he did not give the men something to do quickly, discipline would go and the looting would start. He had nothing against looting as such, but there was a time and a place for it, and that was after you were sure the enemy was beaten.
A bridgeback wyrm loomed out of the smoke behind them. At first Sardec was not sure whether it was friend or foe. He was only aware of the great quadruped’s bulk and the way the small, reptilian eyes glared down at him from a beaked head that snaked ever closer. Fear and fury filled those tiny eyes. It obviously did not like being amid the smoke and flames despite all its training and the shouts and prodding of its mahout.
Sardec wondered if his time had come, but the wyrm swept past him, and he heard the friendly cries from the infantry in the howdah, and saw the black dragon on a red background flag fluttering on the howdah's pennants. He breathed a sigh of relief. This was one of their own.
A group of men rushed out of a side alley. They slashed at the wyrm's ankles as it passed, trying to hamstring it, keeping in so close it was all but impossible for the men on its back to shoot at them. The wyrm danced frantically as it tried to avoid the sting of blades. The howdah came dangerously close to jarring loose.
'Get them,' Sardec shouted. Some of the Foragers raised their rifles and muskets and fired. Others drew fighting knives or charged with fixed bayonets, sweeping forward to overwhelm the outnumbered Kharadreans.
Only as the fizzing fused grenade arced out of the alley mouth did Sardec realise that it was a trap. 'Get down,' he shouted, as the bomb exploded in the midst of the melee.
'Bastard,' he heard someone shout, inside the alley. 'You've killed our lads too.' Moments later a green- tunicked Terrarch officer raced out of the alley pursued by enraged humans. He slipped on the blood of the men he had just bombed and looked up at Sardec with pleading in his eyes. He seemed very young, about Sardec's own age, and quite shocked, as if he had not expected his men to turn on him for his deed.
'Help me,' the Kharadrean shouted. Sardec looked at the corpses of the men his fellow Terrarch had cold- bloodedly killed and shook his head.
'Kill him,' he said to Weasel.
'With pleasure, sir,' the sniper replied, putting a bullet through the officer's head. Sardec understood the dead Terrarch's logic easily enough. He had got a few of his men killed in exchange for a larger number of Sardec's humans. To him, it must have seemed a sensible trade and there would have been a time when Sardec would have agreed with that thinking. Now, he could no longer countenance it.
A moment later he realised he had more important problems. The wyrm, wounded by the grenade, and frightened by the explosion, was running amok, out of its mahout's control. Despite all of the rider's efforts it was turning on the men around it, uncaring of their allegiance. Turtle-beaked jaws, capable of shearing a man in half with one bite, descended inexorably closer.
Rik gazed up at the dragon in awe and wonder. His sword felt pitifully inadequate in his hand. He drew his pistol. If it tried to bite him he would try for the creature's eyes. There was a vanishingly small chance he could put a bullet through its brain. The dragon's jaws opened wider, revealing row upon row of razor sharp teeth. It seemed amused by his presumption. In the creature's place, Rik thought, he would probably feel the same.
Asea began to chant again. Rik knew she was too late. By the time she completed her ritual the great reptile would have crashed through her wards and devoured them. Trying to control the shaking of his hand, he raised the pistol, sighted along its length and pulled the trigger. Smoke billowed forth. The dragon screamed. The bullet had penetrated its eye. A jet of flame erupted from its nostrils, spraying upward. The smell of its sulphurous breath filled the air.
There was a loud bang from behind them. Something whooshed over Rik's head. A massive wound appeared in the dragon's breast. Behind him someone cursed. It was Karl Mandrake, the Wyrm Hunter. Somehow he had survived. Perhaps the wall of flame has not reached him. It was possible if he had been standing directly behind Asea’s circle.
Rik knelt and began reloading his pistol. It was a forlorn hope but force of habit, imposed by training, sent him to it. It was the only thing he could do except turn and run, and fleeing would get him a massive claw in his back. There was no way he could move faster than this gigantic thing.
The dragon's tail lashed the air in fury, cracking like an enormous whip. It leaned forward, its huge shadow falling across Rik. Its massive paw smashed down, hitting one of the containment urns, shattering it under the force of the blow. Something demonic and cold leaked out. Rik did not need to be told that it was not under control. The elemental simply emerged, unchained, and the dragon was the first thing it saw. The elemental surged upward, adopting a vaguely humanoid shape. Perhaps there was some sort of antipathy, of ice and fire, between them, for its fury was directed entirely at the monstrous reptile.
The dragon flexed its wings and tried to become airborne, but its ruined pinions would not carry it. It turned its head towards the elemental and breathed fire. The elemental began to shrivel like spider-web burned with a torch. It twisted aside. Lightning lashed the dragon. The smell of ozone filled the air. Sparks leapt from the barrel of Rik's pistol. His hair stood on end.
As the dragon writhed and fought, it threatened to crush them beneath its bulk. Already one massive paw descended where Asea stood. Rik leapt forward pushing her aside by sheer force of momentum. A heartbeat later a titanic foot descended where she had been.
The two of them lay sprawled on the ground, looking up at the primordial figures battling above them. It looked as if a tornado enshrouded the dragon. It lashed out with its tail and its fiery breath, bellowing deafening challenges audible even above the roar of the unleashed winds. The storm elemental was already losing shape, but its lightning had scorched whole areas of the dragon's flesh, removing scales, revealing blotched pinkish skin beneath.
Rik's sword lay in the dirt where he had dropped it. Instinctively he reached for it, not sure what he could do with such a puny weapon but determined that he would go out fighting. Another thunderous bang sounded behind Rik. He rolled over and saw the squat bulky figure of Karl Mandrake, a huge gun smoking in his hands. A metal mask covered his face. He shook his head in disbelief that the dragon yet lived and raced back towards his weapon's rack. Rik wished him luck.
He crawled forward and stabbed at the dragon's leg with his sword. The strange metal of the blade slid through the scales as if they were water but it was like attacking an ox with a needle. The creature ignored him. It was too wrapped up in its death struggle with the elemental.
Sanity smacked Rik in the face. This was no place for him. He looked over at Asea. She still lay there stunned. He rushed over, grabbed her by the hand, and tugged her to her feet. There was an odd blankness in her eyes. Rik had heard that having a spell interrupted when you cast it could cause all manner of complications. This was the first evidence he had seen that it might be true. He tugged at her, dragging her towards the nearby trenches, hoping that the dragon would ignore them once they were out of sight.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he pushed Asea into the trench and jumped in beside her. If they just kept their heads down, they might yet have a chance to survive. The dragon's blood sizzled and hissed on his blade, wisps of smoke rising as it evaporated. He wondered if this was normal or whether it had something to do with the sword. If they got out of this alive, he would ask the sorceress.
The earth shook as the monstrous beast writhed and twisted in pursuit of its foe. Rik risked a peek over the lip of the trench and saw that its movements had become erratic and pinkish froth billowed from its lips. Its fires seemed to have gone out. The elemental had vanished but still the dragon fought against something invisible. Perhaps its eyes could see what Rik's could not.
Its movements became slower and jerkier. They had a spasmodic feverish quality. A man landed in the trench beside Rik. It was Karl Mandrake, yet another massive gun in his hands. Carefully he took aim and fired. The heavy bullet smashed into the dragon's flesh and this time Rik noticed what he had not before. The wound was bigger than it ought to be, even given the bore of the Wyrm Hunter's weapon. A huge chunk of scales had been blown away and something metallic, perhaps splinters of a metal shell glittered where they were embedded in flesh.
The dragon bellowed again, but there was a wheezing quality to its roar now that had not been there before. Its long neck looped spastically, its jaws snapped at random. It raised itself to its full height. From nearby a cannon roared. Some gunner had managed to swing his weapon back into action. Its ball impacted on the wounded dragon, knocking it over backwards. A monstrous gout of blood erupted from its shattered ribcage. Its
