“Hold this,” she shouted, throwing him one end of her coil of Blue Cavern rope. He caught it, but was distracted by a hissing bellow from the creature above them and an answering moan from the captive dragon. She grabbed the rest of the rope and scrambled along the step to where the largest boulder had skidded to a halt a few paces from the edge of the mountain.
As Nezeru scrambled up onto the boulder, trailing the length of cord behind her, Jarnulf saw what she was doing and did his best to keep the rope from getting snagged. Farther upslope Makho had climbed to his feet again, but now it was Kemme who lay sprawled and bloody in the snow. The worm’s long head lashed out again and again as Makho tried to protect his fellow Sacrifice, jaws snapping only inches from his flesh.
As Nezeru reached the part of the boulder lying nearest the cliff’s edge she almost overbalanced. For a moment the emptiness below seemed to leap up and surround her, but she managed to lower herself into an unsteady crouch until the wheeling dizziness passed, then continued looping her rope around the boulder.
“Make a noose!” she called to Jarnulf, but the Rimmersman had anticipated her and already held the knotted loop.
“Just tell me when you’re ready!” he shouted.
In a sane world she would have had time to tie everything properly, to make sure the rope was firmly in place and that the pull would be even. Instead, she slid off the boulder with the Blue Cavern cord merely looped several times around the boulder and knotted. “Go!” she cried.
Jarnulf scrambled up the slope with his head down and his body low. The steaming clouds of the dragon’s breath now made it impossible to see either Makho or Kemme. The only proof that at least one of them still lived was the continuous rising and dipping of the dragon’s immense head as it struck over and over at some invisible target.
The rope left in his hands rapidly growing shorter, the mortal clambered up the last rise and then had to duck as the dragon’s flailing tail appeared from the mist like some monster scythe, nearly crushing him. For a moment Nezeru could see the creature’s back legs as the mist swirled up, and Jarnulf saw them too. He waited until the nearest one had lifted so the creature could drive toward Makho again, then he threw his wide noose onto the snow where the clawed foot was coming down.
As the dragon stepped into the noose Jarnulf dove back beneath the returning tail. The rope pulled tight against the boulder and the worm roared in fury to discover itself partially immobilized, but it was too busy defending itself against Makho’s redoubled attacks to try to bite through the restraint. The smaller worm was awake and had broken its own rope muzzle. It screeched at the air as if imitating the larger beast.
Fog spread along the mountainside, whipped into streamers like the fluttering banners of a festival parade or the white streamers of a funeral procession. Nothing seemed entirely real. Nezeru set her back against the boulder and began trying to push the great stone the last couple of paces toward the cliff’s edge, but she could not budge it. “By the Holy Garden,” she screamed, “somebody help me!”
A moment later the mortal Jarnulf crunched awkwardly back down the snowy slope and began pushing beside her. The rope tied to the dragon’s leg was between them, and Nezeru could hear its plaits creak as the dragon pulled against it, but the monster was still fixed on Makho and Kemme, snapping at them with its long jaws. She prayed they could keep distracting the worm a few moments longer, and also sent a prayer of thanks to the weavers and the pale, tireless spiders of the Blue Cavern for making the rope so strong. Still, it was becoming clear that even if the restraint held it would not be enough to save them, because she and Jarnulf didn’t have the strength to budge the great boulder.
Just as despair washed over her like an icy stream, sucking away the last of her warmth and strength, Nezeru heard a scraping noise. An instant later two immense, hairy hands appeared on the edge of the precipice a short distance away; a moment later, the ugly, brutish face of Goh Gam Gar rose into view.
Nezeru did not think she had ever been so glad to see another living thing.
“Help us!” she called. “Help us push!”
The giant looked at the scene with disgust as he pulled himself up, then spat a gobbet of red onto the snow, but did not waste time arguing. His whitish fur was stained in a dozen places by dirt and streaming blood, and one of his fingers was clearly broken, jutting at an odd angle, but when Goh Gam Gar was onto the slope he crossed the distance in a single stride and set his shoulder against the huge stone. The bellowing of the two dragons had now reached a terrible pitch, the older one thundering so loudly that drifts of snow broke loose on the nearby mountains, while the younger one shrieked and honked with what sounded like genuine terror.
I will fight as one already dead, Nezeru recited, unafraid because my sacrifice was made long ago. It was the pledge she had been taught when she had first entered her order. I will fight as one already dead—!
Then the great stone began to slide. It was only a small movement at first, a shudder and a slip, but the dragon felt the tug on its leg and bellowed again, this time with an edge of frustrated rage. Nezeru’s entire body was trembling, muscles jumping in agony along her back and neck, but she dug in and kept pushing as hard as she could. Beside her the giant bent and set his shoulder lower against the boulder, and for a moment his massive, hideous face was only a few inches from Nezeru’s own, his hot, stinking breath on her, huge eyes rolled up in his head so that all she could see were the whites, now red as blood. The stone slid again, then the edge of it scraped out over the drop and dipped sharply downward; Nezeru felt her feet go out from under her. She was stumbling, falling, following the boulder out into emptiness when Goh Gam Gar’s huge hand closed around her leg and yanked her back. The boulder teetered for a brief moment, then tipped almost soundlessly over the edge, leaving behind only a puff of snow and rock dust.
The dragon’s leg was yanked out from under it, and as it was dragged backward down the short slope bellowed so loud Nezeru was nearly deafened. As the boulder tumbled down the mountainside the dragon slithered backward on three legs, claws useless against the pull of the great stone, then lost its balance entirely and began to slide ponderously toward the precipice.
Nezeru only realized that the great fanged mouth had swung toward her when the bulk of the dragon was already sliding over the edge. She did not have time to dodge, or even to move. The huge jaws thumped closed just a hand’s breath in front of her face with a noise like a wagon axle snapping, near enough for her to feel the waft of foul air from its missed strike, then the monster was gone.
For a moment everything around her became silence and more than silence, a humming nothingness that seemed to have descended over the world.
Sound came back slowly. Nezeru rolled away from the edge and crawled far enough back from it to feel safe before collapsing again. The mortal Jarnulf was kneeling in the snow a short distance away, gasping and quivering as if in some kind of fit. Makho and Kemme had survived too, and now came limping down the slope toward them, Saomeji trailing a short distance behind.
Goh Gam Gar stood over the smaller dragon where it lay, still bound but thrashing as though it did not realize the fight had ended. The giant stared down at it for a moment, then kicked it hard. The creature gave a grunting squeal like a stuck pig, squirming in its bonds and huffing steam.
“Call for your mother now, shit-worm,” the giant snarled. He bent and picked his great axe out of the snow. “She’ll still be just as dead, and I’ll give you something you’ll like even less than that kicking.”
“Don’t hurt it.” Nezeru crawled toward the captive beast and began to wind another length of rope around its snout, careful to avoid its thrashing attempts to bite her. The small dragon’s movements were still slowed by the poison that had felled it, and when Jarnulf stumbled over to help, the two of them managed to secure the rope around its toothy muzzle without too much trouble.
“Why don’t we simply drain some of this thing’s blood here? How are we going to wrestle this monster down the mountain? It may not be as big as its mother, but it’s plenty big enough.”
“I am weary of your questions, mortal,” Makho snarled. “The queen and Akhenabi want a live dragon. The rituals must be performed on a living creature when taking the blood—or so Saomeji tells me.” The chieftain came and crouched beside the beast, followed shortly by Kemme and the Singer. They examined its length.
Saomeji leaned close and stared into the dragon’s pale-blue eye. “We have uses for you,” he told the bound monster.
“We will build a sledge to carry it,” said Makho. “The giant can pull it back to Nakkiga.”
“But it’s a long way back down to any trees big enough to make a sledge,” Nezeru said.