Blood Of Kings: The Shadow Mage (44 page)

But the dragon did not attack him. Instead it flew over his head. All around him men from opposing sides dropped their weapons and ran, the fear of the beast overriding all others. Crawulf alone stood his ground, shouting words of defiance. A huge shadow passed over him as the dragon beat its wings and took to the air. The jarl swung around to follow its flight and caught sight of the Shadow Mage. The fat Sunsai noble had flung Normand aside as he stretched out his arms towards the dragon, calling to it. The beast turned around and flew over their heads again, only this time he raked the ground with fire. Flames engulfed men from both sides including the Shadow Mage. He screamed in pain as his scorched body fell down by the still body of the duke.

“Strike him down before he can transfer his life force into another!” Rosinnio cried out. Crawulf allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction that his woman still lived before he ran towards the mage. He hauled the badly burnt body away from the duke.

The Shadow Mage met his eyes, and Crawulf saw the fear there.

“Now you die,” he said before cleaving his head from his body with a single blow.

Rosinnio stood by Crawulf’s side. “You did it. You have killed him.”

“Aye,” Crawulf said and staggered back. He could feel his legs buckling beneath him as pain from a score of wounds washed over him. All around them the earth was scorched black. He could feel the heat in the air as he tried to take in deep breaths. Suddenly his woman was propping him up, lending her support to his bulkier frame. “And you?” He forced out the words.

“I am well.” She smiled. “I am tougher than I look.”

“And the dragon?” Crawulf looked up to the sky, where there was no sign of the great winged beast.

“I think that is Duke Normand’s problem now,” she answered.

“What is my problem?” Normand staggered up to them, grimacing as he brought both hands up to his head.

“The dragon, my lord,” the duke’s man, Malachi answered.

Normand gave him a withering look. “There are no such things as dragons,” he said.

“Did you miss the whole battle?” Crawulf asked while Rosinnio stifled a grin.

“When we meet again, Nortman, it will be as enemies,” Normand said.

“Aye, likely as not,” Crawulf answered.

The duke held out his hand and Crawulf took his wrist in the warrior’s grip.

“What of them?” Malachi asked, pointing towards a large blond man who walked towards them, carrying the limp body of the white-haired witch.

“It was he who killed the dream-witch, and I don’t know what she did, but somehow she wrested control of the dragon from the Shadow Mage,” Rosinnio said.

Crawulf gazed around the battlefield, amazed at how few men were still standing. Of his own men he had led to the valley, all but two were now dead, his friend Rothgar included. “I think any who have survived this day thus far deserve to live,” he said. “What now?” he directed towards Rosinnio.

“Now we should go home.”

***

Tomas carried the lifeless body of his woman from the valley, not caring if he was struck down by the duke’s men as he passed, or scorched with dragon fire as he’d seen others fall. Aliss weighed almost nothing in his arms, yet the burden on his heart was heavier than any he’d ever borne. She gave her life in the saving of others. That would have pleased her.

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