the water around their canoe from eating them.
He felt like he was sitting right in the water with the huge, toothy snappers that looked to be all around them. Most of the long, thick gator-like beasts were as big, if not bigger, than the canoe. It would take only one swift chop to splinter the craft to pieces, and it was all Gerard could do to keep from covering his eyes and whimpering.
He didn’t want to know what had made that powerful thumping splash behind them. The waves caused by the ruckus threatened to come up over the sides of the little boat. He would have to stand up in the canoe soon, and he was trying not to think about it. He had no idea how he was going to keep his balance while stood. The only thing he was sure of was that he didn’t want any part of his body in that murky, tooth-filled water. Not even a boot tip.
He did his best to focus his attention on the towering formation he was about to climb. He decided that it was correctly named for it rose up out of the marsh and tapered to a sharp point, while curving slightly to the east – exactly like a fang. It was completely black, and formed out of a rough and porous type of stone. The way it rose up out of the swamp and loomed over the tiny canoe, did little to ease his discomfort.
Gerard motioned for Flick to take them to the western side of the Dragon’s Tooth. The way the east side of it curved slowly outward, it would be impossible to climb. If he tried that side, he would be dangling from his hand holds after the midway point.
To the common eye, the western side looked no easier. It was dauntingly steep, but to Gerard it appeared to be a simple climb. To him, it was like a ladder leading up to where the curve started laying over towards the east. After that, it was more like a steep stairway. It would be one of the easiest climbs he had ever made.
His destination was a cavern that went all the way through the formation, up near the sharp tip of the fang. It was like a giant worm had bored a hole from east to west, all the way through the black rock, a thousand feet above the surface of the swamp. The dragon lived in that hole, but Shaella had a plan to keep it occupied, while Gerard snatched away one of its eggs.
He looked at the surface of the stone as they drew closer, then craned his head back, and looked up towards the dragon’s lair. There were plenty of hand and toeholds, no slick hawkling dung to contend with, no angry mother birds pecking and clawing at him, no sheer freefall down to the Lip, or to the rocky canyon floor below it. If Shaella could keep the dragon away, then this would be easy. If Shaella couldn’t keep the dragon away – Gerard didn’t want to think about that.
Shaella and half a hundred of the creepy Zardmen were to handle her part of the plan. She had sworn to Gerard, over and over since the night of the feast that she would keep the dragon from its lair until he was down, and safely back in the canoe with Flick. Last night, as they lay in each other’s arms, she had sworn it again.
“You’ll never even see the dragon after it comes out to feed,” she had said, and he believed her.
Even though she had wanted him, he hadn’t made love to her last night, or the night before. This had confused her. He explained that having sex before a rigorous climb weakened a man’s legs and softened his heart. He told her that was the reason the Skyler women weren’t allowed near the harvest lodge when he and his clansmen took the hawkling eggs each year. They laughed together when he told her that his grandfather called the complication “love legs” and that his older brother, Hyden, had had to explain to him what it meant, because his mother had been too embarrassed to broach the subject with him. Gerard told Shaella that only a fool would climb after a night in bed with her. She took that as a compliment, and spent the night nestled against him, with her head on his shoulder.
From the western side, the Dragon’s Tooth Spire looked more like a fish fin than a fang. It made sense to Gerard, when he remembered Shaella’s explanation of how the water had been flowing past the formation from north to south, eroding at it for ages upon ages. He looked up and could see rays of the morning sun shining through the Dragon’s Wormhole. He studied the spot, letting the location firmly imprint in his mind.
The idea of standing up, and maneuvering from the canoe to the rock face, sent a ripple of nerves through him. He found himself scanning the water, along the base of the spire, for any sign of the ferocious looking snappers that might be lurking there. He didn’t see any, but felt little relief for it.
“Get us directly under the dragon’s hole,” he said quietly to Flick.
He went about checking the backpack that was sitting in the floor of the canoe between his feet. It was fairly heavy, and going through it again helped him forget about the water, and the things swimming in it.
The pack contained over a thousand feet of thin, but strong cord, a makeshift sling cradle to put the dragon’s egg in, a few pieces of dried and salted snake-meat, and two skins of water.
The plan was simple enough: get up there, locate the eggs, and lower one down. Cole would be waiting for it on the eastern side of the spire, where the curve of the formation caused the Wormhole to open up over nothing but air and water. It was simple. The climb down would be easy, because the pack would be empty, and he would be using the western face again. It seemed that the whole thing was going to be too easy. Something Berda had once said, a saying, was floating at the back of Gerard’s mind, but he couldn’t quite grasp it.
“We’re below the lair now,” said Flick.
From the moment Gerard had fought alongside the group on the riverboat, they had begun to treat him as one of their own. They respected him, and seemed to trust his abilities. The look on Flick’s face was a mixture of reverence and worry, as he eased the little boat up close to the base of the formation.
“Are you sure you can do this?” he asked Gerard. “It’s a long way up to the lair.” His voice was hushed, as if speaking too loudly might bring the dragon’s wrath down upon them.
“Just make sure that Cole is there to take the egg, and that you’re here to get me when I come back down,” Gerard chuckled nervously. “I can make this climb in my sleep, but I don’t know how to swim.”
“I swear I’ll be here,” Flick said, with an honest grin on his face. “You’re a brave young man. Shaella chose well.”
Gerard wasn’t sure what Flick meant, so he didn’t reply to the man’s words. Instead, he stated the obvious, in a hesitant tone that betrayed just how tense and high-strung he was feeling at the moment.
“I guess…w…we just wait for th…the dragon to leave now.”
Shaella, and her troop of lizard men, were using two of the big four-legged gekas to drag their bait into the dragon’s feeding ground. The gekas’ riders were having a hard time keeping the big creatures calm. The harsh smell of rot coming from the uncooked remains of the dragon’s previous meals was thick in the air, and the fresh meat they were dragging was far too close to them. Every creature in the deep marsh understood who the highest predator of the area was, and the dragon almost always carried its kills to this clearing, to roast and consume them. Had the gekas not been as afraid of the zards’ whips as they were of the dragon, they would have been nowhere near the area.
Greyber, and his detachment of Zard, stood alertly by, ready and waiting to do their part. Once Shaella’s troop had the giant snapper they were dragging in place, he and his Zardmen would be responsible for skinning the carcass. Shaella had been adamant: blood, plenty of blood, and exposed meat. The Zardmen all knew the drill. They had been feeding the dragon here for months in preparation for this very day.
Shaella had been on edge all morning. Those around her assumed that it was because of the danger her lover was putting himself in, that or the pressure she would be under to keep the dragon distracted long enough for him to do his deed. It was more than that though. She had tried to get Gerard to let Greyber climb with him, but he had refused her, saying he could manage far better on his own.
“The man might be strong and handy in a sword fight,” Gerard had said, “but, on the side of a rock face, he would be nothing more than dead weight.”
Shaella had stormed away after that, with what might have been tears in her eyes. She couldn’t change his mind. Gerard was climbing alone, or he wasn’t climbing at all.
She was worried for Gerard, but for a different reason than anyone suspected. Another hawkling had arrived bearing a message from Pael. It was Pael who she was afraid of. He wanted her to make sure that her climber stayed in the dragon’s lair until he arrived. She had tried and tried to send Greyber, or one of the Zard, up into the cavern with him, but Gerard was as hard-headed and proud as any man she had ever known. She just wanted someone up there to watch his back. She knew she should’ve explained the situation to him, but she hadn’t been able to. Tears had begun to flow when she tried, and she would have rather died, than to have her Zard army see her as a worried, lovesick girl. Her mission, and Pael’s, had to come first. No matter how much heartache it caused her, she had to keep everything in perspective.
Maybe Pael wasn’t going to do anything drastic to Gerard when he came. If Gerard didn’t dally after he did
