The Coming Of The Dragon Part 14

He gazed at the king, awestruck. The gentle old man he had known since childhood gave way to a different figure altogether, a powerful prince, a hero. The king looked taller, his stooped shoulders broad and square now. The cloak of old age seemed to fall away from him, revealing a menacing warrior in his mail coat and masked helmet. Around his neck, his golden torque gleamed and the garnets in his cloak clasp shone like new-spilled blood.

Rune stood taller, too, and moved along with the others as the troop came closer, encircling the king like a shield rim.

"My shoulder companions," the king said, looking from face to face, stopping to rest on each one. When the king's eyes met his, Rune knew he would follow the man anywhere, into the very shadows of Hel's underworld, if the king asked it. He tightened his hand around his sword hilt and gazed back at the king.

"Long ago I fought Grendel single-handed, with no weapon but my bare hands," the king said, gesturing as if he were strangling the monster. "I wish I could do so now, but against the dragon's fire I will take my sword and iron shield."

Gar nodded and Rune and Ketil exchanged glances.

"You have come with me here on a dire journey, as I asked. Now you must stay here, hidden behind the boulders-this task is mine alone, for glory and for my kingdom."

"My lord!" Ottar said.

The king held up a hand for silence. "This is not your fight. As king, it falls to me to test my strength against the enemy, to win or to let the battle bear me away."

Rune shook his head in disbelief. He glanced across the circle at Ketil, who had a stricken look on his face.

"Shield-bearer!" the king called. Buri stepped forward and, bowing, handed him the heavy iron shield. The king hefted it in his left hand, then held it aloft as if it were a toy. His sword rang out as he pulled it from its sheath.

"The Nailer," Od breathed in awe.

The patterned blade glinted in the light as the king held it high. "The time for words is over. Now for the sword's hard edge. Come!"

He whipped off his cloak, letting it fall to the ground, and strode toward the boulders. When he reached them, he stopped and raised his sword in salute to the troop. Then he turned and took the path between the rocks, crying out, "Come forth, vile worm! No more will you harry my people!"

With the others, Rune hurried to the boulders and peered between them, jostling for a better view.

"Out of my way, witch's whelp," Dayraven growled, shouldering Rune aside.

Rune ignored the provocation, backing away and finding another spot. Nothing mattered now except the king. Did the old man really have the strength to fight alone?

"Come forth, I say!" the king cried out again.

From between the boulders, Rune could see him, sword raised high, striding through the stream that lay before the barrow's black mouth. Then Gar shifted, moving into Rune's line of sight.

Suddenly, a rumbling filled the air and an acrid, burned-leather smell. "There it is!" Ottar hissed.

Rune peered around Gar just as a monstrous triangular head emerged from the barrow. He heard a whimper and saw Surt, standing by him, staring slack-jawed at the dragon.

"Courage," Rune said, but the farmer looked at him wild-eyed and then broke into a run, making for a distant stand of firs.

The ground trembled. Rune looked back to see the dragon hauling itself from the barrow, first its long neck and then its front legs. Each curved claw was as long as the king's forearm.

The king brandished his famous sword and shouted something, but Rune couldn't hear the words over the ground's rumbling. The familiar terror rose up in him, but he fought to push it away, grinding his teeth with the effort, and kept his eyes on the scene before him.

The dragon crouched, wings furled, its long, curved fangs dripping with venom, smoke rising from its nostrils. It moved its head from side to side to side, scrawling smoky messages in the air as it regarded King Beowulf first with one eye and then the other.

The king stood his ground.

Then the dragon uncoiled its neck, rising up as the king raised his iron shield.

The white spot-Rune could see it. Could the king? Now, before it strikes Now, before it strikes, he thought.

"Thor help us!" someone said, and Rune felt a warrior running, joining Surt in the trees, but he couldn't take his eyes from the king to see who.

"Watch out!" someone shouted to the king as the dragon pulled back its head. It seemed to be filling its lungs.

"Now! Strike now!" Rune yelled, hardly realizing the words came from his mouth.

But it was too late. Fire spewed forth from the fanged jaws.

The king turned his body to the side. The shield held against the flame.

"Let me by!" Od squeaked, and pushed past Rune, running for safety. Rune stepped forward to take his place. His hands were clenched so tight he'd never be able to hold his sword if he needed it. He forced them to relax. Around him he could hear the ragged breathing of the other men.

The dragon reared again. This time its red eye seemed to pierce the boulders, as if it was searching for something.

"It's coming this way!" Ottar yelled. He cowered, hiding his face. Buri ran past him, and Gar inched around the boulder away from the fight, hands up as if to ward off a blow.

Rune couldn't blame them. They'd never seen the dragon before. He remembered what the king had said about dragons terrifying even seasoned warriors. His own breathing was fast and shallow, and cold sweat ran from his armpits. He felt sick with dread.

The dragon writhed, turning toward the king again, preparing for another blast. As it did, King Beowulf pulled back his sword. The Nailer flashed, slashing through the air, landing such a blow on the creature's neck that its head should have been severed. Instead, the blade bounced off the hard scales.

The dragon screamed, its red eye narrowed in rage, and belched forth more fire.

Rune's hand went to his lips as he watched the king dodge under the shield just in time. His sword flashed again, but again, it missed the white spot. For a third time, the dragon shot flames at the king and for the third time, the shield did its work. Red-hot it glowed, but the king's hold on it didn't waver.

Rune clutched a rock outcropping beside him, his eyes never leaving the king. He felt as if he were out there with his lord, burning from the searing heat of the flames, watching, waiting for the moment to strike.

The dragon seemed to be waiting, too, or resting, and Rune saw the king bow his head in pain or fatigue. "Ring-giver," Rune said. "The G.o.ds are with you." The rock he clenched bit into his fist.

Suddenly, the dragon reared to the side, sending a stream of flames under the shield.

"My lord!" Rune screamed as the king leapt aside.

Fury seemed to take the king. He swung his blade again and again, but each time it bounced off the dragon's hide.

Then, as Rune watched in disbelief, the king fell to his knees.

"We have to help him!" he cried. "He needs us-we have to help him!" He looked around at his companions. Only Ketil and Dayraven were there, staring at him with stricken faces. Rune ran around the side of the boulder, where Gar crouched, face hidden. "Gar!"

The tall warrior hunched his shoulders as if warding off a blow.

Rune shook his arm. "Gar! He needs us! Have you forgotten your vows when you drank the mead?" He looked toward the woods. "Come back!" he yelled. "He needs us!"

No one stirred. Desperate, he ran past Gar, screaming, "You made a vow!" He leapt around the boulder again.

Ketil looked at him, his eyes filled with anguish. His mouth worked, but no words came out before he collapsed to his knees, hiding his face.

"Come on!" Rune shouted to Dayraven. He pulled his sword from its sheath and raced through the boulders, the other warrior a step behind him.

Then the terror took him, and his steps slowed as if he were running through mud. I can't, I can't, I can't I can't, I can't, I can't, he told himself, squeezing his eyes shut to the sight of the dragon, falling to his knees as he reached the stream.

The splash of cold water surprised his eyes open again, and he saw the dragon coiling back for another blast of fire as the king staggered to his feet.

"My lord!" Rune cried. He scrambled up again and raced through the water.

The red eye turned. The dragon shifted its aim, bringing its jaws toward Rune. The head drew back a little as if the creature was taking a breath-and then it came forward, a torrent of fire hurling from its jaws.

"To me!" the king shouted. Rune threw himself under the metal shield as King Beowulf held it high.

He lay on the rocks, stunned, waiting to see if he was still alive, shuddering with horror, coughing and gasping for breath in the sulfurous fumes. The heat was unbearable.

Wildness overtook the beast. It flung flame after flame as the king tried to shield them both. Rune screwed his eyes shut in terror.

"Rune," the king said sharply, and he looked up, taking a shaky breath. "Help me. Hold the shield."

Rune rose, fighting off the horror that threatened to overtake him. He was no use here. He shouldn't have come.

The king pulled him close, and Rune could see the sweat pouring from under his helmet. "You can do this," the king said fiercely, looking into his eyes.

Rune stared at him, then nodded.

"Here," the king said, handing him the shield.

Rune took the leather handle, staggering under the shield's weight and the heat radiating from its iron skin.

King Beowulf met his eyes again, waiting, and then mouthed, "Now." He ducked out from under the shield, his mighty sword held in both hands. As Rune watched, the dragon looped its neck back, bringing its head low to guard the white spot on its chest. As the head came near, the king raised the sword, yelling a battle cry as he brought it down with all his weight on the creature's skull.

The sword snapped in two.

Rune watched in horror as the top half bounced on the rocks, the metal blade shining with reflected dragonfire.

TWENTY.

THE DRAGON HISSED IN FURY, STEAM POURING FROM ITS nostrils, its eye blazing with red hatred. It whipped its head toward the king as he staggered back. nostrils, its eye blazing with red hatred. It whipped its head toward the king as he staggered back.

"My lord!" Rune screamed, scrambling to place the shield between the king and the dragon.

He was too late. The creature found an exposed place on the king's neck and clamped down its fangs.

Blood spurted, running down the king's arm and chest. The dragon bit down harder.

Rune dropped the shield and ducked under the creature's neck. The white spot! He could see the circle of bronze scales surrounding it, and just inside of them, the dirty-white scales. He pulled his sword back, gripping it with both hands, and held his breath to help keep his aim true. Then he rammed it at the white spot. The dragon skin seemed to push back at the sword. Teeth gritted, putting his entire weight behind the sword, Rune shoved again. The blade went in.

The dragon let go its hold on the king, rearing back in pain and anger. A thin ribbon of fire streamed from its jaws, searing Rune's sword hand. He screamed and dropped his sword.

The king rushed in beside him, whipping his dagger from his belt and thrusting it hard into the creature's chest beside Rune's weapon.

Rune reached for his sword, ignoring the fire in his hand. He raised the blade to strike again, but the king grabbed him, pulling him to the ground, rolling with him out of the way as the dragon's monstrous head came crashing down.

They lay unmoving, waiting, the king on top of Rune, shielding him with his body.

Moments pa.s.sed and nothing happened.

Stillness thundered in Rune's ears.

He edged his eyes open and saw blood seeping from the king's neck. A rivulet snaked over the exposed skin, and then, reaching a link of chain mail, it ran in a circle around it. A drop hung for a long moment before it fell, splashing onto Rune's cheek.

The king grunted and rolled off him. "Careful," he said. "Venom."

Rune raised himself onto his elbows and looked to the right. Its eyes closed, a trickle of smoke rising from its nostrils, its neck curved in an unnatural shape, the dragon lay beside them. It was dead.

His senses returning to him, Rune turned to the king, who lay on his other side. Breathing heavily, the king struggled to sit up.

"My lord," Rune said, trying to help him.

"Let me see your hand." The king took Rune's burned fingers in his own. He probed them and Rune hissed in pain. "It may heal, given time."

Then he closed his eyes. "Rune," he said, his breath still labored. "I have taken my death wound."

"No," Rune said. "It's not that deep. You'll be all right." On his knees now, he peered at the king's wound and believed his own words.

"Help me to the rocks," the king said. He draped an arm over Rune's neck, and together the two of them stood.

It took all of Rune's strength to get the king to the rocks by the barrow's mouth. "Here, my lord," he said, helping King Beowulf to sit and loosening his helmet. Gently, trying to work with only one hand, he pulled it off, then, making sure the king was steady enough to sit by himself, he ran to the stream, skirting the dragon's head. Kneeling, he filled the helmet with water and raced back to the king.

"Here, my lord, drink," he said, holding the helmet to the king's lips, gritting his teeth against the agony that pulsed through his hand as the helmet touched it. King Beowulf leaned forward, his eyes closed, and took a long swallow.

Rune ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt sleeve and dipped it in the water. Carefully, with his good hand, he worked at the wound on the king's neck, dabbing the blood away, cleaning the torn skin. Even as he washed it, he could see the pink flesh taking on a greenish tinge. The blood grew dark and began to bubble.

"The venom," the king said. "It's working its way through my body."

"But you'll be all right," Rune insisted, dabbing away the blood, keeping his eyes on the wound.

The king reached for his arm, stopping him. "Rune," he said, and as Rune looked at him, he saw that the whites of the king's eyes were yellow and bloodshot. His brows and hair seemed whiter, brighter, next to his sweaty, soot-blackened face.

"Go, look at the dragon's treasure; bring it to me."

Rune shook his head. "I can't leave you."