His handsome face drew down in a frown. “That’s no plainsman’s name.”
“No indeed. Ungrah-de is an ogre.”
She waited for him to exclaim or laugh. He did neither. By his silent wariness, Nacris knew she’d chosen the right emissary.
“You’re not afraid of ogres?” she asked.
“I serve a green dragon. Why should I fear ogres? What do I say to this Ungrah-de?”
“I’ll instruct you on the message. You will leave today. Take a horse and plenty of provisions. You must be back by Moonmeet. Do you understand?”
Harak rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “That’s not much time.”
“You’re the best rider in the band. That’s why I chose you.”
He laughed. “You chose me because I hate your son and will keep your secrets from him.”
It was nothing more than the truth, and Nacris let the matter drop. She patted the rock beside her. “Sit here,” she invited. “I’ll teach you the message I want you to deliver.”
The air was still and cold. Since sunrise, Duranix had been flying at extreme heights, trying to spot Sthenn. During the night, the green dragon had eluded him after they crossed the coast of a large continent, hundreds of leagues northwest of their homeland. Sthenn had vanished among the dark hills and heavy forest of the unknown land below.
Day arrived, bright and cloudless. Duranix could see for many leagues in all directions. The continent so far was featureless, except for a low mountain range he’d followed since arriving. It ran north-south, dividing the sandy coastal wastes from greener territory inland.
The bronze dragon glided in a great circle, head sweeping from side to side as he searched for his enemy. Sthenn was down there somewhere. Duranix could sense him. Hiding was just another ploy to aggravate him. The treacherous beast wanted Duranix to waste time and strength while Zannian’s raiders savaged the Valley of the Falls.
He descended in a slow, wide spiral. The country below was vast. Past the mountain range were few distinctive landmarks — no rivers, no settlements. Dropping lower still, Duranix felt strong and ready, and was anxious to put an end to this ridiculous chase.
A break in the trees caught his eye. On the crest of a high ridge he spotted an area of blighted trees, their normal verdant foliage gone brown as though a huge shower of mud had fallen on them. Duranix studied the dying trees. The stain was not mud. Leaves had shriveled and died on the branches. It might have been due to some arboreal plague but could just as easily have been caused by the poisonous breath of a green dragon.
On guard, Duranix landed on the blighted ridge. The top was barren of trees and covered with fractured limestone boulders, some of enormous size. The sea had once washed this pinnacle as part of an ancient shoreline.
Constantly checking above and behind, Duranix advanced down the slope on foot.
A few paces along, he stopped dead in his tracks. Ahead was an open pit, partially covered by vines. The creepers had been disturbed recently, though they were still green and growing.
It was a ridiculously obvious trap. Girding himself for whatever he might find, the bronze dragon leaped feet- first into the hole. He plunged through the thin veil of vines and was swallowed by darkness.
After dropping more than twice his height, Duranix hit a stone ledge. His powerful hind legs took up the impact, and the ground trembled with the force of his landing. He expected an immediate ambush. When no attack came, he took a better look at his shadowy surroundings.
He was in an enormous cave, hollowed out of the limestone ridge by centuries of rainwater filtering down through the rocks. The air was heavy with moisture, cold and clammy. The cave was cluttered with stalactites and stalagmites in fantastic shapes, and blacker than Sthenn’s rotten heart.
Just the sort of place a green dragon might hide, Duranix thought. He pierced the chilly gloom with his powerful senses, seeking Sthenn in the depths of the cave. He saw and heard nothing of his foe, but he had an overwhelming sensation of the green’s proximity.
Lowering himself to his belly, Duranix slid forward, eeling around the limestone protrusions. The floor of the cave was coated with hardened lime. It looked like a frozen cascade of milk shot through with orange and yellow mineral swirls. Small creatures, pale and eyeless, scurried away from the slithering dragon.
Duranix followed the passage down until it arrived at a three-way split. He had no distinct feeling as to which way Sthenn had gone.
“A pretty choice, isn’t it?”
Duranix kept still. The green dragon’s words echoed through the cavern, a directionless whisper. The old wyrm was a master at throwing his voice.
“Which tunnel will you choose, little friend?”
Duranix let his barbels trail over the glassy concretions on the floor. He searched for minute cracks in the mineral that might reveal where the heavy green dragon had trod. He found none.
“I am fog, little Duranix. I am the veil of mist arising from every forest glade. I walk on thin air and dwell wherever death and decay hold sway.”
Braggart, Duranix thought at him. Do you think you can frighten me with words?
“Choose a path. Come find me. I will wait for you.”
Ah! Vibrations in the stone floor gave Sthenn away. The vile creature always had talked too much.
Hugging the floor, Duranix hurtled down the center passage. It was a narrow tunnel, and he fit only by furling his wings tightly and pulling in his broad shoulders. Sthenn’s words faded as he charged through the darkness. Something shone in the murk ahead, and the reek of the green dragon’s breath drew him on. Putting on an extra burst of speed, Duranix broke through a flimsy screen of stalagmites into a much larger chamber.
There was Sthenn, curled up amid gleaming bone-white columns of stone.
“Now!” Duranix roared. “Meet my justice!”
Rearing up, he threw himself at the quiescent Sthenn. Just as he was about to get his ancient enemy in his talons, Sthenn slithered sideways, out of reach. Duranix crashed into a hedge of sturdy stalagmites that had been hidden by the dragon’s body. The tapering columns rang from the collision but did not break.
Sthenn gushed foul poison into the cave, drenching Duranix. The greenish gas stung the bronze dragon’s eyes. Outraged, he returned a blast of blue fire.
The bolt smashed into the cave wall, and the mountain above them heaved. Long limestone stalactites fell from the ceiling like spears, followed by man-sized shards of rock and limestone chips. The tunnel entrance collapsed, and debris filled the chamber opening.
“I have you!” Duranix declared. “This is one hole you won’t escape!”
“Nor you, it seems. Shall we rend each other to bits while the mountain comes down around us?”
“Why not? You call yourself Deathbringer. How ready are you to face death yourself?” A great bronze claw closed around an intact stalagmite and snapped it off at its base.
Wielding the stalagmite like a club, Duranix advanced on his foe. Sthenn backed away until his spine was pressed against the cave wall.
“It isn’t just we who will die!” the green dragon sneered. “Think of all the rodents in Arku-peli who will perish without you to protect them! The lake will run red with their blood. And your man, your darling pet — do you know what will happen to him? I’ve given him to Nacris. She has many, many tortures planned for him. And when he finally dies, Zannian will take his skull as a drinking cup.”
Duranix hurled the stalagmite at Sthenn. It shattered above his head, throwing sharp, milky fragments over him.
“Cease your filthy raving, old wyrm! This time you’ve miscalculated! Did you think I would panic at being buried here with you? I fear nothing you can do to me! Do you think I won’t give up my life to take yours? Your death would be the greatest gift I could give to humankind!”
Roaring deep within his chest, Duranix tore through the hedge of stone. Sthenn let out a high, keening screech and flung his decrepit bulk against the wall. Desperate to escape, he continued to hurl himself against the unyielding wall until Duranix’s foreclaws raked down his neck and left foreleg. Rancid black blood welled from the gashes.
Maddened by pain, the green dragon threw himself headfirst against the brittle limestone. With a loud crack,
