Dennis McCiernan - Into the Forge

"Oh, yes," said Beau. "Now I recall."

"Why is a Dragon in these parts, I wonder?" asked Tip.

Still they watched as the Drake drew onward, ever near-ing, growing larger with every beat of its wings, while in Quadran Pass a mighty battle raged, the Dwarves driving the Horde hindward, pressing them down the ribbon of road.

"I say," said Beau, glancing about nervously, "with the Dragon nearing, shouldn't we get out of sight?"

Loric looked at Phais, and she said, "The Waerling is right, for Drakes have a taste for horse meat."

"To say nothing of tasty Warrows," muttered Tip.

Loric scanned the countryside, then pointed at a thicket a furlong or so away. "In there," he said, and spurred his steed, Phais doing likewise, the pack animals coming after.

Safely ensconced among the trees, they all dismounted and tethered the horses and walked to the edge of the copse.

Still the battle raged, and still the Dragon drew closer, now but three peaks away from the conflict.

" 'Tis Skail of the Barrens," said Phais at last.

"How can you tell?" asked Beau.

Phais sighed. "I see him well."

"You must have the eyes of an eagle," said Tip.

"Not quite," replied the Dara, smiling.

"As thou hast said, Sir Beau," murmured Loric, "the Drimma indeed are winning."

Tip shifted his gaze from the Drake to the battle in the pass. The black-iron-armored Dwarves had driven the Swarm even farther downslope.

Now Skail was but two peaks away from the conflict.

"Look! Look!" cried Beau. "The Swarm flees!"

Downward fled the Horde in silence, or so it seemed, Dwarves racing after.

Skail was one peak away.

Of a sudden Phais cocked her head as if listening. "Horns. Ruptish horns blow. Mayhap a hundred or more. 'Twas the signal to flee, though the sound is but now reaching us."

Loric nodded, though neither Tip nor Beau heard aught.

Now the great Dragon swung outward, westward, away from the peaks of the chain. Out he flew and out.

Still the Dwarves pursued the fleeing Spawn.

Now Skail wheeled on his great leathery pinions, turning toward Quadran Pass and swooping low, following along the road upward.

Still the Horde fled.

Yet the Dwarves stopped, for they had seen the gleaming Drake rushing through the air.

Flame gouted from Skail, washing over Riipt.

Tipperton shouted, "He fights for the Dwar-" but his voice chopped shut as Skail's flame spewed across the Dwarves as well, and they turned and fled upward, burning with Dragonfire.

Now Skail had passed beyond the Dwarven ranks, and up he soared and up, upward into the crystal air above the peaks of the Quadran, where once again he wheeled in the sky, turning on his vast wings. And then down he plunged, aiming for the gap.

And in that moment the vast roar of gushing Dragon-flame reached the thicket, for it was far enough away from the conflict that sound lagged well behind sight.

And even the Warrows heard the mighty bellow of fire mingled with a Dragonshout of triumph.

Back down hurtled Skail, and once again Dragonfire ravaged, burning not only Dwarves but raking over fleeing Spaunen as well.

Still the Dwarves fled upward, those in the lead to disappear from sight of the foursome, their vision blocked by a flank of Aevor, the mountain just south of Coron.

Once more Skail wheeled, and again came the delayed roar of his bellowing flame and his trumpet of exultation.

Again and again he ravaged the Dwarves, raining fire down upon them, his strikes affecting the Spawn less and less the higher the Dwarves fled.

And still the Dwarves ran fleeing, those that were not dead and burning.

Finally the foursome could see the Dwarves no more, for all had passed from their sight beyond the intervening shoulder. Yet still the Dragon flew and stooped and vomited more terrible fire.

Pass after pass he made, flame and glee roaring.

But at last he made a pass and no flame spewed, and then he settled on the very summit of Coron Mountain, and bellowed in elation over what he had done.

"Dragons attacking warring armies," said Beau. "What does it mean?"

"He is a renegade," said Tip, as if that were enough.

"Nay, wee one," said Phais. "I deem it much worse than a mere renegade harassing victims."

"Oh, how so?"

"I fear the rumors are true: that Modru has somehow wooed Dragons unto his cause."

"But he burned Rucks, too," protested Beau.

"Modru cares not if he loses Spaunen," gritted Loric. "They are nought but fodder for his cause."

Phais nodded in agreement, then added, "Ye can see Skail does not now attack the Swarm. His mission was to slay Drimma, and slay them he did, until they were all dead or had escaped back through their high mountain door. The fact that Rupt were burnt as well is merely a trivial consequence of war to Modru."

"Remember the trumps? 'Twas a trap," said Loric, "for at signal the Spaunen did flee downward, drawing Dwarves after, when Skail came winging nigh."

Beau nodded, and Tip said, "If it's true that Modru has Dragons at his beck, then it's no small pebble he's dropped in the pond, is it now?"

Phais nodded grimly. "Indeed, Sir Tip, indeed."

Beau sighed, then said, "Well, pebble or no, what are we going to do now? I mean, given our horses and all, we can't very well set out for the Dusk Door with Skail up there shouting in glee."

Loric turned up his hands, and Phais said, "Thou art right, Sir Beau. We have no choice but to wait."

It was midafternoon when Skail stopped his triumphant bellowing and took to wing, flying away northward, back the way he had come.

Untethering the steeds, Loric said grimly, "I deem we must now strike for the Old Way and make a run for it if we are to reach the Dusk Door into Drimmen-deeve ere dark."

"What about the Rucks and such?" asked Beau. "I mean, isn't the road dangerous?"

"Mayhap, yet where we now ride the land is rough, and reaching our goal will be slow going."

Tip looked to Phais, and she said, "The Foul Folk are licking their wounds. I think they will not be coming this way."

Loric nodded in agreement, and so they turned and deliberately pressed toward the road, riding through the ruptured land. Within four candlemarks they found the way, yet when they did, it too had been churned by many feet.

"They seem to be going both ways on this road," said Loric, kneeling, "north as well as south."

"I say that we ride the road regardless," said Tip, "for the sooner we are within Drimmen-deeve, the sooner we are safe from marauding Drakes."

Loric remounted and looked at Phais, and she shrugged. And so southward they rode at a swift pace, the horses cantering over trodden ground. Yet the sun sank low in the sky as evening drew near, for much time had been lost to Skail.

They reached the entrance to the vale of the Dusk Door just as the gloaming fell.

As they came to the mouth of that long valley, suddenly Phais threw up a hand and reined to a halt, Loric stopping as well.

"What is it?" asked Tipperton.

But even as the question flew from his lips, his gaze followed the line of Loric's outstretched arm. And there in the distance down the high-walled glen ruddy firelight gleamed.

In the deepening twilight Tip heard the soft footfalls of a nearing steed. With his heart pounding, he readied his bow and peered out through a gap in a jumble of boulders where the four had taken cover. He could glimpse a dark figure moving up through the trees and toward their hiding place.

" 'Tis Loric," hissed Phais from better vantage.

Relief washed over the buccan, and he relaxed the pressure upon his bow string and waited.

Loric reached the rocks and dismounted and led his horse inward as Phais, Tip, and Beau stepped out to meet him.