Scirye’s hands had flown to her mouth to stifle her cry of alarm as Bayang lay sprawled on top of the inert Badik. Then Badik gave a moan and Bayang reared her head, jaws stretching open, fangs ready to bite Badik’s exposed throat.
The next moment, Scirye caught the motion from the corner of her eye. She whirled around in time to see Roland emerging from the huge bulge on the giant Tisheruk’s side. Roland had squirmed out past his shoulders and in one hand was a knife and in the other was a golden sphere the size of a softball.
Too late, she realized how he had fooled them. Roland had hidden inside the bump instead of a parasite, perhaps using some spells to force his way under the monster’s hide and let him breathe. While they had been distracted by the battle between the two dragons, he had used the knife to rip an opening in the skin.
“I’m here,” Roland hollered. Flinging an arm up over his eyes, he tossed the globe toward the two dragons.
Even as the object descended, Badik heaved Bayang off him.
And then there was a flash as brilliant as the sun. Everyone’s eyes, especially the animals’, would have adjusted for the dim illumination of the lanterns. Light as bright as that would blind and daze everyone temporarily.
Scirye stood there stunned with all the others, unable to see, only hear. Wings flapped overhead as Kles flew about wildly. She heard a thump as Leech crashed against the floor.
There was the sound of flesh ripping as Roland widened the opening with his knife. “You’ve given me a lot of trouble for a beast, Resak,” he announced. “So I’ll take your head as well as your staff. And then I’ll take care of the dragon and her brats.”
“To me, children, to me,” Resak roared, attempting to rally his warriors. “Use your noses and not your eyes.”
Growling and snarling, the clan warriors began to sniff the air loudly as they tried to protect their lord.
Amid the frantic noises, she barely heard Roland’s knife clatter on the ice. Straining her ears in that direction, she just made out the ominous click of a hammer being drawn back on a revolver. She could have cried in frustration. Roland would kill Uncle Resak before anyone could stop him.
Then Scirye heard Roxanna shout, “Upach, stop him!”
There was only one of Scirye’s companions who would not have been dazzled by the light, and that was the ifrit who never depended on her eyes.
The scent of smoke tickled Scirye’s nostrils as the ifrit raced past to intercept Roland. Scirye was just starting to cheer the ifrit on when she heard the crack of a revolver and Upach cried out.
“Do you think I’d use ordinary bullets?” Roland’s mocking tone turned to incredulity. “What?” He fired a second and then a third. “Why won’t you die?”
Apparently, the ifrit was still trying to obey Roxanna’s orders.
Two more shots followed.
“I’m sorry, mis—,” Upach began, but her voice faded away.
Roxanna’s voice was full of rage and grief: “Upach!”
Roland’s revolver cracked a sixth time, and this time it was Uncle Resak grunting in pain. A moment later there was a heavy thud. Despite the clan warriors encircling their lord, Roland had been able to hit Resak after finishing off the loyal ifrit.
Rage overcame all else and claws clacked on the ice as the clan warriors charged toward the spot where Roland had fired his pistol. Even Scirye ignored the danger to herself and stumbled toward where she had heard Uncle Resak fall.
She was nearly knocked off her feet by one furry body. Just as she was regaining her balance, a paw swished by her ear. Desperate to avenge Uncle Resak, the clan warriors were mindlessly attacking whoever was next to them. She was in danger of being trampled or clawed to death.
All around her were howls of rage and pain as the warriors cuffed and bit one another, more of a threat to one another than to Roland.
Scirye’s heart sank when she heard him shout in triumph, “I’ve got it.” In the confusion, Roland had slipped through the warriors and taken his prize. Already his voice was moving away as he fled. “Badik,” he panted, “turn eighty degrees. The tunnel will be straight ahead. Clear the way for me.”
The next instant came the noise of Badik’s body crushing anyone who got in his way, whether they were his human allies or the warriors of the clan. The thumps of colliding bodies mixed with yelps and yells of pain.
Roland’s boots scraped the ice as he followed the dragon. Scirye pivoted and raced toward the sound. “He’s getting away,” she hollered.
“Badik, duck your head,” Roland instructed his dragon. “The tunnel mouth’s almost in front of you.”
“Don’t leave us, Mr. Roland,” a freebooter hollered in English.
“You’ve outlived your usefulness,” Roland taunted, his voice reverberating already from the tunnel.
“But you promised to help us take back Nova Hafnia,” the freebooter protested.
There was a thunderous blast, and Scirye felt the burst of warm air and thought she could smell an even heavier whiff of gunpowder than that from the gunshots as ice crashed and tumbled onto the floor. Roland must have used a grenade to block pursuit.
“Kles, Kles,” Scirye called urgently.
She heard the flutter of wings. “Here,” Kles said, and when she raised an arm she felt the griffin’s welcome weight. “But I can’t see.”
Kles crawled up her arm tentatively, testing each inch before he moved on. When she put a hand out to steady him, she could feel how he was trembling. He was her brave one, the smart one, the dignified one. However, the sudden loss of his sight had scared him, so she stroked him as she would a frightened kitten. His tiny tongue tickled when he licked her palm in gratitude.
When his small body had stilled a little, she shouted out again, “Bayang? Uncle Resak? Upach?”
“I’m all right,” the dragon panted in pain, “but Badik got away while my eyes were dazzled by that flash of light.”
“Calm yourself, little cub,” Uncle Resak reassured her as well. But his words were strained. “He only hit me in the shoulder, but it hurt enough to make me lose my grip on my staff. It’s really Yi’s bow. Lord Yü himself gave it to me.”
“So you did have part of Yi’s weapon,” Bayang said.
“But your staff was straight up and down,” Leech said. “And it was so thick.”
Remembering her archery lesson in Paris, Scirye said, “Maybe the ring makes the archer strong enough to bend it. Roland could string it then.”
“I wish you’d told us,” Bayang said in an accusing tone.
“I’ve guarded that secret even more than the location of my palace,” Uncle Resak gruffed. “Not even my children knew. Do you expect me to tell strangers?”
“Upach?” Roxanna called out suddenly. The fear and worry were plain. Scirye had felt those same emotions when she hadn’t known what had happened to Kles.
But Upach made no answer.
“Will someone help me find my servant?” Roxanna pleaded so plaintively that it nearly broke Scirye’s heart.
Tears running freely down her cheeks, Scirye began to shuffle forward, hands groping for…what? The ifrit was smoke. Still Scirye stumbled on, adding her voice to Roxanna’s: “Upach?”
“No hollering.” Upach’s voice was as thin as a wisp as she strained to talk. “It’s undignified. I won’t stand for it, you hear?”
As Scirye headed toward the sound, she heard the noise of another muffled explosion. Roland must have detonated another grenade to block the tunnel farther along the route. He was taking no chances. Despite their best efforts, he had escaped. And with each second he was getting farther and farther away from justice.
Scirye moved toward the location of the ifrit’s voice. First she’d take care of her friends. Then she’d take care of Roland.
And at their next encounter, she wouldn’t underestimate him.