Prophet of Moonshae - Douglas Niles [146]
The first thing Alicia saw was Keane, lying still and apparently lifeless. Her mind filled with whirling impressions: Her sister was here, as well as the Earl of Fairheight and a robed stranger. She saw Hanrald, with another man beside him. The pair faced a dozen riders, who watched the newcomers warily. Nearby, several dozen hounds stood in a pack, bristling with tension.
Then the shadow of the dracolich blotted out the sun, and the princess looked up to see the monster dive. Horrendous wings swept across the sky, while the fanged maw gaped, and Alicia well remembered the hellish power lurking within that grisly cavity.
The princess, in a moment of sheer panic, knew that Keane's ring had been all that protected them from the dragon's killing breath, and even that was only when he had brandished it against the monster's fireball. Now she felt terribly exposed, vulnerable to a blast that could kill her in a second.
The monster veered abruptly, belching a ball of hot gas into the air. The sphere exploded in the sky, far above the watchers in the vale, and then a tiny form ducked away from the dracolich. A bellow of rage exploded from the grotesque mouth, the sound rumbling back and forth in the bowl-shaped valley as the monster reached, trying to seize something too small to be identified from below.
Roaring mightily, swerving this way and that in its flight, the wyrm slithered furiously through the air. The sound of the massive bellows broke rocks free from the cliffs, adding the clatter of small avalanches to the chaotic scene in the air.
"Newt!" Hanrald guessed.
Alicia, squinting, spotted a tiny shape bobbing and weaving before the huge serpent. The faerie dragon dove to the side, disappearing for a moment only to materialize behind the dracolich, squealing in laughter that only inflamed the monster further.
The monstrous wyrm ducked and lunged in enraged pursuit, whipping the great body through a series of airborne contortions and several times filling the air before it with an orange-red cloud of intestinal hellfire. The fiery emissions quickly dissipated in the clear air, though the thunderous noise of the their eruption rumbled ominously throughout the vale. Back and forth the two dragons-one tiny and maneuverable, the other huge and immensely powerful-soared in their desperate game of tag.
The princess felt the power of the goddess warming her bracers, and the Staff of the White Well felt smooth in her hands. Above, the monster breathed again, and this time Newt yelped in pain. Fluttering awkwardly, he started to descend in a staggering spiral, though he vanished before Alicia could see whether-or where-he fell.
"Goddess of my mother and my Ffolk," breathed the princess softly, "give me the strength to face this challenge!"
She felt herself become part of the earth, an extension of the Earthmother's power. Giantlike strength filled her. She recognized the dracolich for the hateful abomination that it was, and she knew that her duty compelled her to destroy it.
"Serpent!" cried the princess, stamping the staff on the rocks before her.
In the sky, the dragon turned from its now invisible opponent. With a rumbling snort, it tucked the massive wings and nosed into a hurricane dive straight toward the Princess of Callidyrr.
* * * * *
"Now take her!" commanded Malawar, pointing to Alicia with a skeletal finger. Deirdre didn't have to look at the priest to identify the indicated target.
Alicia stood out like a golden statue, backlit by the brilliant hues of the rainbow behind her. Her coppery hair gleamed in the sun, and brilliant circles of pale blue light spiraled around her forearms. The staff of her mother she held vertically,