Herbie Brennan - Faerie Lord

The dragon roared.

The dragon roared and lunged towards him. Henry dodged to one side and brandished the flint blade Lorquin had given him. He had no hope of killing the beast with such a weapon, but he thought he might distract it long enough to give Blue a chance to break free. He might even be able to frighten it a little, the way wasps frightened people by stinging them when they came too close to the nest. Lorquin’s flint knife might sting the dragon, make it think twice about attacking.

He dodged under the dragon’s head and stabbed at its front leg. Lorquin’s knife struck a scale and snapped off in Henry’s hand.

From the corner of his eye, Henry saw a flash of blue as Lorquin ran into the cavern. Henry’s heart sank. Was there no way to make the boy do what he was told? He was only a child, whatever he thought about himself, but he seemed prepared to tackle anything. Anything! Anything for his Companion… Henry felt a lump in his throat. He doubted he could live with himself if anything happened to Lorquin. But then again, he might not have to. Short of a miracle, they would all be dead in minutes: Lorquin, Blue, Henry himself.

He threw away the useless piece of knife and dodged again as the dragon struck out with a viciously clawed front foot. The brute was enormous, stronger and more powerful than any wild animal he’d ever seen in his own world, but like many huge beasts, it was slow. No, not slow: thinking of it as slow might be a fatal mistake. But it was awkward in certain of its movements. Clearly it was not used to fighting tiny, darting enemies like himself. Maybe that was something he could turn to his advantage.

The claws missed and the dragon’s momentum carried it right over Henry, its silver-grey bulk looming above him like a passing jumbo jet. Next moment he was out from under and watching the dragon charge at something he could not see. Then he heard a familiar voice and realised Lorquin was taunting the beast, diverting it.

Henry felt a pang of guilt, but there was nothing he could do to help the boy. Better to accept his courage and try to take advantage of his action. Perhaps while the dragon’s attention was elsewhere, Henry could reach Blue and get her free. He spun round, ran for the platform, then pulled up short at the lava stream.

It flowed around the platform like a moat. It wasn’t particularly wide. He could probably have jumped it if there were a space for him to land on the other side. But there was no space, just the steep side of the stone platform, and the platform itself was just a little too high to be reached in a running leap. Blue could jump down and clear the lava stream, but Henry could never jump up.

‘Blue!’ he called helplessly.

She was jerking at her chains like a mad thing and now, close up, he could see their fittings to the pillar seemed to be working loose. Small puffs of dust rose every time she pulled. There was a sound behind him and the whole floor beneath his feet vibrated. Blue stopped struggling, turned, then pointed. Henry spun round to find the dragon bearing down on him again like some monstrous express train.

For a heartbeat he assumed Blue was pointing at the beast; then he saw the Halek knife. The crystal blade was lying only yards away from him, its surface swimming with trapped energies.

Henry had never used a Halek knife before, but Pyrgus had told him all about them. They were specially made, in limited editions, by Haleklind wizards who guaranteed them to kill anything, anything at all. You stabbed with the knife and if the blade didn’t shatter, the energies flowed into whatever it was you’d stabbed, killing it instantly. You couldn’t graze with a Halek knife, couldn’t wound. You could only kill. Anything.

You could kill a dragon!

Henry swooped on the Halek knife as the monster thundered towards him. There was only one problem with these knives: if the blade shattered, the energies poured back into the person using it, killing him. Pyrgus talked about that all the time. But Henry didn’t care. The knife could kill the dragon. He could kill the dragon and save Blue.

Instead of running or dodging, Henry stood his ground.

The dragon was almost on top of him.

‘Henry!’ Blue screamed. He was standing like an idiot with that stupid Halek knife glinting in his hand. The dragon was almost on top of him and he was just standing there, waiting.

Blue realised abruptly what was happening. Henry thought the Halek knife could kill the dragon. Pyrgus was always going on about Halek knives and how amazing they were – he had a real thing about them. For certain he’d talked to Henry about them at some time and now Henry had one in his hand. He couldn’t know the knife was worthless against this creature. He hadn’t been there when she’d tried to use it herself.

A horrible suspicion occurred to her. The dragon’s scales were as hard as flint. She’d been lucky when she’d tried to use the knife on it before, while it was an unar-moured serpent: the blade hadn’t shattered then. But that sort of luck never held and if the knife shattered now, Henry was dead for sure. Her mind laid out a picture of the dragon feeding from his body.

‘Henry!’ Blue screamed again. She jerked against her chains with manic violence and the fittings suddenly gave way.

Blue found herself off balance, teetering on the edge of the platform, staring down at the lava river below. The chains ran through the loops of her manacles with a high metallic sound; then she was free, still fighting for her balance, still staring down into the lava. Her arms flailed in a desperate attempt to save herself; then she knew it was too late, knew she must fall.

Blue bent her knees and pushed off with all her strength from the very edge of the platform. Her leap carried her across the lava river, if only just, and she landed in a squatting position on the far side. Her whole body jarred and she thought she might have twisted her ankle, but there was no time to worry about that now. Ahead of her, the dragon was almost on top of Henry, who was standing, feet firmly planted, facing the beast like a warrior king.

‘Henry!’ Blue shouted a third time and sprinted towards him.

From behind, Henry thought he heard someone call his name, but there was no time to look round, no time for anything except the monster thundering towards him. He raised the Halek knife.

The real trick would be to get out of the way when the dragon fell. The weight of the beast could crush him like a gnat if it came down on top of him. From everything Pyrgus said about Halek knives, death would be instantaneous, but the dragon’s momentum would carry it forward. So Henry couldn’t be in front of it when death occurred. He needed to step aside, needed to stab and kill and let the dying body thunder past. Then he needed to jump back so the reptile corpse didn’t roll on top of him.

A movement at the corner of his eye distracted him momentarily. He risked a glance and discovered that, incredibly, the charno was plodding resignedly across the cavern floor. It was the strangest beast he’d ever known. What did it think it was doing. But no time for that now. The dragon, still charging, had lowered its head and Henry suddenly realised the massive flaw in his plan. If the monster breathed fire now, he would be a charred potato chip in seconds. No weapon, not even the mighty Halek knife, could save him.

But the dragon didn’t breathe fire. Instead the massive jaws opened to engulf him. Henry stared directly into the creature’s mouth, ringed with huge serrated teeth, a tiny flame flickering perpetually at the back of its throat. He waited until he could smell the stench of methane breath, until the floor beneath his feet was shaking from the onrush of the charging beast, then stepped gracefully to one side and raised the Halek knife.