batlike wings and its left forefoot painted themselves on the foggy air. Its glowing golden eyes fixed on Perra, and it sucked in air. Since its scales were the same topaz color as those of its servants, Khouryn assumed it was about to spew a similar attack. But dragon breath would be far more hurtful and harder to dodge.
He yelled and charged. No good. It didn’t distract the wyrm. It vomited that strange, debilitating antiwater at Perra and her circle.
Just before the spray reached them, Perra vanished, and Medrash appeared in her place. Apparently the latter had used his particular form of magic to make the switch.
The dragon breath washed over Medrash and the other warriors in the ring. Some of them tried to catch it on their shields, but that didn’t save them. Khouryn winced as they all collapsed.
The topaz dragon’s crested, wedge-shaped head turned, no doubt seeking Perra. Vigilant lashed her wings, rose above the enormous reptile, then plunged, talons poised to pierce the fiery eyes.
But the dragon perceived the threat. It twisted its head and spread its jaws wide. Vigilant’s own momentum threatened to hurl her in.
Fortunately, she managed to veer off. The dragon struck at her, and its huge teeth clashed shut on empty air.
Then Khouryn reached its foreleg. He chopped it like it was a tree. When he pulled the urgrosh free, blood gushed.
He struck again. Then the dragon raised its foot high, nearly jerking his weapon from his grasp. It stamped.
He dodged underneath its belly to avoid being squashed. As the impact jolted the ground, he tried another blow at the expanse of scaly hide above him. The angle was awkward, and the axe blade glanced away without penetrating. He reversed his grip and stabbed with the urgrosh’s spearhead. That punched through. For a moment, his desperation gave way to a fierce satisfaction.
Then pain ripped through his head. It was a psychic attack, like the one So-Kehur, autharch of Anhaurz, had used to paralyze him during the battle beside the River Lapendrar.
He refused to let that happen this time. Though half blind with tears and sheer agony, he kept moving and jabbing.
Until the topaz wyrm pivoted and darted a few strides, distancing itself from him. He started to pursue, and its lashing tail whirled out of nowhere and bashed him broadside.
The next thing he knew, he was sprawled on the ground, the throbbing in his skull replaced by a general ache down one side of his body. He tried to lift himself up and was relieved to find that he could. The impact might have cracked a rib or two, but it hadn’t completely shattered any bones.
The topaz dragon was still trying to kill Perra. Khouryn wished she’d retreated. But either she’d never really had the chance, or she was as disinclined to do so as a dwarf noble would have been.
At least she wasn’t battling alone. Sellswords had formed into two squads and were fighting as Khouryn had taught them to fight something huge. One team jabbed with its spears, assailing the dragon while still maintaining a little distance. When it oriented on them, they fell back and the other group took advantage of the creature’s distraction to attack.
Standing right in front of the wyrm’s snapping jaws and raking foreclaws, depending on his skill with sword and shield-as well a nimbleness unusual in a dragonborn-to keep him safe, Balasar cut, blocked, and dodged. Other Tymantherans ran out of the fog to assault the dragon with the same reckless daring.
Surely all that skill and courage ought to count for something. But the topaz dragon feinted a strike with one foot, then slashed with the other. Balasar still managed to catch the claws on his targe, but the raw force of the blow hammered him to the ground. Then the wyrm spewed more of its breath weapon. Caught in the spray, half a dozen warriors fell, and afterward there was nothing between the dragon and Perra. It gathered itself to spring.
Vigilant dived at the dragon. The griffon had evidently been circling overhead, waiting for another chance to catch the gigantic reptile by surprise.
Once again the wyrm somehow perceived the threat. It jerked its head aside and so saved its eyes. But Vigilant compensated and at least managed to slam down on the dragon’s neck just behind the skull. Her talons stabbed deep into the leathery orange-yellow hide. Her gnashing beak tore away chunks of flesh.
The dragon gave an earsplitting scream. It whipped its neck back and forth but failed to dislodge Vigilant. It clawed with a forefoot. Still clinging to her perch, the griffon shifted sideways and dodged the stroke.
It looked to Khouryn like the dragon was finally in real trouble, and he wanted to help Vigilant make the kill. Gritting his teeth against a fresh stab of pain, he scrambled to his feet and charged.
But before he could close the distance, the dragon flopped over onto its side. Its fall shook the earth, and he staggered. Then it rolled around, grinding Vigilant beneath its bulk. When it drew itself back to its feet, the griffon wasn’t holding on to it anymore. Crumpled in the dirt, her wings folded in the wrong places, she wasn’t doing anything at all. Not even breathing, no matter how intently Khouryn peered at her and willed her chest to rise and fall.
The topaz wyrm twisted toward Perra. Khouryn sprinted past a hind leg and cut at its flank. “Moradin!” he bellowed.
Maybe the god heard and saw fit to help, because the axe head all but vanished into the dragon’s dense flesh. And when Khouryn heaved it free again, the blood sprayed out and spattered him from head to toe.
The dragon ran, unfurled its wings, leaped, and soared up into the air. It disappeared into the fog almost immediately.
Khouryn stood panting, peering, and listening, waiting to see if the creature had simply decided to continue the fight from the air. Apparently not. Coming on top of its other wounds, especially the terrible ones Vigilant had inflicted, his final stroke must have convinced it to run away.
It was only when he was sure it was gone that he remembered its minions. The greater threat had driven the lesser right out of his head. But they must have all died or run away as well. He didn’t hear any fighting anymore.
He hobbled to Vigilant and looked down at the broken, flattened husk that was all that was left of her. Grief welled up in him, and he clenched himself to hold it in.
Next he checked on his men, and there the news was better. The sellswords hadn’t sustained too many casualties, and even a couple of those scorched by the dragon’s breath looked like they might recover.
Then he turned to his new friends. Plainly the wyrm hadn’t seriously injured Balasar, because he sat holding a leather waterskin to the supine Medrash’s mouth. The paladin guzzled, and his friend took the container away.
“Just a little at a time,” Balasar said.
“Once I get a little strength back,” Medrash croaked, “I can heal myself. Then I can heal others.”
“Well, you won’t get it back by making yourself puke.” Balasar looked up at Khouryn. “I’m sorry about your steed and the men you’ve lost.”
“As I’m sorry for your losses,” Khouryn said.
“By the first egg!” Balasar exploded. “I would have understood if the stupid Chessentans had ambushed us. Or if the accursed genasi had come after us. But what in the name of Arambar’s arse was that?”
Khouryn shook his head. “I wish I knew.”
“Just a random attack?” Balasar persisted.
“No,” Khouryn said. “The dragon wanted to kill Perra specifically. When it decided it needed to take an active part in the fighting, it went straight for her.”
Soolabax was no city, but it was a fair-sized market town. Nor was it an impregnable fortress, but it did have walls. The combination made it the linchpin of Shala Karanok’s border defenses and obliged Aoth to deal with Hasos Thora, baron of the place and its environs.
Tall and muscular with a long-nosed, imperious face, swaggering around his own keep in half armor even though nothing in particular was going on, Hasos appeared yet another embodiment of the Chessentan martial ideal. Aoth might have expected such a paragon to rejoice at the arrival of reinforcements. Yet that didn’t appear to be the case.
