Dalgren was currently residing in a cavern located along the shoreline of Freya’s Great Eastern Bay. The coast of Freya was rocky and remote, with only a single road that led to a mining village about twenty miles north. Winding among rocks, the road was little traveled these days, for the mine owners now shipped the ore by barges that sailed the Breath.
Those who did travel the road had no idea a dragon was living nearby, for the road was five miles from his cave. Dalgren rested well in his snug darkness, secure in the knowledge that only Kate knew where to find him.
Dragons living in Freya had to be careful. The Freyan people had no love for dragons. Their hatred dated back centuries to their ancestors, the ancient Imhrun, and was inflamed by the Battle of Daenar, when the Freyans had fought the Dragon Brigade in a short but brutal conflict both sides now wanted to forget.
Dalgren felt little threat from humans, but they could be as annoying as scale mites, sending armed hunting parties after him. Bullets couldn’t kill him, for they bounced off his scaly hide, but they stung painfully. Humans were incredibly stupid. They did not appear to realize that if he wanted to defend himself from their attacks, he could simply breathe on them to roast them as they would roast a chicken.
What humans did not know was that Dalgren would never attack them, no matter what the provocation. On the day he had deserted the Dragon Brigade, he had made a personal vow never to take another human life. And thus he found it much easier to simply stay hidden from humankind.
He had spent the night hunting and he was resting in his cave after a big meal, stretched out to his full length to promote digestion, with his chin on the stone and his tail extending behind. He gazed out from the mouth of the cave at the stars and the moon that was just starting to rise and wondered irritably what had become of Kate.
They had parted some time ago on the western coast of Freya. Kate had stowed away on board a black ship after discovering the Freyan crew was smuggling young Bottom Dwellers from their homes Below to the world Above. Kate had planned to rescue the young people, only to find out they didn’t want to be rescued.
“Typical of Kate,” Dalgren grumbled aloud.
The black ship had been armed with a green-beam gun, which Kate had been forced to help make operational. The presence of that gun had been upsetting to Dalgren. Green-beam guns were one of the few human weapons that could do lethal damage to a dragon.
Kate had defended her actions. These men had claimed to be serving her friend, Prince Tom, and she knew that couldn’t be true. She had promised Dalgren she would leave the black ship when it reached Haever, then find Thomas and warn him about the threat of the ship with its terrible weapon. After that she would meet Dalgren in his cave.
Dalgren wished she would come. He was all alone with his thoughts, which kept turning back to the path that brought him to this lonely cave. Months earlier, he had voluntarily given himself up to the members of the Dragon Brigade to go on trial for his desertion from the Brigade following the ill-fated Battle of the Royal Sail. As his punishment, he was to spend a year in service to Father Jacob Northrop and the Bottom Dwellers, doing menial labor, such as hauling lumber.
He dutifully made the perilous journey Below, but Kate had refused to let him go alone. She had traveled Below with two Trundler sisters, Father Jacob’s friends, which is how Kate had come to be mixed up with a black ship.
She had traveled to Haever with the ship, leaving instructions for Dalgren to remain Below with Father Jacob so he could complete his year-long service. Dalgren, though, had been concerned about Kate and had chosen to follow her.
He did not regret that decision.
“I couldn’t let her sail off on a black ship, bound on some sort of nefarious mission, without trying to talk some sense into her,” Dalgren told the cave walls.
The walls must have been tired of hearing him; he said the same or variations on the same several times a day.
“And what am I to tell the Dragon Council?” Dalgren wondered despondently.
He considered it likely that he had forfeited his chance to redeem himself, and would be banished from dragonkind, forced to live out his long life nameless and alone.
When he was with Kate and she had embroiled him in one of her harebrained schemes, at least he could forget about the forbidding future awaiting him.
“But Kate is human, with a human’s short life-span,” Dalgren said with a sigh that filled the cave with smoke. “I will live hundreds of years after she is gone. Those years of lonely existence will be bleak and empty.”
Dalgren shifted his chin on the stone to make himself more comfortable.
“With any luck, Kate will get us both killed, and then I won’t have to worry,” he muttered.
Dalgren closed his eyes. He was just dozing off when he was wakened by a noise outside his cave—a scrabbling sound that created a small rock slide.
“Kate? Is that you?” he called, lifting his head.
The noise stopped.
Dalgren continued to listen, but he did not hear the sound repeated. At length, he dozed off, only to wake moments later to the sound of a horse’s hooves clattering over stones and the strong, delicious smell of fresh horseflesh.
“Dalgren!” Kate yelled. “Are you there? It’s me!”
“I’m here!” Dalgren responded.
“Thank God!” Kate called back. “I’m so glad I’ve found you! I’ve brought company, the Princess Sophia.”
“The princess!” Dalgren lurched to his feet, nearly hitting his head on the cavern ceiling, and lumbered to the front of the cave.
The sun was just starting to rise, its light banishing the shadows cast by the rocks. He could see Kate, wrapped in a cloak, riding pillion with Princess Sophia of Rosia. He recognized Sophia, who had attended his trial for desertion. How she had come to be here in Freya in company with Kate was a mystery.
“I am glad to see you under happier circumstances, Lord Dalgren,” Sophia called to him.
“Your Highness,” said Dalgren, gulping.
Kate slid off the horse and landed on the ground with what sounded like a heartfelt sigh of relief. She stood for a moment, grimacing and rubbing her backside, then she reached up her hands.
“I’ll hold Bandit.”
Sophia handed over the dog, who had been draped over the front of the pommel. She dismounted and stood stroking the horse’s neck in an effort to soothe him. The beast was terrified in the presence of a dragon and stood shivering and trembling.
“We can’t keep the horse, Kate,” Sophia said. “Poor Charlie is terrified of your dragon friend. We need to let him loose. He’ll probably run straight back to his stable.”
“I suppose you are right,” said Kate. “But that means we will be on foot.”
“Since I plan to sleep for the next three days, I don’t care,” said Sophia, smiling.
She released the horse and gave him a slap on the rump. The beast bolted, bounding over the rocks. Kate put Bandit down on the ground. The spaniel barked threats at Dalgren and made little runs at him to show off his bravery, though he took care not to come too close.
“I am glad to finally have a chance to talk to you, Lord Dalgren,” said Sophia. “At your trial, I wanted to tell you that I considered your punishment most unfair, but, of course, as an observer for Rosia, I couldn’t interfere. I realize that dragons have very strict and rigid rules regarding proper protocol. Since I was present as a representative of the Rosian crown, I could not offend the court by violating those rules. I feared I would have made matters even worse for you.”
“You spoke up for me at the trial, Your Highness,” said Dalgren. “Your support meant a great deal. Please, come inside, ma’am. You look worn out.”
Sophia picked up Bandit, who had barked himself into exhaustion.
“He’s been around dragons before, my lord,” she said by way of apology. “He just needs to get used to you.”
Bandit may have been around dragons before, but he obviously didn’t trust them. He growled menacingly at Dalgren as Sophia carried him inside the cave.
Dalgren stopped Kate as she was about to follow.
“What the hell is going on?” he hissed through his fangs. “What is the princess doing here?”
“I’ll explain later,” said Kate wearily. “I am half-frozen and far too tired to go into it now. Do you have some place where we can sleep? Where it’s warm?”
Dalgren heaved an exasperated sigh. If Kate had been alone, he would have insisted that she tell him. She was with the princess, however, and Her Highness was his guest. He could not abandon his duties as host.
Apologizing for preceding them, Dalgren guided Kate and the princess to a snug room not far from the chamber where he slept. Their room was too small for him to enter, but he thrust his snout inside and gently breathed fire on the walls, heating the stone, which gave off a warm red glow.
“There’s a stream a short distance from here, Your Highness, just past that outcrop, so that you can drink and bathe. I don’t have any food and you will have to sleep on the stone floor,” said Dalgren apologetically. “I regret I have so little in the way of comforts to offer you.”
Sophia smiled at him. “I am so tired, my lord, that any bed, even one of stone, will seem to me as luxurious as one of the finest goose down.”
“Please call me Dalgren, ma’am,” said Dalgren. “I have lost the right to my title. I was found guilty.”
“I did not agree with the verdict, but I accede to your wishes, Dalgren,” said Sophia gravely. “Thank you for your help.”
She and Kate walked to the stream to drink and perform their ablutions. On their return, Sophia wrapped herself in her cloak and lay down with Bandit curled up in her arms on the stone floor that had been pleasantly warmed by Dalgren’s breath. Both were almost immediately asleep.
“Thank you for helping us, my friend,” Kate said, yawning.
“I’ll go hunting,” Dalgren offered. “Find some small game.”
“No,” said Kate quickly. “I’ll go hunting when I wake up. I need you to stay here.”
Dalgren glowered. “I knew something was wrong! Who is after you this time?”
“The Freyan army,” said Kate.
Dalgren stared, eyes widening. “An army?”
“The soldiers didn’t follow us here,” Kate assured him. “I think we lost them on the way. But, just to be safe, I’d feel better if you were around.”
Dalgren eyed her. Kate was slumping from exhaustion, so tired she could barely stand.
“Get some rest,” he told her. “I’ll keep watch.”
Kate gave his snout a grateful rub, then went back into the room. She removed the pistol from her sash and placed it on a boulder where she could reach it at need, then wrapped herself in her cloak.
Dalgren waited until Kate fell asleep. Remembering the odd sound he had heard earlier, he went outside to take a look around. He didn’t see anything and he returned to his chamber to keep watch.
He entertained himself by trying to figure out how Kate could have managed to end up with a dog, a Rosian princess, and the Freyan army in pursuit.
Quite a feat, even for Kate.
Not far from where Dalgren had made his lair, Trubgek was sitting among the rocks, keeping the dragon’s cave in sight. The arrival of the two women had upset his plans. He scratched his stubbled chin and wondered what to do.
He had come here to kill. Dalgren was to be his first victim, the test case.
Following the death of the dragon Coreg, Trubgek had gone to work for Coreg’s killer, Jonathan Smythe, who had needed Trubgek. He was the only one who knew the details of the dragon’s involved and lucrative business—buying and selling arms on the black market.
Few knew that Coreg was the brains behind the operation. He had used a human named Greenstreet to interact with other humans. Greenstreet handled bank transactions, bought and sold the weapons through various buyers around the world, made arrangements to transport the shipments, and so on. Trubgek had been Coreg’s servant and he had generally been the one to deal with Greenstreet.
Smythe had killed Coreg using the same powerful magical spell he had used to kill the dragon Lady Odila. Smythe had asked Trubgek to continue to run the business, telling him he needed the profits to fund his Army of Retribution.
As part of Smythe’s plan, he intended to foment war with Rosia.
“People foolishly imagine this is a war I cannot win because Rosia has the Dragon Brigade,” Smythe had told Trubgek a long while ago, while they had yet been in Bhelden, training his army. “All things being equal, people would be right. The Dragon Brigade would make short work of our navy and our coastal defenses. I intend to make short work of the Dragon Brigade. I have the spell that paralyzes dragons, makes them helpless and easy to kill.”
Trubgek had seen what the spell did to Coreg. He had watched the dragon die. And for the first time since he was a child, he had known a flicker of feeling. Another person would have called it joy.
“You cannot use this spell to kill the dragons in the Dragon Brigade,” Trubgek had told Smythe. “This spell requires the dragon to be alone, solitary. You must catch it unawares. The Brigade dragons live and work together.”
He had shaken his head. “Not practical.”
“Bah! You do not need to kill a single dragon in the Brigade to make my plan work,” Smythe had stated. “Go to the Dragon Duchies. Kill dragons there. One or two a month in different locations, but all by the same means. You will start a panic. The Brigade dragons will be forced to return home. They will find out humans are responsible for the deaths and that will breed distrust and suspicion between them and their human riders. The Brigade will fall apart.”
Trubgek had conceded that likely, but he didn’t care one way or the other. “I will require the dragon-killing spell.”
“I will give it to you on one condition,” Smythe had said. “I want proof that you can use it. I am not convinced you are as skilled in magic as Greenstreet made you out to be. I have yet to see any evidence.”
I can use it, Trubgek thought, and he felt again the stirring of emotion that was a faint light in the bleak, dark emptiness of his being.
“What would you have me do?” he had asked.
“Travian dragons have moved into northern Freya, somewhere in the mountains along the western coast. Kill one or two of them. You will prove to me you know what you are doing and the deaths will revive the fears caused by Lady Odila’s death and disrupt their cozy relationship with the Freyan government.
“I may have other work for you in Freya, as well. Gaskell is causing trouble, refusing to work with me. You know him. I may need to send you to keep him in line, as well as to check on the Bottom Dwellers and the green-beam guns. A black ship called the Naofa will be bringing parts from Below. I want to make certain they work.”
Trubgek had traveled to Freya, but he had not been able to locate any Travian dragons. Following the death of their leader, Lady Odila, the dragons had concealed their whereabouts using powerful dragon magic to create illusions and set traps and raise barriers. Trubgek knew better than any other human alive the power of dragon magic and he knew it would be a waste of time for him to try to track them down.
He had been carrying out his other orders in regard to Gaskell and checking on the green-beam guns, when he had discovered Kate was working on the Naofa.
Trubgek had been intrigued by Kate ever since he had hired her at Coreg’s behest. She had picked up a smattering of dragon language from Dalgren and she was the only human Trubgek had ever encountered who knew that the name “Trubgek,” given to him by Coreg, was a foul and insulting term. Kate was also the only human who had ever taken an interest in him. She had feared him, for she had seen the power of his magic, but she had also seen the emptiness inside him and she had viewed him with compassion.
Kate had unwittingly led him to Dalgren. Trubgek had heard the two talk about traveling to Haever. Dalgren would meet her in a cavern on the coast not far from the city.
Trubgek had traveled to Haever and patiently waited and kept watch on the skies at night, the time when Dalgren would feel safe enough to go out hunting. Trubgek’s patience was rewarded. He saw Dalgren, and was able to track him to his lair.
The spell induced paralysis in the dragon, and once that happened, Trubgek could use his own powerful magic to collapse the ceiling of the cave and crush the paralyzed dragon.
If this trial succeeded, Trubgek would follow the orders Smythe had given him, travel to the Dragon Duchies in Rosia to summarily kill dragons, burying them beneath the rubble of their stately mansions.
One by one, he would murder them. Killing here, killing there. Miles apart. He would choose his victims at random, and as each fell, the terror would spread.
Word would reach the dragons of the Dragon Brigade, who would abandon their duty to return to their stricken homeland to try to stop the murders. And soon the famed Brigade would itself be destroyed, no longer a threat to Freya.
That was Smythe’s plan for winning the war with Rosia. Trubgek didn’t give a damn about Rosia or Freya or Smythe. His only interest was in killing dragons. Dalgren was to be the first to die.
Earlier this night Trubgek had just begun to sneak into the cave to cast the spell when an unlucky slip on a loose stone started a small rock slide. The noise woke the dragon.
Trubgek was patient. He settled down to wait for Dalgren to fall asleep again to cast his spell. But Kate and the princess appeared before he could act.
Trubgek regretted Kate’s arrival. He would now have to kill her, as well. But she and the princess were minor complications. He cared only about killing dragons.
Trubgek would have to wait until he was certain the two women, the dog, and the dragon would be deep in slumber and never hear him coming. He would wait as long as it took. He was, as always, very patient.