When they topped the last hill, they plunged to a halt and stared down directly below them at Sivich and his men, all asleep in the moonlight. The trap was huge, and they could see Tebriel curled up in a corner of it; and already the dragon was storming in over the sea.
She dropped down out of the sky, directly over the trap.
“The door is propped open with a stick,” said Luex. “Oh, she’ll be caught!” The two foxes knew quite well about traps; they had seen many of their small, mute brothers, the red foxes, caught in them.
“She’s avoiding the door. She knows about traps,” said Faxel, and he watched the dragon’s descent with admiration.
“She’s beautiful, like snow and sea foam,” breathed Luex.
“She’s looking in at the prince. How can he sleep, when she is there beside him?”
“Maybe he’s just lying still. Maybe he’s afraid,” Luex said sensibly. “He doesn’t know. No one has told him.”
*
Teb lay half awake, feverish and chilled, his chest hurting so, it was agony to move. When the strong, sudden wind touched his face, he rolled over, gasping with the pain—and he was staring up between the log bars at the dragon.
She blotted out the stars, hovering above him. She stared down, and her huge eyes held him. A mountain might have been swinging in the sky above him, except this mountain looked and looked, its eyes like two green pools, seeing deep inside him, seeing more than any creature should see, more than he himself knew.
At last she tore her gaze away and circled the cage, and then, as Teb’s heart thudded, she dropped down to earth and stood with her shoulders pressing against the cage and her head thrusting in through the bars at him, her mouth inches from his face.
*
“What will she do?” whispered Luex.
“What’s keeping Ebis?” Faxel grumbled. “Horses are so slow.”
But though they couldn’t yet hear the pounding of approaching troops, the earth had begun to tremble under their paws, so Ebis wasn’t far behind.
The dragon remained very still, poised over Tebriel.
The soldiers began to wake, and the two foxes crouched lower. The camp had seemed as if dead, even the tethered horses nodding where they stood, their knees locked, quite gone in sleep standing up.
“I think that’s Sivich there,” said Luex, gesturing with her nose.
“How can you tell?”
“That great dark leather cape thrown over him, and the way he has the best place by the fire. But what is the dragon doing?”
“She still has her head in the trap,” he said impatiently.
“I can see that. But why?”
“It’s Sivich, all right. He sees her.” They both hugged the ground as Sivich leaped up shouting.
“To arms—arm yourselves—the dragon . . . Chase it into the trap. . . . Use your spears, force it in!”
Men leaped up half dressed, grabbing swords and spears, hastily fitting arrow to bow, and soon the dragon was surrounded from behind and forced against the cage. The foxes stared and shivered as she faced her attackers, then turned away from them again almost disdainfully, and gave her attention to the boy, forcing and worrying at the great logs of his prison.
“Oh, fly away. . . .” whispered Luex. “Fly away. . . .”
“She’s trying to free the boy,” breathed Faxel.
Bellowing, and her breath flaming, the dragon tore at the log bars. Suddenly out of the sky burst a second dragon, black as caves. He descended straight down to the female. At the same moment the pounding of hooves grew to thunder, and Ebis’s troops roared into view around the hill, straight toward Sivich’s army.
They rode into the midst of the soldiers, scattering horses, charging the men who thrust and slashed at the dragon. The black dragon was battling beside her now, bellowing and throwing men against the timbers.
Then suddenly out of the maze a small figure darted, dodging beneath dragon wings and around galloping, rearing horses.
“He’s free! Oh, she’s freed him!” Luex yipped.
As Sivich’s troops were driven back, and the black dragon nudged the female skyward, the foxes lost sight of Teb. The two dragons rose against the sky, belching flame down on the warriors; they were above the battle, covering the sky, then lifting toward the moon.
“Where is the prince?” The foxes sought that small running shape, but the battle was terrible now, as Ebis’s men pounded Sivich’s raiders. Had Tebriel escaped? Or had he fallen beneath pounding hooves?
‘There . . .” Luex cried. “There—the prince . . . Someone has taken him up. . . . “ They could see Teb then, limp and clinging in front of a rider who sped and dodged away from the battle, whipping his horse, holding the boy against him.
“It’s Ebis’s sergeant,” said Faxel. “The white horse . . .” But six riders were converging on the fleeing soldier, their bows raised. They fired, the white horse stumbled, ran, stumbled again under a second volley, and fell, the rider spilling under its shoulder, trying to throw Teb free.
Riders and horse lay in a heap. The battle raged around them, and a rider leaped down and nudged the bodies with his toe, stood watching a moment, then mounted again and was off. The three lay unmoving.
“Are they dead?” Luex looked at Faxel, her eyes huge. They fled down the hill and onto the battlefield between rearing, plunging horses and swinging swords. They reached Teb and nuzzled his cheek with their noses.
“He’s breathing,” Luex panted. “But the horse—it’s lying on his leg. Is it alive? Bite at it.”
They bit and harried at the white gelding until, tossing in agony from its wounds and from this new torment, it heaved itself away from Teb, freeing him. But he did not move.
It was then, as they stood nosing Teb and licking his face, that suddenly the jackal broke out of a clashing mêlée, bloody from the fighting, dripping blood from its jaws, and was on them; neither had seen the jackal or known one was near, and they both faced it now frozen with shock before Faxel let out a staccato yipping challenge and attacked it as it bore down on them; Luex close behind screamed her fury, their sharp teeth going for its throat.
But it was a big jackal, twice their size, and maddened already from battle, and though they matched it they could not best it. When it grabbed Luex by the throat, Faxel tore at its eyes until it dropped her, then, “Run, Luex—find shelter,” he yipped, and they were both dodging among fallen bodies and writhing horses as the heavy jackal winged over them. “Keep low—under that horse. . . . It will tire before we do,” breathed Faxel as it dropped and doubled over them. “Keep it following, away from the boy.”
*
Teb woke squirming with pain. His ribs were on fire, and his leg hurt so much it sent pain all through his body, and his vision would not come clear. He reached out and felt a great hairy bulk. He pushed at it and felt the inert stillness of death. He rolled away from it, instinctively, into shelter and felt the marsh grass bend and snap up around him as he pulled himself through it, squirming, pulling himself in deeper across the mud, the pain in his leg hitting him in waves as he moved, but the sounds of battle behind him keeping him moving. He drew in where the grass was tall and thick, then fainted again from the pain.
The marsh lay bright green all along the coast clear from the Bay of Fear, the eel grass and wild oats and cord grass heavy and tall and rich with the life of crabs and shrimps and water snails and small hatchling fishes in among its waters. Otters hunted there sometimes, as now did two young males out alone on a roving spree. They sat taking a meal of oysters from a muddy bed among the sprouting grasses when they heard the high yipping. They had been hearing the sounds of battle for some time, feeling the tremble of the earth in the marsh mud.
“That’s a kit fox barking,” said Mikkian.
“Are you sure? All I hear is horses thudding and humans shouting.” Charkky stared toward the barrier of tall sea grass, trying to imagine what was occurring beyond it. Then the yipping of kit foxes came again. “Oh, yes—I hear it, too.”