Eshcaz was on their side of the cave, and no wave or waterspout was forming to shove him back. Plainly, all the wards were gone. The red would no doubt have finished off his original adversaries already, except that a lone human had appeared from somewhere to challenge him. He had an octopus tattooed on one arm and wielded a huge sword with shadow drifting and twisting inside the steelimpossible as it seemed, it was Anton!
Naturally, he couldn’t prevail against Eshcaz. It was miraculous he’d lasted any time at all. But magic had hurt the dragon. If Anton could keep the creature busy a little longer, it was at least remotely possible it might finish the job of killing the red.
Of course, she didn’t mean her own personal magic. Even if she were still capable of articulating a complete incantation with the necessary precision, it simply wasn’t strong enough. But the remaining spells bound in Yzil’s book might serve.
She expected to find the pages lying right beside her. When she didn’t, though, she dimly recalled dropping them at the moment she burst into flame then reeling blindly about before she fell. She looked around and spotted them scattered a few feet away. As weak and anguished as she felt, it was like peering through a scrying mirror and observing them on the far side of the world.
She started crawling on her belly. Her silverweave rattled and clinked. Bits of ruined skin broke off and flaked away.
The pain was like a tide trying to sweep her into darkness, and she had to fight the desire to let it take her. Umberlee, she thought, Umberlee, Umberlee, Umberlee. It was as much of a prayer as she could manage.
Finally she reached the sheets of horn. Certain she was on the very brink of losing consciousness, she pawed through them to find the first spell she needed. That was almost as difficult as crawling. Her cooked fingers couldn’t bend or grasp.
Here! Here it was, but could she actually use it? Though mercifully short compared to an entire spell, the trigger phrase required accurate enunciation, too, and she wasn’t sure she even still had a voice. Maybe the fire had burned that away also.
She sought to steady herself, to hold back the pain that might otherwise have made stammer and stumble, then tried to whisper. The words came out faintly but clearly.
Magic washed over her like the caress of the sea. Pain faded. Scorched and blistered skin blurred, flowed, and became smooth and soft. Her dorsal fin, which had nearly burned away, extended into the high, scalloped crest it had been before.
She looked at the battle just a few yards away. Somehow, Anton was still on his feet. Perhaps Eshcaz was playing with him. The dragon’s chest pumped, and his neck swelled in time. If she’d seen a lesser air-breather doing that, she would have inferred it was winded. But the red’s strength seemed inexhaustible, and judging from the smoke streaming from his mouth and nostrils, she suspected he was actually recharging his depleted breath weapon.
Once he accomplished that, his foes would have no hope at all. She hastily returned to the pages of Yzil’s book. They were depleted, also, the majority of spells cast already, and most of the remaining ones, duplicates of invocations that had already failed to put the dragon down.
But one potentially crippling spell remained. She would have attempted it already, except that it required the caster to touch the target, and she and her allies had hoped to stay away from him. But now that their defenses had fallen, that was no longer a consideration.
She murmured the trigger phrase, and an aching throbbed deep in her right hand. It was bearable enoughcompared to the agony of burning, it was almost laughablebut even so, she could sense the profound malignancy it represented. Fortunately, it was incapable of inflicting its devastation on her.
She cast about, found her trident, snatched it up in her off hand, and ran forward. Though seemingly intent on Anton, Eshcaz must have heard her coming or else felt the bane she harbored in her flesh, for he whirled to face her.
His neck bulged, and his head cocked back. His flame had renewed itself, and he was about to spit it at her, while she was still nowhere near enough to touch him. Nor did she have any realistic hope of dodging the great expanding blaze that was his breath.
But Anton rushed the foe whod pivoted away from him. Its seething darkness smeared with gore, the greatsword swung high and swept down to bury itself in Eshcaz’s side.
It must have found a vulnerable spot, for the dragon convulsed, and the spasm made him spew his flame too high. Tu’ala’keth threw herself to the floor, and the crackling flare passed harmlessly above her. The fierce heat was unpleasant, but did her no harm.
Eshcaz rounded furiously on Anton, which required twisting away from her. She scrambled up and charged. The red lifted a foreleg to rake at the swordsman, and she planted her hand midway along the limb.
She winced at the blistering heat of the reptile’s body. Then the power she’d invoked leaped from her flesh into his, and he screeched. His scaly hide split again and again, into a Crosshatch of gashes. Between the cuts, sores opened to seep and fester, and knotted tumors bulged. A milky cataract sealed one blazing golden eye.
The dragon shuddered and took a stumbling step. Tu’ala’keth stabbed him repeatedly with her trident. She suspected that, on the other side of the gigantic creature, Anton was attacking just as relentlessly, doing his utmost to take advantage of Eshcaz’s vulnerability.
Then, unbelievably, the red regained control of his ravaged body. A wing snapped down out of nowhere to swat Tu’ala’keth to the ground. Eshcaz poised his head to seize her in his fangs. She tried to spring back to her feet, but dazed, could only clamber clumsily. It wasn’t going to be quick enough.
But the wyrm’s head slammed down beside her. His body listed ponderously to the side then toppled. His limbs flailed, feet clawing, tail lashing, but not at any target. After a few moments, the thrashing subsided. He shivered and lay dead.
Tu’ala’keth surmised that as Eshcaz had prepared to strike at her, Anton must have scored a final, fatal blow. She started around the enormous corpse to find the human.
CHAPTER 12
Anton slumped over, panting, the end of the greatsword resting on the floor. For the moment, he was too exhausted to hold it up.
Cheering sounded from overhead. He looked up at the ledge. His fellow captives had won the fight against the cultists. Good for them. He didn’t blame the survivors for declining to climb down to the cavern floor and fight Eshcaz. The Red Knight knew, it was the craziest, stupidest thing he’d ever done, and the fact that he’d somehow prevailed didn’t make it any less idiotic.
Tu’ala’keth stalked around the great mound of Eshcaz’s carcass to remind him he hadn’t prevailed unaided. As was often the case, he couldn’t read her expression. Behind her, some of the afflicted ixitxachitls had finally recovered from whatever magical effect had ailed them. Bodies rippling, they glided forward.
He had no idea what to expect of the comrade he’d attempted to murder, or of her allies either. Until now, he and his band had avoided contact with the ixitxachitls. Partly it was because they were afraid the ‘chitls wouldn’t be able to distinguish between human captives and human cultists. But it was also because of the ‘chitls’ reputation as raiders and vampires. Under normal circumstances, they were hostile to mankind.
Still the current situation was far from normal, and he felt an obligation to try to look after his comrades. “My friends,” he said, pointing, “fought alongside you, even if you didn’t notice. They helped me kill the wearer of purple. I ask that they be allowed to take the cog on the beach and depart in peace.”
“The ‘chitls,” said Tu’ala’keth, “have no use for slaves who cannot live underwater. I expect I can persuade them.”
“Thank you.” He hesitated. “What about me? Where do I stand?”
“It appears,” she said, “that you have resumed your role as Umberlee’s champion.” A ixitxachitl with blistered hide and a cut above its eyes came flying up beside her. “How, then, can I do anything but accept you as my ally?”
He smiled. “I can think of one or two other things I might do in your place. So thank you again.”
“Eshcaz is dead. But it is possible some wyrms and cultists are still holding out. Let us rest for a while then
