Hawklady: A Spellmonger Cadet Novel by Mancour Terry

Author:Mancour, Terry [Mancour, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2017-05-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Dragonslayer

Dara gulped as she stared at the hideous, gigantic face of the unconscious dragon. A row of arrows had been neatly shot at the beast’s upper lip, each shaft equipped with a pebble of snowstone. That, and the pile of white pebbles around it, had allowed the warmagi to prop open the mighty jaw of the beast slightly – only slightly – but wide enough to admit the Thoughtful Knife.

Dara took one final deep breath before she pushed the Knife between the dark gray lips of the beast. Darkness enveloped it at once . . . but the Knife adjusted its magical perception, and soon Dara could see three rows of teeth as long as her borrowed dagger. The cavern of the dragon’s mouth was roomy enough for the Knife to fly without touching a thing . . . but it was almost as thickly armored as the dragon’s exterior hide.

The throat at the back of the throat, however, was a lighter, more vulnerable-looking tissue, Dara noted. She began pushing the Knife through the sphincter of the worm’s great throat, hoping the sharp blades were doing something when they touched the sides.

Apparently they were, Dara figured a moment later, as the muscles of the throat spasmed around the foreign object. The pressure of the muscles on the exterior of the Knife was powerful, but Dara wasn’t concerned. The Knife was magically hardened with Alka Alon enchantments, after being fashioned from some unknown but nearly invulnerable material. Whatever else happened, she was reasonably certain it couldn’t be damaged.

But the spasms did slow her movement.

“I’m feeling some resistance,” she reported to Gareth. “The throat isn’t as big as you’d think. On the inside,” she added.

“How far back are you?”

“Only about six feet, give or take,” she decided. “It’s hard to judge, in here.”

Dara soon discovered another problem. Once she’d directed the Knife within the body of the dragon, her connection to it began to falter.

“Oh, Smoke and Ashes!” she swore, as she felt the contact lag. “I’m having a hard time keeping in contact.”

“It’s the thaumaturgical resistance,” Gareth answered, reluctantly. “Minalan attached a piece of snowstone to the Knife to help, but it’s . . . just do your best. Are you where you need to be?”

“Almost,” Dara said, exerting her will to keep the connection to the weapon intact. “All right, I’m as close as I can – what?” she asked in surprise, as the Knife started to tumble. The dragon’s throat was spasming again, she realized. Only this time it seemed a lot more deliberate. The Knife tumbled as the powerful muscles clamped down on it . . . but while the pressure was disorientating, the spasm did reveal something important: blood.

That was something she’d yet to see in this battle. Every attack from outside had been unable to penetrate the armor of the worm, but for the first time she saw the interior of the dragon’s throat splattered with blood from where the sharp wings had gouged it.

“All right,” she said, pleased.

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