Cowboys & Dragons

Part 7

Azrael and Isabella went down to the jetty first, each on a rope fastened to the pillars lining the gallery. Once they gave the all clear, the Marquis followed with four of his remaining soldiers. The fifth, a burly fellow with a huge mustache, its tips hanging sadly down his face, remained with Eddy. If this was due to the Marquis doubting him or not trusting him to do the right thing if the situation got dire, Eddy could not tell.

Right then he couldn't have cared less.

Eddy felt betrayed, happy, sad, and numb at the same time, an unusual cocktail for him to stomach.

He called himself stupid; after all, he was lucky to not be down there with the others. However, for the past three years, it had been he who walked into this sort of danger—usually with the threat and support of Azrael's gun in his back, but still. This was his kind of thing, the sneaking, the crawling, the stealing. For Christ's sake, he thought, it was he who was the one with the luck!

Azrael was a killer. It was the one thing he was better at than anyone else, but he was no thief, and the Marquis was nothing but a foppish dandy in Eddy's eyes. Only Isabella moved with the grace and stealth that befitted a delicate job like this, but seeing the beautiful bodyguard down in the danger zone while he was left behind like a lame horse . . . it didn't sit well with him. What annoyed him even more was that he should have been happy to be up here, safe, but he was not. He thought himself stupid for this and became angrier by the second.

"No worries, Mister Finn," interrupted the soldier, hunkering down beside Eddy, now voicing his thoughts. "Everything will be fine, yes."

"Ah yeah? What makes you think that?" Eddy hissed, not bothering to look at the man.

"The dragon just eaten. Probably sleeping now and lying at ground of lake."

"Is that so? Tell me then, how many dragons have you seen that are as large as mountains and sleep on the bottom of a sea of molten metal?"

The soldier opened his mouth, but no answer came out.

"I thought so," said Eddy, focusing again on the trio that by now had made its way over the jetty and carefully approached the golden altar on top of which the Black Diamond rested. Eddy's fingers grasped the handrail of the gallery. He had stopped sweating; his body had no water left to give, and thirstily he licked his lips. This was the moment of truth.

Isabella was going for the diamond, but the Marquis waved her away. Even from here Eddy could see—feel—the man's desperate longing. It was in the way he opened and closed his hands, how he stalked toward the jewel like a man sneaking up to his lover to surprise her. Involuntarily, Eddy's thumbs and ring fingers started rubbing against each other in a fit of yearning.

It should be me down there, he thought.

An almost hysterical giggle escaped the Marquis, and its faint echo was still audible over the hissing and bubbling of the lake.

"Amateur," Eddy whispered.

Then, in an almost brash movement, as if he feared his prize would elude him at the last possible moment, the Marquis snatched the black jewel from the altar—and started screaming as though he had been set on fire.

Eddy's heart skipped a beat.

What is he doing?

The Marquis stumbled backward, wailing in agony while apparently unable—or unwilling—to let go of the diamond. He turned around, fell to his knees, and would have buried the jewel under him if Azrael had not acted. The dragon killer closed the distance to the Marquis in a heartbeat and kicked out, breaking the diamond from the noble's hands and sending it flying high toward the edge of the jetty.

Isabella, as quick as an arrow sprung from a bow, sprinted after it, dove forward, and slid over the ground, trying to catch the falling diamond. She skidded toward the end of the jetty the moment the stone passed over it; her momentum was almost enough to send her over the edge as well.

Eddy almost jumped in his anticipation.

Did she get it?

Azrael rushed toward her, gripped her ankle, and pulled her back from the rim. She lay on her belly for a moment, breathing hard, and then rolled on her back. The Black Diamond was firmly clutched to her chest, and no fit of pain wracked her frame. Whatever had happened to the Marquis, it did not affect her. On hands and knees, the noble crawled toward Isabella, his fingers reaching for the jewel yet stopping short of it. Anguish washed over his face; suddenly, alarmed screams and shouts echoed from below.

The screams of the Marquis had not gone unnoticed, and in response, the sound of naked feet slapping against stone became louder like the beating of drums. A gunshot rang out, and a death scream sounded from below.

"Mierda," said the soldier from Eddy's right, taking a firm grip of his rifle. "Looks like we are in frying pan now, yes?"

Eddy, his face going pale, pointed at the lake and whispered, "No. We are in the fire."

The Dragongod was rising.