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Great Escape

Gren Drake, 2013

This is a sequel to my older story "Payment" that I rediscovered in my "Work-In-Progress" Folder and fixed up for posting. Hope you enjoy!

It had taken her several days to reach the dragon's lair on foot, but thanks to the dragon's unexpected assistance it took only a few hours to return. This didn't mean the return trip was more pleasant; there was just as much discomfort packed into those few hours as the entire trip to the dragon's lair, especially with the way his dug into her shoulders while he carried her. Not that she was about to complain, especially with the way she could feel the fabric of her tunic slowly tearing. Being dropped would be rather worse than any amount of claw scars.

During the trip she regularly had to point out directions and, not being familiar with the dragon's territory, she could do little but retrace her path. Even then, the landmarks she'd used on her way in were difficult to recognize from the air. That the dragon couldn't hear her just made things more difficult. At least she could hear him; his voice boomed out over the roaring wind with ease.

It was near dusk when he dove down into the small clearing. The clearing wasn't as close to where her people were camped--where they'd been camped when she left--yet it was also closer than she really liked; the sight of a dragon landing in the forest would make a remarkable beacon for the Overlord's army that was pursuing her people.

As the dragon swooped over the ground he dropped her. Fortunately the fall was only a few feet; she wasn't more than mildly jolted though she did end up on all fours and had to spend a moment standing up. Afterwards, she struck out at a brisk walk towards the camp, intending not to so much as glance towards the dragon; the memory of what he'd demanded of her to protect her people still burned in her memory.

But the sound of the ground-cover crunching behind her made her glance backwards; the dragon had landed not far from where he'd dropped her and was already walking after her. She sighed; he'd already agreed to allow her people on his land and she'd already paid his price. Why couldn't he just go away? She was still sore from when he'd mounted her. And while she had managed a quick wash in a mini-waterfall he'd had in his lair, she couldn't help but feel as though she could still feel his sticky seed on her. At least she'd dried off during the flight.

He didn't even look like someone who'd control such a massive territory or even like stories led one to expect dragons to look. She'd seen horses that were larger than him and more dangerous as well. The most dangerous looking thing about him was the two pairs of horns that sprouted from above his ears and swept back, but even those looked more decorative than dangerous. And while the darkness created by the forest cover left him looking sleek and black rather than the rich blue he'd been in the light, the way he struck his snout into everything they passed rather ruined what semblance of power he might have possessed.

But as she continued towards the camp she didn't have time to think about him; the lack of smoke hadn't bothered her--it would be foolish to broadcast their position so clearly--but a sentry should have spotted her by now, especially given the dragon's complete ineptitude at stealth. Had Ronald, her chief aide and second in command, been forced to move the camp? She hoped she could find him.

Thus, when three men stepped out of the trees with swords drawn she could almost have collapsed with relief and she surprised herself by chuckling slightly; relief was generally not the emotion that resulted from being confronted by a group of armed men.

"Identify yourself!" the centre man said. He was big, well-built and moved with a deceptive grace. Despite the darkness she recognized him but couldn't recall his name. He was one of the more competent soldiers left in her band of refugees. Not that there was any other kind now; even the surviving civilians had been forced to become competent.

"It's Bethann."

He fell to his knees and the others sheathed their blades. "My lady! I beg your pardon; I did not recognize you in this darkness. We feared you had died. Or worse. Lord Ronald has already declared that will be moving out tomorrow for fear you'd been captured."

She gestured him back to his feet. "I'm glad to hear it. I've returned and with good-"

The swords were out once more, the men alert but staring. After a moment of confusion she glanced over her shoulder and saw the dragon appear out of the trees; he had fallen behind her a few times, but she seemed unable to lose him. From the way he was carefully placing his feet it was obvious he was trying to be quiet, but he was still making enough noise to fail miserably.

"At ease." She sighed, shaking her head and turning away from the dragon once more. "He's with me, I guess." Why couldn't he have gone home? She didn't actually need him around. The swords were lowered, but not put away. It was good that her people were paranoid. Paranoia kept them alive

"Take me to Ronald," she told them. "We have much planning ahead."

"My Lady," The centre sentry bowed as he stood, then took the lead. Another of the sentries followed behind the dragon, his sword lowered but still obviously drawn. The third disappeared back into the forest.

She found the way the dragon simultaneously tried to walk forward and watch the soldier behind him surprisingly amusing and she spent more time then she'd have expected watching him over her shoulder. He constantly stumbled and tripped; it was only because he was four-legged that he didn't constantly land face-first on the ground. Even as it was, he still took a few falls.

* * *

It did not take long to reach the camp, nor the command tent within. The tent was a massive construct of fabric and poles that looked more suited to a festival than a refugee camp. That wasn't what surprised the dragon, Dalarth, the most. Numerous tents, many just as brightly coloured were scattered between the trees along with groups of people, most armed. A constant flow of messengers moved between the groups and the sound of low voices could be heard from nearly every angle. A grim determination filled that air that took the place of welcoming fires such a camp might normally have had. The most surprisingly thing, though, was that he had seen only the barest hint of all this from the air.

Dalarth followed Bethann into the command tent, all too aware of the eyes that followed him and of the soldier with a naked blade directly behind him.

The inside of the tent was mostly occupied with a large table. Weighted down by rocks on its surface was a map that even from a distance and in the poor light he recognized as his territory along with some of the surrounding area. A pair of lanterns sat on either side, but even inside the tent they were turned low and provided only the barest illumination.

Across the table was a man who, despite ragged clothes more suited to a beggar, radiated an aura of command. He looked up as Bethann as she entered, his eyes barely flickering to Dalarth as the dragon followed.

"My lady?"

"I have returned." She stopped just across the table from him. "As much as I am glad not to have to follow your trail, we must prepare to move out immediately."

The man gestured to the shadows at the side of the tent. A moment later a lightly dressed boy appeared for a moment before disappearing out of the tent, presumably to start said preparations.

"My journey was successful; we may enter the dragon's lands."

Even Dalarth could see the weight lifted from the man's shoulders. This man seemed to be the Ronald she'd mentioned early and Dalarth settled to his haunches as the two spoke.

"We must plan our route and depart as soon as possible," Bethann continued

Dalarth cleared his throat. "Um, wouldn't it be better to wait until day? My mountains are rather treacherous."

"No," Bethann and the man said as one. They glanced at each other, then Bethann continued speaking. "The Overlord may discover us at any time. Truthfully, we have remained here too long as it is."

The man nodded, staring more thoughtfully at Dalarth now.

"Ronald, this is the dragon whose lands we shall be entering. Ah, dragon, this is my chief aide Ronald; he's responsible for this band of my people."

"I am Dalarth," He wasn't sure if he'd ever introduced himself to Bethann; he couldn't remember it coming up.

"And in return?" Ronald asked. Dalarth opened his mouth to reply, but Bethann beat him to it.

"He has already been paid." Her voice had taken on a decidedly unfriendly tone and Dalarth decided it would be best to avoid the subject.

Ronald seemed to take this in stride and turned his gaze down to the map. "Our secondary camps should be here, here, here, and here. We've kept runners to a minimum; none have disappeared and hopefully they've gone undetected." He continued to point to spots on the map as he spoke.

Dalarth sidled up closer to the map, looking down at it himself. It was hard to make any details out, however, given the darkness. Without thinking about it he reached up with a forepaw and made an arcane gesture, summoning a ball of light into existence. In deference to the human's apparent desire for poor lighting he made it rather dimmer than he normally would and positioned it slightly above the map, leaving that document starkly illuminated even as the edges of the tent were still in darkness.

Ronald looked up at Dalarth sharply, eyes narrowed, but Bethann shook her head. "We don't have time for superstition; if I didn't trust this dragon to keep its bargain we wouldn't be having this discussion."

"Very well my lady," Ronald lowered his eyes once more to the map. Dalarth could see they still occasionally flickered to the ball of light or Dalarth himself.

"This looks like a good destination," he continued, planting a finger at the map. "It looks both flat and highly defensible." Bethann nodded, her finger sketching out a path between where they were and the place in question even as Dalarth squinted at the map. There was something about that spot tugging at his memory, but he was having difficulty associating the map with the actual land; he was not used to relating to maps and this map had some accuracy issues, though at least not in the major features.

"Er, I think that a swamp."

"Oh." Ronald looked up at the dragon. "You sure about that?"

Dalarth nodded. "It has good hunting if you don't mind insects and getting rather wet."

"What about this spot?" Bethann indicated a low plateau along the mountain side. "It doesn't look as defensible, but I think the trip might actually be easier."

Dalarth tilted his head as he considered it. "I don't think there's a problem there," he said, his voice trailing off as he lifted a forepaw and folded all but one toe under. He used the claw on this last toe to draw an invisible line over the map. "You'll need to avoid crossing this line, though. Beyond is Magdalath's territory."

Ronald nodded. "I'll see to it. We shall gather here," he indicated a point a short distance towards their destination, "and continue as a single group. Once we start moving it will be difficult to avoid detection. Speed will be more important than secrecy at that point."

"Yes," Bethann turned to Dalarth. "Anything to add?"

The dragon considered the map for a moment, thinking about the route they had to be taking. Then he stabbed his claw down on the map.

"Be careful crossing this valley; the cliffs are unstable and it wouldn't take much for them to collapse."

Bethann and Ronald looked up at each other, seeming to simply stare at each other.

"Do we have any explosives left?" Bethann asked.

"I shall have the sappers on standby when we cross through." Ronald replied. Dalarth stared at him, head tilted in confusion, unclear at what sap had to do with explosives or why one would gather it while fleeing.

"Explosives?" He'd actually understood that part of the exchange, though deliberately bringing down the cliff sides hadn't occurred to him. Admittedly, it wasn't his life in danger; he didn't have the same incentive. "I could probably bring them down with magic if it would help.

Ronald glanced at him and Bethann shrugged. "We'll still keep the sappers on standby in case this beast's scholarly perversions fail." Dalarth considered; it seemed sappers had something to do with explosives. Good to know.

"Also," he continued, ignoring her remark, "you can cross the canyon here," he indicated the spot on the map. "Otherwise you'll have to go quite a ways around."

"It would take too long to build a bridge," Ronald said.

"There's already one in place. And it's quite sturdy, I have no doubt it could support everyone crossing it." Dalarth deliberately looked between Ronald and Bethann. "Even my people have need to transport heavy goods on occasion and it's hard to carry weight much by wing. Most of my income comes from tolls off supplies heading deeper into the mountains, to the Citadel."

"Have the sappers ready to blow the bridge behind us," Bethann said.

"You can't do that; I need that bridge for my livelihood! You have no idea what those things cost to replace or how long it takes." Not that Dalarth knew these things either; the bridge predated his possession of the area by a considerable margin.

"If it's a choice between my people or your bridge, I won't hesitate."

Dalarth collapsed into himself slightly. Why had he tried to be helpful? It seemed it was just going to make his life more troublesome. He dreaded explaining to the Council why he'd allowed a bunch of humans to destroy the bridge. Neither of the humans seemed to notice, however, and he went ahead with the last thing he had to suggest. There was no way they could mess up his life with that one!

"You'll need to be careful near here," he indicated the area leading up to the chosen plateau; it was the only practical way to reach it from the bridge. "It passes near the edge of my territory. Anyone who strays over the line will have to face Magdalath's wrath. She's my neighbor," he added at the human's blank looks. "Much more a student of the unnatural arts than I am and she really hates humans. She won't risk the council's anger by straying across the border without permission, though."

"How visible is this border?" Bethann asked.

"It's marked by a stream."

"Good. Anything else?"

"No."

"Then we're set. I'll see about getting what sleep I can while we prepare to head out."

"As you say my lady." Ronald bowed, collected the map, and slipped out of the tent, leaving Dalarth alone with Bethann.

"This is not what I expected," he admitted. "It is much more, ah, martial."

"So? Most of my people who weren't are already food for scavengers. What you see are those fast, lucky, or skilled enough to have survived."

Dalarth didn't reply; he didn't know what to say. During the awkward silence a cot was brought in and set up with a blanket. Bethann sat down on it.

"You can sleep outside," she said. "If you're still sticking around."

Even as he slunk out of the tent he could see her stretching out on the cot. He hoped she could get some rest. Things would look better if she were more rested.

* * *

For Bethann, sleep was filled with dreams of blood and death and the clashing of swords. The dark figure of the Overlord loomed over everything, dominating and destroying that which he couldn't claim.

It was a relief when one of Ronald's aids shook her awake. She was covered in sweat and could feel herself shivering. It was just one more layer of repellant moisture in clothes; her sweat combined with the dampness from when she cleaned herself off after paying the dragon's price. It was a shame there was no time for her to change her clothes, thought admittedly she wasn't sure where she had another set anyway.

She stood, holding onto the edge of the bed until her legs were steady. In the meantime she glanced around; aside from herself, the tent had been emptied. Even the large table that had held the map was absent. Only the globe of light the dragon had created remained, casting its dim light. This only made the barrenness of the tent more evident and it seemed to seep into her soul.

She shook her head; there were too many things to do for her to waste time on such thoughts. She started for the door, but hesitated when the dragon's clawed footprint caught her eye.

Ugh! Why was she letting herself get distracted by that beast? Thinking about the dragon was only marginally better than the thoughts it'd displaced.

She exited the tent. It was still dark and, to her surprise, the dragon was stretched out on his side not far from the entrance. He was watching the frantic activity around him with curiosity.

"Still here?" she asked as a small group of people entered the tent behind her. One carried the cot out while the rest collapsed the tent.

"Yes." He glanced over at her, then away again. She supposed she probably didn't look her best and having to deal with the dragon again so soon was not going to improve her temper.

"Why?" She moved in front of him to glared at him. Not only had he followed her and hung around without so much as asking, he wasn't exactly making himself useful either. She supposed she should consider herself lucky that he wasn't chowing down on their supplies.

Before he had a chance to reply, a messenger caught her attention and handed her a sealed dispatch. She broke the seal and skimmed it; it was from Ronald who was already at their gather point. One of their camps had been discovered; only a few had escaped.

She sighed, her hands absently rolling the dispatch back up and tucking it into her shirt; no sense letting the news get out too soon, it might cause a panic.

She jumped when she realized the dragon had moved, circling around her and looking over her shoulder. No doubt he had read the dispatch as well, then.

She glared at him some more. "You shouldn't read other people's messages." At least he had the decency to look ashamed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't realize that your situation was this bad. If I had known..." his voice trailed off.

"Yes? If you had known?" Even as she stepped away from him, not wanting to feel that his proximity, she watched him.

He was silent for a few moments before answering, settling to his haunches in the meantime and fidgeting. She would never have imagined that a creature like a dragon could look so uncomfortable or so nervous.

"I would not have asked what I did."

"So you only demand sexual favours from those who are mistaken about fleeing for their lives?" She could see his head droop further as she spoke. "How noble of you." Then, realizing just what she had said, she glanced around. She really didn't want it to get around just what she'd done to secure their safety. Fortunately, there was nobody close by.

"That's not-" he protested.

She turned her back to him and started to walk away, towards the one of the few remaining groups of people. "It is time we were off. Perhaps dealing with the cliffs will be more suited to you."

"Is there nothing I can do?" he called after her, his voice booming into the forest. She hadn't realized just how loud a dragon could be.

She turned back to him; barren as the camp had become, there were still too many people around for her to say no. Besides, as much as she wished he'd go away, there were things he could do and she was in no position to turn down help.

"I see we still have some of the injured here," she said. "As well as some children and even some of the elderly." Most of those would have already left by wagon, but there were only so many wagons to go around. "I suppose you could always give them a lift."

"What?" His head jerked back and up. "On my back? Like some kind of beast of burden?" He stared at her, eyes wide, and from his expression she wasn't sure if he was more horrified or shocked at the suggestion.

"It is entirely your choice, of course," she said, making sure to speak loudly. Not that there was any truth to this, really. He could no more tell her no now without losing respect from her people than she could have told him no when he asked.

He sagged. "And where would I find them?"

She gestured around; most of those remaining were the weak or lame. The healthy had gone ahead to break their path.

The dragon stood and slunk off towards the nearest group.

* * *

It was well into the following evening when they reached the valley the dragon had indicated on the map. Bethann stood to one side, watching as her people made their way through it. She was glad that she had not waited to depart; scouts trailing behind the band of refugees reported seeing the Overlord's army arriving at their camp only a few hours after she had left it. Thus, she intended to continue pushing her people through the valley as long as she could, even if she herself felt groggy and asleep on her feet.

As her people made their way through the valley her eyes kept straying to the cliffs on either side; even the passage of people on foot had been causing bits of rubble to fall off. She had ordered the sappers back for fear their approach would set the cliffs collapsing too soon.

She had remained amongst the knee-high grasses on the bank of the fast-running river that'd carved out the valley. She had seen the dragon pass by several times, ferry people through. She never saw him return; probably he was flying back. A shame he couldn't carry them while flying; it would have speeded things up considerably. And she had to admit, reluctant as he'd been to begin the task, once he had started he went about it vigorously. She'd even seen him chatting with the people he was carrying and, while she hadn't tried to make out what was being said, both dragon and the people he was carrying seemed cheerful enough, which was in itself a blessing. There had been little enough for any of them to be cheerful about for quite a while.

Then, almost at once, there were no more people. She stood on the river-bank alone, though not for long. There was a loud splash and she turned to see the dragon had landed knee-deep in the river and was looking rather displeased about it. He climbed out, the mud making sucking sounds as he took each step. For a moment she watched as he tried to scrap the mud off the lower half of his legs with his forepaws. After a moment he seemed to realize that he'd only succeeded in making himself muddier and gave up on it.

"So, dragon, you said you could bring down these cliffs?" Not that, having seen them now, she thought it'd be much of a challenge. He could probably bring them down with a good shout. Hell, the overlord's army would be liable to bring them down just by passing through.

"It's been getting rather dark," he said, "but I will try."

"Good." She stayed were she was and watched him begin his preparations. Unlike when he'd created the balls of light, it seemed destroying the cliffs was more involved.

He settled back onto his haunches and raised his forepaws. A gesture with each created a pair of lights that rapidly floated towards the cliffs. He seemed to pay neither of them any attention, however, nor to what they showed. Instead, he curled one forepaw up, extending only a single clawed digit and he used this to scratch out a design on the ground as he muttered to himself.

Bethann looked out at the globes, now distant but still quite visible against the darkening sky before returning her attention to the dragon.

"Want to make sure everyone can see your handiwork?"

He paused as he replied. "Just trying to make sure I destroy the right thing; it's a lot easy to target my spells than it is a random patch of ground."

She shrugged; she would happily admit she knew nothing of magic. Her only concern was that the overlord's people would see the lights and realize what was happening, but even if they saw the lights who'd associate them with acts of demolition? At least in advance; it would probably be fairly obvious afterwards, but that would hardly matter.

The dragon continued working, drawing in the dirt and mumbling to himself. What little interest she had in his efforts quickly faded and she found herself staring down the valley.

There were people marching up it. At first she thought they were stragglers of her refugees, but then light cast from the dragon's glowing balls glinted off of metal. They were armoured. It was the Overlord's army.

Bethann turned to face the dragon. "I don't suppose you could work any faster? What's all this needed for, anyway? You seem to be able to make those lights well enough without it."

Although the dragon didn't stop while he replied, he didn't start working faster, either. "I create rather more lights than explosions. And a mistake with the light may be awkward; a mistake with an explosion can have rather more significant effects. Like igniting the wrong thing. Say, us."

She nodded; it seemed to make sense and she certainly had no desire to be blown up. Still...

"I only mention this because it looks like we're going to have distinctly unfriendly company before long."

He looked up briefly then returned to his working. This time he did speed up.

A pair of tense minutes passed. Bethann's eyes were fixed to the approaching army. It seemed every moment they become more visible.

She heard him stand and risked a glance towards him. This, it turned out, was a good thing.

Light flooded the valley as though the sun itself has decided to make a personal appearance. Shadows vanished as there were overwhelmed by something far brighter than mere daylight.

The dragon was still looking down the valley and she fancied that despite her clenched eyelids she could see through his eyelids and, indeed, though his hide and muscle as well.

The light seemed to drag on forever, but was soon accompanied by sound. She fell to her knees, clasping her hands over her ears. She might have screamed, and a later soreness in her throat certainly supported this idea, but if so the sound was lost entirely. It was as if she were hearing all the earth vent its fury at once.

Then there was a wave of heat as though the entire valley were consumed in an instant blaze. It felt as though her skin was burning, especially her back, and she feared for her clothes.

She couldn't bring herself to move. Then, it was over. Silent, chill darkness returned.

As she could barely see anything in the wake of the blast she blinked repeatedly. It didn't help much, but at least the army was sure to have been afflicted as well.

A distant rumble told her the valley was collapsing.

"Dragon," she said. "I don't suppose you could make one of your light balls?"

A moment later a dim globe of light appeared a few feet off the ground. In its illumination she could see the dragon gesture a second into existence, then a third. He was in the process of making a forth when she spoke.

"I think that's-"

"Sorry," he interrupted. "I'm not sure why, but it seems I can't."

"But you did!" She stepped over to one of the globes, cautiously reaching out and touching it. There was no sensation at all; other than the light itself it was as if nothing was there.

He shook his head. "Then why can't I see anything?" The several balls he'd created provided more than enough light for her to see him blinking furiously and even cautiously rub at his eyes with a forepaw. Unsurprisingly, the mud that'd been on him earlier was entirely dry now. "All I can see are shadows moving in the darkness."

"How should I know?" She turned to where the army had been as she spoke. While the light was rather on the dim side, the canyon did seem to have been completely blocked off. Indeed, the river had slowed to a trickle. The rubble must have blocked it off; there was probably flooding on the other side.

She grinned at the thought of the army having to stand in the rising water. It would not be good for their morale.

"It doesn't really matter," she said. "We need to be getting back. I doubt it will take long for them to start clearing that, especially if they've got any wizards along." She stepped over next to the dragon and put a hand on his shoulder. "Here, I'll guide you along. We really don't want to stay here."

She started walking and after a moment so did he. His steps were slow, clumsy, and uncertain allowing them to progress only slowly, but they did make progress.

* * *

Dalarth continued blinking frequently as he walked; he'd long since given up on it actually helping, but he didn't have any better ideas. The world still consisted of shadows moving in the dark. Admittedly, it had to be getting to late evening, but Bethann had assured him his lights were working and they should have provided at least some illumination.

Not being able to see was being a definite hindrance to walking quickly. He wanted to walk quickly; he was all too aware that there was an undoubtedly angry army behind him, separated from him only by a pile of rubble. But without being able to see what was ahead of him it was difficult to avoid walking into things or putting a foot down in a bad place.

Bethann had put a hand on his shoulder and was guiding him which helped considerably, but her vision, while better than his, wasn't recovered either. Besides, she was used to thinking in bipedal terms; his body did not move the same way.

Still, it felt good to have her touch him, especially when it was her own idea, so he played up his difficulty walking a bit. Not too much as he wanted to get away more than get her attention, but just a bit. It wasn't like he normally stared at his feet as he walked, especially when it came to his hind feet. And having twice as many legs as she did made him distinctly more stable. At the same time, he definitely felt a bit woozy; the spell had taken more out of him than he had expected which was not a good combination with his blindness.

There was the sound of footsteps ahead, running, then slowing as they neared Dalarth and Bethann.

"What happened?" It was Ronald. "We could see the blast. It lit everything up rather brightly." There was a moment of silence. "What's wrong?"

"I'm blind!" Dalarth snapped, glaring in Ronald's direction. At least, what he thought was Ronald's direction. He instantly regretted the words; it was hardly Ronald's fault he'd messed up the spell, but it was too late to avoid saying them. He took a couple of deep breaths; when he spoke again his words were much calmer. "I can't see more than flickers after the blast."

"We'll have to leave him," Ronald said. He did not sound particularly disturbed by this. "There isn't room enough in the wagons for our own people, let alone this creature, and we cannot afford to have him slow us down now. The overlord's army is far too close for comfort."

As Ronald spoke, Dalarth realized there was a definite truth to the human's words. It wasn't like he'd even been invited to help; he had essentially forced himself onto both Bethann and her people. Did whatever meager help he'd managed to provide obligate them to him after that?

He was so lost in his thoughts he almost missed Bethann's reply. "No." It was spoken quietly, but firmly. "I will not; I cannot. Not again. Too many people have already died. And while I may not appreciate the terms of his agreement, he has more than held up his end."

"He's right," Dalarth said. "You can hardly afford to drag me along like this. Just let me find a cave and I'll stay out of everyone's way until I recover." If he recovered, he added silently.

"No," Bethann repeated. "The Overlord will hardly just ignore you after this. Come, we will walk."

She stepped forward, pushing him. When he didn't move, she wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him forward. Given he probably weighed two or three times what she did it didn't surprise him that this accomplished nothing.

"Walk, dragon!"

"I am sick of walking!" he protested loudly. "Dragons are not meant for walking long distance. That is what wings are for."

"Fly then," she said, slapping his flank.

"My lady-" Ronald began, but Dalarth ignored him, talking over him.

"Bad enough trying to fly in the dark! I'd be liable to run into a tree now, if not the bloody cliff."

"My lady," Ronald tried again, "I really don't think-"

"Walk then!" Bethann interrupted Ronald this time. She had moved around behind him, pushing on the dragon's rear.

"-this is a good idea," Ronald finished.

Dalarth reluctantly allowing himself to be moved; it seemed Bethann wasn't going to move either otherwise and slow progress was better than none at all. As he did he thought to himself.

It was strange, he thought. He had first seen Bethann as a supplicant. Hardly the first and he'd treated her pretty much like any other. He hardly cared about humans traveling through his lands, but he had no problem extorting cash or favours from those who asked permission. When he'd brought her back he'd gotten curious; her people formed the largest group of humans he'd ever encountered by far. And then he'd found himself getting caught up in their struggles so much that he'd ended up losing his sight helping them. Magdalath would call him a fool, perhaps rightly so. And she'd get her chance to do it soon enough, too; it wouldn't be long after they crossed the bridge that they neared the border and he had no doubt the sight of so many humans would draw her out.

He was pulled from his speculation when suddenly he felt a weight land on his back. He stumbled, but quickly caught his footing. He could still feel Bethann's hand on his shoulder, but it had twisted. And, indeed, he felt her hand on his other shoulder as well.

She'd climbed onto his back! He pictured her there, nestled between his wings. Normally he'd have enjoyed the image though admittedly not as much as he'd have enjoyed the picture of her nestled up against other parts of him. Under the current circumstances he didn't enjoy it nearly so much.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

"Catching a ride! There's no need for both of us to stumble along and I can guide you better from here. It's much easier when I don't have to watch my own feet."

"It's humiliating!" Especially when it made him feel so much like a mount. She was guiding him with gentle pressure against his back and shoulders much like he imagined one would guide a horse. Not that he knew much about riding horses.

"I guess it's your turn for that, then."

He complained back at her, interrupted only by Ronald as he pointed out obstacles ahead. They ended up arguing and yelling at each other all the way back to the refugees.

And the strangest thing was that he actually felt better for it.

* * *

It was going on noon when they reached the bridge Dalarth had pointed out. Although they had stopped briefly over the night, most of the refugees had been too anxious to get much rest. Now they were stopped as Bethann decided how to progress.

Dalarth looked over his bridge as she conferred with Ronald. He hadn't seen it much lately--it wasn't like he needed to use it himself--but it still looked to be in just as good of condition as ever.

This condition did not extend to the ground on either side of the bridge. There were no roads to speak of on either side of the bridge; there were less than a dozen small caravans each with only two or three wagons each year, not nearly enough to beat down the resilient, slimy vegetation that grew throughout the area. And it wasn't like they were needed to mark the path; the bridge's users could easily just make a brief over flight of the area to determine where they were going before returning to fetch their carts.

The bridge spanned the crevice in the ground, a distance of nearly twenty metres, and was built of solid stone. Great arched supports rose from the depths of the crevasse, anchored to the cliff sides far below. The bridge had stood for far longer than Dalarth had held the territory and was said to be supported by magic as much as by more physical means. Since he'd certainly never done any maintenance on it, this seemed entirely likely. Despite rarely so much as looking at it and having nothing really to do with it other than receiving tolls, he firmly considered the bridge to be his.

He was really not looking forward to seeing the bridge destroyed, but he'd spent enough time with the refugees to have caught the feeling of their fear. Looking at it, though, he was starting to doubt that it could be destroyed which cheered him up. The bridge had stood a long time with no real maintenance or effort on the part of its caretakers; surely a few explosives wouldn't be enough to change that.

Bethann stepped out from her conference to stand next to Dalarth. A quick glance revealed that she too was staring at the bridge.

"Well," she said, "at least we don't need to worry about the Overlord's army crossing it too quickly. It's going to be enough of a pain to get my people across and we aren't burdened with supply wagons like he is."

"What's wrong with my bridge?" Dalarth snapped, glaring at her. "It's been in use for centuries and is vital in keeping the Citadel supplied. It was even used to haul stone over when the Citadel was constructed!"

"Well, it's a bit, well..." she trailed off, gesturing wordlessly at the construct. Dalarth looked at it again, but still saw nothing wrong with it; the bridge had stood for centuries past and, barring any incidents with explosives, would doubtless stand for many more.

"Small," Ronald said, stepping up behind them. "And not just a bit, either."

Dalarth tilted his head as he considered the bridge. It spanned the crevice magnificently and was more than wide enough for a pair of dragons to haul a cart of goods across. There was even a good-sized lip along the edge--a solid ten centimetres or so--to keep the cart from slipping off the side of the bridge.

"It's served us perfectly well for centuries," Dalarth said. "It is a monument of engineering!"

"I didn't think dragons bothered much with proper engineering." Ronald said.

"Humph!" Dalarth snorted, then continued. "Well, yes, I suppose. But that just makes it all the more impressive!"

"Well," Bethann interrupted, shrugging, "might as well get started." When she turned and headed off to get her people moving, Dalarth followed behind her, anxious. Just what was it with people and his bridge? It was a good bridge! It didn't deserve to be destroyed or belittled.

Ronald, he noted, stayed behind to stare at the bridge. Possibly he was there to help direct people across it, but from the looks of it, he was mostly just staring at it.

Getting everyone over the bridge took the rest of that day and lasted well into the afternoon of the next. Dalarth spent most of that time settled on his haunches near the start of the bridge, watching as Ronald directed people across in small groups. Occasionally Ronald had the foot traffic stop so that a wagon could be moved across. This process stopped entirely during the night, but began again at first light.

Occasionally he was called on to help move people across, especially those less able to walk on their own. Many of these talked freely with him. Common subjects were gratitude at how he'd managed to get the Lady (as they called Bethann) to be a bit less obsessive and how his bridge would greatly benefit from something called "railings" that seemed like a lot of work for very little benefit. If one fell off it would be simple enough just to spread one's wings and take flight.

Finally, once everything and everyone else was across, Bethann and Dalarth crossed. She kept a hand on his shoulder as they did, keeping her eyes on the far side, but Dalarth kept glancing back. The bridge had been such an unexpected delay he kept worrying about the overlord's army showing up.

"I suppose you're going to destroy my bridge now?" he said as they neared solid ground once more.

"No." She gave him a grin. "Some of my people found some interesting plants that make a wonderful grease when pulped. Since they're had nothing else to do the past day or so, they've been making up a bunch to coat the bridge with. It should make it awkward to cross until it rains.

"Oh?" Dalarth couldn't think what plants she was referring to, but then, admittedly, he wasn't much concerned with vegetation as long as it wasn't something that was going to harm him.

"See, here they come." Indeed, just as Dalarth and Bethann were reaching the end of the bridge, a small group carrying large buckets passed them, walking slowly as they edged around the pair.

"My lady," said several, nodding their heads in acknowledgement as they passed by.

Once on the ground, Dalarth turned to see them upending the buckets onto his bridge as they worked their way back. Whatever the stuff was it had a sickly green colour and flowed quickly into the cracks between the stones.

"I do hope that doesn't stain it," Dalarth said. "It's not a very appealing colour." Feeling Bethann stare at him, he continued. "What? It's pretty much my sole source of income, that bridge. But still, thank you for not destroying it, even if it does get discoloured."

They watched the bridge get covered in the green liquid for a few more minutes.

"So," Bethann said, "we're nearly to where you pointed out the border."

Dalarth nodded. "Yes. Magdalath would probably be happy to deal with any trailing parts of the army if I asked. She really hates humans."

"What about my people? You are sure we'll be safe?"

"Just don't cross the stream and there shouldn't be a problem." He glanced up at her. "Magdalath may hate humans, but this side of the stream is still my territory. The Council would not be happy with her if she killed someone I'd invited, even if you are human."

"Shouldn't? I don't want to base my people's safety on a 'shouldn't'."

Dalarth grimaced. "Sorry. A poor choice of words. Really, it's much safer than I made it sound; the border is marked by a stream, it's really obvious where it is."

The men coating the bridge had reached where Bethann and Dalarth where and everyone started walking back to the group of Refugees. It was time to get started moving again and make what distance they could.

"So, what's this Magdalath of yours going to do that would help against an army? She'd just one dragon, isn't she?"

"I never really took up what we call the Unnatural Arts; mostly I just create lights. Anything else I have to do the long way and even then I tend to have difficulty with the details."

"Yes, I noticed."

Dalarth winced. "Magdalath has pursued them much more vigorously. I don't know exactly what she'll do, but I have no doubt that it will be quite effective. Rumour has it she got stuck on the frontier here because no one wanted to get too close to her and her experiments."

"Oh? And why did you get stuck out here?"

That question Dalarth declined to answer, finishing the trip back to the refugees in silence.

* * *

The slope of the terrain was becoming increasingly steep as the band of refugees continued travelling, eventually reaching the point where their few wagons could not be pulled along anymore. It was with much regret that Bethann ordered them abandoned. She was quick to point out, however, that they had only a few wagons whereas the overlord's army would have rather more and would depend on them more. Dalarth was, to his expressed annoyance, pressed into service once more ferrying those least able to travel on their own.

It was just turning to twilight, helped along by a growing layer of dark clouds, when they reached level ground once more. A narrow stream was visible flowing rapidly over a bed of smooth rocks. Occasionally twigs or larger bits of wood were washed down it towards its inevitable, if unseen, destination.

Bethann had the refugees pause on the plateau, turning to look at the ground they'd just climbed. Both Ronald and Dalarth accompanied her, all staring down at the numerous points of light that were appearing in the distance.

"Is that...?" Dalarth asked.

"I don't see what else it could be unless you've got some really massive fire-flies around here."

Dalarth shuffled his feet, a complex process given that he had more of them than anyone else present. "They look uncomfortably close," he commented after a moment.

"Yes." They all stared at the not-distant-enough campfires. "So, how will this Magdalath of yours know that we're here?"

There was a thump and a short-lived gust of wind from behind them, followed by an unfamiliar voice. Bethann turned to face the speaker, a new dragon. This dragon was, if anything, slightly smaller than Dalarth and rather more pale in colour and it had only a single pair of horns to Dalarth's two.

"As if I could miss not one but two overly large groups of humans so close to home?" The new dragon rolled its eyes theatrically. "Humans!"

"Magdalath?" Dalarth also turned to the source of the voice. Bethann could see him blinking repeatedly and guessed his eyes had still not entirely recovered, at least not enough to function in the growing darkness.

"Your eyes broke, Dalarth?" Magdalath said.

"Yes," he said.

She snorted, shaking her head as she spoke. "And yet you still associate with humans. You're a queer one still."

He turned his eyes away from her. "It's hardly their fault; I messed up building a spell."

"So that little burst was you?" Magdalath laughed. "I could see it from here. It's a wonder you can see at all after that. It's always amazed me how single-minded you've been about spells; so good at making useless balls of light yet so bad at everything else."

Bethann listened to the two dragons in silence. Their conversation was suggesting two things to her. One being that the two dragons knew each other and the other being that she didn't like the way Magdalath was harassing Dalarth. Only a few days ago she had thought she'd hated him, but she was coming more and more to believe he had meant it when he'd said he regretted what he'd asked of her. More-over, she was starting to think she could've convinced him to help even without that. Not that that made his demand any better, of course.

"Useful enough at night, or in a nice, secure cave, I'd think," Dalarth was rebutting.

"Bah! Most people would just light a fire and save their time and energy for important things."

Dalarth lifted a forepaw and gestured towards the distant array of camp-fires. "I don't suppose I could trouble you to chase them off? They are not welcome."

Magdalath spared a glance at the army encampment. "Why should I bother? It's your fief and I've no desire to help any humans, even indirectly. Bad enough they're here at all."

Dalarth shook his head. "Really? And here I thought you always wanted a chance to deal with them. Besides, you know what the Council will say if I bring this up with them; we all know they didn't put me here for my ability to repel invaders. That's why I've got you next to me."

"You're here because you're a useless pervert, Dalarth. We all know that; they'd never have given you a proper territory except that they didn't want to be reminded of what we've fallen to."

Bethann started to step forward to defend Dalarth--he'd certainly been useful to her--but stopped at a glance from him. Still, she couldn't help glaring at Magdalath; whatever Bethann might have thought about Dalarth, and this she wasn't entirely sure about, he didn't deserve this treatment. Magdalath seemed intent on belittling everyone and everything around her.

She sighed in a long breath that seemed like it was going to go on without end. "Very well, but the pleasure of the deed will be tainted." She glanced at Bethann for a moment, her lips briefly curling up into a snarl. "I suppose you aren't going to let me exterminate these ones?"

"No; they will be staying a time," Dalarth said. "They were being slaughtered."

"So? Why should we concern ourselves with human politics? So what if one bunch kills off another?" Magdalath paused in her ranting to glare suspiciously at Dalarth. "And I imagine I know what you asked for in exchange, too. Pervert."

Bethann felt herself burning with embarrassment, but Magdalath had already turned away, turning to the army camped in the distance and taking a few steps towards it as though that would bring her meaningfully closer. She made a gesture and spoke a few words that seemed to hang heavy in the air. There was no sign of the complex preparation that Dalarth had used to bring down the cliffs.

The very ground the army was encamped on burst into flames. Bethann stared; the light from the fire was enough that she could see tiny figures, barely more than silhouettes, running about, flailing, burning. What made her worse was that the distance meant there was no sound.

Then she glanced at Magdalath. The snarl the dragon had had for Bethann was gone, replaced by what she could only describe as a transcendent joy. Magdalath's eyes were wide, taking in the scene of destruction below them, occasionally taking a step forward, as if drawn to the flames, or gesturing new sources of flame into existence.

Every now and again someone in the army would manage to put out some of the flames only for Magdalath to bring more into existence. Then circles of calm began to appear; since did not immediately vanish again, Bethann suspected the Overlord had brought some wizards of his own along.

Dalarth moved and settled to his haunches. One wing wrapped around Bethann's waist, holding her. She glanced down at him, seeing the way he drooped and averted his gaze, then put an arm over his shoulders as well. It was as if they were on a private bluff watching a celebration from a distance and enjoying each other's company. Only more morbid and grim and without any actual enjoyment.

Magdalath grunted, flinching as though she'd been solidly punched. Though the dragon's magic may well have been the saving of her people, Bethann felt little sympathy; no one should take the pleasure in killing that the female dragon seemed to be.

Bethann felt a drop of water land on her, then another. Moments later it started to rain, only calling it rain was like calling the ocean a bit of water. It was if the clouds were determined to unload everything they had as fast as possible. Surprisingly, this didn't seem to have much effect on the flames as might be expected.

But it was clear that Magdalath's glee was being rapidly replaced with exhaustion. Her wings were hanging limp, their ends resting on the ground and her head hung loose off her neck, her eyelids half closed. She turned to Dalarth.

"You will watch over me as I sleep."

Bethann surprised herself by not only speaking up, but directly contradicting Magdalath. "No," she said. "I think we, Dalarth and I, both need a strong drink. Then I think we shall sleep. I will post guards, human guards, if you want, but that is all."

Magdalath glared at her, but didn't seem to have the energy to keep it up. "Very well, but you know what will happen when you double-cross me. Do not think I won't be watching." Bethann turned to leave, but Magdalath stopped her. "I would have a word with you privately, human." Bethann turned back; Magdalath had slumped to the ground, stretched out and she looked barely awake.

"I hate your kind," Magdalath said once Dalarth had left, as though this was not abundantly obvious. "But I will give you this: beware of Dalarth. He is a fool and a pervert, but more than that, he is a romantic. As far as he is concerned everything will always work out for the best. And if you do anything to make him believe otherwise I will destroy you, do you understand?"

"Ah, yes," Bethann said.

"Good. Do not worry Dalarth more about your army; I shall vent my rage on them after I have rested." And with her final word, Magdalath laid her head on the ground and seemed to immediately drop into sleep, only her eyes weren't quite closed and her ears twitched at sounds coming from the refugee camp.

Whether or not the dragon was really sleeping Bethann neither knew nor cared. She hurried off after Dalarth. She quickly caught up to him and made explicit her invitation to stay the night in her tent.

* * *

Bethann woke with the dawn as was her custom. But unlike most of the mornings she'd experienced lately, for once she felt well rested and her sleep had been untroubled by dreams.

Opening her eyes the first thing she saw was Dalarth stretched out nearby. He took up a ridiculous amount of the tent, his forelegs almost touching her cot while his wings pressed against the far wall of the tent. Remembering the previous night with some amusement--she'd never thought to wonder what a drunk dragon would be like-she knew that, if there were any way he would fit, he would've been in the cot with her.

They had not spoken much; there hadn't been much to say. There had been a lot of drinking--and she was already starting to feel a headache starting to come on from it--and, well other things had followed.

She stood, tossing the meager blanket aside, and pulled on her travel worn clothes. Dalarth lifted his head, staring at her and blinking as he did.

"You're awake?" he asked.

"No," she told him. "I'm dressing in my sleep."

He blinked again, squinting at her. "Really? You look awake to me."

She sighed. "Yes, I'm awake." She stumbled over to the tent flat, pulling it aside enough to see out. The clouds were still overhead, darkening the sky, but she could see gaps were the sun could shine through. And it had stopped raining. The ground was soaked and pools of water were everywhere, but at least it had stopped raining. At the moment she was just as glad that it wasn't fully bright out.

"Listen," Dalarth said. "About Magdalath."

Bethann groaned; she had been trying very hard to forget the other dragon.

"She wasn't always this way; we were lovers once, when she was sane."

She turned and gave him the best glare she felt up to; this was not a topic she really wanted to hear about.

"She was always aggressive and she always hated humans, but she was never this, ah, vigorous about it. I haven't seen her in three, maybe four years and she's changed."

"Ah, I see," she said. Not that she did; she really had no idea where Dalarth was going with this. Neither, apparently, did he. He opened his mouth wide in a yawn that displayed an impressive collection of teeth, then his head slumped back down to the ground and she heard him start snoring rather loudly.

"I guess I'll just step outside and check that she's not burning the camp down then," she told the sleeping dragon and followed her words with the action.

Despite the early hour and the poor weather the camp was bustling with activity. She walked through the camp, doing her best to look more chipper and cheerful than she felt; she was quickly regretting having so much to drink before falling asleep.

As she was finishing her round Ronald approached her. "I see your dragon is still asleep."

"He's not my dragon!"

"Then why's he still here? The overlord's army is broken; that other dragon is still harassing the survivors and I think we're the last thing on their mind. In fact, I would guess we'll probably be able to return within a few months. The overlord is going to have trouble recovering from a defeat like this; not just militarily, but also the people's morale. Not only has he failed to eliminate us, but he's lost most of his army in the doing.

"Perhaps he just likes the company. Besides, I don't think his vision is entirely recovered."

"That didn't seem to be a problem last night."

Bethann felt her cheeks burn. "And what would you know about that?"

"Between his singing and your later activities you kept half the camp awake."

"I didn't think we were-"

"Well, perhaps you weren't as bad as that, but it was definitely noticeable. Not that I think anyone is going to object; you've done a lot for them and your dragon is nothing like the other one."

Bethann glanced out at where the army had been encamped; it was absent now, but occasional flashes of flame suggested Magdalath was still at work.

"Thankfully." They were both silent for a moment. "Speaking of 'my' dragon," she continued, "I think I hear him waking up. Again. I hope you'll excuse me?"

Ronald gestured her to her tent with a grandiose bow. "May you enjoy his company."

---

The text of this story is released under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.