Page 226 of Dragon Champion (Age of Fire 1)

“I remember my promise. I remember my promise to Nereeza.” She leaned forward, and her chain slid off the back of her collar. It rattled as it swung. With a quick turn of her head, Ouistrela tossed off her muzzle, as a warrior might cast away his scabbard after unsheathing his sword in a duel to the death. She had been holding the dwarsaw-severed muzzle to her face with her ears. “I never thought I’d get a chance to fulfill it so soon.”

Eliam’s helmet let forth a piercing shriek as he backed away. AuRon released his grip on the cavern ceiling and twisted like a cat as he fell, still watching events.

Many times AuRon had seen some small bird rise out of her nest to drive away a larger and more dangerous raptor, making up in fury what she lacked in size. This time that tiny bird’s desperate courage flamed in a body many tons of armored muscle greater. Each of Ouistrela’s legs had the power of a tiger, her tail a battering ram, her jaws a saber-toothed avalanche. She leapt into the massed Dragonguard. The first wyrmcatcher she struck with a hind leg exploded into pieces of armor flying in all directions.

“At them!” Natasatch called, cutting off her own muzzle with the dwarsaw AuRon had left in her sii.

Gouts of flame blasted the men and women of the egg-party. Epinonia created a wall of flame behind Ouistrela’s bloody chaos, Alhala in front of them, despite her belly full of eggs. Most died instantly. The Dragonguard’s scale protected them from the worst of the fire, but they suffocated in the oxygen-devouring heat. Those outside the flame fell under dragonelles leaping from their perches. The still-muzzled ones encouraged the others with fierce roars: “Behind you Ouisa, with a spear!” “One’s crawled under your ledge, Epinonia, beware!”

A figure ran toward AuRon, silhouetted by the dragonfire behind. It bore a sword in one hand and an envenomed dagger in the other. Eliam Dragonblade ran from his men’s fight. As he passed one of the still-collared dragons, the barely mature dragonelle now on Nereeza’s perch, he swung his sword at her throat. She avoided the blow, but the Dragonblade caught her in the tail with the dagger, ignoring the enraged screams of the other dragonelles. He also ignored AuRon, who advanced down the tunnel, a red mask tinting his vision.

AuRon was too late.

The maiden sniffed at her wound, eyes widening in confusion from the blade’s pain, then began to spasm in agony. Eliam watched for a few seconds, then beheaded her.

“That’s all you’re good for,” AuRon said, planting his feet to block the narrow path to the exit. “You’re an executioner, not a warrior. I doubt the Drakossozh was your father after all. I think a blighter got in there ahead of him.”

Eliam Dragonblade tossed away the broken-bladed dagger and drew another from his vambrace. “I’ve heard cornered dragons taunt me before, gray. I’ve still enough venom for you.” He avoided a futile tailswipe by a nearby chained dragonelle and approached AuRon with the dragon-killing sword Dunherr in one hand, the dagger in the other. He feinted with each, and AuRon backed up, wary. “I think I’ll put your whole head upon my wall. I’ll leave your eye sockets hollow, a reminder of your blindness to your own impotence. This little ambush won’t change anything. We’ll start again when you’re all dead.”

AuRon wondered what Father would do, one-to-one with a deadly warrior. Behind the Dragonblade, AuRon saw Natasatch freeing other dragonelles with the dwarsaw.

Eliam flipped the dagger in his gauntlet, ready to throw it into AuRon’s unarmored bulk.

AuRon did what Father would have done. He took a deep breath, tensed himself, and . . .

Roared. It was a roar as AuRon had never sounded before, perhaps never could again. Even NooMoahk in his prime might not have been able make such a sound as AuRon could with his whip-quick neck and body. AuRon poured every grain of his strength into the bellow, sending it up his long neck and out his gaping mouth in an explosion of sound that shook the walls of the dragonelles’ cavern. It froze the other dragons in their places; even Ouistrela stopped grinding the burnt and bloody remains of the Dragonguard beneath her claws. It made the nerve endings in the beheaded dragonelle fire; her body jerked on its perch.

The Dragonblade stood at the epicenter. But not for long. His weapons fell to the floor as he clasped his hands to his helmeted ears. He dropped to his knees, and AuRon saw blood run out of his helmet. The body toppled over, muscles twitching as it died.

AuRon flipped up the visor, the scarred face beneath was masked with bloody slime running from eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. AuRon felt as if he were swimming underwater.

“Free the others,” he said over his shoulder as he went to the gate. Rov had fled, without even bothering to shut the gate.

He returned to the dragonelle cavern. “Natasatch, stay here with Ouistrela, Epinonia, and Alhala. The rest of you, follow me up. We’re going to the landing cave.”

“No, AuRon. Saima can watch things down here.”

“We need no guardian,” Ouistrela said. “If any are brave enough to come down here, I’ve still got other dragonelles to avenge. Like poor Ktarata there.”

So seven dragonelles followed AuRon up the tunnel. They reached the chamber of Shadowcatch.

“What fires this?” the black asked. “I heard fighting, and . . . what are you doing here, gray?” he said, extending his griff and giving a quick rattle.

AuRon planted himself, tail thrashing. “I’ll have you know—”

Natasatch put her green length between the males. “Stop it, you two. Shadowcatch, we’ve had enough of our eggs being stolen, our hatchlings being castrated. You’ve gotten so fat, you’re due for the knife, too, I’d think! This gray is AuRon. He’s killed the Dragonblade, and he’s taking us out into the sun.”

“Don’t get in our way,” another dragonelle said. “Ouistrela tore one ear off, and I’ll take the other. You can sit here and rot, or you can become a free dragon, with a real dragon name.”

“It killed the Dragonblade?” Shadowcatch said, eyes wondering underneath his armored brows.

“Without even touching him. Scared him to death, I think,” Natasatch said.

“Come with us,” AuRon said. “Take your own name, and begin your own song with great deeds done bravely this day. You’re a black. I knew NooMoahk the ancient. If any of his blood is in your veins, you’ll be a besung dragon someday.”

“Blood and flame, I’m with you. I’ll teach ’em dragons can’t be broken like horses.”

“Spoken like one with his dragonhood intact,” Natasatch said. “To the landing cave!”

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