‘It’s large, moving quickly and against the wind,’ he told Drogor. He peered for longer, squinting for a sharper look. Then he put down the spyglass and yelled to one of the Karak Varn engineers. ‘Bolt throwers!’
The dwarfs followed the prince’s pointing finger, the master surveying the sky with a spyglass of his own. ‘Drakk!’ he bellowed to his kinsmen, prompting frantic scurrying as spear-tipped shafts were loaded into cradles, windlass cranks turned and sighters levelled.
‘Did he say “drakk”?’ asked Morgrim, joining them. Behind him, the dwarfs of Karak Varn had begun loading carts and wagons to ferry their plunder back to the hold. King Ironhandson’s booming laughter overwhelmed the crackle of the inferno gutting the city as he saw his treasure hoard swelling.
Brynnoth and his warriors had come together, apart from the rest of the army. Heads bowed, listening to the sonorous tones of their king, they were holding a vigil for Agrin Fireheart.
‘None other,’ uttered Snorri, his voice full of loathing. ‘I hate drakkal.’
Morgrim squinted but couldn’t make out the beast or its rider clearly enough. It was a dark shape, sweeping between clouds of smoke.
‘It could be Prince Imladrik.’
Snorri turned on him. ‘Your pet elgi?’
‘He is a friend to the dawi, and to me.’
‘All elgi became enemies as soon as we crushed that army.’ Drogor thumbed over his shoulder where the shattered horse guard still lay bleeding and broken. Most were probably dead by now. ‘Do you think he’ll still clasp your hand in a warrior’s grip when he sees this?’
Morgrim ignored him, looking to his cousin.
‘We cannot loose.’
Snorri clenched his teeth, considering Morgrim’s request, but in the end had to shake his head.
‘Can’t risk it. That drakk will burn our camp to cinders, cousin.’
‘We are at war now,’ Drogor reminded them. ‘Our stone was cast and more will be needed.’
Morgrim bit his tongue. He hoped it wasn’t Imladrik. Not since the brodunk had he seen the elf prince, and despite the discord between their peoples, he still regarded him as a friend. He warranted that friendship would be tested if Imladrik saw what had transpired at Kor Vanaeth.
The low rumble of cracking stone presaged the collapse of the gatehouse, leaving the entire city razed and brought to rubble. A cheer rose up from the dwarfs of Zhufbar who were presiding over the demolition. Morgrim tried hard not to despise them for it.
Bolt throwers cranked to the highest possible elevation, the master of engineers looked over expectantly at the prince.
‘The drakk!’ bellowed one of the engineers, his crew trembling with fear at the sight of the monster.
A bestial shriek, chasm deep and full of hatred, echoed across the sky. It was a challenge. If the dragon rider was Imladrik, he had seen the carnage by now and had chosen to attack. Morgrim unslung his hammer, the runes flaring bright across its head.
Snorri ran out into the open ground, snarling to match the beast.
‘Hold fast, let it come!’ He swung up his axe, brandishing it at the sky and the winged shadow rapidly closing. ‘Face me!’ he roared. ‘I am the dreng drakk. Taste this steel, for it will cleave you unto death!’
Morgrim ran after him, grabbing Snorri’s arm. ‘What are you doing?’
‘You wanted me to hold off the bolt throwers, that is what I am doing.’
‘Don’t be an idiot.’
Snorri glanced at Morgrim over his shoulder. ‘Still want to shake hands with the elgi?’
He looked back at Drogor, but the Karak Zorn dwarf hadn’t moved and was watching the sky. Morgrim scowled before standing at his cousin’s side.
‘Get back,’ Snorri warned. ‘I don’t need your arm in this fight.’
Morgrim was resolute. ‘I am your cousin, blood is blood. Here I will stand.’
‘Move! It comes for me.’ His gaze flicked between his cousin and the growing shadow in the sky. The beat of heavy wings resolved above the wind.
‘Then give the order to loose,’ said Morgrim. ‘That beast will burn us where we stand, unless you plan on slaying it with a single throw of your axe.’
Snorri looked like he was considering it.
‘Don’t be a stubborn fool. I don’t want to die here.’
Something redolent of ash and sulphur tainted the breeze.
‘Dragon’s breath.’ Morgrim readied his shield, knowing it was too late to retreat now.
So too did Snorri, but the prince had long embraced his fate.
‘Let it come!’ he shouted, hefting his battle axe. ‘I’ll kill it!’
The dragon dived, scales shimmering like fire in the sun. Like a red blade ripping through a bank of snow-shawled cloud, it angled towards the prince.
Shouts were coming from other parts of the field as more and more dwarfs heard and saw the beast.
A roar like a discordant bell pealed out of the heavens as dragon and rider cried in unison.
King Ironhandson was being barrelled away from danger by his warriors when he jabbed a finger towards the sky.
‘Loose!’ he cried. ‘Bring the monster down!’
Some dwarfs hid behind their shields, others scurried behind carts and wagons. A few drew their weapons and rushed to the prince’s side.
Fumbling their war machines, the engineers of Karak Varn unleashed a volley but by then the dragon had pulled out of its dive and climbed for higher skies. Every shaft went wide of the target.
Snorri raged.
‘No! Come back,’ he roared. ‘Come back and face me, beast!’
‘It’s gone, cousin,’ said Morgrim, pulling Snorri back.
‘I could have killed it,’ he spat, ‘and fulfilled my destiny.’
‘You will,’ said Drogor, his eyes on the sky following the departing figure of the dragon. His voice was calming, and the two cousins climbed down from their heightened emotions at once. Both regarded the Karak Zorn dwarf as he turned his gaze on them.
‘Not yet, but soon my prince. Now, we must march.’
Snorri shook his head as if coming out of a daze.
‘Yes…’ he murmured, blinking twice in close succession. ‘Gather the kalans, sound the horn. We march for Tor Alessi.’
Tears streamed down Liandra’s face, and Vranesh wailed in empathic anguish.
Kor Vanaeth was
