At last he caught a glitter of moonlight on a bared sword-blade waved at him. The smiths had nearly cut through the second link, below. “Ready arms, and on them,” Laurence said, and with a glad and terrible roar, Temeraire surged forward, while below them the French dragons sprang desperately for escape.
The Russian heavy-weight, jerking up its head, saw them approaching and tried its other wing: the smiths were thrown off their feet as the chain went flying from beneath their hands, and with their smoking, sparking forge went sliding down its back to the ground as the massive dragon reared up. It bent down and snatched them all up together in one claw, four men and forge tumbled together, and with the other caught the loose hanging end of the chain; and then it flung itself into the air.
Laurence signaled to let the beast go—he had not the heart to return the creature to its chains, and they had better prey before them. Liberté had snatched Murat off his feet and flung himself into the air, and all the other dragons of the division were doing their best to make of themselves a screen between him and their attackers.
But the net had been drawn too tight: one niru after another skillfully surrounded and carved away each French dragon, nearly in minutes, with the skill of a surgeon cutting away limbs: until Liberté was all exposed, flying desperately, but not quickly enough. Ten more dragons surrounded him and began to cut off his flight, no matter which way he turned, tiring him and slowing his movement: a great stag, surrounded by wolves. Then one of the Shao Lung, especially large and with a jagged pale white scar running enormous the length of his left flank, made a full-body leap onto Liberté’s back and with a roar knocked his crew off their feet; he sank both foretalons deep into Liberté’s back, behind his wings.
Liberté shrilled with agony, and his wings faltered. Another Chinese dragon made a raking pass at his side, knocking air from his body; a third caught his tail and then they all closed in upon him and above him: he sank down at last helpless from the air, and having fallen to the ground resorted to curling his entire massive body tight around Murat, still held within his talons, with a pitiful hunted desperation.
Temeraire landed before him, nearly quivering with excitement, and murmured, “Laurence, I have never taken anyone so important prisoner: what ought we do?”
“Nothing more nor less than with any other man or beast: we must require Liberté’s surrender,” Laurence said, “and his giving Murat into our hands; and we must have both of their paroles.”
Temeraire straightened, sweeping back his wings, and rather grandly said to Liberté, “We will accept your surrender, if you please; and your parole.”
“Do you swear you will not hurt Murat?” Liberté demanded anxiously, looking at them both, though he could scarcely have prevented it. Murat’s own opinion on the circumstances as yet could not have been obtained, because only a faintly muffled noise was emerging, from the tight coils of Liberté’s body, to confirm that he was still even there.
“I am confident the Russians will treat him with all the consideration due to a prisoner of his rank,” Laurence said, “and I will give you my own word, he will be neither abused nor pillaged.”
A faint voice was heard saying, in French, “Damn you, you silly python, let me out!” and Liberté unwillingly uncoiled himself; Murat pulled himself up and over one great foreleg, and sprang down to the ground in the open. Laurence slid from Temeraire’s back to meet him.
Laurence bowed and said, “Your Majesty—” Napoleon had put him on the throne of Naples, “—I am obliged to require your parole.”
Murat reached out and seized him by the shoulders. “What are you saying,” he said. “Can you truly mean to prevent us?” He turned Laurence almost bodily, and flung out an arm to where Laurence saw a heap of five broken chains scattered on the ground, massive and monstrous links of brutal iron. “Have you a heart to see these magnificent beasts chained and starved like rats, for even another minute? I know you, Captain Laurence—I remember when you brought the cure to France, and saved my own Liberté thereby, and so many others. Once you had the courage to seek justice, more than only obey; will you not find that courage again?
“You and these,” he gestured to the hovering and watchful dragons, “ought to aid us, not stand in our way. Will you truly make common cause with men as would do such things?”