carpenter holds the nail firmly in place. With the other he strikes blow after blow with his hammer, and the nail is driven into the wood. The enemy is the nail and the ground is the wood. He could see it in his head: dragons raining down in an endless torrent. And then he looked up and saw it for real. The dragons that he'd sent high to circle and pick up any of the Red Riders who fled were coming, wings tucked in, down like giant winged harpoons. Jehal closed his eyes as they rained past him. 'The hunters,' he shouted, not that anyone would hear him. 'Go for the hunters.'
Dragons smashed into other dragons. Some hunters dodged away, others were knocked almost clear out of the sky, and then Jehal's dragons were spreading out, chasing the ones they'd hit, the stunned, the injured, the broken. He saw two dragons crash to the ground, wings broken, three more riders torn or burned off their dazed mounts. All of them Semian's. In a stroke he'd destroyed a third of his enemy. Half of the Red Riders were dead now. They'd barely been a nuisance in the end. He shook his head in disbelief, wondering how he could ever have doubted his victory.
Still, I think I'll stay up here out of the way. I wouldn't put it past Semian and his gang to launch some suicidal last charge if they realised I was here. And it would be such a shame to catch an errant scorpion bolt with the battle already won…
Semian rode a dark grey war-dragon. Jehal knew that from watching the attack on Drotan's Top. He scanned the melee below. The battle was breaking up. The Red Riders were spiralling apart and scattering, clearly hoping that one or two of them might get away. As Jehal watched, he saw what he was looking for – a dark grey war- dragon bolting for the Maze. He tipped Wraithwing towards the ground and dived. The wind around him picked up. The river was hurtling up, the fighting dragons, what was left of them, racing towards him. Even through his visor, his eyes began to water. He could barely see. When he tried to lift a hand, the air snatched it and almost tore his arm from his shoulder. They shot in among the other dragons and all he could see were flashing shapes. 'The grey war-dragon!' he shouted at Wraithwing, not that the dragon could possibly hear him. 'Go for that one. A dragon you don't know.' He closed his eyes and prayed. Wraithwing shuddered and he felt himself almost wrenched out of his harness. They'd hit something, and the wind was so fierce that he couldn't even seen what it was. A moment later he pitched helplessly forward as Wraithwing spread out his wings and almost stopped in the air. The force of it shook him as though he was a rag doll. His head smacked into the dragon's shoulders while his stomach tried to crawl up his throat and out of his mouth. He felt the straps and buckles of his harness creak and groan. For a moment everything went red. There was a bad smell and he suddenly couldn't breathe.
Wraithwing levelled out, skimming the ground. Jehal still couldn't breathe; it was only when he tore off his helmet that he realised that he'd been sick. Behind him, when he looked, the grey war-dragon was going to ground, its rider torn clean off its back. Wraithwing let out a triumphant shriek. Jehal couldn't help himself. He started to laugh. 'You ate him,' he spluttered. 'You weren't supposed to eat him! Zafir wanted him brought back, dead or alive.' He shook his head. His eyes were blind with tears, partly from the wind but mostly from the laughter that just wouldn't stop. Truth was, he had no idea whether he'd just killed Rider Semian or some other rider, and right at that moment, he didn't much care. Back above him, the melee had broken up. Some of his dragons were climbing again ready to make a second dive if needed, but the damage had been done. The Red Riders, what was left of them, had scattered, Jehal's dragons in pursuit.
He leaned forward. 'Time for some orders. Let Zafir's riders hunt down the runners. I want the dragons. We're going to take them with us. They're going to be mine' Which Zafir's riders wouldn't like, but they'd just have to live with it. He could always pretend that he'd drop a few off at the Pinnacles on his way south. And then, when they were gone and on their way back to the Adamantine Palace, he would go south. To arm his dragons for war.
40
They walked through the damp and musty tunnels under the Glass Cathedral. A shiver ran up the Night Watchman's spine. He'd been here before of course. Under many different circumstances. 'Well,' asked Zafir, 'what do you think?'
'I do not think, Your Holiness.' I thinly I should be following behind you, not walking beside you. I thin I shouldn't be here at all.
'Now would be a good time to start, Night Watchman.'
'Adamantine Men obey, Your Holiness. That is what we do. Speaker after speaker has understood this. If we were to start thinking, Your Holiness, there is no telling where it might end.'
'Fie on tradition! You did enough thinking to let Shezira murder Hyram, and then you gave her a crossbow so that she could have a go at Jehal.' She glanced at him with an amused half-smile that meant either that he was destined to hang in a cage next to the men and women he'd executed or else that she had no intention of doing anything at all. Even Vale, who spent more time than most watching faces, hadn't learned to tell the difference. 'What, did you think I didn't know?'
I am not going to grovel. I am not going to justify myself. I did what I did. She only knows this through Jehal, and who knows for how much longer he will be back in favour? I will pray to our ancestors it is not for long.
He took a deep breath. 'I think it's remarkable.' He bowed, trying to shake the sense of foreboding away. 'Miraculous almost, that any of the rebel riders survived. I'd have thought they would have all plunged to their deaths or been crushed by their own dragons.'
Zafir gave a coy smile. 'There, you see. Was that so hard? Don't pretend you're a fool, Vale.'
'I could not be what I am and be a fool, Your I loliness. I am, however, very much a servant.'
She snorted. 'So is Jeiros, or at least I think that's supposed to be how it works. You wouldn't know from the way he talks, would you?'
That's because his concerns are greater than yours. He, at least, has the good of the realms in his heart. Now there's a man who would make a most excellent speaker, although he'd never wish for it.
'I shall take your silence for agreement, Night Watchman, but only this once. You can go back to being terse and uncommunicative as soon we're outside again. Right here I want both your advice and your ears. You were wondering about the prisoners. Well, they're not in the best of shape,' she admitted. The truth, which of course she didn't want to tell him, was that they had all fallen to their dooms, and that she'd brought the bodies back to the palace for her pet blood-mage to play with. But he imagined that he wasn't supposed to know about Kithyr.
They passed a body lying on a table. A dead rider, still in his dragon-scale armour. Half of his head was missing and his chest and one arm had been shattered and crushed. Vale raised an eyebrow. 'Well that one certainly isn't.'
'A few of them escaped, you know,' she said, idly playing with her hair. 'Apparently Jehal's dragon ate the ringleader. Although other indications are that he escaped.'
Vale's lips puckered with scorn. 'Ah yes. The mysterious red rider. Anyone can paint their armour red. And they can just as easily wash it off again.'
'There are whispers in the streets that the red rider is Lady Nastria, Queen Shezira's knight-marshal. It's a pity we don't have the little bitch's body to hang from a gibbet to put an end to that.'
And have the alchemists poke around at her corpse? Would you really want that? Some of them still practise a little blood-magic, you know. No, I imagine it is far better for you that she stays wherever she is. 'I have searched high and low, Your Holiness. I do not think she could have escaped.' No, that would be too much to hope for. A pity. I think I would have found her most interesting company for a few hours, [nd then I'm quite sure I would have had to kill her.
'I have wondered, Night Watchman, whether your searches have been as thorough as they could have been.'
Oh enough! 'I don't mind the pretences and the facades, Your Holiness, but I do hate to waste my time. I assume she's somewhere at the bottom of the Mirror Lakes, weighted down with stones.'
Zafir smiled sweetly. 'I thought they were bottomless.'
'Then she is still sinking. All the better.'
'I'm not so sure. The red rider seems to have become absurdly popular with the common folk. I'd like to put an
