Abruptly Crucible fell still. The dragonfear faded around him, but Linsha stared in growing panic at the big bronze. It was difficult to see him in the dark and the clouds of dust.

“Crucible?” she called.

There was a rustling noise, a stamp of heavy feet, and a vicious string of words in the ancient tongue of the dragons. No one needed a translation. Linsha stared hard at the dark shape before her, and as the dust began to settle, she saw the dragon more clearly. Thank the absent gods he was still alive.

He crouched between her cage and the prison, his head raised to glare at the Tarmaks on the roof. His wings were partially open, but they looked wrong. Linsha bit back a cry. She realized the torchlight from the prison door was still burning despite the uproar in the yard, and its light gleamed through places in Crucible’s wings that should not show light. The Tarmaks with the swords had not tried to kill, only to maim. Their heavy two-handed blades had sliced through the leathery vanes of his wings, crippling him again and trapping him on the ground. Crucible would not be returning to Sanction any time soon.

“Now, perhaps you understand,” the Akkad-Ur said into the heavy silence. “You cannot fly. If you leave, even on foot, I will torture this woman to death and leave you with the bolt embedded in your neck. In a few days, maybe a week, it will work its way into your body, pierce your heart, and kill you. There is nothing that can remove it. However, if you stay, if you obey my commands and serve this army, I will keep the bolt in its place, allowing you to live, and I will not harm the woman. It is your choice.”

Linsha shivered in a cold that bit deeper than the night’s frost. “Go, Crucible!” she whispered. “Go. Surely there are mages who can help you. Go north and find my father.”

“I will not leave you,” the dragon hissed. “I had hoped to return to Sanction, but our destiny seems to lie here in the south. We will see it through together.”

“It is done then,” said the Akkad-Ur. “Remember, dragon. I have but to speak one word and the bolt will begin to bore into your back. One word and this woman is dead. You will go to my tent and wait for me there.”

Linsha watched Crucible leave the yard. Conflicting emotions swirled around her like the winds of a cyclone-relief that he was still alive, worry that he could still be hurt, fear that the Tarmaks would use him against the people of the plains, but the worst was the guilt. Guilt, like a huge ache, settled into her mind. He had come back because of her, and now he was enslaved because of her. His rationalization of destiny might keep him satisfied for a few days, but in time he would come to resent her, perhaps hate her, for her part in his capture. And what about Lord Bight? The lord governor would not be happy that Sanction’s guardian was now trapped in Missing City. What would Lord Bight do now?

She heard footsteps approach her, and she looked down to see the Akkad-Ur standing by the foot of the suspended cage. “Thusly our plans fall into place. Do not do anything to jeopardize his well-being. You have seen what I can do to him.”

Linsha said nothing. She could think of nothing to say.

When the Tarmak turned on his heel and left, she pressed her aching head back against the cage and let the tears fall.

If only Crucible had stayed in Sanction…

Varia returned to the camp at Sinking Wells just before dawn with the news Crucible had been captured. At first no one would believe her. She had just returned from her journey to Sanction only the day before and told Mariana and Falaius that Crucible had come back and that he would rescue Linsha-and perhaps some of the others-that night. How could he have failed? How could the Tarmaks have captured a large bronze dragon? It didn’t seem possible.

Captain Calanbriar observed the small owl for a short while and tactfully suggested she come into the tent and tell her tale again in the quiet of the shelter. The half-elf could see the owl was terribly upset-so upset, in fact, that she had forgotten her usual reticent shyness and was blurting her news out in front of a dozen startled and staring people. Quickly, Mariana took the owl into the command tent and invited Falaius, Sir Hugh, and the two kirath elves to join them.

The tent, set up under a small cluster of trees, was an airy tribal design that swept over their heads like a canopy. Inside was a low rough table on a tattered rug. A blanket hung in the back to curtain off the small sleeping area, and a few weapons hung from the tent posts. The humans and the elves gathered within, taking places around the table. A young man in a tattered militia uniform brought them cups of water.

Varia sat on the small rough table and told them exactly how the Tarmaks had managed to enslave a dragon. Her “horn” feathers were clamped tight to her head and her entire body was compressed into a small ball of angry feathers. Even as she told her story, she trembled with emotion and outrage.

“I found a perch high on the standing wall of the old throne room where I could look down into the court where the Tarmaks are holding the Solamnic Knights. They had put Linsha in a small cage and left her hanging out in plain view.”

Falaius’s deeply line face turned down into a frown. “Could they have known he was coming?”

“I don’t know,” Varia said. “We have feared for some time that there is a spy in the militia, but how could someone like that know so quickly that we were back? Crucible shapeshifted into a cat miles away from the city. No one saw him fly in.”

“Perhaps they were guessing,” Mariana suggested, “or just hoping the dragon would come. Maybe they’ve been hanging Linsha up in that cage for nights now.” She stifled a shudder at the thought of being trapped in a tight metal box for so long.

The owl shifted her weight from foot to foot. She could understand how skeptical these people felt. She had seen what happened to the dragon, and she still could barely believe it. She described the Abyssal Lance to them, the wicked black weapon with the rust colored barbs enchanted to kill whatever it penetrated. She told them about the crossbow and the bolt made from the tip of the lance.

Falaius slammed a hand on the table, causing Varia to jump. “How does this Tarmak control it? That’s what I don’t understand. This is a weapon created in a war long past by men far different from the Brutes.”

“The Brutes fought in that war,” Mariana reminded him. “The weapon was given to them by the Dark Knights. The Knights probably gave them the spells to control it as well.”

“So why do their spells work, while our mystics are relegated to poultices and herbal teas for healing?” Sir Hugh said. He sat sullenly at the table, the sole representative of the Solamnic Knights. Exhaustion colored his square face with gray and tainted his voice with impatience.

“I do not know,” Varia said. “I have seen the Tarmak general in daylight, and I know he wears a necklace made of dragon’s teeth.” She saw Mariana’s fair face darken with anger. “But maybe there is something else. Maybe he has some artifacts from Istar or a power from his own land we know nothing about.”

“Where is Crucible now?” asked the Legion Commander.

Varia hissed a little sound of displeasure. “The Tarmaks have chained him to a tree beside their headquarters in the city square. They are making a spectacle of him.”

The half-elf shook her fair head. “Where is Linsha?”

“She was put back with men. I counted three Legionnaires and fourteen Knights, including Sir Remmik and Lady Linsha.”

“They are in the dragon’s lair?” asked Falaius.

“In the old complex of ruins behind the throne room,” Varia said.