Chapter 34

The floor shook as the dragon barreled after us. Shards of stone exploded into the air as its great body slammed clumsily from wall to wall, its talons clawing for purchase on the slick stone floor.

The smell of smoke returned as the dragon let out a hacking cough, spraying flames from its mouth in every direction like buckshot. I slapped a hand against Emrys's smoldering sleeve before ripping the bulky thing off him entirely. The dragon wasn't going to mistake him for a fuzzy treat.

I pushed my body harder, faster, as a stairwell appeared through a parting cloud of dust.

The dragon's roar echoed off the walls like a deluge of untuned strings. It rasped and shrieked in turn, a quavering note of agony threading through every reverberation. The barking cough burst into a pure scream of fire.

The narrow walls funneled the maelstrom of flames right to us, and there was no other choice—we dove down the winding stairs. The steps battered my ribs, reviving the sharp ache of my earlier injury, and scraped at my legs. I had enough sense to protect my skull with my arms, letting them absorb the abuse as fire raged over our heads, spiraling down through the stairwell with us.

The river of flames scalded the air; I didn't try to breathe, knowing it would only damage my lungs and throat. As we hit the landing, I reached over, feeling for Emrys.

"I'm okay," he said, climbing unsteadily to his feet. "Let's go, let's go—"

The dragon screeched as it tried to force its body through the curve of the tight passage, straining, flooding the air with the noxious steam of its breath.

But between one heartbeat and the next, the red dragon suddenly stilled, as if in surrender. Loose debris skittered down the steps. Emrys's pulse sped beneath my fingers as my grip on his wrist turned to iron, but still, neither of us seemed capable of moving, not even to save ourselves.

My own heartbeat pounded everywhere in my body as a new gust of scalding steam billowed past us. The dragon, with all the grace and silence of a snake, stretched its long, sinuous neck down along the curve of the stairs until its horned head appeared behind us, and for one terrifying moment, the creature's mouth parted in an almost sinister smile. It flicked its forked tongue at our feet, taunting. Tasting.

My focus narrowed to those golden eyes glowing in the darkness. Pure blue fire began to gather at the back of the dragon's throat, illuminating every jagged onyx tooth.

"Tamsin!" Emrys hauled my stunned body up as blue flames intensified. Apparently, it liked to cook its meals before consuming them.

That delirious thought vanished as the dragon coughed and retched. The flames gathering in its mouth extinguished as it thrashed its head around the stairwell. Showers of dust and debris rained down over us as we fled.

We were halfway down the hall when the dragon finally rammed through the collapsing stairs and tore through the wall to reach the landing. An explosion of dust and rubble pelted us from behind. I glanced back, squeaking as the creature barreled toward us on all fours. Its wings were folded tight against its sides to squeeze through the corridor, but the left one jutted out slightly at an angle, as if it had been broken and hadn't healed straight.

Scars and missing scales pitted its face and neck. I noted each one, only to remember that the fact that I was close enough to see them was a very, very bad sign.

A deep draw of breath and the stench of smoke warned of coming fire. The dragon skittered to a stop, rising on its haunches, and spread its wings. A thick, veined membrane connected the bones and joints, and both wings were tipped with talon-like hooks that scored the walls as they beat the air.

The wind they created slammed into me like a tackle, knocking me off my feet onto the unforgiving stone floor. Emrys fell beside me with a harsh gasp.

Fire raced toward us, twisting and thrashing like an animal.

But it wasn't flame that blasted over us—it was a different, colder wind, blowing hard and furious, deflecting the fire back toward the dragon.

I looked up, shocked to find Neve standing a few feet away in the doorway, her hands still outstretched. A staircase to the main hall was behind her.

"Hi!" she said cheerfully. "Nice of you guys to show up! I was starting to get worried."

My relief turned to horror in an instant. "Get out of here!"

Heat gathered behind us again, the dragon hacking and snarling in fury.

It charged toward us again, bursting through the burning debris. I started to reach for the hilt of my sword, then stopped. Dragons were born from flames. They would never die of them.

Stupid fire sword, I thought, exasperated. It wouldn't even penetrate the dragon's skin.

"Let's go!" Emrys said, hooking my arm, then Neve's, to drag us away.

The beast raged forward, rasping and hacking. We ran down the stairs, each bone and joint in my body aching with the force of my pounding steps.

This time, however, the dragon didn't follow. As we reached the ground floor of the castle, I whirled back to find only shadows behind us.

"This way!" Neve panted. The cavernous hallway echoed her order. A distant dripping and the settling of rocks answered.

We found Caitriona standing at the imposing entrance to the castle, her back to the great hall. She waved a torch back and forth above her head.

"Here!" she shouted—but not to us.

Before any of us could react, she dropped the torch and turned to run into the great hall. Within the space of a second, the red dragon flew in low through the entrance, snow and ash shaking free from its scales as it gave chase.

"Cait!" I screamed, following at full speed. My feet slid over the loose stone and ice, crossing that last bit of distance to the doors of the great hall.

The dragon spewed flames as Caitriona ran alongside the wall of tapestries. As fire struck the ice encasing them, it evaporated into hissing steam that choked the chamber and stole Caitriona from sight.

The dragon's fiery breath died again as it hacked and choked, its spine curling up as it clawed at the floor.

I hadn't noticed Nash crouched in the crosshatch of the hall's rafters until he jumped down from them, landing on the dragon's back with a grunt. He slid down the smooth scales, grabbing one of its spiked shoulders at the very last minute to haul himself back up.

My scream was drowned out by the beast's as Nash used the dagger in his left hand to gouge the nearest eye. In his other hand was a rusted sword that he swung like a bat against the dragon's open jaws, sending fangs flying in every direction.

One came close to impaling Neve as she ran toward the fight.

"Now, Caitriona!" Nash shouted, struggling to keep his grip on the dragon's neck as it tried to flick him off with its wings .

Caitriona launched herself toward them, running at full tilt, even as she reached down to rip a long black fang out of a smashed table. The dragon lowered its head, its remaining fangs bared, but Caitriona was already sliding across the floor beneath it, slicing the dragon open from gullet to gizzard with its own tooth.

The beast gagged and raged, lurching forward, vomiting weak flames.

Of course, I thought.

Sword and spell had no effect; the only thing that could harm a dragon was another dragon's tooth or claw.

It collapsed heavily on the floor, the flames flickering out in its eyes. And as the great body relaxed, surrendering to death, a foul, steaming mass of entrails fell to the ground, followed by the vile contents of its stomach.

Bones, helmets, rocks, breastplates, statue heads, and silver pitchers spilled out in a sickening gush. I dared to take a step forward, only to have my path cut off as the last of it released: a cannonball, a crown, and a serving tray.

Nash spat on the dragon, sliding down its rough hide.

"Are you a complete idiot?" I asked him seriously. "Or did your brain not come back with the rest of you?"

"What?" Nash said, yanking his dagger out of the dragon's eye. He stepped over its lolled tongue with a look of disgust. "This old beastie ate its fair share of folks over the centuries, it got what it deserved. Worthy assist, Caitriona. Magnificent."

The praise stoked an ugly, jealous part of me, but it faded as Caitriona nodded in acknowledgment, looking deeply satisfied. Perhaps that was all she'd needed to release the anger building up in her.

Neve rushed toward her, gripping Caitriona by the arms. "That was both incredible and incredibly stupid, but mostly incredible."

It was hard to tell if there was a flush on Caitriona's cheeks, or if, like her hair, they'd been dyed pink by the spray of bloody viscera .

"I …," Caitriona began, her tongue turning to stone as Neve took her face between her hands, inspecting that, too. "I'm fine."

"You," Nash said to Emrys. "If Your Royal Highness is done watching us do the hard work, perhaps you'd be so good as to look for something useful in that mess."

"Great, sure," Emrys said, looking a bit pale as he assessed the revolting offerings splayed in front of us. "Thanks for stitching me up, by the way."

"Well, I sure as hell didn't do it for you," Nash said, and at a warning look from me, added, "I'll not have that attitude from you right now, Tamsin Lark. I left you behind for a very good reason—I told you the beast was no mere story!"

I remembered my anger all at once, at being left behind, at nearly losing our lives before I got the answers I needed.

"Yeah, clearly you needed no help here," I said. "You could have done this job all on your own."

He gazed back at me, his jaw sawing back and forth.

"My job is to protect you, you peevish little imp," he said. "You don't have to like me, but you have to listen—"

"Oh, give me a break." Another thought occurred to me as I interrupted him. "And how did you even know the beast was still alive?"

Nash matched my glower with one of his own, then turned to Emrys, pointing at the dragon. "Go on, make it snappy, princeling. We still have to search for the blasted sword."

Emrys went about his task like a man headed to the gallows. I gagged at the metallic reek of blood and intestines as I went to help him, lifting my shirt over my mouth and nose. It seemed like the creature had eaten its share of the medieval world's trash.

"Oho," Nash said, reaching into its open chest cavity. Elbow-deep, he felt around before using his dagger to cut something away—what looked to my turning stomach like a piece of muscle. "I've got a treasure for you lot. "

Caitriona came over, allowing him to plop a chunk of it into her upturned palms. She brought it closer for inspection, sniffing at it in a way that made me reflexively gag.

"Dragonheart's a powerful substance," Nash told her. "It can be used in a number of ointments and potions to amplify their effects. I think Lady Olwen would love to have some of this."

Caitriona's face fell at the mention of her sister, but she nodded. Neve took it from her, retrieving a plastic bag out of her bottomless fanny pack and wrapping it up. Undoing the buckle, she tossed the whole bag onto a nearby table, and I set mine down beside hers.

"What else should I collect for her?" Caitriona asked eagerly. "Some scales? More teeth?"

"Save one of the fangs for me, will you?" Emrys muttered from next to me. "I'd love a souvenir to remind myself of the terrifying experience I barely survived."

"Me too!" Neve said.

I grimaced, circling around the creature. The knot in my stomach tightened, and the creeping sensation of decay had returned, spreading through me like poison. Almost as if …

I can feel death hovering over it, my mind finished.

My hand rose of its own accord, fingers brushing the gleaming crimson scales.

"—sorry, great and ancient flying lizard," Neve was saying as she appeared suddenly beside me. She held up the tooth she'd selected for herself, and I shuddered at the sight of it. The thing was longer than my index finger, curving slightly.

Neve slid it into her jacket pocket, then patted the beast's neck. "If you hadn't tried to roast and eat us, we probably could have been friends."

I opened my mouth to protest, but even I had to admit that it wasn't unheard of. Dragons were cunning, fiercely intelligent creatures, and certain breeds were said to be docile enough to form friendships with mortals—though they were too stubborn to ever be trained. That thought led to another melancholy one, a drifting memory of the dragon bones curled protectively around the snowy cottage in Avalon.

"Hey, old man," Neve called to Nash. "Didn't you say Excalibur has creatures carved into its hilt?"

"I surely did," Nash said, leaning around the dragon's barbed tail. "Why?"

Neve moved past me, kneeling beside the dragon's neck where Caitriona's cut began. I saw it then too—the silver metal protruding through the oozing wound, a blood-slick steel pommel.

The sword that had been lodged in the dragon's throat for an untold number of years.

"Found it!" Neve shouted back. "And, surprise! It's not reacting to me at all because, like I told you—" She gripped the hilt and pulled the sword free with a single tug.

A phosphorous blue-white light blazed around her, tugging at her hair, her clothes, her skin. I reached for her with a gasp, but in the next moment I was flying back, riding the pressure, the power, as it exploded around her like a dying star.