“No? Just watch me!” Ymmen gave way to full-throated rage as the walls of the cave suddenly vibrated.
“No, Ymmen!” I shouted, as I kicked the rising Pincher in the gut as hard as I could with my soft sandals. There was a satisfying grunt of pain—but I didn’t think that it would be enough to keep him down for long—and I didn’t intend to hang around, either. My hands were still bound in front of me, but I didn’t have time to stop and free them. Instead, I lunged to snatch at one of the Pincher’s bladed instruments (feeling more than a little disgusted) and clutched it in my two hands as I ran. I couldn’t free myself now, but I would need this to try later, I thought.
Or for when I ran into any of Nol Baggar’s Red Hounds…
The raiders had freed my ankles when they had brought me into the caves, forcing me to walk—and if I could walk, then I could also run.
I jumped over the horrible groaning form of Pincher and pushed my way through the canvas ‘door’ and out into the tunnels of the Red Hounds’ base.
“Ymmen,” I gasped, finding the initial tunnel empty of people, but filled with the echoes of their alarm. “There are the Daza and the stolen horses down here—you cannot destroy this place!” I said as I skidded around the first turn, my feet slipping on loose pebbles, and into a space where the tunnel grew broader by several complete widths—a true cavern.
It was lit by the orange glow of the small storm lanterns perched on boulders, but it was empty of people. Instead, there were packs and blankets strewn across the floor, sharpening stones, and odd bits of equipment here and there, all the general everyday work of a busy encampment.
“Form up! Crossbows! Who’s got spears!?” Nol Baggar was somewhere up ahead. This cavern turned into a tunnel at the far end, and it was there that I could see shadows of people moving and hear the stamp of charging boots.
Where are my people! I thought in frustration. Was there another part to this cave? Other tunnels? I half turned to look back, but I couldn’t see anything that looked like a doorway or a tunnel opening.
I did see the Pincher, emerging from the bend in the tunnel, with a nasty looking hammer held in his hands and two bright coals of hatred for his eyes. He snarled as he burst into a run towards me.
And I had no other choice but to run myself.
I bounced off the wall of the passageway ahead, almost straight into the back of one of the Red Hound raiders, who was busy winching tight a heavy crossbow. In front of him I could see other burly men and women in their studded-leather jerkins and cuirasses pulling on their helmets and readying for battle.
And there, on the far side of them was the bright crimson glow of dragon fire, coming from outside. I could smell the soot and tinge of frankincense on the night wind that was blowing into the tunnel.
“Get her!” Pincher shouted, as I forced myself into action, barging into the back of the crossbow-bearing Red Hound ahead of me and using him as a weight to push myself off again, ducking between two more startled Red Hound warriors as I barged into another two, sending them flying. In the confusion, these raiders had not apparently expected anyone to be trying to escape or attack from behind them.
And I guessed that having a fully grown, angry adult dragon on your side always helped, as well.
Ymmen—I am coming! I thought as I ducked, weaved, tripped, and jumped around the complement of Red Hound soldiers.
In answer to my message, there was a ferocious roar from outside, and the walls once again shook as if the dragon had landed directly on whatever was above us.
“It’s her! The slave is escaping!” Nol Baggar’s voice rose in fury from somewhere amidst the throng—but the tunnel was tight, and I was moving fast. There were too many bodies in here that were confused and stumbling over each other, and the captain of the Red Hounds couldn’t reach me.
Someone snatched at my tunic, but I kept on running, hearing the tear as the shoulder was ripped—
I saw a length of wood—perhaps a club or the end of a short spear sweep towards me—but I ducked just in time to hear a pained thwack as my Red Hound attacker hit one of his own comrades behind.
And there was the open mouth of the tunnel, and the flaming night, as I leapt through.
My feet hit the slabs of rocky boulders on the outside of the caves, and I staggered even as I forced myself to run forward. Ahead of me the ground lowered and darkened into the purples and blacks of the Plains proper. But my form was illuminated from the rage of dragon fire behind, and I could see my long shadow cast ahead of me over the rocks.
It seemed that others could see me plainly too, as Nol Baggar’s voice rose from the general clamor behind me to bellow, “Crossbows! Bring her down!”
I risked a panicked look behind me to see the danger—and the place where I had spent half the night. It looked like a tall mound of rock, fantastically sculpted by the action of the wind and sand. I could see a series of holes, lit by the interior orange glow of the Red Hounds’ lanterns dotted through the rocky spire—but all of that paled when compared to the sight of the giant black dragon who was clutching to its top.
Ymmen, my heart! I felt relief blossom through my chest.
Ymmen was apparently large even by dragon standards, or so Tamin, Montfre and Abioye said. I had no reason to doubt them, but all I knew was that the dragon who had chosen me for its bond partner was courageous and handsome—and fierce!
His body was covered with the sheen of glossy black scales that could almost be purple, blue, green, or even crimson depending on how the light caught them. His head was wide, with swept-back horns like antlers, and his paws were tipped with talons that were as wide as a long sword. Power and strength shivered from his every purposeful movement, and just looking at him made me think that anything was possible.
“Down!” Ymmen roared into my mind at the same time that he raised his head and roared a great gout of flame into the air.
Despite the fact that I knew that he wasn’t intending to scare me, and that dragon fire was still many many meters higher than any human stood, I still gasped and felt that scared-animal panic as I threw myself to my feet and rolled.
The effect of Ymmen’s displeasure was plain, as the crossbowmen of the Red Hound let out low moans of anguish, falling back from the sky that had suddenly come alive with a vengeful inferno.
“Run!” Ymmen said, and the authority in the older dragon’s voice was so strong that I obeyed without thought. My feet pounded down the stone slabs and onto grittier, rough dirt and pebbles. I heard shouts and screams from behind me, and the angered roar of Ymmen.
“Ymmen, please—my people! The horses!” I gasped as I ran, my feet starting to feel the scratching brush of wildflowers. I was running into the dark, with the light of burning flames behind me. Apart from the sounds of battle, the phwip and hiss of crossbow bolts being released and of course the dragon—I could hear the heavy gasp and pant of my breath loud in my ears.
“Calm yourself, Little Sister. I know what I am doing,” the dragon said with a sharp hiss in my mind, and a note of rebuke, before he abruptly drew back from our connection to focus on what he was doing. To be rebuked by a dragon is a sobering experience.