“Thank you,” said Tiphan. At his command, his acolytes readied themselves to march.
Paharo jogged after his comrades, shaking his head. They had wasted good daylight waiting for Tiphan and his people, and when the Sensarku finally arrived, they were burdened with so much clothing and heavy supplies they couldn’t possibly make fast time. If the raiders attacked, the Sensarku would be easy prey unless Tiphan’s power actually could save them. For the sake of all Yala-tene, Paharo desperately hoped the Tosen could do the things he boasted.
*
The pit was stifling. Rain had filtered through the sod, reducing the floor of the hole to cold mud. Amero and Beramun huddled together in front of Duranix, listening to the drumming of horses’ hooves as the raiders crossed the plain searching for them.
While Beramun shivered in silent misery, Amero pressed an ear to the dragon’s cavernous chest. Duranix’s heart labored slowly, like the muffled thunder of a dying storm.
What happened? Amero asked silently. Did you fight Sthenn?
Not Sthenn, although I saw him. One of his humans pricked me with a poisoned spear. Sthenn excels in making noxious potions. This is one of his worst.
What can we do?
Duranix exhaled hard. There was a moist rattle in his lungs. I removed the spearhead, hut the poison is in mg blood. Sthenn said it wouldn’t kill me, hut I don’t trust him. If I don’t find treatment soon, I fear the worst.
I won’t let you die! Amero laid a hand on his friend’s massive foreleg. Duranix’s scaly skin felt uncharacteristically moist and warm.
The dragon did not answer. Duranix’s eyes were closed, and his heartbeat was still abnormally slow, his breathing labored.
With nothing to do but wait, Amero and Beramun at last succumbed to exhaustion. Lying in the dirt in front of Duranix, they slept.
When Amero woke, the air was dank and hot. Drenched in sweat, he yearned for a cool breeze and a drink of water. He climbed the side of the pit until his head bumped the layer of sod covering the hole. He found a crack and managed to work his fingers through. Peering through the resulting opening, he saw the starry sky. Night had fallen.
He slid back down to the bottom again and felt around blindly until he located Beramun.
Though he tried to be gentle, she awoke with a start and cried out.
“Shh!” he hissed. “It’s me, Amero!”
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to wake you quietly. It’s dark out, and I thought we could use some fresh air.”
“Oh, yes!”
She pushed past him and scrambled up the slope, bumping her head into the tangle of roots and dirt atop the pit. After a moment of fruitless struggle, she grumbled, “How do we get out of here?”
“Stay still. I’m coming up.”
He joined her at the top and found the seam again. Together, they heaved aside a triangular piece of sod. Cool air flooded over them. Both gasped in relief and shivered at the sharp temperature change.
Beramun put a foot on Amero’s thigh to push herself out, but he grabbed her ankle.
“Careful!” he whispered. She nodded curtly, climbed out, and Amero scrambled after her.
The storm had moved on, but tattered remnants of clouds periodically hid the stars. In the distance, the plain to the east was dotted with many small red flames — the campfires of Zannian’s band.
They found a brook flowing below a nearby hill. Joyously, they drank their fill, then washed the grime from their feet, hands, and faces. Amero wondered if the other boys had escaped. Beramun told him she’d sent Paharo off on a raider’s horse to warn the village, but he had no idea what had become of Udi and the rest.
Somewhere in the dark a wolf howled. Amero stood up, alert to the danger.
Beramun kept washing. “He’s leagues away,” said the girl, pouring a double handful of fresh water over her feet. “Don’t be so nervous.”
Running a hand through his damp hair, he said, “It’s been a long time since I was hunted.”
“I’ve been running since the night the raiders killed my family.”
“My family was killed by Sthenn’s followers, too, many years ago.”
“By raiders?”
“No. Yevi.” Amero sat down on the bank of the brook and told the story of his fight with the gray marauders.
“The dragon saved you,” Beramun mused, looking back toward the pit where Duranix lay. “I wonder why?”
“Sthenn’s creatures were in his territory. When he came to investigate, he found me. He destroyed the yevi pack only because he didn’t want Sthenn poaching on his territory. It was no more than that. Later, I think he saw me as an interesting animal to keep around.”
“Like we keep dogs?”
Amero smiled. “Something like that. Eventually, we became friends.”
A heavy scraping sound interrupted their storytelling. This time they both stood up, alarmed. Amero saw the dark bulk of the dragon crawling toward them. The sight of the mighty Duranix, dragging himself along on his belly with his two front limbs, stunned him profoundly.
The two humans stood by helplessly as the bronze dragon drew near. He dipped his snout into the stream and gulped loudly. While Duranix was busy drinking, Amero inspected the dragon’s wound.
“It’s festering,” he reported. “I should lance it.”
Duranix snaked his head around. “Will that help?”
“It will release the pressure.”
The dragon blinked once, eyelids clicking. He laid his chin down on the grass and closed his eyes. “Proceed.”
Amero drew his bronze dagger. Beramun exclaimed, “You’re going to cut him?”
“The poison needs to be bled out. It won’t cure him, but it may make him more comfortable.” Amero gently probed the edges of the wound with his fingers. “I ought to have a fire going, to cauterize the wound, but…” He shrugged. A fire was impossible with the raiders so close by.
Beramun took several steps back. “You’re crazy! Hurt him, and he’ll tear your head off!”
Amero ignored her. He put the point of the dagger against the sealed wound and pushed. Duranix didn’t even wince. Muscles straining, Amero worked the dagger in deeper, pressing until black blood coursed from the cut, soaking his hands. Swallowing the nausea in his throat, Amero held his place and cut deeper.
Suddenly, Duranix’s injured leg flexed backward in a powerful kick that tore a deep gouge in the turf. Amero flung himself out of the way, and the hard talons missed his belly by only a finger’s width.
Duranix raised his head. “I felt that! ” he rumbled.
“Sorry,” said Amero, flat on his back on the ground.
“Don’t be! That leg has been numb for days!” Reptilian brow furrowing, Duranix tried to lift his injured limb. Quivering with effort, it rose slowly, then fell back.
“That’s good!” Amero pushed himself up on his elbows. “Try again.”
The dragon bent back and took hold of his poisoned leg with his foreclaw and worked it back and forth. He hissed in pain as more poisoned blood surged from the wound. The grass and stream were stained by the spreading, foul pool. Holding her nose, Beramun retreated to higher ground.
“That’s better,” Duranix said. “It burns like fire, but at least I can feel it!”
“Can you walk?”
Duranix tried to stand and failed. “No. It’s still too weak.”
Amero threw handfuls of water over the dragon’s leg, washing the black blood away. As he labored, he called up to Beramun, “Do you know what larchit looks like?”
“Yes.”
“I need as much as you can find to make a poultice.” Amero rinsed his dagger in the stream and wiped it on the grass. “Here. Cut me some, please.” She took the weapon in one hand and, still holding her nose with the other, departed.
