The Dark Throne (24 page)

Vell’s hand suddenly swept in a fierce arc, and the cold wind took hold of the dragon’s fire, dragging it up and into the sky, away from the warriors on the ground. The dragon lashed its tail and thundered its challenge, its roar shaking the ground beneath us like an earthquake. My body went cold with fear. The Caedbranr watched tensely, its power coiled behind my sternum. I checked the four stones of the protection, and they were glowing brightly, undisturbed. Vell’s knuckles showed white from her grip on the ivory staff, and a slight sheen of sweat glistened on her brow.

“The
vyldretning
is strong,” said Chael in the ringing silence that followed the dragon’s roar. He gave me the hint of a smile. “Even as a child, she was stronger than the rest of us put together.”

I raised my eyebrows; that was the most I’d heard Chael speak since we’d rescued him, on top of the revelation that he’d known Vell when they were children. But just as the Sword’s reassurance didn’t allay my trepidation, Chael’s words didn’t loosen the knot of anxiety in my throat. Vell seemed not to hear, her eyes now fixed on the great beast flying toward the ranks of warriors waiting to slay it and earn their place in her
vyldgard
. I turned my attention back to the dragon, just in time to watch the first attack by the Valkyrie.

Three of the Valkyrie streaked down in front of the dragon, perilously close; I recognized Calliea with a jolt when a golden whip lashed out to kiss the dragon’s massive nose. The other two riders launched their massive spears, and without even seeing if their missiles hit their marks, the riders wheeled their winged
faehal
and dove for the ground, stretched low over their mounts’ sleek necks.

One of the thick spears hit the center of a black scale and fell away from the dragon harmlessly; but the other hit home, sliding between two scales near the dragon’s left nostril. Calliea’s whip left a crack on the dragon’s scales. The beast reared back its head in surprise and rage, its tail whipping through the air in agitation as it quickly flattened its wings, lunging after the three Valkyrie who had dared to strike the first blow. The first snap of its jaws barely missed the slowest of the winged
faehal
. Then the three changed their direction suddenly, shooting up into the sky at a near-vertical angle, their mounts straining and pumping their wings faster and faster. The dragon swung its head toward them, and extended its great wings to follow, menacing jaws half-parted already in anticipation. Vell twisted her rune-sketching hand and brought her cupped palm up slowly, as though lifting something invisible in her hand, a single droplet of sweat rolling down her pale face. I looked at the riders in time to see their
faehal
shoot upward with the speed of an arrow released from a longbow. Within two breaths, Calliea and the other two Valkyrie were no more than specks against the sky. The dragon stretched its massive length upward in pursuit.

“Where are the other Valkyrie?” I murmured to myself, searching the sky, but I couldn’t find them in the darkness of the clouds.

“We are the hunters,” Chael said in a low voice, his face alight with anticipation as we watched the dragon climb higher and higher, chasing the Valkyrie into the thin cold reaches of the sky. And then, again, I saw the gold flash of Calliea’s whip, inciting a bellow of rage this time from the dragon as it snapped at her; my breath caught in my throat—I couldn’t see the Valkyrie, they were too high above the earth. I could only hope from the dragon’s second roar of rage that it had missed its target. After a moment I picked out three specks plunging toward the earth, falling so fast I feared they were dead, but the dragon followed, folding its wings against its back. The unfathomable bulk of the dragon lent it great speed, and it gained quickly on the three Valkyrie. I bit my lip, watching helplessly, but when I glanced again at Vell, I saw her wolf-like smile.

“And now the trap is sprung,” said Chael, his amethyst eye blazing.

The remaining Valkyrie appeared suddenly, just below the dragon, unnoticed as it plunged intently after the three offending riders; but I saw with a rush of delight the massive net stretched between them, and the great weights affixed to the net. The dragon’s wings were pinned to its back in its dive, and the Valkyrie flew with the great net on an angle to intercept the beast. The dragon dove, the Valkyrie flew past the dragon and the net hit the dragon’s back. The Valkyrie held to their edges of the net and used their momentum to swing the huge weights attached to the thick silver rope over to the opposite side of the dragon, completing the cocoon of the net.

A great shout rose up from the forces on the ground as they saw the dragon suddenly wrapped in the net, jerking and writhing as it plunged toward the earth. The sharp spikes on the dragon’s wings cut through dozens of the net’s ropes, sending silver coils flying as it struggled; but the Valkyrie regrouped, dove after the dragon again, more silver ropes in their hands, tied to barbed spears. One by one they arrowed down from above and plunged their spears into the dragon along its vulnerable spine, piercing the folds of its leathery wings and flying with their rope under the dragon’s belly, over its back, tightening the bindings about its wings. The dragon’s struggles suddenly took on new urgency; I cried out in protest as a sweep of its barbed tail caught one of the Valkyrie, smashing into mount and rider with terrible force. Vell made a sound as though the air had been punched from her stomach, bowing for an instant over the ivory staff; her hand reached out, swept a gentle curve, slowly lowered to the ground. I watched as a zephyr caught the limp rider and broken
faehal
. They drifted like autumn leaves to the ground, set down gently behind the lines of the ground forces. I saw one of the other healers gallop toward them even as dark blood stained the dirt about their still forms. I couldn’t see the rider’s face, but there was no golden whip and no robin’s-egg-bright breastplate, so I knew at least it wasn’t Calliea.

The dragon had torn through most of the silver net, loose rope flailing about its massive body, but a dozen strands of silver rope still stretched over its wings, looking fragile as spider-silk. It was enough to keep it from spreading its wings, and the Valkyrie harried it, firing huge arrows from their oversized bows, the missiles like splinters against the mass of the beast. The dragon plunged toward the ground, gaining speed, writhing and bucking, the Valkyrie careful now to avoid its lashing tail. Every so often I saw the flashing gold of Calliea’s whip, and the silver gleam of Gray’s breastplate in the wheeling formation of Valkyrie.

Vell growled and flattened her hand, bringing it to her eye-level and pressing it down toward the ground. The dragon’s speed increased even further and it gave a bellow of confusion as winds buffeted its body, hitting its scales with such force that cracks appeared in fine webs across its body. I felt the surge and swell of Vell’s power flowing through the protection. The dragon roared defiantly and unleashed a tongue of fire at one of the Valkyrie; Vell screamed and I watched in horror as the rider and
faehal
plummeted toward the ground—but they were not engulfed in flames. The direflame, I realized in a heady rush of relief. The force of the flames must have knocked them unconscious, but hadn’t set them afire. With a ragged gasp Vell caught the rider but missed the
faehal
, and the beautiful winged creature crashed into the ground. I winced and looked away. Vell set the second Valkyrie down next to where three healers labored over the first fallen rider.

The dragon, thrashing as it plummeted toward the earth, swiveled its head on its great sinuous neck and fixed its gaze on the hilltop. On Vell. Its malevolent scarlet eyes bored into me, and I unconsciously threw my hands out as I reached for the protection. The dragon threw a whip of white-hot flame from its ravening maw, even as it hurtled downward, and the stones flared, the wall of protection shimmering into visibility not a moment too soon. The impact of the flames hit me physically, vibrating through my link to the diamond of protection and throwing me bodily backward. I felt firm hands steady me as I spread my
taebramh
through the glimmering wall, grimacing in concentration, pushing at the air with my hands in an unconscious echo of my power’s movement. The dragon-flame rushed along every side of the diamond, lasting much longer than any ordinary fire, throwing itself against the protection with unnatural force. My skin prickled as the air warmed. The Sword gave one defiant clarion tone, and the flames dissipated with an evil hiss. I shuddered and dropped my hands, gulping in a breath as sweat rolled down my face. As my vision cleared—the whole struggle had lasted only a moment, though it had felt like an hour—I saw the dragon give a last desperate writhe and heard Vell give a low snarl of satisfaction.

“Brace yourself,” said Chael, crouching down next to Vell. I quickly dropped to one knee, and still barely managed to keep my balance as the dragon hit the ground with bone-jarring force, the remaining Valkyrie still raining down arrows upon it. The ground bucked beneath our feet for a long moment and then settled, dust rising like smoke, swirling about the mammoth beast.

War cries rose from the ground force as Finnead held his blade aloft and urged his mount into a gallop, rushing headlong toward the great fallen creature. I stared at the dragon, unable to comprehend its size—it was as though a mountain had been dropped from the sky, blotting out the horizon. Vell let out a ragged breath, her body sagging over the staff, her hand still wrapped about it, and she picked up the thread of her song again. I hoped it would be easier for her now that the dragon was on the ground—I didn’t like the gray pallor of her skin or the sweat rolling down her face.

Just as the ground forces neared it, the dragon awoke from its stunned stupor, thrashing and writhing anew, its struggles shuddering through the ground up to the hilltop. I walked to the very edge of the protection, watching breathlessly as the line of warriors reached the dragon. A sweep of the dragon’s tail connected with the leftmost flank of the warriors’ line, sending at least a half-dozen warriors and their mounts sprawling, dark blood arcing through the air. I tasted bile in the back of my mouth. I wished suddenly that I was down on the field in the dust and the blood—at least then I’d be able to
do
something other than watch helplessly from the hilltop.

As the warriors closed in on the dragon, a dozen pairs of fighters leapt down from their mounts and ran toward the beast on foot. I watched one of the pairs in amazement, one dark-haired warrior carrying something I thought was a spear, until he set its sharpened end in the earth and his partner swung an axe down, striking the stake with the flat of the axe and driving it into the ground. The dragon had fallen at an angle, and I saw another set of pairs riding hard toward the opposite side. The Valkyrie harried the dragon’s eyes, distracting it while the ground riders streaked around its massive bulk. Before the second set of riders reached their positions, one of each of the first pairs unshouldered a longbow, the bitter end of their ropes tied to a great arrow. Amazement and respect for the perfectly choreographed plan rose up within me as I watched the warriors shoot the ropes over to the other side of the dragon. Not all of the second set of riders had made it to the other side of the dragon, despite the Valkyrie’s efforts; the dragon caught one pair in its claws, and the beast crushed several riders beneath its massive neck as it flailed. I stopped counting the dead, stopped trying to look at their faces. I would add their names to my inscribed blade after the dragon lay defeated. I gripped the pommel of my plain blade until my knuckles turned white.

The second set of riders carried huge barbed spears set with hoops of metal at the end of the haft. One rider darted down from their mount to retrieve the line, some cutting it from the arrow with a flash of their dagger; and the second readied the spear. As soon as the first rider tied the line through the hoop of metal at the end of the spear, knotting it faster than thought, the spearman launched the missile upward, and a waiting Valkyrie caught it deftly in midair. The Valkyrie plunged the spears through the dragon’s wings, and as the weapons drove home I realized the cruel efficiency of these weapons: the more the dragon struggled, the more it would damage its own wings by the force of its thrashing, and tear its own flesh with the barbs of the spears. For an instant, I felt a flash of sympathy for the massive beast, wondering if it, like Luca, was enslaved within its own body by the malicious forces of Malravenar; but then the dragon roared, scarlet eyes fixing on the closest rider, and it caught the Sidhe in its jaws, swallowing the warrior with terrifying ease. My sympathy evaporated, replaced by the utter certainty that this beast was evil. I looked frantically for Luca and Finnead. Every rider now seemed to have a grappling hook or barbed spear in their hands, sending more and more ropes over the dragon, the Valkyrie plucking the arrows and spears from midair, redirecting them on both sides, until the dragon’s back bristled with more spears than its own spines. One line, then two, sailed over the dragon’s neck, and a fearless Valkyrie streaked under the dragon, soaring up over its neck and shooting the line back down to the ground.

“Do the same for the tail,” I whispered raggedly, watching the mace of spikes crash into yet another rider.

A higher, desperate chord entered the dragon’s bellows. It ripped at the earth with its claws, sending rocks and huge chunks of debris flying through the air like missiles launched from trebuchets.

“Hold the line!” Luca roared, his voice loud enough to me to hear clearly. He was on foot now but still visible among the mounted riders, hefting a spear with a haft as thick as my waist in one hand, carrying a massive axe in the other. My breath caught in my throat as Luca strode toward the dragon’s head. A handful of lines pinned down its neck but it still struggled, gouts of fire erupting from its jaws.

“The axe!” I heard a bright clear voice yell as a Valkyrie swooped down low. I saw now that each Valkyrie had a Glasidhe on their shoulder, the small warriors advising the Sidhe on the finer points of fighting a battle from the air. Luca tossed the axe into the air even as the dragon reared up its head, fixing Luca with a malevolent scarlet eye. Calliea caught the axe deftly, leaning off her winged
faehal
at an impossible angle. Time slowed. Luca roared his challenge at the dragon, drawing back his spear as the dragon opened its jaws. Calliea crouched on the back of her
faehal
as the valiant mount carried her toward the dragon’s head.