Chapter Forty-Five

A Broken Pact

Vander was waiting on the dragon roost when Galbatorix and Tuomas arrived at Dras-Leona. Shruikan landed, and Galbatorix jumped down and hurried to meet his friend. 'I came here as quick as I could. Damn good to see you, Vander.'

Vander bowed. 'I'm glad you came. How is it in Gil'ead?'

'Good,' said Galbatorix. 'Although I'm afraid the elders know we have it now. We were attacked by four riders a day or so before I left to come here. They'd brought about two hundred and fifty ground troops with them – elves, dwarves and humans – and Oromis himself was leading them.'

Vander cringed. 'What happened?'

'Luckily Morzan and I got back from our visit to the Spine in time. We managed to kill most of the other riders, and Oromis… we crippled Glaedr and captured the pair of them. Oromis is in a cell right now, and we've got Glaedr outside the walls with a paralysis spell on him. The city took a fair bit of damage, but it's fixeable. Plenty of casualties, but not too many, thank gods. The others are secure there now.'

'That's good news,' said Vander. 'Especially about Oromis. Capturing him could well win us the war.'

'Yes,' said Galbatorix. 'It could. At the very least, that's one less elder to worry about. I've got Durza watching over him. So, how are things here? Where's Roland?'

Ithír had landed while they were speaking, and now Tuomas came to join them. 'Where's Roland?' he said immediately.

Vander looked grim. 'I'm afraid he couldn't come up here to meet you. He was wounded during the fight to capture the city. Orwyne's with him.'

Galbatorix swore. 'How badly is he hurt?'

'Not so badly that he'll die,' said Vander. 'But too badly for Orwyne and I working together to heal him. Come inside, sir, and I'll take you to him. I'll have some servants bring your bags.'

Galbatorix followed the skinny man into the castle, feeling upleasantly apprehensive. It was peaceful and well-ordered inside; the servants and guards they passed bowed respectfully to them, murmuring, 'My Lords,' or 'Argetlam', and everything looked organised. The battlements above had showed some signs of having been recently repaired in several places, which was the only sign of the battle that had taken place he'd seen so far. He followed Vander, ignoring his tiredness, and Tuomas trailed behind his master, keeping his hand close to his sword-hilt.

Vander opened the door to the infirmary, and when Galbatorix entered the first thing he saw was Roland, lying on his back on a stone slab. There was a blanket over him, and he appeared to be asleep, his freckled face pale. Orwyne rose from her seat beside him and came to meet them, smiling in relief. 'Sir! Oh, thank gods. I was beginning to be afraid you hadn't got our message.'

'Hello, Orwyne,' Galbatorix said briefly, going straight to Roland's side. He touched the old rider's shoulder. 'Roland? Can you hear me?'

Roland's eyes opened slowly, and he peered up at Galbatorix. 'Good heavens,' he murmured. 'Is that you, sir?'

'Yes, Roland. I came as fast as I could. Tuomas is here too. How are you?'

'Not – too shabby, sir,' Roland gasped. 'I'd – get up, only I find myself indisposed at the moment.'

'It's all right, I understand. What's the trouble, Roland?'

'It's his legs,' Orwyne said in a low voice, touching Roland's forehead to soothe him. 'I did what I could, and so did Vander, but we just didn't have the energy to heal it.'

'What happened?' said Tuomas.

'It was my fault,' said Orwyne. 'I'd dismounted and was fighting one of the other riders on the wall. He got me down and was going to finish me off, but Roland came to help me. He knocked the bastard out, but then his dragon came to help him. His talons ripped right through Roland's legs – nearly took the left one right off. Ymazu and Calanon got him down in the end – we've got him chained up in a courtyard. That was five days ago. We nearly had to cut Roland's leg off, but we managed to save it. Now you're here, we can heal it properly.'

Roland had listened to all this with a slightly resigned expression. 'I really am truly sorry, sir,' he said. 'I'm afraid I'm not quite as fast as I used to be.'

'Stop being silly, Roland,' Orwyne said. 'Just you lie still and we'll fix you up. Well, sir…' she looked up at Galbatorix. 'I suppose you should see for yourself.' She took hold of the blanket, and carefully lifted it aside. Roland let out a small gasp of pain as the wound was exposed, and Galbatorix cringed.

Both of Roland's legs had been torn open. The right one had been laid open from thigh to shin by a massive talon, and the other, the worse one, had bone actually exposed just below the knee. The edges of the wounds were no longer raw or bleeding – they had formed into scar tissue, and part of the less severe wound had closed over, but it was plain that if it was not healed soon then Roland would never walk again, and could well die.

The blood drained out of Tuomas' face. 'Oh gods…'

Roland made an attempt to lift his head, but, lacking the strength, he sighed and let his head drop. 'Not… quite the return home I had envisaged, unfortunately.'

Galbatorix looked at Vander. 'You're better at this sort of thing than I am; what d'you suggest?'

'A simple healing spell should do it,' said Vander. 'But only if we all work together. Orwyne and I couldn't risk the full spell on our own; if we'd run out of energy partway through, we would have crippled or killed him. But with four of us, it should be straightforward enough. We just have to keep our concentration.'

Galbatorix nodded. 'Understood. Tuomas, do you think you can help us?'

Tuomas blanced. 'I'm really not-,'

Roland fumbled for the young rider's hand, and managed to grasp it. 'It's all right, lad,' he said hoarsely. 'Be calm. Look inside yourself and you'll find it. The Three… the Three Peaks are out there. Just outside. They're watching over us. See them?' He let go of Tuomas' hand and pointed at the window that overlooked his bed. When Tuomas looked through it, he could see the city outside, and the wall, and beyond that the looming presence of the three peaks; craggy and imposing, like three massive sentinals.

'All right,' he said softly. 'I can do it, sir.'

Roland let his hand drop. 'That's the way, lad,' he said, his eyes closing. 'That's the way.'

Vander spread his hand over the terrible wound in Roland's left leg. 'We'll do this one first,' he said. 'All of you – open your minds to mine. Do it gently. Breathe deeply and stay calm – if you panic, everyone will feel it. When I cast the spell, channel your energy into me. Not too fast. Just a little at a time.'

The others glanced at each other, and then nodded to signal that they were ready. Vander closed his dark eyes and braced himself, and Orwyne, Galbatorix and Tuomas reached out to his mind with their own. He let them in, and when they had all relaxed he breathed in deeply and spoke the spell. 'Waíse heill!'

Rich brown light haloed Vander's hand, matching his skin almost perfectly, and poured silently out of him and into the wound, making it glow. A moment later, the other three riders began to supplement the skinny rider's magic with their own.

Tuomas risked opening his eyes, and saw the beam of combined energy moving over Roland's leg, slowly knitting the muscle and skin back together. Brown, pale green, yellow and pitch black. The very essence of the four riders, working as one. And little by little, the wound healed. Veins and muscles grew over the exposed bone, and blood began to pump through it, gradually bringing colour back into the surrounding skin, and layer after layer of flesh formed over the top of that. Roland grimaced at the pain, but made no sound, and when at last a covering of thick, knotted scar tissue had grown over the spot where the wound had been, Vander closed his hand and gently withdrew.

The other three riders shivered slightly as they pulled out of his mind and back into their own, and each one performed a little instinctive gesture afterwards, as if to remind themselves of who they were – Galbatorix tucked his hair back behind his ears and Orwyne straightened her tunic. Tuomas rubbed his eyes and looked at Roland's leg. The wound had gone, leaving only the scar behind.

Some of the colour had returned to Roland's face. He flexed the leg experimentally, wincing when his knee moved.

'How does that feel?' Vander enquired.

'Much better, thankyou, young man,' said Roland.

Vander carefully felt the scar, his fingers moving over it with the ease of long experience. 'It seems to have healed cleanly,' he said. 'But you'll probably have a limp.'

Roland chuckled. 'Dear me, I'm not going to die but I'll have a limp. I shall have to complain to the gods for their intolerable cruelty.'

Vander smiled slightly. 'I think the gods have a lot to answer for. Now, hold still – we need to heal the other one. It should be easier.'

It was. This time, knowing the worst was over, Tuomas could relax more easily and let his magic flow more smoothly. Toward the end he felt himself weakening unpleasantly, but he forced himself to keep going until the wound had become a scar and he could close his mind again and subside into a chair. After that Roland slept, and they could all see the colour coming back into his face.

Vander put the blanket back in place. 'He should be fine now. But it was a near thing.'

The door opened at this point, and a man came in, carrying a tray. 'Hello, Mother, just brought some – dear gods!' he saw Galbatorix, did a spectacular double-take and dropped the bowl of soup he'd been carrying onto the floor.

Orwyne stood up. 'Oh dear. Calm down, it's all right.'

The man bent to pick up the fallen tray. 'I'm very sorry, got a nasty shock – but next time you have the Great Betrayer in here with you, could you warn me? This is him, isn't it?'

'It is, yes,' said Orwyne.

The man looked Galbatorix up and down, with a slightly bemused expression. 'But he's just a boy.'

For some reason that annoyed Galbatorix. He looked back coldly. 'Orwyne, who is this?'

Orwyne frowned. 'My son, Roderick Rolandson. Who's just earned himself a thump in the lughole. Roderick, for the love of gods, show some respect.'

The man looked about thirty. He was short and stocky, with a freckled face and thick red hair, and he bowed politely. 'Sorry, sorry. It's an honour to meet you, my Lord. How's Father? Any better?'

'He'll be fine,' said Vander. 'Since Lord Galbatorix and Tuomas here arrived a few minutes ago, we were able to work the healing spell. He'll make a full recovery, though he might have a limp.'

Galbatorix blinked. He looked at Roland, then at Roderick, and then at Orwyne. 'Your son? And his father…?'

Orwyne nodded, a little shyly.

'The resemblance is rather obvious, isn't it?' said Roderick. He sighed and tried to clean up the mess on the floor. 'I'll just be a few moments – just let me go and get a bucket of water. Would you like me to go and tell the kitchen you're here, sir?'

'Yes, thankyou,' said Galbatorix. 'Tuomas and I came here in a hurry. And have someone get a bedchamber ready. Ask them to put a hammock in there if that's possible.'

Roderick raised an eyebrow, but said; 'Certainly, sir,' and hurried out.

Orwyne leant over and gently touched Roland's forehead. He stirred and mumbled something, and the red-haired woman smiled. 'He'll be fine now. Let's leave him to rest.'

'We should leave a guard on the door, though,' said Galbatorix. 'Just in case.'

Orwyne nodded, and they left the room as quietly as they could. Tuomas went to fetch a guard, and once he had been stationed by the door and made to swear an oath that he would not enter or let anyone in except Roderick, they could leave for the dining hall.

There they settled down together and enjoyed some spiced wine, and Vander and Orwyne gave their report.

'Apart from what happened to Roland, the attack went well,' said Vander. 'There were three other riders here, as we'd expected. One of their dragons was circling overhead and saw us coming, so Orwyne attacked her immediately, before she could give the alarm. Roland and I dropped our firebombs close to the dragon-roost – that scared both of the other two into the air, before their riders could get to them. The one Orwyne attacked died; Keth knocked another one unconscious, and the third one was wounded but escaped. There were a couple of trebuchets on the outer wall – Ymazu and I destroyed them and went after the guards, and Roland and Orwyne went down onto the walls to fight with the two riders who'd survived. The third one we found in the castle later on; he'd died when his dragon did. As for the other two; I overpowered one of them – she was having trouble because she could feel her dragon's pain. The other one managed to get to his dragon – he was the one who wounded Roland. We have both of them in the dungeon now. One of their dragons escaped, but we caught her when she came back for her rider. Both of them are in one of the courtyards. We had to paralyse them. As for the riders, we've kept them comfortably enough. I spoke to them and promised they wouldn't be hurt if they were prepared to be reasonable. I didn't try and win them onto our side, though; I thought I should probably leave that to you, sir.'

Galbatorix listened closely. 'That's excellent, Vander. Once again I'm reminded of why I'm so lucky to have friends like you.'

Vander ducked his head, slightly embarrassed. 'It's always an honour, sir. But tell me, how did you do?'

Galbatorix sighed. 'Not so well, I'm afraid. But quite well. In a way.'

Saraswati and Vandana sat side-by-side on a high ledge on the tower that belonged to them, and watched the stars begin to come out. A cold breeze ruffled Saraswati's blonde hair, and she sighed miserably.

Ever since Galbatorix's return, ever since the day when he had suddenly reappeared following his long absence and supposed death, the atmosphere in Ilirea had become steadily worse and worse. At first, when Galbatorix had somehow escaped from his cell, the elders hadn't been overly worried. Although the method of his escape had bewildered everyone, no-one had considered him much of a threat. He had no dragon, he was clearly insane and he was already half-dead. Even if he had managed to evade justice, he would almost certainly die somewhere out there, most likely from starvation or suicide. Only Vrael, perhaps feeling some subconscious guilt, had remained worried.

But when an extensive search had failed to turn up any conclusive proof of what had happened to him, and when all the guards and riders who had been present on the night of the escape had been interrogated but all failed to implicate themselves or anyone else, and then when the mysterious visitor had left his threats burned into the walls of the white city, the elders had begun to be afraid.

After that, it seemed that nothing but bad news ever came to Ilirea. First there had been the rumours from Teirm, and then the return of Carina, wounded and bearing a terrible story of the crazed marauder who had inflicted it on her. Hope had returned with the letter from Morzan which reported Galbatorix's capture, but after that had come the greatest disaster of all – something so terrible and so utterly unexpected that for a long time Vrael had flatly refused to believe it. But in the end Morzan's betrayal had to be accepted as solid fact, along with the news that the Great Betrayer had somehow obtained a new dragon – this one as black as night, but obviously forced or duped into serving his rider, just like Morzan.

From then on, the reports flowed in. An attack at Teirm, another at Dras-Leona. Everywhere in the country, riders were being killed. And no-one could catch the killers or stop the Great Betrayer's rampage. As more and more riders vanished – some having been killed and others having defected to the Betrayer's cause through who knew what insanity, the elders had steadily become desperate. The fact was that after a thousand years of absolute domination, during which not one serious threat to their power had ever emerged, they had become arrogant and blind to any possibility of real danger to them. They had never before been called upon to fight other riders, and now that they were being forced to do so, they were beginning to realise that they did not know how to do it. Not even the armies of Queen Islanzadí were strong enough to face the Forsworn. After the massacre of their army at Gil'ead, the dwarves had retreated into their caves and severed all ties with the rider elders, claiming that, since they had never had the opportunity to become riders, nor ever really benefitted from their reign, they had no cause or interest in fighting for them. And now Thornessa, leader of the wild dragons, had ceased to communicate with them, and word had it that she had been deposed which, if it were true, meant that the wild dragons were not necessarily on Vrael's side any more.

And now, when the elders had barely begun to fully comprehend the situation at hand, they had begun to see a very real possibility that they would lose the war. There were now only a very few loyal riders left; some had actually deserted the country altogether and fled over the sea to escape Galbatorix's rage, others refused to fight the Forsworn, and others, including Oromis, had vanished – either dead or taken captive.

During that time, Vrael had become increasingly paranoid and angry. He now refused to speak to his former lover at all, and no longer trusted either her or Yansan, as if he somehow blamed the two humans for the loss of both Menulis and Oromis – who were, after all, the only elves on the elder council apart from himself.

And Saraswati was miserable. 'He's going to run away,' she said now, to Vandana. 'I can tell.'

The yellow dragon refolded her wings. 'He won't,' she said. 'Where would he go? Besides, this is his home. He's too proud to give it up just like that.'

'He should have gone out to fight the Betrayer himself,' said Saraswati. 'I told him so. I'd go myself if he'd let me.'

Both herself and Yansan had tried to persuade their master to this effect, but Vrael had refused. 'We must stay here,' he had said. 'If we went out there, into danger, it would be irresponsible. We must keep ourselves safe. For the good of the country.'

Which was, in a way, true, but Saraswati had not been happy to hear it. 'We must fight, Vrael,' she had said. 'For the peoples' sake. If we stay here, people will say we're hiding, that we're cowards, or that we don't care. They're already saying it. Why do you think Gil'ead defected? They think we've deserted them.'

That had sent Vrael into a rage, which happened depressingly often these days. 'I – don't – care – what those idiots say!' the old elf had roared. 'If they cannot stay loyal, then they will suffer the consequences! And if they want to see us fight, then they will.'

That was when he had ordered Oromis to attack Gil'ead, and his fellow elf had gone willingly enough, taking with him all the troops that could be summoned at short notice.

But the attack had been a disaster, and a catastrophic one. Only that morning the ashes of Oromis' comrades had arrived back at Ilirea, along with a terse but mocking note from the Great Betrayer's own hands. Once Vrael had read it, he had walked away without a word and locked himself into his chambers, where he had stayed for the rest of the day.

'If he doesn't run, then he should,' said Vandana. 'The Great Betrayer will attack here eventually. It's inevitable. And when that happens…'

Saraswati's stomach churned. 'How could this have happened?' she said. 'How?'

'It's Vrael's fault,' said Vandana. 'The man is arrogant. I always said he was. He finally went too far.'

'We all did,' said Saraswati. 'If only we'd… we should have done something, Vandana. Do you remember his face? How he looked when they brought him back here? Because I do. I see it in my head, all the time. I didn't see a monster. I saw a man in agony who was pleading for help. A man who had lost everything. He needed to be looked after. But we didn't. We didn't help him. We'd already taken away his dragon, and his child, and then we tried to take away his life too. What's happening now… it's punishment. We brought it on ourselves.'

'The man is mad,' said Vandana. 'Madmen don't understand things like that. He's doing this because he believes that murder can give him back what he lost.'

'No he's not,' said Saraswati. 'Use your head, Vandana. A lunatic couldn't do the things he's done. He's been fighting a war with us for over a year now, and he hasn't lost a single one of his followers, but we've been decimated. He's a better leader than Vrael, or any of us. And unless he's killed, he'll win this war. Even without him, his followers could probably win on their own. Don't forget that Tranah is one of them.'

Vandana nodded. She and Saraswati had trained Tranah, years ago, when she was barely more than a teenager. They both remembered what a talented warrior and stategist she was. And now she had gone over to the Great Betrayer, along with so many other powerful riders.

Vandana blew a little puff of yellow fire into the night sky. 'Yes… don't hate me for saying this, but… perhaps we should consider defecting ourselves.'

'Never!' Saraswati snapped. 'Betray the others? Betray everything the riders stand for? No. Not even if the alternative is death.'

'All right. Calm down. It was just a thought. But if we don't join him, what else can we do? Perhaps we should flee instead.'

'No,' said Saraswati. 'We'll stand and fight. When he attacks Ilirea, we'll be here to defend it.'

'But if we lose, we'll die,' said Vandana. 'He won't spare us. You know he won't.'

'Calm down,' said Saraswati. 'It may not come to that. If Vrael can persuade the Queen to send more elves here, and if the wild dragons come to help us soon…'

'Yes…' Vandana sighed. 'But you're right. We shouldn't give in. If the Betrayer comes here, I will fight him until I die. Not for this city, or for that fool Vrael, but for you.'

Saraswati touched the hilt of her sword. 'And I'll do the same.'

They sat in silence for a while, and watched the rising half-moon. Vandana, looking out over the landscape, saw its light glint off something flying toward the city. As she watched, she could see its shape silhouetted against the stars and realised it was a dragon. Her heart lurched. 'Saraswati! Someone is coming – see, there!'

Saraswati leapt to her feet, simultaneously drawing her sword. 'Where? Show me.'

Vandana shared a mental image with her. 'I can only see one. You must alert the others – quickly!'

Saraswati dashed off into the tower. Left behind, Vandana kept her yellow eyes on the sky, searching urgently for any sign of other dragons. But she could only see the one. Not very large, only a few years old by her estimate, heading steadily toward the city. The yellow dragon roared a challenge. A few seconds later, the response echoed back. Deep and strong; belonging to a strong male, she judged. She roared again, and the two dragons exchanged a series of calls. It was a primitive form of communication, but they were able to make themselves understood. My territory, Vandana had said.

I come, the intruder replied.

Challenge me, and die, Vandana warned.

I come not to fight, came the answer.

Vandana waited, her wings half-spread in readiness to fly at him if he showed any sign of aggression. The other dragon passed over Ilirea's walls, raising shouts of fear from the guards stationed there, and flew toward the tower where she perched. Vandana stood aside to give him room, and he alighted in front of her, hastily bowing his head in submission as he folded his wings.

Close to, Vandana could see he was wild. His scales were flame-orange and his eyes gold, and though he was much smaller than her he was muscular and battle-scarred, his head crowned by six long horns.

'I come to Ilirea in peace,' he said immediately.

Vandana lowered her head to scent him. 'What is your name, wild dragon, and why have you come?'

'I am Kullervo,' said the orange dragon. 'I have come to speak with Lord Vrael.'

'There is no-one else with you?' said Vandana.

'No.'

On his own he was no threat. Satisfied, Vandana opened her wings. 'Come with me.'

Kullervo followed the yellow dragon to the elders' tower and into the council chamber. It was deserted, but brightly lit by the magical torches on the walls. Vandana landed in the middle of the floor. 'We wait here,' she told Kullervo. 'The elders will soon join us.'

She had already alerted Saraswati, and the two dragons waited patiently in the chamber until they were joined by Nöst and Raluvimbha. Raluvimbah had brought her rider with her, but Nöst was alone. The two dragons inspected Kullervo very suspiciously, but he submitted almost timidly and they quickly relaxed.

A few minutes later Saraswati arrived, followed by a very anxious-looking Vrael. The remaining three elders almost automatically formed into their customary semicircle, with Kullervo at the centre. The orange dragon kept rustling his wings, but he stared back at them boldly enough.

'State your name,' Vrael commanded.

Kullervo stilled, sitting tall with his head and shoulders raised proudly and his tail wrapped around his claws. 'I am Kullervo, son of Ravana and Silarae,' he said, projecting his thoughts to all the elders. 'I am the leader of the wild dragons.'

Vrael glanced at the others. 'I know that name,' he said. 'I know all those names. You are the son of the Night Dragon. You were bonded to the traitor Einás of Ellesméra.'

Kullervo paused. 'Yes. I am that dragon.'

'Then where is your rider?' said Yansan.

'Einás is dead,' said Kullervo. 'I am a wild dragon now. I defeated Thornessa and took her place.'

'How did your rider die?' said Saraswati.

'She was murdered by the one you call the Great Betrayer,' said Kullervo. 'I have come to ask for your help.'

'The Great Betrayer is our enemy as well as yours,' said Vrael. 'Help us. In the name of the great alliance between elf and dragon, join with us to destroy him.'

'I cannot,' said Kullervo. 'The Great Betrayer… he came to me in my territory. He tried to win me to his side. When I refused, he stole my son from me. He promised that he would not harm him, but that if I or any of my people fought against him then my son would die.'

The three elders winced.

'Further evidence of his evil,' Vrael snarled. 'Kullervo, you have my sympathy both for the murder of your rider and the loss of your son. I beg of you, help us fight the traitors and your son will be returned.'

Kullervo hesitated. 'No,' he said at last. 'I will not. I cannot. The human does not lie. If I fight, my son's life with be forfeit. You must get him back for me. If you return him to me, unharmed, then I and my kind will come to your side at once.'

Vrael was silent for a long time, evidently deep in thought. 'I would be willing to do that for you, my Lord Kullervo,' he said at length, in a measured voice. 'But without your help, we cannot fight the Betrayer to win. The dwarves have deserted us. The humans are rebelling. The Queen is the only ally we have left, and unless we have dragons helping us, any assault on the Betrayer's forces would fail. He has already killed most of the riders who worked for us, including Elder Menulis. Elder Oromis is missing, either dead or being held captive. If he has Oromis, then that means he has a hostage to use against both of us. Help us, Kullervo. For the sake of both our races.'

Kullervo snorted. 'You cannot command me, elf,' he said. 'I have no reason to trust you. It was you who imprisoned my rider and cursed my sister. If the Betrayer was beyond your control, then what he did is your fault. I am not here to offer my help, but to make a deal. If you save my son from him, you will have earned my loyalty. Until then, the wild dragons will take no part in your war.'

Every one of the elders reacted with anger to this. Nöst's reaction was the most extreme. The white dragon let out a deafening roar and half-charged at Kullervo, head low and mouth wide open. Kullervo shied away from him, snarling in response, and dared to snap at Nöst's foreleg, tearing several scales loose. Nöst made several lunges toward his neck and spine, but stopped short of actually striking him. But this display of power failed to cow Kullervo. The orange dragon dodged in under Nöst's chin and bit him in the throat, not hard, but with enough strength that he felt it. Nöst roared again and lashed out with a massive foreleg, sending Kullervo flying. Kullervo landed on his side, and Nöst rushed at him again, mouth opening to belch fire. Vandana and Raluvimbha darted in to restrain their superior, and he eventually subsided, but not before he had struck both of them several times. The two senior dragons turned their heads to avoid his talons, but did not try and fight back. In the end Vrael went to his partner's side and calmed him with a touch, and Nöst returned to his place, growling and lashing his tail.

Kullervo got up. Utterly unintimidated, he took several steps toward Vrael, his golden eyes ablaze. 'You are fools and cowards,' he snarled, his tones ringing with contempt for all of them. 'I saw it before, and now I see it again. You think the races of this land are yours to command, but no more. The dwarves no longer follow you, the humans have turned on you, and soon this land will not be yours any longer. You have destroyed yourselves by your stupidity. Hear me now, Vrael. The pact between elf and dragon has been broken. We gave you our eggs and our magic when you agreed that the riders would defend and glorify both our races. That promise was not kept. You used the power we gave you to glorify yourselves, and you ignored us. We are not your lackeys, to bond ourselves to you and become your servants. We are our own race, our own kind. We will not give our eggs to you, and nor will we fight for you. You failed us, and unless you can prove that you have changed, I will consider our alliance finished. The wild dragons are going into retreat. We will withdraw into our territory and we will not leave it again until a better time has come. The riders are doomed. Find a way to save yourselves if you can, but the dragons will not help you.'

He stopped speaking and lashed out with his claws, knocking Vrael violently to the floor. Before the others could attack him, he turned and dashed away across the smooth white floor and launched himself into the air. Nöst, Vandana and Raluvimbha began to chase him, but stopped at the lip of the cave and watched him fly away into the night, up toward the stars until he had vanished.