Chapter Twenty-Four

No Reprieve

Prillen had clearly been attacked by something large recently, and Marci could guess what: a dragon.

There was less than half of the village watchtower left. Half of a cow still lay in one of the nearby paddocks and the stables had been smashed. At least the inn was still intact.

'Sky dragon.' Davion muttered darkly.

'You're certain?' Mirana whispered.

'Yeah. The village is still here.' Davion answered. 'If it had been any other type of dragon, there'd be nothing left. Sky dragons prefer to snatch rather than stay. I don't think it's coming back, we'd have seen it if it was still hunting.'

Marci tapped his arm, mimed a flying dragon, then made the shape of the crescent moon.

'No, they don't hunt at night. As good as their eyesight is, they can't see in the dark. We should be safe until late in the morning.'

'Are all dragons so destructive?' Fymryn asked.

'Radiant dragons aren't so bad, provided you don't annoy them. Fire dragons are very aggressive by comparison.'

'They're the worst then?'

'No. Chaos dragons are worse.' Davion grimaced at the thought. 'They live up to their names. Sky dragons kill for food, fire dragons kill to expand territory, chaos dragons kill for fun.' He took one of their surviving blankets and wrapped it around his greatsword. 'It might be better not to say that I'm a disgraced Dragon Knight.'

Marci tapped Mirana's shoulder, indicated Davion, held up one hand with her knuckles facing him and then made a cutting movement with the other.

'Good idea, Marci.' Mirana approved. 'If anybody asks, we'll say that you're a mercenary we've hired to protect us.'

'What about me?' Fymryn asked. 'I doubt that they'll be happy to see an elf.'

'It's not long till nightfall,' Davion said, eyes skyward. He peered around the ruined watchtower, gazing at the inn. 'Could you sneak in through that window up there?'

'Yes,' Fymryn answered. 'Easily, if you open the shutters.'

'All right,' Mirana decided. 'Fymryn, take Sagan around the outside of the village, then wait for us to signal you.'

'What's the signal?'

Marci whistled a short, piping melody in answer.

'Sweet as always.' Fymryn remarked. 'Fine.' She approached Sagan, took the reins and tried to lead him. Sagan refused to move. Marci sighed and whistled again. Sagan grunted and allowed Fymryn to lead him through the trees.


There were only a few members of the militia left on guard. They were mildly curious about their visitors, but were more preoccupied with watching for the sky dragon. It was odd to see members of the Dark Moon Order out here, but not so uncommon that they would raise suspicions.

'Davion?' Mirana whispered as they approached the inn. 'What if they've summoned a Dragon Knight?'

'If they have, they'll have come from Steelpoint Vigil.' Davion answered quietly. 'I moved around a lot, but I've never been to Steelpoint, so they shouldn't recognise me.' He thought for a moment, gauging his chances. 'It depends on whether they've been warned about me or not.'

'As you said, they won't recognise you, and you're not wearing dragon-scale.' Mirana shrugged. 'Just keep your head down.'

Marci scoffed.

'A figure of speech, Marci.' Mirana chuckled.

Marci unfastened her cloak and handed it to Davion. It was obviously too short for him, but the hood would be helpful if Dragon Knights turned up.

'This is familiar,' Davion remarked. 'At least I'm not naked this time.'

Marci gave him a dreamy look which clearly said: That's a pity.

'Careful what you wish for,' Davion said, fastening the cloak. 'It could happen, especially with my luck.'

Marci grinned mischievously, her eyes lighting up.

'That would attract too much attention.' Mirana warned needlessly. 'Don't get any funny ideas.'

'Spoilsport.' Davion muttered. Marci agreed once again. 'We should pick up some supplies whilst we're here.'

Marci opened the bag on her belt and counted the contents. Not much left, but enough for some basic provisions. Since they still had snares and Mirana had enough arrows for hunting, they would prioritise medical supplies.

The village apothecary was annoyed to be disturbed so late in the day, but his wares were relatively cheap. They managed to secure some basic rations after some bartering and negotiation. What remained of their funds would be enough to get them a room at the inn and a meal.

Davion could not rely on his reputation to get them anything for free here. He had never hunted any dragons near this village, and he needed to keep a low profile.

It wasn't all that dissimilar to the inn back in Barreltown. They started to blend together after a few tipsy nights and one-night stands.

"...with women you feel little for."

Davion frowned. Where had that come from? He didn't remember anybody saying that to him, but it was familiar. A Candoness accent, with a voice which sounded wrong. He also recalled a face, flabby with flaxen facial hair.

Anger rose in him with the memory. The blood thundered in his ears.

A hand rested on his arm. Marci looked up at him, a little concerned frown wrinkling her forehead.

The anger did not ebb. It flared like a freshly fed bonfire.

Davion did not understand. This was Marci. He had no reason to be angry with her. Davion controlled his breathing, counting his breaths until his ire faded. Marci continued to stare at him, worry plain in her pretty eyes.

'I'm fine, Marci.' He told her softly. 'Just... sorry if I worried you.'

Marci offered him a small smile and gave his arm a gentle squeeze. She was telling him that it was no problem. She stepped past him and into the inn. His gaze strayed to her hips for a moment—old habits died hard.

"...with women you feel little for."

The words returned as he followed Marci and Mirana inside. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that it was true. That was how it had been for years. Kill a dragon, have a few drinks, take a woman to bed, start over.

How many names could he remember? One or two, just the latest really. He'd practically seduced somebody else when he'd started flirting with Marci back in that tavern. If Mirana had not been there, she may well have ended up as just another notch on his belt, no matter what he told himself. And she deserved better than that.

The truth was that he'd never allowed a woman to know him, and nor had he allowed himself to know them. He'd told himself that it was just for fun, and it had been. He'd told himself that he might be dead soon, and that was true. It wasn't just women either. He hadn't really opened to anybody since losing his family, not even Bram, and Bram was like a little brother to him.

But he had connected—seriously connected—with Marci and Mirana over the last month, especially Marci. He'd even been getting along well with Fymryn, and he barely knew her. He'd opened up to them about things he'd never been able to talk about before. He cared about them.

Especially Marci.

Davion leaned on the bar next to Marci. The way she placed her hands on the wood reminded him of that first meeting, and he found himself adopting the same flirt-with-a-woman-see-how-muscly-I-am stance he had before without meaning to.

Marci smiled at him, impressed as she had been before. The mischievous glint was back in her soft eyes and her lips curled into a flirty grin.

'What can I get for you three?' The barkeep asked.

'Do you have any Icewrack White?' Mirana asked hopefully.

'Nope. Sorry.'

'Oh. I suppose we'll just have to drink beer then.' Mirana tapped Marci's shoulder. 'Marci? What do you want to eat?' She very nearly rolled her eyes and lowered her voice. 'I swear that all you two do is flirt!'

'That's not entirely true,' Davion said. 'Sometimes Marci punches monsters.'

Marci's grin widened. She turned to Mirana and made a couple of signs.

Mirana nodded. 'My friend will have two pork chops.'

'Two?' The barkeep stared at Marci, who looked positively diminutive next to Davion. 'They're not small, lass.'

'It's been a long week.' Davion said. 'I'll take the same.' He actually intended to reserve the second for Fymryn.

'Well, it's your money.'

'About that,' Davion plucked something from his belt. He'd kept some of the water drake scales. Though they had little practical use, they were still valuable. 'Will this do?'

The barkeep picked up the scale and examined it. 'You killed a water drake?'

'That's why we're hungry.' Davion inclined his head towards Marci. 'And Marci did most of the work, so I'd say she deserves those two courses.'

'And you?'

'I helped.'

The barkeep eyed Mirana, who shrugged. 'I was the bait.'

'Two for you as well then.' The barkeep decided. 'And an extra helping of beer. Common room's a bit full, but maybe you can join a table.'

Davion slid a second scale onto the bar. 'We'll take two rooms for the night.'

'Ah.' the barkeep cleared his throat. 'We've only got one left, I'm afraid, with one bed.'

'I can sleep on the floor. It beats sleeping on a rock.'

'As you say, mate.' The barkeep accepted the scale. He reached under the counter and held out a key. 'Upstairs at the end of the hall, last door on the right.'

Davion remained behind for the food whilst Marci and Mirana went upstairs. The room was smaller than the one they'd shared in Barreltown, but not as decrepit as the one they'd briefly rented in Haupstadt. At least the bed was softer.

Marci opened the shutters, peered into the gloom, then whistled. A few moments later, Fymryn slipped out of the shadows and climbed in. 'Cosy,' she remarked. 'Oh. Only one bed.' She smiled slyly at them. 'Very cosy. At least we'll be nice and warm. Who wants to go first?'

'No, Fymryn, we're not doing that.' Mirana sighed. 'Honestly! Why are you so obsessed?'

'We might be stuck together, but that doesn't mean that we can't have a little fun.'

'What about your pod?'

'If they were here, they'd be all over you.' Fymryn still had that sly grin on her narrow face. 'Look at it through my eyes. Here I am with three very attractive people. Why not enjoy a little intimacy? Marci is all but jumping on Davion. Should we be left out, Beautiful?'

Marci blushed and turned away, taking a sudden interest in the empty wardrobe.

Mirana huffed. 'Elves!'

Marci put a finger up to her lips and jabbed a finger downwards.

'Marci's right.' Fymryn agreed. 'They won't be happy with you either if I get caught.'

Mirana sighed again. 'Then you'd better not try anything, or else you'll give yourself away.'

'I can be discreet.'

'Marci, Davion might need a hand.'

'Good idea, Mirana.' Fymryn giggled. 'Marci needs to get all of that romantic tension out of her system, and I wouldn't mind having a little time with you all to myself.'

'You are unbelievable!'

Marci rolled her eyes and left them to it. The floorboards barely creaked under her light footfalls as she descended the staircase.

She stopped halfway down, frowning.

There was a woman talking to Davion, a very beautiful one. Unlike Marci, she obviously had no scars and could talk easily. She was just the sort Davion liked too, curvy and forward.

Marci sighed, feeling resigned rather than jealous. Well, it was to be expected. She was not the prettiest woman in the world, not compared to so many others. Maybe Davion would get a bed of his own tonight. Despite what Mirana expected of her, she did not want to hurt him for this.

As she started to turn, she noticed movement. To her surprise and relief, Davion was clearly refusing the woman's advances. She was confused, and still trying to win him over. She was not taking "no" for an answer. Marci could hardly blame her, not when Davion was the prize.

Marci decided to give him a hand. She trotted down to the bar, reached over and patted his arm, smiling up at him.

'Great timing, Sweetheart.' Davion told her. 'Here. You can help me carry this.'

The curvy woman scowled at Marci, who had started to blush. 'You're not telling me that this is your intended, are you? I thought you were just trying to make me jealous.'

Unseen by the woman, Davion winked conspiratorially at Marci. 'Yes, this is her, my betrothed.' He put an arm around Marci's shoulders. Marci's blush spread across her face. 'And she throws a hell of a punch, so you might want to run along and find somebody else for the night.'

The woman looked doubtful. Marci glared at her until she backed off. 'Oh well. Each to their own, I suppose.' The woman turned and flounced away.

Marci looked up at Davion, still blushing, and raised an eyebrow.

'Sorry about that. I thought that saying you were my betrothed might put her off.'

Marci raised her other eyebrow.

'What? You're much nicer by far.' Davion winked at her again. 'And you really do throw a hell of a punch. I'd rather not be a falsetto for the rest of my life.'

Marci chuckled and took one of the trays. The scent of cooked meat made her mouth water and she resisted the urge to eat then and there.


It was a close thing. If they had lingered for a minute longer, they would have seen a tall, strong woman in plate augmented with sunset-orange dragon scales enter the inn, carrying a massive bardiche, followed by a petite blonde with a crossbow slung across her back.

The Dragon Knight clomped over to the bar with her squire, who pulled back her hood as she went. Several patrons pointed at the elf's exposed ears and whispered angrily.

The Dragon Knight leaned on the counter and placed some coins on wooden surface. 'We'll have some food and some ale.'

'Please.' the elf added brightly.

The barkeep glared at the elf, itching to smash a bottle over her head. She was still grinning cheerily, and that made her presence even more insulting. It was as if she did not understand why she was unwelcome. 'I don't serve your kind, elf.'

'Make an exception.' Eserren removed her helm and glowered at him.

'I won't drink in a place which serves elves!' A large man had stomped up behind Caewyn. 'She goes outside, on the end of my boot if she has to.'

Eserren did not move when she spoke. 'Piss off.'

'Or what?'

Eserren left her bardiche leaning against the bar as she turned to face him, straightening up to her full height. She was a full foot taller than him and much stronger even without her draconic armour. She did not need to say anything, she just glared at him. He rethought his options and wisely backed off.

Caewyn was still smiling broadly at the barkeep as if nothing had happened. 'I fancy some mutton. And some carrots. Do you have any?'

The barkeep took another look at Eserren as she turned back to him. 'Are you trying to run me out of business, woman?'

'I am a Dragon Knight.' Eserren stated. 'And this young woman is my squire. We have just killed a dragon for you.'

'It's true.' Caewyn added proudly. 'The alderman's going to put its head on display outside his house. I have some scales.' She held up a pure, snow-white scale. 'See? Sky dragon scales are so pretty, aren't they?'

The barkeep swallowed as Eserren continued to glare at him, her beryl-green eyes harsh. 'But... the others... they won't want me to serve an elf.'

'Caewyn is a member of the Dragon Knight Order.' Eserren argued. She did not raise her voice. She did not need to. 'Her being an elf is irrelevant. Here is your coin. We'll have some mutton if you can spare it, and some ale.'

'And some carrots. Ooh! And baked potatoes! I like baked potatoes.'

'We'll also take a room for the night.'

'I'm out of—' the barkeep began.

'I'm not staying in a place which accommodates tree-filth.' One of the patrons spat in Caewyn's direction and missed by two feet. He lobbed his key at Caewyn, who caught it with one hand. 'Let them have mine and be damned.'

'Thank you!' Caewyn called happily as he stormed outside.


Mirana closed the shutters as Davion and Marci arrived. 'I'm glad you're back. Fymryn is driving me mad.'

Fymryn shrugged. 'I was complimenting you. Hey, Marci? That's a blush! Has Davion been flirting with you again?'

Mirana rolled her eyes. 'Like I said...'

Marci whistled to her and made a few signs, interspersed with a few more whistles. Neither Davion nor Fymryn could keep up, but Mirana knew what Marci was saying.

'Really?' She looked to Davion with a little more respect in her gaze. 'Maybe you were right.' She did not explain to Davion, instead she sat down at the small table. 'I'm starving. Let's eat.'

As usual, Marci tried to be generous. As usual, they gave her the lion's share of the food and watched it disappear. She seemed to have gained an appreciation for beer now, unlike Mirana and Fymryn. With her food gone, Marci settled back to contentedly sip at her beer. The rest of them ate more slowly, with Fymryn asking Marci if she could teach her and Davion some more signs.

'That's... book?' Fymryn checked. 'Yes! That one's easy. I can remember that.' It was. All Marci did was hold out her hands and move them as if she was opening and closing a book. 'What about pod? Do you have a sign for that?'

Marci considered. She held up both hands and brought them together, forming a circle with her fingers, meshing them together slowly. Her expression was melancholy as she did so, and for a moment she was distant and sad.

'Marci?' Davion reached out a touched her arm. She blinked and lowered her hands, trying to look unconcerned.

'That actually means "family".' Mirana explained quietly.

Davion lifted his chin with his finger, then smiled, pointed at himself, and tapped his forehead with two fingers. Marci released a little huff of mirth.

'That one means "dummy" or "idiot".' Mirana said.

'I've seen that one.' Fymryn smiled. 'Marci did that to you, Davion, when you said you wouldn't have minded giving her the kiss of life.'

Marci blushed yet again and took a swig of beer to try to hide it.

'You heard that?' Davion raised his eyebrows. 'I was just joking. A little.'

Mirana groaned. 'Why is it that I'm stuck with three people who seem to be obsessed with flirting?'

'You can join in. It's fun.' Fymryn teased.

'Fymryn, seriously, why are you so keen to sleep with us all?'

'You're the Princess of the Moon. How do you show your love for Selemene?'

Mirana did not answer. She did not need to.

'My people love Mene through each other.'

'Technically, Marci and I are enemies of Mene. Wouldn't you be committing blasphemy?'

'For servants of Selemene, you're not so bad.'

'Was that meant to be a compliment?'

'It was. And if we did sleep together, I'd think of it more as showing appreciation for you rather than your goddess.' Fymryn explained. 'You could have killed me, but you did not.'

'We need your help.'

'Do you? I think you're capable enough of finding the lotuses some other way. You're an incredible archer with the blessings of Selemene. Marci can punch just about anything into paste and Davion is a Dragon Knight. And you have Sagan. I'm the least useful one here.'

Marci shook her head and held up both hands, one masking the other.

'Yes, but that's just something I can do.'

Marci indicated herself and flexed her right bicep.

'Oh. I didn't realise. I thought that was something you learned to do.'

'Marci has honed her strength, yes,' Mirana explained. 'But she has always been much stronger than she looks.' She chuckled suddenly. 'Do you remember breaking down the door to my chambers when it got stuck? The look on my face must have been priceless!'

Marci started to laugh too.

'Imagine it,' Mirana grinned, 'Marci was only nine, very small, and she gave the door a kick and it came right out of the frame, hinges, lock and all. I just said that I couldn't open it and Marci booted it down.'

They all laughed, picturing a much younger Marci kicking down a solid wood door.

Marci grinned and mimed a theatrical bow.

'Yes! And you did that too!'

'I could have used your help back home on the farm, Marci.' Davion said. 'You'd have been ideal for moving bales around. And you, Mirana, you could have shot down all the crows before they ate the seeds, or hunted rabbits for us.'

'What about me?' Fymryn asked.

'Well... with that disappearing thing you do, you could have scared the sheep back into their pens.'

Marci laughed and made a few simple signs Davion could interpret. I'd pay to see that.

They heard heavy steps approach as they talked, but paid them no heed. They went across the hall into the room opposite, followed by a lighter pair of feet.

'We need to decide who is sleeping where.' Davion said.

'That's easy.' Mirana stated. 'I don't trust Fymryn not try anything with one of us in the bed, and if I leave you and Marci alone you'll spend the entire night keeping us awake with your flirting. But I can trust Marci, so she and I will take the bed.'

'Lend us your cloaks then.' Davion requested. 'Just for once this week, I'd like something soft to sleep on.'

He and Fymryn spread the cloaks on the floor before they blew the candles out. Marci spared Davion a sweet smile before she fell asleep. Davion heard Mirana's breathing slow after another minute and guessed that she too was now sleeping.

Fymryn remained awake, staring up at the ceiling. Thinking that she was unobserved, she allowed the worry to show on her face.

'What's wrong?' Davion whispered.

Fymryn stared at him, surprised. 'What?'

'You look worried.'

Fymryn sighed. 'I'm... it's just... I'm just worried about what might happen tomorrow. I need to sneak out of here whilst it's still dark.'

'Do you want one of us to wake you?'

'No. No, I'll be fine.' Fymryn closed her eyes. 'Get some sleep, Davion. And don't worry, I won't try anything. I wouldn't want to give Marci an excuse to hit me.'

'I don't think she would. She's too kind for that.'

'Yes, she probably is.' Fymryn smiled, eyes still shut. 'I think you're a lucky man, Davion. I did see her kiss you, by the way. Maybe you should... Davion?' She was answered by soft snoring. 'Oh. Never mind.' She sighed again, opening her eyes again. 'Good night, Davion.' Though they slept, she remained awake. She still worried about might befall her newfound allies when they reached the Invoker.

Slivers of moonlight peeked through the gaps in the shutters, and Fymryn spent a couple of hours staring at them, wondering if they would look any different when Mene returned, before she too succumbed to slumber.


Fymryn was gone when they awoke. She had left the shutters open.

Davion, Marci and Mirana headed downstairs for something to eat. The common room was mostly empty now, and they had no trouble finding somewhere to sit.

Marci yawned widely as she waited for her food and sat with one hand propped under her chin.

Davion chortled. 'Not a morning person, are you?'

Marci just gave him a look, her eyes half-closed. She perked up when Mirana bustled over with food.

'Are we going to have to worry about the dragon?' Mirana asked.

'Maybe.' Davion muttered. 'But we chased one off, we can do it again.'

'You won't have to.' The barkeep had heard them. 'It's dead.'

'Dead?' Davion repeated, his stomach now churning with worry. He could only think of a select few groups who would take on a dragon and win, and the village militia was not one of them. 'How?'

'A Dragon Knight killed it, of course! Still here as a matter of fact. You can ask about it.'

'Yeah. I might do that.' Davion lied as the man set about cleaning his flagons. He leaned forwards and whispered: 'We should leave. Now.'

Marci responded by wolfing down her food even faster.

Davion heard the door open, but Mirana quickly leaned forwards before he could react and hissed: 'Davion! Don't turn around!'

Davion squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he heard them walk in, chattering amongst themselves. The leader only needed to say one thing for him to know the worst. 'We've come here from Steelpoint Vigil for the dragon. Is it still around?'

'Your friend beat you to it, Sir.' The barkeep gestured at the stairs as heavy, thumping footsteps signalled the arrival of another armoured warrior. Davion turned his head just enough to see a tall woman clad in orange dragon scale stride across the common room, a smaller woman hurrying along after her.

'Not good.' He whispered.

Marci carefully indicated the duo and raised her eyebrows.

'I don't know them personally.' Davion told her. 'But I've heard of them. The tall one is Eserren, one of the few women allowed to join the Dragon Knights. The other one is her squire and adopted daughter, Caewyn.'

'Are they dangerous?' Mirana whispered.

'They're good dragon hunters. They're probably the best in Steelpoint Vigil.' He pulled up the hood on the cloak Marci had loaned him. 'Come on. We should go before they notice us.'

They stood and started to make for the door, hoping that the newly arrived Dragon Knights would distract Eserren and Caewyn enough for them to slip away. Davion had just laid his hand on the door when a bright, chirpy voice cut through the hubbub. 'Hey! Aren't those two from the Dark Moon Order?'

'They're wearing the right colours.' A man clad in bluish scale and silver plate noted. 'Hey!' He moved closer, one hand reaching towards his sword. 'We're looking for... wait. Two women? Just like the orders said.' The steel whispered against the leather scabbard as he drew his blade. 'And that one looks tall enough to be the one we're after. Turn around and show us your faces!'

Davion cursed under his breath.

'What do we do?' Mirana hissed.

Davion gripped the latch. 'Fight or flight?'

Marci clenched her fists.

Davion decided. They would stand a better chance in the open. He would be able to swing the greatsword more easily and Mirana could find somewhere to shoot from. Fymryn would also be able to find and aid them. 'Outside!' He yanked the door open and ran outside with Mirana. Marci stayed behind just long enough to launch a kick into the advancing Dragon Knight, pushing him back into his friends and buying them a few seconds. A crossbow bolt whizzed past her head, close enough for her to feel the fletching touch her hair.

Davion revealed his greatsword as the Knights crowed around the doorway. Mirana had an arrow ready to fly. 'We have no quarrel with you!' She declared. 'Nor do we want to hurt any of you!'

Eserren pushed past the Knights, her bardiche resting against her shoulder. She was as tall as Davion, and almost as thickly muscled under her armour. She eyed Davion through the slit in her visor. 'Davion. Surrender or I will kill you.'

Davion lifted his sword. 'They said you weren't very talkative.'

Eserren gripped her bardiche with both hands now. The heavy blade looked like it could cut through solid steel. 'One chance, Davion.'

'Listen to me!' Davion shouted. 'I am no traitor! Yes, something happened to me, something I don't understand, but I'm going to stop it. Let us go. Nobody needs to die here.'

'And what about the Demon?' One of the Knights pointed his sword at Marci. 'If you call such a creature a friend, then you deserve death, traitor.'

'Marci is no Demon!' Mirana pointed her arrow at him. 'Touch her and you die!'

Davion started to edge to the right, but Eserren moved to block him. The greatsword in his hands was a good, strong piece of steel, yet against Eserren's bardiche it seemed puny. Like Kaden's sword, Eserren's weapon should have been too heavy for any mortal to wield. Like Kaden, her armour boosted her already formidable strength.

The window above opened and Davion saw Caewyn poke her crossbow out, aiming it at Mirana. Marci saw it and looked around quickly, looking for something to block the bolt with.

'Last chance.' Eserren stated.

'I can't, Eserren.'

'Then you will die.' Eserren swept her polearm around, aiming straight for Davion's head. Davion ducked under the blade as Caewyn shot her bolt at Mirana.

Marci had been ready for it. Before Caewyn had launched the bolt, she had grabbed one of the Dragon Knights, dislocated his wrist to disarm him, then yanked him in front of Mirana. The bolt struck him squarely in the back.

Caewyn gasped, horrified, as Marci threw the wounded man aside, took up his sword, and used it to bisect the haft of another man's spear. Mirana took the opportunity to cast her starstorm spell, forcing most of the Knights to run for cover. A few were too slow and fell to the ground, vapour rising from the holes in their plate.

If Davion had not been so busy trying to keep his head on his shoulders, he would have felt sickened. These were fellow Dragon Knights, and his allies were being forced to kill them.

Eserren prepared for another strike. Davion was without armour and therefore able to move faster, but he knew that every parry stood a good chance of resulting in another broken sword. It wasn't like he could cut through the haft of Eserren's bardiche either. It was reinforced with dragon scales too, and was solid metal rather than wood.

A crossbow bolt whizzed over Eserren's head and Davion yelped when it grazed his arm, cutting a furrow in his skin. Caewyn had done that deliberately.

The bardiche came down, aimed at his collarbone. It would cut him in half. Davion brought up his sword to deflect it.

Eserren jolted and was thrown off her feet, losing her grip on her weapon. Marci had charged straight into her, tackling her to the ground. Mirana ran past, pausing to loose an arrow at Caewyn, forcing her to duck and fumble the next bolt as she reloaded.

Marci grappled with Eserren, smaller and lighter than the Dragon Knight, her eyes starting to fill with points of golden light again, giving her strength to match Eserren's. She seized the bardiche and forced the haft across Eserren's throat, depriving her of air.

Eserren brought up one arm to try and force Marci back, the other came up with a dagger.

Before Davion or Mirana could act, Fymryn pelted past and tackled Marci. They both tumbled away, right into the midst of the surviving Dragon Knights.

Marci stood and broke the knee of one them, only to pitch forwards when his friend slammed the pommel of his sword into the back of her head. Fymryn drew her knives. Half a dozen weapons pointed in her direction, forcing her to drop her knives and hold up her hands.

Davion acted on impulse. He ran forwards and lifted his sword above Eserren's neck, ready to cut her head off. Even if the blade failed to cut through the mail protecting her throat, it would likely sever her carotid artery. 'Nobody move! Drop your weapons or I will kill her!'

Caewyn hesitated, her fingers resting on the trigger of her crossbow. 'No!'

'Let Marci and Fymryn go!' Mirana demanded. 'Now!'

'I'm not afraid to die.' Eserren grated. 'Do it, traitor. Do it, if you have the spine.'

Davion lifted the sword a little higher. He had already made his mistake though, Eserren knew that he could not do it.

She snatched his ankle and yanked his leg forwards, sending him sprawling. He landed on his back, the sword falling from his hand. Stars flashed before his eyes when his head struck the ground and his ears rang.

'Drop the weapon!' Somebody yelled at Mirana. 'Drop it or they die!'

Davion lifted his head and saw the inevitable. Mirana relaxed her bowstring and allowed both bow and arrow to fall to the ground. With swords pointed at her, she slowly descended and knelt, hands behind her head.

Eserren clambered to her feet and recovered her bardiche. 'Bind their hands. Be careful with that one.' She jerked her head at Marci, who was still unconscious. 'Make sure she cannot move.' She waved another Knight over. 'Head back to Steelpoint and send a report to Dragon Keep. Kaden will want to take the traitor back personally.'

Davion felt sick, sick and scared. He was not afraid for himself though. Once again, Marci and Mirana were in danger because of him, and so was Fymryn. Sagan was still safe, but how could he help them? He'd be slaughtered if he attacked now.

There was only one thing he could do.

Davion focused on the song, a distant undercurrent in the back since yesterday. If he could just tap into it, he could force the change. Mirana and Fymryn could grab Marci and escape in the chaos. He would likely die, but they would live.

Now! It had to be now!

He felt the thundering in his ears, the scales would slice through his skin at any moment...

The blow to the back of his head silenced the song. Davion fell forwards, no longer aware of anything at all.


Terrorblade was pleased with the work of his un-dead thralls.

The wounded sky dragon now lay dead in its own nest, ready for him. He was done with Frühling at long last. It was just as well, since he was now rotting away on the spot.

Terrorblade forced open Frühling's jaw, expelling his essence and letting the corpse of the craven captain fall to the ground in a heap.

The sky dragon would make a much better host for tracking down Davion and his friends. It would be much better suited for killing them.

The dragon's wounds scabbed over with grey masses as Terrorblade forced his essence into the corpse, feeling the wings lift and the legs shift.

Yes. This was an excellent new vessel. Soon he would something even better.

There was just one thing left to do.

Awkwardly, he forced the dragon over to the Direstone and seized it in the vessel's lethal talons. The thralls he left behind would become inert, but he did not care about them. He could always made more with the Direstone.

The hunt was on once again.

Taking wing, Terrorblade took to the skies, the Direstone clutched in his claws, the dragon's blue eyes now filled with sickly green light. Across the river lay his prize, and he would claim it one way or another.