“It appears not.” Rhiannon peered down one of the canyons. “It was my magic that created it not the corruption so I suppose it makes sense it didn’t reform when I burned that out. I shall have to come back later and try to push it back together, or perhaps Arawn can build some bridges. In any case there doesn’t seem to be anything left down there; all theshadowbittenshould have been healed. We should be on our guard, though.”
Belis spotted a footpath down into the gorge and we half climbed, half fell down it. When we reached the bottom Rhiannon looked around, frowning. Where the southern rift had been a single canyon, this was a labyrinth of alleyways and crevices. The smell of sulphur was stronger here than up on the plains.
I leaned against a boulder, listening to Belis and Rhiannon debate the best way out. Belis wanted to climb straight up the cliffs, cutting handholds for us to follow. Rhiannon wanted to try to find a more leisurely route, arguing that we were no longer racing against time.
“I’m in a hurry, Rhiannon,” Belis said, testily. “My sister is still waiting for me. I am eager to take her soul and leave this place.”
Rhiannon flushed but stood her ground. Belis had escaped death only hours before. She was far too weak to be climbing another cliff.
“Very well,” Belis said, giving in. “We’ll split up and walk a mile or so in each direction, looking for a way out. After an hour we’ll come back here and regroup. If we don’t find anything inthat time,” she paused to glare at Rhiannon, “we’ll come back and try climbing.”
“Agreed,” I said, keen to end the argument. “Belis, you should wait here and preserve your strength in case we have to climb.”
Rhiannon headed south, while I went north, leaving Belis sitting on the floor and rubbing her feet.
It was surprisingly interesting walking along the foot of the rift. The rock layers had folded back on themselves like a coiling snake, alternating black and white. I remembered having seen something similar on the south coast of Britain and my mind wandered back to the times I had spent travelling through the living world. I paused here and there to look for an easier route to scramble up the cliffs. The limestone layers protruded more than the mudstone, forming a makeshift ladder to the top of the canyon. It was still steep enough to be almost vertical, though, so I kept walking. After almost half an hour I was about to give up and turn back when I heard a rustling ahead of me.
Not good, I thought, unsheathing my sword. I glanced around, wondering if I could run for it. Now the sound was coming from behind me. The warren of passageways could allow whatever it was to circle me completely unseen. Breathe, I told myself, forcing deep gulps of air into my chest. The thrumming beat of my heart was pounding within me, almost drowning out any other sounds. I dug my nails into the soft skin of my palm, levering the pain to try and focus. I wished I could think of anything other than how to fall down.
A grinding sound came from my left and I turned. I could see nothing but shadows. I raised my sword to hip height and waited. I sniffed the air and winced. There was something sulphurous on the wind, rotting flesh. Had one of theshadowbittenbeen trapped here rather than being drawn back, perhaps? I dived to my right on instinct, rolling in the mud and filth.
Flame billowed forth, shooting straight as an arrow towards where I had been standing. The fire licked at the ground, baking the wet mud into dry, cracking clay. As the flames dissipated Istared back through the smoke. The white dragon the messenger had warned us about was standing at the edge of the canyon.
It stood as tall as a house, somehow both solid and sinuous. The glassy white scales glowed with the pale heart of a fire, the air above them shimmering with the heat that rolled off the dragon’s body. Its head was viper-like, broad at the jaw and narrowing towards the nose. A long tail, edged with spikes, whipped behind it, churning the baked mud into dust. The white dragon unfolded vast wings and shrieked up at the sky above. It leaned back on legs wide as tree trunks and leapt into the air, beating its wings to break free of the ground and blasting another wreath of flame towards the sky.
I rolled back onto my feet and crouched in the mud. My head was spinning but there was no time to worry about it now; the dragon was still hovering, but soon it would leave. I grabbed rocks from the ground beside me and hurled them into the air. They missed, arcing harmlessly past the dragon. I tried again and this time, through pure luck, hit a dangling leg.
The dragon turned back to me and roared. It folded its wings and landed heavily on the ground. It roared again in outrage, sending out a fireball that scorched the air. Then it shook its head back and forth and turned to stalk around the valley floor.
I rolled behind a boulder and tossed out another rock. I scrabbled at the floor again but, finding nothing, gripped my sword tightly.
The great wyrm paused, lashing its tail back and forth, then began to mince forward. Its movement was smooth and delicate now, like a cat walking along a fence. It lowered its head to the ground, sniffing at the air, keeping its eyes fixed on me. Slowly, carefully, I stood up, bringing the sword in front of me and gripping the hilt with both hands. I stepped back, moving away from the wall, taking steady paces.
The dragon sniffed again, opening its mouth so that I could see the long, curved fangs beginning to emerge from the upper jaw. Its nostrils flared, an incongruously shell-like pink. It half spread its wings and I realised it was preparing to pounce ratherthan to strafe me with fire. I tensed my legs, rising up on the balls of my feet.
Just as the dragon sprang I darted forward and to the side. Its head shot forward but I was already beside it, jamming my sword at its throat. The scales were too hard to pierce, however, and the blade slid along the dragon’s neck. I kept my forward momentum and pressed on, slipping in the mud. The edge of the sword scraped along the chitinous plates then caught in a divot at the shoulder. I drove the sword in with all my strength and the dragon screamed.
It sprayed fire in a wild arc, spinning on the spot to try and grab at the sword. I was knocked over and rolled away, leaving the sword jammed into the beast. I scrambled up and ran for it, wiping mud from my eyes as I went. I caught a brief look behind me, enough to see that the dragon appeared furious but not mortally wounded. It snapped at the hilt of the blade, bending its neck almost double to try and reach it. I realised I should have ripped the sword out, to try to bleed the dragon dry. Too late now. I had done nothing but enrage the beast and lost my only weapon in the process.
The dragon gave up trying to remove the sword and reared up on its hind legs, loosing another bolt of fire into the air. It crashed back onto all fours and scanned the area, searching for me. Clear lids criss-crossed over silver eyes and the dark slash of the iris thinned as it looked into the sun. I pressed myself against the wall, sliding back around towards the dragon.
The dragon roared and stampeded forward, ploughing the baked mud into furrows with its claws. Its lips rippled back, exposing the fully extended fangs as it prepared to strike at me. It dived just as I leapt. I threw myself at its tail, landing about halfway along. The dragon shrieked and whipped its tail up and down. I clung on, digging my fingers into the gaps between the scales and wedging my feet onto the tail spikes. The dragon snapped at me, baring its fangs and spitting fire. I ducked as scarlet flames licked the air above my head and I felt the murderous heat.
I needed to move further up. I pushed with my feet, reaching for the next row of spikes, and stepped up. I caught my breath as the dragon beat its wings and rose into the air, dangling its tail and lashing it back and forth. I grabbed for the spines then wrapped my legs around the tail and began to pull myself up with my arms. It was like climbing a ladder, I told myself, or a tree. A tree that was on fire, a ladder that could bite.
I reached the base of the tail just as the dragon threw itself back to the ground. My legs slipped and I shot forward across the dragon’s back. I flung out my arms and managed to grab onto something. The dragon shook itself like a wet dog; my grip loosened and I slid sideways, falling against its left wing. It squawked in triumph and shook again but I had the measure of it now and the bones of the wing were easier to hold on to.
I swung myself to my feet. The dragon was still roaring as I stepped from its wing to its back. I sat down right at the nape of its neck, gripping on with my thighs as I would sit a horse and wrapping my arms around it as far as I could reach. The scales were burning hot, scorching the exposed skin of my palms, but I held on. The dragon was outraged. It threw itself back and forth, rolled in the mud and dust. It leapt into the air and crashed back to the ground and roared again and again until I thought my flesh would melt. Eventually it stood still, panting yellow flames. I checked my palms. They were blistered and burned but I could still move them.
I stroked the smouldering scales of the dragon’s neck as it shook out its wings, spreading them wide.
“Calm,” I whispered, “we just have to sit here and be calm until Rhiannon comes back. She’ll know what to do.”
The dragon screeched and twisted, screeched and twisted in fury. I clung on, digging my feet in more tightly so that I wouldn’t fall. The beast reared back then ran forward, picking up speed as it raced across the canyon. It howled once more and I felt the scales beneath me burning as the furnace within began to heat up.
“No!” I yelled, realising what it intended “No, stop, wait, we have to stay here!”
Then the dragon leapt through the air, skimming over the edge of the canyon and into the sky above.
