the wall finally gave way, and he plunged through.
The honeycomb of tunnels crumbled under the force of their battering. Rock and dirt poured over Duranix, swiftly burying his feet in a flood of heavy debris. Shafts of sunlight appeared through rents in the cavern roof. By this fractured light he saw Sthenn struggling through an avalanche of his own. Leaner and longer than the muscular bronze, Sthenn put his nose in a crack no wider than an ox’s shoulders and snaked through.
Duranix roared with frustration. The last thing he saw before a torrent of earth closed around him was the tip of the green dragon’s tail disappearing skyward.
In moments, Duranix was completely encased in stone and loose soil. The ridge ceased to tremble as the upper regions of the cave filled. When all was quiet, the dragon opened his eyes.
Black dirt pressed against his face, and the pressure on his body was enormous. Coiling his muscles, he thrust his right foreleg upward, opening his claws as he moved. Closing his talons on the broken soil, Duranix used his grip to drag himself forward. He worked his left foreclaw out, seized a boulder locked in the dirt, and used it to haul himself toward the surface. He repeated this agonizing maneuver until at last his questing claw broke through. With a final tremendous heave, he threw aside half the hilltop and rose, gasping, into the open air.
As he filled his lungs and shook lime chips from his eyes and nostrils, a dry, mocking laugh descended from on high.
“Well done, little Duranix! I knew a mountain couldn’t keep you down. Too bad the ground here is so soft! I dropped far less on your mother, and she died slowly, so slowly, but that was good hard stone.”
Duranix threw back his head and bellowed with rage. The green dragon, circling a few hundred paces overhead, hastily changed direction and flew away. The bronze dragon vaulted into the sky. Though his muscles twinged with pain from the bruising avalanche, he climbed aloft in a frenzy.
Filling his mighty lungs, Duranix bellowed, “Sthenn! I’ll never give you up! The sun may grow cold and the seas dry to dust, but I will catch you and kill you!”
Birds rose in huge flocks from the forest, whirling around him in a cloud of feathers. He slashed through them, gaining speed. The pursuit was on again.
The plain shimmered under the merciless glare of the sun. Having left the cool uplands, Beramun shed her heavy clothing. Her single gourd of Yala-tene water was already gone. Despite this, she was happy. For the first time in many, many days she was roaming the savanna again, unencumbered by raiders, villagers, yevi, or dragons.
To conserve her provisions, she foraged as she walked, eating berries and green shoots. High summer on the plain was a time of abundance. She could last a long time on the bounty at her fingertips.
The country teemed with game of every description. Amero had said the Silvanesti had driven the centaurs out of this region, and most of the humans, too. With no hunters to chase them, the animals were flourishing. The lack of humans also meant Beramun would have to go far to find help.
At midday she rested in the slender shade of a pine tree, dozing in the stifling heat. Now and then she started awake at any sound of movement, but it was always rabbits or deer, not raiders or elves.
As she drowsed, she dreamed of fighting. The shouting in her nightmares woke her, and she realized the noises hadn’t all been dreams.
Far-off calls and whistles traveled easily in the hot, still air, making Beramun’s heart hammer. To the west, six leather-clad horsemen were approaching at a walk, poking and prodding the tall grass with their spears.
Raiders.
With night a long way off, she’d have to run for it. She moved in a crouch, keeping the slender pine between her and the hunters. The plain ahead was as flat and featureless as a lake, offering no place to hide. Fortunately the raiders hadn’t seen her. They came on at a casual pace, laughing and talking, and she soon left them behind.
The afternoon wore on, and clouds piled up on the southern horizon, offering the tantalizing promise of rain. The storm was a long way off though and probably wouldn’t arrive until sunset.
Running in the heat had given her a raging thirst, but Beramun found no water until late in the day. The first creek she came across was almost dried up, but the muddy rivulet looked as fine to her as the clearest mountain brook. Stretching out on a warm boulder, Beramun lapped the brown water greedily.
Sighing in relief, she looked up from the water, and her eye fell upon a pair of human feet sticking out of the grass a few paces away. Beramun froze. The feet were bare and blistered, hardly those of a mounted raider. She approached carefully on all fours.
The feet belonged to a man lying facedown in the weeds. She rolled him over.
“Udi!”
It was her fellow scout, the beekeeper’s son. He had dart wounds in his right arm and thigh, and though he was weak from thirst and exhaustion, he was alive. She wet his lips with a trickle of muddy water from her gourd.
Udi’s eyes opened and immediately widened in silent fear.
“It’s all right,” she told him. “It’s Beramun. What happened?”
“Raiders,” he murmured hoarsely. “Chasing me for days… for sport.”
She looked back in the direction of the men she’d seen earlier. They must be the ones tracking Udi. She knew now why they hadn’t noticed her. The injured man was leaving a clear trail, and they were having a good time following it. They weren’t bothering to look for other tracks.
“I’ll help you,” she said.
“No.” He shook his head weakly. “Leave me.”
“I won’t!”
“I can’t go any farther. You go, Beramun. I’ll draw them away.”
“Don’t be stupid! I’ll not leave you!”
“You must. For Yala-tene. You and I are the last scouts left!”
Beramun sat back on her haunches, stunned. “How do you know?” she asked.
“I saw Anua taken. Later, I heard these raiders talking. They said they’d captured six villagers and knew there were two left.”
Beramun was horrified. The fate of the entire village hung on Udi and herself. There was little time to absorb the shock. The voices of Udi’s tormentors drifted across the sultry landscape. They were drawing closer, laughing as they called to each other.
Udi was right. She had no time to waste. “I’ll go on,” she said, “but you must try to evade them, Udi! Promise me that!”
“I’ll try.”
She helped him stand. “I’ll lead them downstream,” he gasped, pointing southeast. “You go that way.”
Northeast. She nodded and released him. He swayed for a moment but didn’t fall.
“Farewell, Udi.”
“Peace to you, Beramun. Tell my father — ” He stopped abruptly, then shook his head. Turning away, he hobbled painfully downstream.
Tears stung Beramun’s eyes. Silently cursing Zannian, his raiders, and his filthy master, she dashed off into the high grass.
Before sunset that day, Beramun heard the distant sound of rams’ horns. The raiders were celebrating the end of a successful hunt.
Chapter 24
The hot breath of summer settled over the valley. From atop the Offertory, Amero could see most of the open ground between Yala-tene and the river. What had once been his favorite view in the valley was now a scene of heartache, pain, and frustration.
The bodies of the scouts had finally been removed, but only after Udi had been added to the horrible display. Seven scouts. Seven, not eight. Amero and all of Yala-tene prayed to all their ancestors the last valiant messenger had made it through.
