His fingers were like steel and buried themselves into her skin so hard that she could not move her jaw. Her eyes met his through the mask. Terror seared through her that he was going to use the spell that seemed to rip her mind apart. She wrenched herself away from him so hard she tripped over a rock on the ground and fell hard on her back. Her head slammed into the earth. Through the ringing pain she heard laughter and the sharp snap of orders.

Someone lifted her to her feet and bound her arms. Lanther watched as the warriors restrained her, and when they were finished, he searched the wagon and found the leather bag. Holding it close to her face, he said, “When this is done, we will consummate our marriage, and when I am finished with you, no man will ever touch you again.”

“What is so important about that book?” she croaked. “What do I care about Lord Ariakan and his Amarrel?”

He gave a self-satisfied chuckle. “Afec’s greatest prophecy, given five years before I came to the Plains. The Emperor, the Empress, and I were the only ones who heard it.” He leaned in close, and she felt the cold metal of his mask against her ear as he whispered, “The Amarrel has not been born yet. Ariakan deceived Khanwhelak’s father. The Warrior Cleric will be Drathkin’kelkhan, the son of the Chosen of the Dragon. And I will be his father, my dear Drathkin’kela.”

Linsha was too stunned to comprehend. All she could do was stare at him through a fog of pain and disbelief.

He turned to the others of her company. “That one!” he pointed to Menneferen. The centaur eyed the Brutes around him and walked to the Akkad-Dar.

Linsha looked at him, but her vision was blurry and all she could see was his reddish hide. “Please don’t kill him,” she whispered.

“I have no intention of that,” Lanther said. “He is going to do something for me. Now, listen carefully, centaur. You will go to that peak, around to the west side. You will see the entrance the bronze dragon made in the side of the volcano. Go to that entrance. The dragon is there.”

He was speaking to the centaur like an adult sometimes speaks to a dull-witted child, and Linsha found it very annoying. She squirmed in her tight bindings, but the warriors who gripped her arms ignored her.

“You will tell the dragon.” Lanther went on, “that the Tarmaks have attacked your party near the river. Lady Knight Linsha Majere desperately needs his help. You will do what you must to get the dragon to leave the cave, or I will kill these fine folk. If you try to tip him off, I will kill all of them. Do you understand?”

The centaur nodded, his face expressionless.

“Good.” Lanther lifted a finger.

Linsha heard the snap of a bowstring, the whirring flight of an arrow, and Menneferen jolted back and groaned. Frantic for him, she struggled to clear her vision and finally saw a Tarmak arrow penetrating his rump. It was not a fatal wound, but it was painful and it bled enough to make a dark red patch on his hide.

“You may go now,” Lanther said with a wave of his hand.

Limping, the centaur jogged out of the clearing and took the most direct route toward the peak.

Linsha felt herself picked up and slung over the shoulder of a burly warrior. She lifted her head enough to see the others rounded together and led off into the trees. There was nothing more she could do for them but hope she would see them again. Callista waved once to her, and they were gone out of sight in the heavy woods.

Then there was no more time to wonder. She was carried through the trees and brought out into another valley where a string of large horses stood in the shadows of the pines. Linsha recognized them as Damjatt horses from Ithin’carthia. Lanther and his guards mounted and readied themselves to ride while Linsha was placed behind Lanther on his horse. He took an extra length of rope, wrapped it around her wrists, and tied it to the horn of his saddle.

The riders urged their horses into a trot and rode in single file through the woods around the base of the hill. Linsha’s head cleared enough so she could see where they were going, but she wasn’t strong enough to do anything about it. She had enough sense left to know that Lanther held the rope tied to her wrists, and if she jumped or fell she would only break something. She sat behind him and nursed her strength for a better opportunity.

In the shelter of the pines, the riders stopped and waited.

Linsha looked around. She still felt dizzy and her back ached from her fall, but her vision was clear and her strength was returning. She saw the peak ahead of them, looming against the blue sky. The Tarmak riders were on the west side now, for the sun was behind them, and they were very close.

“There he goes!” a warrior said in Tarmakian, and they watched the bronze dragon charge out of the cave and take wing. As soon as he was out of sight, the riders kicked their horses into a gallop.

The Damjatt horses burst out of the trees into the sunlight. They may not have been fast, but they were very sure-footed. They galloped across a wide, open field and up the steep, rocky foot of the volcano without missing a step.

Linsha held on to Lanther as the horses plunged up the slope and came to a sliding stop on a wide ledge in front of a hole in the side of the peak. The hole was rounded, large enough for an averaged-sized dragon to slip through, and it penetrated deep into the flanks of the volcano. The Damjatt horses caught the scent of dragon and balked at the entrance.

The Akkad-Dar and his warriors slid off their horses. Several Tarmaks took the reins and led the horses away from the cave’s mouth, while the others loosened their swords and lit torches. Lanther yanked Linsha off his horse and wrapped the end of her binding rope around his hand to keep her close.

“Inside.” With a jerk of his head, he indicated the cave entrance. “We will drink the Awlgu’arud Drathkin this night!”

The warriors cheered.

“No!” Linsha screamed.

He was turning to answer when a warrior yelled, “Akkad-Dar! He comes!”

All heads snapped around; all eyes stared toward the woods in the valley where the Tarmak army lay hidden.

A winged shape soared over the trees as fast as his wings could bear him. Sunlight shone on his bronze scales. He bellowed his fury and loosed a powerful beam of fiery light into the trees where the thickest numbers of warriors waited. The trees exploded into flame. Wreathed in smoke and swirling ash, the dragon banked toward the peak and charged at the group on the volcano’s ledge.

Shouting a curse, Lanther dropped the rope and lunged for the horses. It was only then in the sunlight by the side of the cone that Linsha noticed another thing Lanther had brought with him. It was tied to the back of one of the horses, and as a warrior unwrapped it and brought it to the Akkad-Dar, Linsha recognized its rusty-red barb and the long black shaft-the Abyssal Lance. Her fear for Crucible grew tenfold. The Akkad-Dar hefted its weight to his shoulder and gave Linsha a vile look. He mounted a horse and leveled the barb on the bronze dragon.

“Crucible! Crucible, no!” Linsha screamed. She ran in front of Lanther’s horse, but a Tarmak snatched her arms and heaved her up over the saddle in front of Lanther. She landed hard on her belly and lay gasping, her chest aching and her head ringing with pain.

The dragon’s roar thundered off the peak, and dragonfear radiated from him like waves of heat. He shot one short burst of flame at the warriors, killing several, and flew by, his head craned around to look for Linsha.

Linsha felt the whump of wind from his wings as he passed overhead. A storm of dust and grit blew up from the ground. In almost the same moment the horse carrying her and Lanther reared in terror, and the surviving Tarmak warriors fell on their faces, groveling in fear.