The Return of the Dragonhawk

Chapter 14 -- The Dragon's Flame

"Take smaller steps," Rhoz reminded her companion sharply. "And cease flinging your hips about!"

Why had she ever imagined that Daryn could pass as a woman? For all his slightness of frame, he walked like a proud fighting cock. All her efforts to instruct him had produced only a ludicrous caricature of femininity. Hopefully, the guards would not be watching them too closely as they mingled with the crowd flowing through the gates at sunset.

Without their leader, the Shadow Warriors had taken long hours to decide how to proceed, until Rhoz thought her jangled nerves would snap. They did not seem to comprehend that every moment wasted put Alyx in graver danger. When she realized that her interference would only impede their deliberations, she had withdrawn and tried to pray, wishing she had thought to ask Hekla for a new set of rune stones.

Now the waiting was over. It was a relief to be taking action, however perilous. Their disguises were less than perfect and their numbers small. Only fifteen raiders, nine men and six women, had found the courage in their heart to enter the fortress. Despite the medallion, the password, and young Griss' heart-rending pleas interspersed with furious taunts calling their manhood into question, most of the Shadow Warriors were of the opinion that they were being lured into a trap.

Apprehension gnawed at Rhoz's entrails. What if the rest of the raiders decided to withdraw instead of attacking at dawn as they had promised? Fewer than two hundred of them remained concealed in the woods near Muktarshold. The others had returned to their various camps, fearing that Muktar might turn aside from his invasion of Peregret to seek revenge for the raid on his troops. Supplies were low and dissension was fierce: the tide of opinion might well turn by morning.

Rhoz forced herself to relax her shoulders and strode on, holding young Griss' hand and swinging her basket as if she had no thought in her mind but supper. She had a wicked-looking dagger hidden under the rose hips, as well as thin, strong ropes for strangling a man before he could cry out. Ahead of her, nine of the infiltrators had already passed through the gates to rendezvous at the stables.

"Remember now," she muttered to Daryn for the dozenth time, "if there is any trouble, do not come to my rescue. Remember that you are only a frail woman! Take the boy and run -- he will guide you to the stables."

"I 'member, I 'member!" Daryn growled. "Do you take me for feeble-minded?"

Rhoz sighed and held her tongue. No need to irritate Daryn further. No matter what she said, he would remain a hot-head who would never shrink from a fight. If he were otherwise, he would not have volunteered to follow her into the jaws of death.

She tightened her hold on Griss' hand. What if she were caught and consigned to one of those noisome dungeon cells? Their plan was dubious at best. If they managed to carry it off successfully, minstrels would be singing about it for aeons.

One of the soldiers leered at her as she passed through the outer gate, and she tensed like a coiled spring. But he did nothing more than shout a lewd suggestion, pointing out that the supply of men was greatly reduced these days, and she had best take what was offered. She walked on, pretending that she had not heard. Across the moat bridge, along the magnificent boulevard where Akkyn loved to stage his victory parades even if no victory had been won, through the inner gate . . . thank the Mistress! The two guards posted to scrutinize the passers-by seemed completely absorbed in their own discussion. Once they were inside, Griss took Daryn's hand and led him towards the stables, detouring around the practice ring. No one took the slightest interest in Rhoz as she walked down the path to the rose garden, and made her way to the stables from there.

She heard familiar screams of rage long before she reached her destination, and knew that Dragonfyre was on the rampage again. She pushed the door open a crack and surveyed the scene. The great stallion had struggled out of the ropes that bound his legs and was demolishing his stall. Agrys and Arabelle were trying to quiet him, while a knot of observers stood at a respectful distance.