Imladrik bowed again, as he would in court. ‘As gracious as you are direct, my dwarf prince.’ At some unseen, unheard command, Draukhain went down on its forelegs and laid its neck upon the ground so the dwarfs could climb aboard its back. ‘There is room enough on my saddle for two.’
‘Does he trawl the skies often, looking for wayward travellers below?’ Snorri muttered behind his hand. He kept his rune axe loose in the sheath in case he needed it in a hurry.
‘I doubt it, cousin, but I do know if you try his patience further we will be going back to Karaz-a-Karak charred to our very boots. Now shut it and get aboard!’
Snorri grumbled some expletive but reluctantly followed Morgrim as he approached the dragon.
Despite his fear, Sevekai edged forwards to try and better hear what transpired between the dragon rider and the dwarfs. An elf of Ulthuan, especially a prince, this close to the dwarf kingdoms was unusual. That he flew alone without his army or any retainers was stranger still.
Whatever the reason, it did not appear that the dwarfs were imperilled after all and that meant Sevekai still had a duty to perform. He silently drew a sickle blade from his baldric.
Verigoth interceded. ‘What are you doing?’ he hissed.
Sevekai bit back savagely, ‘Don’t question me, druchii! I’ve gutted people for less.’
‘Perhaps Verigoth is right, brother.’ Kaitar slipped between them, a finger on Sevekai’s blade hand.
He sheathed it, incredulous that this was the second time Kaitar had touched him and the wretch still wasn’t dead.
‘We can get closer, listen in. Even if we cannot kill the nobles or their asur ally, we can discern their plans.’
Verigoth and the others looked no more enthusiastic about this plan than the previous one, but probable death was at least preferable to certain death.
‘If we are discovered,’ hissed Sevekai, glancing at the dragon then back at Kaitar, ‘our dark lord’s plans could be jeopardised, and I have no desire to engage the interest of the beast.’
Kaitar grinned, a faint resonance to his voice Sevekai hadn’t noticed before. ‘Then we creep softly and silently, like shadows.’
‘Like shadows,’ repeated Sevekai, eyes locked with Kaitar’s.
Slowly, the dark elves detached themselves from their hiding place and began to creep closer.
Morgrim had already mounted the beast by the time Snorri was ready to do the same. Though he had agreed to ride upon the dragon’s back, the dwarf prince kept his distance.
‘Be careful, cousin,’ he said, as Morgrim climbed a length of white hemp lowered by the prince. It was thin and Snorri had expected the rope to snap, but it proved equal to Morgrim’s considerable mass.
‘Must be bound with steel,’ he muttered, but detected an aura shimmering off the rope.
Imladrik gestured to him, offering the saddle as one would welcome a stranger in their house. ‘Your turn, my prince.’
It was then Snorri realised he had no desire to ride this beast, to fly amongst the clouds. The very thought of it brought an unpleasant acerbic tang to his mouth, but he swallowed it down, knowing he could not be outdone by his cousin.
‘We are hall dwellers, not dragon riders,’ he grumbled, cinching his belt up and reaching for the proffered rope.
The faint tang of spoiled meat, the scent of dust and ancient fire-baked plains, quite incongruous in winter, suddenly tainted the breeze.
Inches from grabbing the rope, Snorri’s fingers seized. A second later and Draukhain reared up, its bulk smacking the dwarf onto his rump. It roared, spitting a plume of flame into the air and swinging its head around as if searching.
‘Grimnir’s teeth!’ Snorri scrambled to his feet, reaching for his rune axe. ‘Never trust an elgi! Never trust a drakk!’ he spat, ripping the shimmering blade from its sheath.
Flung back in the saddle, Imladrik was trying to steady the beast. He muttered words of command and reprimand, but in a language neither dwarfs, nor most elves, could understand.
Morgrim was pitched off the dragon’s back. He rolled, grabbing at the beast’s spines to try and arrest his fall, and ended up dumped on the ground next to its thrashing tail. An errant flick caught his helm and he staggered, trying to back away. Like Snorri, he had drawn his weapon.
Not understanding what was happening, together the dwarfs circled the beast.
Snorri’s expression was murderous as he briefly met his cousin’s gaze. There was more than a hint of self-satisfaction in his eyes.
‘You offer us safe passage on your drakk,’ he said to the elf, ‘and then it tries to kill us!’
‘Lords, please.’ Imladrik was still struggling to calm Draukhain, though his verbal goads had lessened. Instead, intense concentration was etched on his face as an entirely different war of wills played out.
‘What is he doing?’ whispered Morgrim, swinging his hammer around in a ready grip.
Snorri wasn’t listening. His teeth were clenched. ‘If dawi were meant to fly, Grimnir would not have taught us how to kill wyverns and drakk. Any creature with wings is no friend to a dawi,’ he spat.
Ignorant of the dwarfs circling him and his mount, Imladrik closed his eyes and began to sing. A soft, lilting refrain echoed across the clearing. Though the elf’s words rarely rose above a whisper, they were resonant with power and potency. Each syllable was perfectly enunciated, every string of incantation precisely exacted.
At first Draukhain resisted, reacting to whatever it was that had ignited its predatory wrath. But slowly, as the pattern repeated and Imladrik wove the dragonsong tighter and tighter around it, the beast was soothed and its head bowed. Anger still burned in the black pits of its eyes, but it was fading to embers.
When he was done, Imladrik sank a little in his seat as if his armour was suddenly heavier. When he removed his war helm, his face was
