There was a great thunder as if the very rock beneath her was about to shatter. Starlex ducked her head to brace for whatever agonizing fate awaited her. Then the ground settled as pebbles from the crag's peak showered down on her.

Quetzex took off with an enormous flap of wings, whipping up gusts of stinging sand.

The dragon's shadow passed over her, shading her for a moment from the sun's beating rays.

"Rigel?" she shouted and waved her hands.

Quetzex made a tight circle over her in answer.

Heavens! He's become the dragon!

She crawled to the edge of the rock plateau to watch as Quetzex swooped down into the rocky hollow where the Nazeers and Oran soldiers battled.

From a cloud of pink dust, Nargos Nazeer appeared, leading a fresh charge with the sun blazing off his armor, his Gladius drawn. Behind him, a battalion of five men came to a sudden halt.

Nargos turned with a growl and shouted at them, "Get in there and fight, you bastards! Fight or I'll cut the balls right off ya!" The terrified men scattered, running for cover, some dropping their weapons in the panic.

Nargos looked up, squinting at the flying beast now silhouetted against the raging sun.

The dragon flew low. Then, hovering over the niches where the Nazeer soldiers took cover, Quetzez spewed out of a stream of fire. The men screamed as they burst into flames. Their bodies, like burning torches, rained down on the army below.

Panicked, the men scattered like rats. Nargos vaulted over a soldier on fire who was screaming in agony and hid behind a large boulder.

Quetzex followed the retreating men, burning one then another, zigzagging through the crags until what soldiers remained among the Nazeers' battalion were running back to their city, terrified, never to venture past its walls again.

Shouts of triumph rose from the Oran troops as they ran through the smoke to take Crytombe pass. Roland Davadas led the charge, thrashing his sword through black clouds of dragon's breath.

The great dragon flew into the sky over Stalex's head, opened its jaws, and released a shrill victory cry that caused the princess to shudder. There was a violent beating of wings, followed by a white puff of smoke, and then Rigel came sliding down the rock wall, landing at Starlex's feet in a cloud of sand and pebbles.

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He rolled across the ground with a groan.

"Rigel," she whispered. "Are up all right?"

Freed of its human burden, Quetzex flew high over the crags, heading north.

Starlex followed the dragon's flight until it was only a black spot in the lapis sky.

Rigel sighed. "My leg's broken. Give me a Lila bird any day over over a damn dragon. Argh."

She ran her cool fingers below his knee, stopping when she reached a red lump along the shinbone. It was swelling rapidly.

"Rest now," she said, stroking her cousin's damp forehead. "The Nazeers are gone. You've won the battle for Oran."

"Some thanks I get," he groaned and closed his eyes. "What's happening now?

Starlex crept to the edge of the plateau and peeked over the cliff.

The sound of clanging swords pierced the black cloud of dragon's breath still hovering over the men. In the dissipating smoke, Roland Davadas and Nargos Nazeer were facing off in hand-to-hand combat.

Wincing in pain, Rigel crawled on his belly to join her.

"Rigel, what are you doing? You'll make your leg worse."

"I have to see how it ends, damn it!"

The Oran troops made a circle around the two opponents, but none intervened as Roland and Nargos fought: Nargos with his Gladius and ax, Roland with his long sword and dagger.

"Why won't the Oran soldiers kill Nargos?" Starlex gazed contemptuously down at the man who had almost become her father-in-law.

Rigel rested his chin on her arm. "It's an old Ardelymian law. The last man standing on the losing side gets to fight with the victor's captain in a final battle. If Nargos defeats Roland, he walks free.

"You should have killed Nargos when you had the chance," Starlex said.

Rigel winced in pain. "I would have if that damn beast hadn't farted me out like that."

Roland, taller than his opponent by two and a half heads, raised his long sword and charged the Nazeer duke. But Nargos made a quick, squirrelly move beneath it, and jammed his ax into the armor joint on the back of Roland's knee.

"Cowardly move," hissed Rigel.

Roland went down on one knee, the color draining from his young face. The Oran troops clutched their weapons, bound by tradition not to fight. The blood ran bright red through Roland's fingers netting over the wound.

As Nargos approached, Roland raised his sword feebly from the ground. Nargos kicked it away and ran his Gladius across Roland Davadas' throat. The young warrior's blood made a dark spray in the arid air as his body crumpled.

With a sharp cry, Starlex turned and hid her face in Rigel's shoulder.

Rigel whispered, "And now our Tylla is a widow before she even had a chance to be a bride."

As Roland Davadas lie bleeding in the pink sands of Crytombe pass, the line of Oran soldiers parted like a gate to let Nargos Nazeer through. Honoring Ardelymian law, the men held their weapons and even their tongues as the old Nazeer stumbled back toward his home city deep within the Crags. Then, silently and somberly, the remaining Oran troops loaded Roland's body onto a litter and began their slow victory march toward Mynimium.

* * *

Several leagues away on Pendulm Road, Bonn, and Leiffen slowed their mounts to a trot. Above their heads, a great purple bird circled.

"That's the Lila bird from Oran," said Leiffen, pointing the sky. "Look! She's trying to warn us."

"No," said Bonn, a smiling alighting his face. "She's trying to lead us--to Starlex."