Gates of Ruin (Magelands Eternal Siege, #6) by Christopher Mitchell (top 10 books of all time .TXT) 📗

The black dragon said nothing for a moment, and Sable saw a tear escape from her right eye.

You should be very proud, Blackrose said at last; and tell Sanguino that I am proud of him.

I will.

Is there any word on Frostback?

I’m afraid not. She hasn’t been seen anywhere near the Catacombs.

A small part of Sable’s consciousness was alerted to a noise in the tomb.

We have to go, she said. Someone’s in the cavern.

Then go with my love and blessings. And, Maddie, stay strong, for me.

I’ll try, Maddie sobbed.

Sable severed the connection and got to her feet by the hearth, the keenweed clearing her mind in an instant. A dragon was hovering by the entrance to the tomb, her grey wings beating as she talked to Sanguino. Sable rushed across the cavern, leaving Maddie swaying where she sat.

‘What’s going on?’ she said to Sanguino as she reached the entrance. She glanced up at the dragon outside. It was Ashfall, one of Deathfang’s adult brood.

‘I bear a message from my father,’ the grey dragon said. ‘He wants to speak with you both in his lair. Now.’

‘Is it bad news?’ said Sable.

Ashfall glanced down at her. ‘Come and see.’

She beat her wings again, and ascended, circling upwards.

Sable looked at Sanguino. ‘We knew this day would come. Your flight was what they were waiting for.’

‘Do you think they will try to expel us, my rider?’

‘Maybe. Stay here, and I’ll tell Maddie and Millen to pack a bag each and then hide in Frostback’s old cavern. Oh, by the way, Blackrose says that she is very proud of you. She shed a tear when I told her you flew today.’

Sanguino nodded. Even without being in his mind, their link had become so strong that Sable could feel the mixture of pride and worry that flowed through him.

He nodded. ‘Don’t be long.’

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Sable climbed up onto the harness and took Sanguino out for his second flight of the day. Rather than give in to exhaustion, she had smoked another stick of keenweed, and her head was buzzing as they ascended to the highest level of tombs, lifted by the swirls of hot air rising from the lava pools at the bottom of the valley. Burntskull was waiting for them as they landed heavily in the entrance of Deathfang’s huge lair, his eyes tight.

‘Greetings,’ said Sable, as she glanced at him.

‘Frostback was right, wasn’t she?’ said the yellow dragon.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You must be a witch, otherwise how could you have made a blind dragon fly again?’

Sanguino raised his claws in a flash, his great talons aimed at Burntskull. ‘Do not insult my rider, or I will rip you in two.’

Burntskull chuckled. ‘At least you have some spirit about you; I thought it had evaporated a long time hence. Come, Deathfang is waiting.’

He led them deeper into the huge cavern, and into the vast space at the end where Deathfang ruled from atop his pile of gold. Sable saw Ashfall stand by his left, while Darksky was on his right, her brood of three young dragons peering out from under a protective wing. Others were there too, some of whom Sable didn’t recognise except for a brief glimpse of their heads as they had glanced out of their tombs at them that morning. Halfclaw was there, she noticed, the green-blue dragon that had tormented Sanguino along with Frostback when he had first arrived. Sable began to feel the dark red dragon’s fear as he faced the leadership of the Catacombs.

Everything will be fine, she said in his mind. You have nothing to fear.

Deathfang gazed at them with a lazy expression that Sable knew he used when he was anxious or worried.

‘So,’ he said, ‘the blind dragon flies again? How was this done?’

‘With patience and hard work,’ said Sanguino.

‘And with a witch as a rider,’ said Burntskull. ‘It is the only way.’

‘Is this true?’ said Deathfang.

‘May I speak, o mighty Deathfang?’ said Sable.

‘Will you try to bewitch us?’

‘If I was unable to bewitch your estranged daughter Frostback, then it would seem unlikely that any trick would work upon a dragon as powerful as you.’

Deathfang stared at her. ‘You may talk, but I warn you; if I suspect you are trying to use your unnatural powers on me, I will destroy you both.’

She lifted her left hand, and showed them the stump where her little finger had been. ‘A god did this to me. It may not look like much to you, but we humans need our fingers.’ She then lifted her tunic to show the large scar across her stomach. ‘Another god did this to me, and I nearly died because of it. I lay in a fever for days, and it has taken time to heal.’

‘Of what possible interest are your injuries to us?’ said Burntskull.

‘I am trying to prove something. I was maimed and wounded, and so was Sanguino. Alone, we are less than we are together. Together, we flew. You can call it witchcraft if you wish, but for a moment, please consider that dragons and people can sometimes help each other. Please, do not dismiss the notion out of hand.’

‘Any dragon that needs a human is weak,’ said Deathfang.

Sable smiled. ‘Why?’

‘It would be like a human needing a rat,’ said Burntskull.

‘A blind man may need a faithful dog to help him find his way, and to protect him.’

Burntskull laughed. ‘You equate yourself to a dog?’

She shrugged. ‘Better than a rat.’

‘Enough,’ said Deathfang. ‘I get your point, witch. For many days, we have debated what to do about your presence here in the Catacombs. For a while, we continued to expect the return of Blackrose, but it seems clear that she will never come back to the Catacombs. We must presume that she is dead.’

‘She is not dead,’ said Sable. ‘I spoke to her half an hour ago.’

There were muttered gasps from the dragons in the cavern.

‘Yes,’ said Sable, ‘I am what you would call a