"Lethal Stroke!" I scream, and charge forward. By the time I reach the centre of the field, the young dragon has shuffled over to Makri and is licking her face. The Marshal hasn't yet made a call.
"What's the delay?" I demand. "Call Makri as the winner. That was a lethal stroke!"
The Marshal, his flag hanging limply in mid-air, seems to be having trouble comprehending what just happened. "I… eh… it was… "
"Makri made a lethal stroke to the throat. Call it or I'll kill you!"
"Lethal stroke," mutters the Marshal.
Lasat Axe of Gold is swiftly into the field. "This is a complete travesty!" he rages. "That dragon attacked my fighter. It's foul play! What's it doing here anyway?"
"Your spells obviously weren't good enough to hold it," I reply. "Anyway, Makri's the winner."
"She is not the winner! There was outside interference!"
"This whole fight has been about outside interference!"
There's movement around the edge of the field as some of the Samsarinan sorcerers approach, but the stewards and officials hang back, not liking the look of the dragon, which is now considerably bigger than a man. Soldiers have rushed to protect the King, and stand in a semi-circle with arrows notched in their bows. Lisutaris arrives, moving slowly and painfully.
"What's happening?" she gasps. "Has Makri won?"
"Yes," I say.
"No she hasn't!" cries Lasat. "I will not stand for this outrage." He swings round to face Makri, raising his hand. The dragon interprets this as a threat to its friend, and roars threateningly. Lasat furiously casts a spell at it. The young dragon howls in pain, then cringes like a young child.
"Don't do that!" says Makri. "You shouldn't - "
Makri doesn't manage to complete the sentence because at that moment a gigantic white dragon lands beside us with an earth-shaking crash. The huge beast is roaring with anger, and breathing flame. I grab Makri's arm with one hand and Lisutaris's sleeve with the other.
"Run," I say, and we run. We flee towards the edge of the field where the assembled crowd are cowering in fear. The sudden, shocking arrival of such a monstrous dragon spreads panic. Such a beast has never been seen in Elath before.
"I knew its mother would come back," I gasp, as the three of us stumble to safety. When I look round to see if we're being pursued, I'm confronted by an awful sight. The Ice Dragon, infuriated by Lasat's attack on her child, has grabbed him in its jaws and is shaking him around like a toy. Several Sorcerers approach as close as they dare but their spells don't have any effect. The dragon finally spits out Lasat. As his mangled body lands on the grass, it's obvious that the Samsarinan Sorcerers Guild will now be needing a new leader.
There's a call to arms from close to the King. General Hemistos has rallied some troops. Among the soldiers I notice Baron Girimos, gamely advancing despite his age and bulk. The ice dragon ignores them. It looks down at its child, then, quite tenderly, takes the young dragon by the scruff of the neck like a cat picking up a kitten. It spreads its huge wings and rises majestically into the air. A few arrows fly wide of the mark as the dragon circles, gaining height, then heads off to the North. The shouting stops, and a hush descends on the tournament field.
"That was quite an experience," gasps Lisutaris.
"It was," I reply. "Makri, are you seriously injured?"
Makri removes her helmet. Blood drips from her mouth and her nose, and she has two black eyes.
"I'm all right," she says. "Did I win?"
"Yes. The Marshal called lethal stroke before he fled the field."
A young messenger in royal livery appears at a run. "Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky," he says. "The King would like to see you immediately."
"I must attend to my bodyguard first," replies Lisutaris.
"The King said immediately."
"Tell the King I'll be along immediately after I've attended to Makri."
The messenger shrugs, and departs briskly. Lisutaris produces a lace handkerchief from inside her cloak and dabs some of the blood from Makri's face."
"I'm all right," says Makri. "Don't worry about it."
"I'll just transfer some minor healing into you. I don't have much power left." Lisutaris places her hand on Makri's forehead. Nothing happens. The Sorceress frowns. "I don't have any power left. Do you want to go home? I can send you in my carriage."
Makri refuses. She wants to accompany Lisutaris. I pick up Makri's personal belongings and the three of us trudge wearily across the field. A distraught collection of Samsarinan Sorcerers are standing round the body of their dead leader.
"I could do with some healing too, when you get your power back," I tell Lisutaris. "I took a lot of painful blows during that contest."
"Thraxas, I'm sure you've got enough pies inside you to make a swift recovery."
"Is that all the thanks I get for putting my life on the line to protect you and Makri?"
Lisutaris comes to a halt. "One moment," she says. "How did the young dragon get free?"
Makri immediately looks guilty.
"Perhaps Lasat's spells weren't any good," I suggest.
"Lasat's spells were fine," says Lisutaris. "I checked them."
"Well, in that case it's a mystery."
Lisutaris reaches over to place her hand on the scabbard of Makri's black Orcish sword. "This weapon has been used against sorcery. Recently."
"I freed the dragon," admits Makri. "Sorry."
"It did work out well in the end," I say.
Lisutaris shakes her head. "Let's hope the King doesn't find out."
We have to pass through thick lines of soldiers, still guarding their monarch in case the dragon returns. The King is surrounded by his officials and a collection of Barons. Unusually, he seems ready to speak for himself. "That did not go as expected, Mistress of the Sky. Some of my advisers wonder if the interference from the dragons should nullify the contest." The King pauses, then raises his voice. "I have over-ruled them. The appearance of such a beast should focus our minds on the dangers we'll be facing soon. The West needs an experienced War Leader and I will now support Lisutaris for that position."
Lisutaris thanks the King, in the gracious, courtly manner she's capable of, even when severely fatigued.
"Do you know how the young dragon came to escape from its sorcerous cage?"
Makri blushes, though with her black eyes and blood-stained mouth it's not that easy to spot. Lisutaris doesn't know how to answer. It's time for me to step up. "Lasat's spells were quite deficient," I say. "I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen. It's unfortunate it ended up costing him his life, but the whole thing could have been much worse had Lisutaris not driven the dragons away so quickly."
Lisutaris looks startled. "I didn't - "
"It was good work from the Mistress of the Sky," I continue. "Saved many lives. She'll be a great War Leader. Incidentally, your Highness, if I may be permitted to ask a question - some graceless elements have been casting doubts on Makri's victory. I was wondering if there might be an official announcement about the winner?"
The King nods his head. "Makri was clearly the winner. It will be officially declared."
The meeting comes to an end. We walk back across the field, heading for Lisutaris's carriage.
"I didn't chase off the dragons," says Lisutaris.
"There's no harm in giving your reputation a boost." I yawn. "When I get home I'm going to send a servant out for food then I'm going to sleep for a week."
"You said you'd visit Baroness Demelzos in the morning," says Makri.
"Oh dammit. And I meant to visit the Record House before that."
We clamber into the carriage. "I could really do with some of that healing energy," I tell Lisutaris. But the Sorcerer is already rolling herself a thazis stick, which won't help her recover her powers any faster. I'll have to rely on sleep and a few beers to get by.