gelthar and Caerwal were there likewise, waiting for Imladrik to take his place.
‘My lords,’ he acknowledged as the elves rose to greet him. He bowed to Morgrim and the dwarfs, then took his seat. Caradryel took his place on the margins, sliding effortlessly into his habitual state of near-invisibility.
Imladrik reached for a pewter goblet filled with watered-down wine and took a sip. Then he clasped his hands before him and drew in a long, quiet breath.
‘So,’ he said, already feeling weary. ‘Let us begin again.’
The black dragon coiled in the air ahead of them, no longer trying to escape and adopting a defensive posture. Its long ebony body snaked in an S-curve before hunching over, claws raised and jaws open.
Vranesh gave it no time to prepare – she hurtled straight at it, preceding her attack with a wall of crimson flame. The dragons collided in a blaze of mingled energy, lighting up the peaks in vivid, crimson-edged relief.
Vranesh powered through the inferno, raking out with her foreclaws, but the other dragon twisted away, doubling back on itself to escape the rush of talons. Liandra caught a fleeting glimpse of her opponent – an ivory-skinned druchii in torn robes. The sorceress looked emaciated, her staring eyes hollow with fatigue and deprivation.
They tumbled apart, each creature already coiling for the return. Vranesh was quicker, and managed to loose another gout of magma-hot flame before the abomination could bring its jaws around.
The blast hurt it – Liandra heard its screaming even over Vranesh’s frenzied roars – but the black dragon somehow pushed through the intense heat and loosed a barrage of its own. Vranesh plummeted, letting dragonfire shoot over her arching spine before thrusting back up for a bite at the enemy’s trailing tail. By then the abomination had powered away again, swinging about in mid-air and drawing in breath for a third fire-blast.
The speed of it, the intensity of it, the noise of it – was incredible. At first Liandra could do little more than hang on as Vranesh wheeled, bellowed and dived. Her counterpart seemed even more unsteady. Perhaps she was still new to the dragon; if so, that gave Liandra an edge.
In close, great one, she urged, regaining her balance and angling her staff for attack. The rider is the weakness.
Vranesh hardly needed telling. The dragon shot forwards, tail flicking out and her wings slamming back. As the enemy raced in close, Liandra unleashed her art.
‘Malamayna elitha terayas!’ she cried, feeling her staff shudder as lightning crackled out from its tip.
Golden aethyr-fire shattered across the abomination’s mottled hide, showering both creatures in clouds of stinking black blood. The beast screamed again, this time with genuine excruciation, and launched itself directly at Liandra, evading Vranesh’s jaws and aiming to pluck her clean from her mount.
Vranesh was equal to the move, plunging down again and rolling away, but only just – Liandra had to throw herself to one side to evade the talons before Vranesh pulled them both out of danger.
Again, Liandra commanded, pushing singed hair from her face and righting herself for a second pass. Her heart was thumping, her eyes shining. The mountains wheeled and swung below them, lit by the angry glow of the dawn sun. Vranesh swooped, angling her attack to scrape across the abomination’s wings.
Then Liandra felt it: a sudden plunge of pain in her spine, as if a metal bolt had been hammered in. Vranesh sensed it and tried to pull out at the last moment, but it was too late. As if forewarned, the black dragon pounced, ripping its foreclaws across Vranesh’s extended neck.
Liandra reeled, feeling herself go dizzy. The abomination made the most of the confusion, tearing and clawing, trying to bring its ragged maw to bear.
Her vision swimming, it was all Liandra could do to summon a fresh brace of lightning-bolts and hurl them into the monster’s face. That knocked it back, giving Vranesh the chance to pull out of the attack.
The witch, sang the dragon.
No, gasped Liandra, tottering in her seat and peering down at the mountains below. From the earth.
Vranesh immediately plunged towards the horizon, blood trailing behind her in a long stream. Liandra could feel the depth of the wound in the dragon’s neck as clearly as she felt the pain in her own body.
Forcing herself to concentrate, she scoured the landscape below. Rocky crags sped by beneath them, snow-crowned and empty. She could hear the wheezing breath of the dragon racing after them and ignored it.
She is
