Dordan the archer nudged Snolli and pointed upward. "Look," he said.
"Ah," Snolli breathed. A slow smile spread over his face.
The Ice Dragon flew awkwardly. A great gash marked one flank, and it dripped malevolent ichor as it approached. It had noticed the three Sea-Rover ships stationed offshore and, even without a Rider to guide it, it was obviously positioning itself for an attack.
"Tell me again how you did it before," he said, not taking his eyes off the
Dragon.
"Well, first we peppered it with arrows, but it never noticed until someone hit the eye. It went down, trying to rake the arrow out, but until Kather blinded it on one side with his spear nobody dared get close. Then Rohan jumped on the neck and managed to stick his sword clean through the thing's neck, just under the skull. I imagine he severed the spine."
"A lucky stroke," Snolli said with a grunt. He hefted his axe, the preferred weapon of the Sea-Rovers. "I gave Obern my best sword as his man-gift, and he bequeathed it to Rohan when he died. Since then I have not replaced it. But an axe in the right hands—" He grinned, knowing whose hands were the right ones in this instance. "Yes, an axe is enough for me."
"Please don't be foolish," Dordan said. "You are our Chieftain. Let others take on this dangerous task."
Snolli regarded his chief archer with a sour eye. "And did you have the same soft advice for my grandson?" he demanded. "Pfaughl You've forgotten that I am not only the Chieftain of the Sea-Rovers but also the Admiral-General of the
Four Armies of RendeH There are—well, there were four generals until Harous fell. He did not scorn to lead from the front instead of from the rear as you would have me do. Gaurin and that Bog-man, Tusser, are in the thick of things, and even Rohan would be if he hadn't stupidly broken his arm. And you would have me hang back and send another in my stead?"
"No, Chieftain."
Dordan bowed his head, but Snolli could tell that the archer remained opposed to what he was determined to do.
"Dordan is right," Kasai said. He spat over the side.
"Don't be so sure of that, Spirit-Drummer," Snolli retorted. He turned to his waiting men. "Prepare boats," he ordered. "And get the spearmen ready."
When the Dragon came close enough, it was met by a hail of arrows from bows kept warm and well greased until needed. As with the other the Sea-Rovers had engaged, this beast dropped to the surface of the water, trying to dislodge the arrows that had hit its eyes, like so many grains of sand irritating it. Snolli took the bow position in one of the boats filled with spearmen, ready to transfer himself onto the Dragon's neck.
With rough efficiency, Kather's spearmen finished their task of blinding the horrible creature. More experienced now, they cast ropes over the head to give Snolli a more secure handhold as he leapt onto the thing's neck.
With a loud, triumphant cry, he launched himself from the boat and, with the ropes to cling to, made his way up to the spot where a natural saddle formed just behind the Dragon's skull. His axe, secured by a thong to his wrist, was already in his hand. He lashed himself in place with one of the ropes and began to hew at the vulnerable spot.
One stroke, and then another, and another. Snolli looked up at the anxiously waiting men in the boats, who were trying simultaneously to avoid the thrashing of the Dragon's great wings and yet stay close enough to take their chieftain back to safety. He laughed. "He's a tough one, but I'm winning!" he shouted.
He was already wet to the skin, but the foul-smelling ichor that drenched his clothing carried with it something far worse. It was as if it destroyed skin where it touched, the way mere frigid water could not. However, the vulnerable spot now lay revealed. With both hands, he brought the axe down, hoping to end it. Uncharacteristically, he longed for clean, dry garments, and to be safe and warm where he could be cared for.
"I am not old," he muttered. "In my prime." He struck another two-handed blow.
One more stroke—
The axe fractured on impact with the hard bone, but he had cut nearly through the thing's spine. With a great spasm, it flailed limbs and wings, and tossed its head violently. Snolli kept his seat only because of the rope with which he had fastened himself. He had a confused glimpse of boats being broken into kindling and men being hurled into the sea.
Plainly, the Dragon was in its death-throes. There would be no dishonor in abandoning it before it was well and truly dead.
He had tied the rope in a sailor's knot that would come loose when necessary.
But something had fouled the knot. The Dragon's struggles had lessened, and it was beginning to sink beneath the surface. Snolli fumbled at the rope, tugging vainly and trying to free himself. His axe broken, he couldn't even hack through the rope.
There wasn't time for any of his men to reach him, even if there was anybody left who was able to. He could see plainly, dispassionately, what the inevitable end would be. He uttered one last triumphal shout while he still could. "I die well!" he cried. "And I take a great enemy with me!"
Then the Dragon's body took its last plunge to the depths of the sea, carrying
Snolli Sea-Rover with it.
Twenty-two
Atop the rock projection, Ashen reached back and felt Zazar take her right hand, and Ysa's soft fingers grasp the left. She knew without looking that the other two women had likewise clasped hands. Thus joined, the Three faced the Great
Foulness as one.
"In the Palace of Fire and Ice, thou wert once contained by the Ice. Thy keepers were much too kind. Thou hast broken thy bonds and let thy evil loose upon the world once more, and so now thou must be consumed by the Fire!" the Three intoned.
They took a step forward, and tongues of flame leapt up at their feet. In an instant they were engulfed in a silent column of fire that pulsated with Power such as had never before been unleashed. The Great Foulness flinched.
"You do not frighten me," he whispered, but his voice shook and he averted his gaze. He gestured and a wall of ice began to grow around him.
"Thou shouldst be afraid," the Three said. "We are Power in all its aspects."
Zazar spoke alone. "I am the Eldest. I am the Power of Earth Magic."
Ysa spoke. "I am the Middle. I represent the Power of Learned Magic."
It was Ashen's turn. "And I am the Youngest, the Distiller of both Fire and of
Magic."
Again they spoke in unison. "Thou didst come to this world unwelcome, and would not depart. Now we have been called to subdue thee, and so we are here. Thy time is at an end."
"Never!" the Great Foulness said, for the first time above a whisper. He pointed upward.
Above them, the snow atop the ridge that had been loosened by the wounded
Dragon's outcries began to slide down the slope. In a few moments, the women would be swept away to their destruction.
Gaurin went into a defensive stance, prepared to dodge whichever way Farod attacked. The unnatural man seemed to possess an equally unnatural strength.
Gaurin knew he could not hope to come out of this fight alive by relying on anything but skill, for with the loss of his sword, he was now overmatched both physically and in weaponry.
His sword! This was the famed Rinbell sword that Rohan had presented to him as the best available, a loan to replace his own shattered blade. Rohan's voice echoed in his ears:
"My Rinbell sword will fight for you!" he had cried when he tossed it to Gaurin during the battle with Harous and the Sorceress. "They say Rinbell blades, if they choose, fight for those who wield them, if the cause be just," he had explained later.
Therefore, it stood to reason that if the cause be not just, the sword would refuse its wielder's hand. Gaurin could only hope that this was the case, as
Farod rushed toward him. He ducked under the blade and caught Farod's wrist even as the Rider caught his. Farod's grip was both strong and icy, and Gaurin feared he would be forced to drop the long dagger from his paralyzed hand.
They strug
gled so for a moment, and then both sprang back.
"My Lady Flavielle marked you for destruction long ago," Farod said, panting. "I will finish what she began!"
"Your lady was evil, as evil as your master," Gaurin retorted. "You think me overmatched? Come ahead and learn to your dismay what it is like to fight man to man, instead of the cowardly way you once hid behind an Ice Dragon's wings!"
With a roar of fury Farod attacked again. Gaurin ducked under the blade but was unable to prevent Farod from bearing him to the ground once more. The lieutenant leapt to his feet and stood over him, holding the sword high with both hands, blade pointing downward.
"Die like the inconsequential insect you are!" he cried hoarsely.
Then he hesitated, and the sneer on his face was replaced by a look of sheer disbelief. His arms jerked back and to the side, and the Rinbell sword dislodged itself from his grip to go spinning off into the snow.
Energy and hope renewed, Gaurin clutched at his enemy and hurled him to the ground though he was unable to bring his dagger to bear. The two men rolled over and over, neither managing to get an advantage. Gaurin was nearly spent when, to his own disbelief, he felt the hilt of the sword in his hand. It had come to him of its own accord! He planted both boots on Farod's chest and, using the strength of his leg muscles, managed to shove him away. Farod staggered toward him again just as Gaurin pulled himself upright. A flicker of doubt crossed his mind as to whether he was too spent to be able to raise the heavy sword.
He need not have been concerned. As if it were a living thing, a fresh companion in arms come to his aid, the Rinbell sword lifted itself so lightly that it might not have had any weight at all. He took a step forward and let Farod run onto the blade.
The Rider fell, dead before he reached the snowy ground, and Gaurin, his strength gone, dropped to his knees. Only now was he dimly aware of the shouts of Steuart's men coming from behind a wall of ice, and the faraway sounds of the battlefield whence he had come. He looked up to see a fell creature standing atop a pinnacle of ice, facing a column of flame that was about to be overwhelmed by a small avalanche hurtling directly at it.
He knew instinctively who the creature was, and knew also that somehow, impossibly, Ashen was in the midst of that flame. The snow would quench the fire, she would be destroyed, and there was nothing he could do to help her.
The snow hurtled down the mountainside, carrying all in its path, but just as it reached the rock upon which the Three stood engulfed in flame, it sizzled and vanished harmlessly into steam that was immediately dissipated into the frigid air.
"This cannot be," the Foulness whispered. "But how?"
"Thou canst not harm us with thy Ice magic," the Three said calmly. "And thou hast not the ability to withstand the Fire. Would that thy captors had known this, for in the Palace of Fire and Ice, this knowledge didst reside, forgotten.
When thou didst destroy it and the good old man that didst dwell within, thou didst seal thy own fate. There are places aplenty, on other planes, where thou couldst have reigned undisturbed. But when thou didst lift up thine eyes and encompass to subdue this world, thou wert doomed to failure before thou didst begin. Prepare thyself, for thy brief ascension is at an end."
"Never!" the Foulness said, sneering.
Spears of glittering ice appeared in his hands and he hurled them at the column of fire before him. The spears never even reached the flames but vanished with nothing to mark their disappearance.
The Three who were engulfed in flame unclasped their hands. The tongues of fire grew even brighter as they separated briefly and then braided themselves together again as the women's hands joined once more. The four leaves that one of them had held were incorporated into the joined strands of fire and glowed with a radiance the Foulness could not endure.
"No," he whispered. "Please…"
The braided fire rose high and then descended upon the entity cowering atop the pinnacle of ice.
With a roar that could be heard back in Rendelsham, an enormous gout of smoke rolled upward, leaving behind only a scorched spot and a hole in the ground where once the Great Foulness had stood. Answering rumbles from the earth bespoke new tremblings and upheavals. The ice wall separating Steuart and his men from the others shattered into splinters, making them scramble for their lives lest they be crushed. An outline of the four leaves hung sparkling in the air, then vanished. In a flash of flame, the velvet-bound book disappeared almost unnoticed.
The entire world shook. Then it Changed.
Still connected with the other two women through their clasped hands, Ashen's perceptions soared high above the land until she could see all that was happening.
Fire-mountains dotting the coast gave a last cough and then collapsed one by one, their eruptions stifled by the earth that caved in on them. Far to the south, the sunken land that had been the Bog began to rise even as the surrounding mountains sank. All along the seacoast, water both foul and comparatively fresh cascaded into the ocean as the BaleBog lifted and merged into the mountains that had once hidden it from intruders' eyes. Giant luppers were washed from their deep pools along with other creatures, shrinking even as she watched them drop down the gleaming cliffs. The huge, unnatural birds took on their proper size and form once more and the ruins of the lost city of
Galinth lifted to shine in the pale sunlight.
Bells rang in every Fane in the land, and the loudest of these came from the
Great Fane of the Glowing in Rendel- sham. There, people of high and low rank alike knew that something unprecedented had happened. Because they still lived, they surmised that their enemy had fallen at last.
Ashen shifted her focus nearer. Lord Royance, his silver hair blowing in the breeze, took the banner of the Four Armies from in front of the command tent and hurried through the Snow Fortress, rallying whoever was still present, encouraging them to rejoice. He, better even than the people in Rendelsham, knew the scope of the victory that had been achieved this day.
Finally, she looked down at Gaurin where he still struggled valiantly to get to her side. She smiled at him with great tenderness. Then she slipped lifelessly to the rock surface on which she stood.
She opened her eyes what seemed but a moment later, but which must have been some hours. As she looked around, her eyes began to focus and she discovered that she was lying in the infirmary tent back at the Snow Fortress. How she had come to be there, she did not know. Gaurin knelt on one side of her, clasping her hand, and to her astonishment, the Dowager Ysa occupied a stool on the other side of her bed. Zazar stood at the foot, glaring at her, fists on hips.
"Hmmph," the Wysen-wyf commented. "Back, are you? Good. I have work to do and no time to watch you sleep."
Then, without ceremony, she disappeared. Gaurin squeezed Ashen's hand even tighter and held it to his cheek.
"I thought you were dead or dying," he said, his voice low and tremulous with emotion. "But Madame Zazar said no, that you had only fainted. Given what little
I saw of what was happening, I am astonished that you were affected as lightly as you are."
"I have something to tell you," Ysa broke in. "It is very important."
"It would have to be, for you to interrupt this moment between my wife and myself," Gaurin said, his voice as cold as his blue-green eyes.
Ysa slipped to her knees beside the bed. "It was those moments when we all faced the Great Foulness together— you, me, Zazar. I—well, I find that I must beg your forgiveness for the way I have treated you all these years."
"That is not necessary," Ashen told her. "It is all in the past, and best forgotten." She turned to Gaurin. "Please, let me get up. I'm not at all ill—in fact, I feel remarkably well. I want to go back to our tent so you can tell me what has happened while I was unconscious. Can we do that?"
"We can, my Ashen, but it would be better to go to the command tent instead.
Lord Royance is waiting there, and he has been very anxious about you."
"
Yes," Ashen agreed. "That would be better."
She threw back the cover and found that she was still fully clad, save for her fur-lined boots and cloak. While she was slipping her feet into the boots, Zazar rejoined them.
"I think I'll just go have a word with Royance as well," she said. "He's been feeling left out, not getting to fight horrible little pieces of evil filth like
His Putrescence. I had better tell him how lucky he is."
"How lucky we all are," Gaurin said soberly. He slipped his arm around Ashen's waist, lest she be weaker than she thought, and stumble.
Glad of his presence, though not needing his support,
Ashen walked firmly through the snowy streets of the Fortress. There was something lacking—Suddenly, she knew what it was.