The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [218]
Slowly, reluctantly, the men unbuckled their baldrics and stepped forward to lay their falcatas or the older curved sabres down at the herald’s feet. A few carried short swords and iron spear points in their saddlebags; they brought those out as well and added them to the growing pile. When they were done, the servants hurried forward and scooped them up. With the herald leading the way, they resumed their slow walk to the camp. Sidro let Pir go on ahead. She lingered behind for one last moment alone, one last look at the forest where, for that brief while, she and Laz had been so happy.
That lingering look back proved more dangerous than a thousand weapons. She heard a sound like an enormous drum, beating high above her, then the hiss of huge wings gliding from the sky. She looked up just as the silver dragon came plummeting down. Sidro screamed, unable to run, unable to think as he landed some twenty feet in front of her. With a roar that made her head ring with terror he folded his wings, then strode towards her.
‘You!’ he hissed. ‘Raena, Merodda, you howling bitch!’
‘Who?’ Sidro stammered. ‘I’m not! Why do you hate me? Please don’t kill me!’
She fell to her knees and stretched out her arms in supplication. The vinegar smell of wyrm hung so thick in the air that she could barely breathe, much less think clearly. She heard Pir shout, heard men running towards her, but she knew that they could never prevent the dragon from striking. Sidro drew a deep breath and stopped trembling. She would face death bravely, she decided, the only dignity left to her. The dragon took another step towards her, lowered his head, and growled with a sound like an avalanche rumbling down a distant mountain.
‘Get back!’ Sword in hand, Lord Gerran charged in between them. ‘You may not kill her.’
‘What’s it to you if I do or not?’
‘I gave my word of honour that no one would harm her.’
‘Do you think you can stop me?’ The dragon’s words turned into a long hiss.
‘Of course not.’ Gerran’s voice sounded perfectly calm. ‘But you’ll have to kill me first to get hold of her.’
The silver wyrm raised his massive head and opened his mouth to reveal fangs the size of sword blades. Gerran waited, his sword held in front of him, the point touching the ground as if he were completely indifferent to the malevolence that faced him. In the sunlight, Gerran’s red hair flamed. The dragon’s scales glittered, as silver as a murderer’s moon. Sidro waited, wondering if she’d find Laz in the Deathworld, for a moment that seemed to stretch to touch eternity. Suddenly the dragon sighed with so human a sound that she yelped in surprise.
‘I could never harm you.’ The dragon said to Gerran, then laid his head upon the ground. ‘Well and good then. I shan’t kill her, if it means that much to you.’
‘Do I have your sworn word on that?’ Gerran said.
‘You do.’ The dragon’s voice turned into something very soft, very human. ‘I swear it on a dragon’s honour, Cullyn, since the man I was had none left.’
‘Done, then!’ Gerran sheathed his sword, then looked up, puzzled. ‘What did you call me?’
The dragon rumbled with laughter. ‘My apologies! He was another man I knew once, that’s all. Before a fight, he held his sword much as you held yours, and so you reminded me of him just now. You have my sworn word, Lord Gerran, that I’ll let the woman live. I’ll take my oath on the fire mountain I call home.’
‘My thanks,’ Gerran said. ‘And you have mine that she won’t be doing you any harm—as if she could!’
The dragon bobbed his head in deference, then swung his massive self around and waddled away, as clumsy on the ground as he was deadly in the sky. His huge tail flicked from side to side. Sidro staggered to her feet, surprised that she could stand on legs that had all the strength of snow under a hot sun. Gerran was watching her with a slight smile. She could smell not so much as a trace of fear. He might have merely swatted away a fly who’d been circling around her.
‘My thanks,’ Sidro stammered. ‘My heartfelt thanks! I