The Count of the Living Death (The Chronicles of Hildigrim Blackbeard) by Joshua Grasso

Author:Joshua Grasso
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2013-10-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Paralyzed, Mary watched its eyes as they lowered toward her face, the pupils shrinking in the light. From somewhere deep below it whispered alien sounds in a macabre incantation. It breathed loudly, waiting; Mary still waited for the riddle.

"So?" it said.

"But I...you didn't say it."

"I did. In my own tongue. We didn't specify the language."

Unfair, certainly, but perhaps no more unfair than quibbling over "ice" and "iceberg." She had no response--a mere wave of her hands, a gradual sinking to the floor. Ivan shared her resignation, trying vainly to rouse Leopold, who slumbered away. Only Lucas seemed uncertain, looking from one to another as if desiring a translation. The dragon seemed satisfied. Humans were cunning, but they were far from wise; not even the craftiest thief had liberated a single fob from his treasure. Yet a shadow seemed to darken his thoughts as he made this resolution. A reminder that someone, many long years ago, had stolen something equally precious from his horde. Someone he could almost name, though the memory was hateful...

"The answer to your riddle is sleep," said a voice behind her.

She turned to find Blackbeard at her side clutching an oversized tome of magic. The dragon shrank into a defensive posture, the eyes pools of fire, burning with hate.

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"You!" it hissed. "You dare return here after your shameless actions!"

"You've failed her wager and we've answered yours," he said, striding forward. "By your own laws you are honor-bound to release them."

"Your lies have made a mockery of our laws!" it said, showing its teeth. "How dare you cross my threshold? No law in the world will allow your escape--and I would break it regardless!"

The dragon let out a tremendous belch of fire. The heat alone singed Mary's hair and made her gasp for breath. Why was she still alive? Through the flames she could see the silhouette of Blackbeard, holding his book aloft, shielding them from the inferno. A tremendous cry shook the walls as the dragon unleashed fire upon fire on his foes. But Blackbeard held firm and the trio crouched in terror behind him. Mary hastened to swat out a flame that danced over Leopold's jacket. Why didn't he move? Unless he had been beaten senseless, or had fainted through sheer terror (certainly not!) he should have woken up! Abruptly, the dragon gasped and its mouth spewed a frothy saliva followed by a plume of smoke. Its fire was out; exhausted, it staggered angrily toward them, intending to crush them into blood and bones.

"Everyone--join hands! Quickly!" Blackbeard shouted.

Mary took his hand and Ivan's; Ivan took Leopold's and grasped Lucas in the other. The dragon bore down on them like vengeance itself—yet found only a circle of ash. Nothing remained of the sorcerer or the woman it called a diamond, an emerald, a gleaming jewel. For the first time in its ancient life it had been robbed of a priceless treasure. And for the second time it had reason to curse the name 'Hildigrim Blackbeard.'

"I will find him.

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