Sadira gave Magnus a gentle shove, and he found himself running down the slope. The windsinger glanced back and saw the sorceress looking toward the Bronze Company, one hand searching her cloak pocket for spell components. He faced forward again and rushed through the gap in the village wall.
Magnus crossed the rocky pasture at a full sprint, stones clattering and slipping beneath his pounding steps. He almost fell as he entered the narrow lane between the stone huts, knocking several holes in the walls as he bounced from one side to the other.
At last he emerged in the square. He saw Borys’s gaunt form looming above the huts on the south side of the village. The Dragon was hardly moving at all, simply staring down at the ground. Magnus feared the beast had already destroyed the Bronze Company, for he did not hear so much as a shield clanging outside the wall.
The windsinger rushed across the plaza, his huge feet crashing down on the dusty stones. The inixes looked up and hissed, then slowly backed away from the well to reveal Caelum and Rkard. The two Kledans sat on the ground, looking dazed and frightened.
“Don’t worry. Sadira used a spell to move you,” Magnus called, still fifty paces from the pair. “The Dragon destroyed the Tyrian legion, and now he’s after the Bronze Company.”
Rkard was on his feet instantly. “Then why’d she move us?” he demanded. “I can’t kill Borys from here!”
Outside the village wall, Neeva’s distant voice called, “Bronze Company, halt! Face to the rear!”
Billows of orange smoke poured from the Dragon’s nostrils, streaming out of sight as they passed behind the huts on Samarah’s south side. Dozens of warriors cried out in anger and fear. They began to cough and choke, but the windsinger did not hear the clang of any armored bodies falling to the ground. Neeva shouted a harsh command, ordering the dwarves to attack.
Rkard drew his sword and started toward the battle, but Caelum grabbed the youth’s shoulder to hold him back.
From outside the village came the clatter of dwarven axes striking stony flesh. Borys roared in anger and raised a clawed foot so high into the air that Magnus saw it above the roofs of the huts. The Dragon slammed his heel down. The windsinger heard death screams and crumpling metal.
Rikus screamed in anger, then Sadira’s voice rang out with the mystic syllables of a spell. A low growl rumbled through the ground, ending with a tremendous bang. The Dragon stumbled back. The dwarves gave a mighty cheer, and Magnus heard them tramping forward. Sadira called out another incantation, and a black bolt of magic energy blasted a hunk of scaly flesh off the beast’s shoulder. Borys sprayed glowing sand toward the village wall and retreated.
Neeva yelled the order to charge, and the clamor of running feet filled Magnus’s ears. The windsinger could also hear Rikus disparaging Borys’s courage in a futile attempt to lure him back to the fight. At the same time, Sadira was shouting for the company to spread out so that the Dragon could not use a spell to make an easy counterattack.
As Magnus joined Caelum and Rkard at the well, the boy looked up at him. “What are they doing?” Although the Dragon’s towering form had already retreated so far that it was no longer visible behind Samarah’s huts, the young mul’s eyes were still turned southward. “Jo’orsh and Sa’ram said I’m the one who’s going to kill the Dragon.”
“Perhaps, but we should not complain if your mother and her friends succeed now,” said the windsinger.
“Besides, I doubt that this battle will be our last one with Borys,” said Caelum. “He is a powerful enemy and will not be slain so easily.”
A hut at the plaza’s edge suddenly collapsed, spraying stones halfway across the square. Magnus looked toward the sound and scowled. “What caused that?”
“Whatever it was, I don’t like it.” Caelum raised his palm toward the sun.
“I’ll go take a look,” Magnus offered.
The windsinger gripped his mace more tightly and started toward the ruined building. He moved across the square cautiously, his dark eyes searching the narrow alleys for some man or creature that could have destroyed the hut. A cloud of silt hung in the air around the fallen shack, but the haze was thin enough that Magnus could see that there was no one lurking inside.
Finally, when he had crossed about three-quarters of the plaza, he heard something clatter across a cobblestone ahead. Less than three paces away, a swirl of silt rose off the ground with no apparent cause. Normally, he would have attributed the disturbance to the wind. But the day was a still one. There was not even a faint breeze, and he knew that no air current had caused the sound or the puff of dust.
Something hard and knobby struck Magnus in the chest. Though the jolt lacked the sharp impact of an attack, its force was powerful and unyielding. The windsinger’s feet left the ground, then he crashed down on his back a short distance away. The air over his face stirred faintly as something unseen passed over him. The ground trembled slightly as something heavy settled down just a short distance from his head. Then everything was once again still and quiet.
Magnus regained his feet and rushed toward the well. “Something’s coming, Caelum!”
The windsinger’s warning was hardly necessary. Caelum’s palm was already glowing brilliant crimson. The dwarf pushed his son behind him, then pointed his hand at the ground and traced a circle around himself and Rkard. A scarlet glow washed over the cobblestones, sending waves of heat pouring into the sky.
Magnus was twenty paces away, and Caelum’s spell scorched his tough hide even from that distance. Tongues of orange flame began to lace the shimmering wall, though the dwarf and his son showed no sign of discomfort inside their protective fire circle. The windsinger’s mace burst into flame. He barely managed to toss it aside before it burned his hand. At the well, the bone rails surrounding the pit turned black and began to smoke, then abruptly vanished in a fiery flash.
Unable to endure the terrible heat of the sun-cleric’s spell, Magnus stopped. The fiery curtain around Caelum and Rkard waved as though something were passing through it. Even before the windsinger saw the flames outline the shape of a gaunt figure, he knew the awful truth. The Dragon had created a double of himself to lure Rikus and Sadira away.
Magnus burst into song, summoning a hot gale that swept across the plaza and fanned Caelum’s spell. The flames flared white. Glowing cobblestones shot from the ground like lightning bolts, trailing blue fire and filling the air with ear-piercing whistles. The rocks rattled off the Dragon’s legs and bounced away with no effect.
Borys passed inside the circle. The only effect the flames had on him was to coat his body in soot, rendering him more or less visible. Caelum raised a glowing hand and sprayed the blackened Dragon with crimson fire. The flames bounced off the beast’s chest and curled back.
Magnus rushed forward, ignoring the searing pain that washed over him with each stride. As he ran, he sent a wind-whisper to Sadira. “Borys has tricked us! Come to the well at once!”
Even as he committed the words to the wind, the windsinger worried about all the things that could keep the message from reaching the sorceress. If Borys’s magic had caused today’s eerie stillness, Magnus’s breath would be muffled long before it left the village. Or, if the battle had drifted too far east or west, the wind-whisper would bypass her. And if the words did reach the sorceress, it would take a little while for her to disengage from the fight with the fraudulent dragon and return to the well. By then, Rkard might well be dead.
Inside the fire circle, a loud thud sounded as Borys kicked Caelum in the chest. The dwarf shot into the air, his limp hand still trailing flame. He crashed down on the far side of the well and did not move.
Magnus reached the circle of fire and tried to hurl himself through. He slammed into the flames as though smashing into a stone wall, then his leading flank erupted into blistering pain. The smell of scorched hide filled his nostrils. The windsinger fell away, bellowing in agony and madly slapping at the embers flaring to life on his thighs. He slammed to the ground and rolled. Once he managed to get control of himself, he returned to his knees, already singing a lyric that would ease his pain.