Between the King's Guard, the Northridge Guard, and the various creatures in Travis, the dungeon was more secure than any fortress Hilda could name in the North. Shoving back the fear she still couldn't banish where such purely magical things were concerned, she looked around the busy workers inside—at the wagons loaded up with ore heading out—and headed to the stairs that led deeper, but not all the way to the bottom where the miners were heading.

"You wanted to talk to someone?"

Hilda turned to face the challenge, and saw a kobold wearing a robe. She always had trouble trying to pick out males from females until they spoke, but this one sounded male. "I am looking for Penelope the dragon."

Tilting his head a little as he listened, Robert nodded. "Trav, why didn't you tell our guest yourself?"

"Because I didn't want to startle someone unused to this." Travis said to both of them, though only Hilda twitched at the sound of his mental voice. "It's also getting harder to focus, what with a new city of information pouring into my head. Sorry, Hilda, as I told Robert, Penelope is in the capital right now, organizing with the King to open the last of my entrances somewhere in the East. Is it urgent?"

Unsure whether to laugh or cry, Hilda opted for the former. "Trust my luck to challenge the only dragon who is busier than I am. She deals with kings and kingdoms, while I just—"

"She's on her way," Travis said. "When I told her you were standing here asking for her, she told the King she had an important matter to take care of."

Genuinely taken aback, Hilda asked, "Now? She walked out on a king?"

"Not exactly." It was hard not to laugh at what he'd witnessed when he'd told Penelope that Hilda was asking for their duel. "Do you want to fight in the open or underground?"

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Walking out of the sally port of the city, Hilda felt like her heart was going to explode. She had her shield and sword, all her armor, and only needed to get word to put her helmet on and be ready for the fight.

She was just working over the straps of her armor when she heard the beat of dragon wings. A shiver ran down her spine from the back of her head and, when it reached her tailbone, it rolled all the way back up.

Penelope landed on the wall, displacing a few guards there to let Stewart off, then dropped off the other side and walked out to meet Hilda. Behind her, she could see Stewart asking what the odds were from a sergeant who held a writing tablet.

Approaching Hilda, Penelope could see the intense look in the woman's eyes that seemed to stare past her. "I'm glad to hear you're feeling better. Do you wish to impose any rules on this fight?"

"You said we can both come back from the dead?" At Penelope's nod, the back of Hilda's head tingled with excitement. "Then, to the death. Use whatever you wish." She lifted her helmet from her side and pulled it on her head, then fastened the strap under her chin.

"I have a cleric of Sandwalker waiting to heal the wounds or resurrect us. Good luck."

Hilda had a moment to nod to the well-wishing before Penelope jumped into the air. She'd expected it, but didn't want to hold such a mighty foe down. Fully expecting Penelope to strafe her with her breath, she set her shield before her and kept her face from being exposed—only to feel a massive contact as much of Penelope's weight slammed into her shield.

For Penelope, hitting Hilda's braced shield with her two balled fists was what she was sure flying into the city wall would be like. Still, she beat her wings and pulled herself into the sky and safety again.

Hilda shook her arms and stepped out of the divots in the ground she'd made as Penelope retreated back into the sky. The impact had been monumental, but she'd held her ground. Now she followed Penelope's loop through the sky and started panting slightly—pumping her lungs like a set of bellows to fuel the fire of energy she'd need.

Not wanting Hilda to have it too easy, Penelope spat a thin line of acid toward her, and was pleased when Hilda ducked behind her shield.

It was a surprise for Hilda when, instead of smashing into her shield again, Penelope grabbed it with her back talons and flew directly upward. Letting out a laugh of pure joy, Hilda cut the straps anchoring her shield to her arm, and reversed the slice to score a line along Penelope's scales with her heavy adamantine blade.

The line of fire along the inner thigh of her left back leg made Penelope wince. She could feel wetness on her talon and knew she was bleeding freely. Grumbling, she turned around for one more strafe, threw the shield toward the base of the city wall, and cast Shield of Mana on herself before stooping into a dive.

Expecting to get punished for the loss of her shield, Hilda prepared to dive aside from any lines of acid—only to get engulfed in flame. Snarling at the magic trick, she got most of the flames out and dove aside as Penelope crashed into the ground where she'd been standing. The impact of hitting the ground nonetheless knocked the wind out of Hilda, but she regained her feet quickly and faced off with the most deadly foe she'd ever encountered.

The cheering from the wall stalled both fighters for a moment, each tilting their heads to see folks screaming in excitement.

"Quite the crowd," Penelope said.

"Yeah." Hilda didn't take her eyes off Penelope, even when she stole a glance at the wall. "Was that fire magic?"

"Mmhmm." The words rumbled from Penelope's throat like a growl. "You said anything."

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"You could have melted me where I stood—like you did to the goblin army."

"That would have been boring and betraying my promise." Twitching when Hilda moved, Penelope couldn't crab-walk sideways to match, so instead turned slowly. When she'd had enough of that game, she inhaled and blew a line of acid to stop Hilda's motion.

Seeing how slow Penelope was at turning, Hilda feinted a turn back the other way—then charged. Her first swipes with her blade went easily deflected by Penelope's foretalons. Swinging wider to get more strength behind her stroke led to Penelope punishing her with a slice down her left side that found a gap in her armor and peeled half her breastplate back like it was made of tin.

But, when Hilda withdrew from the engagement, she had positioned herself closest to the wall and, reaching down, scooped up her shield. She couldn't fasten it to her arm with its straps, but she was able to hold it with her mailed fist well enough, and it protected the ruined side of her armor.

The attack and maneuvering had been masterful, in Penelope's mind. Hilda had perhaps misjudged how well talons could slice up her armor, but she had recovered her shield. Seeing nothing else for it, she tucked her wings in and bunched her haunches.

Hilda only had time for one good breath between when Penelope prepared herself and then pounced. Wishing she'd opted for a polearm, Hilda's mind raced as she watched Penelope approach at great speed. She had the tips of her wings out, something that Hilda knew would let her shift direction in the air. There was nothing else for it than to lower her center of mass, brace her feet, and present her shield.

Knowing that engaging with Hilda in close quarters would always cost her in wounds, Penelope steeled herself and prepared her talons to ensure that both shield and sword would be busy. Hilda slammed her shield up into Penelope's right talon, ignored the left, and drove her sword upward, tip connecting with Penelope's chest.

As the tip of her blade pressed in, Hilda's face lit with a triumphant smile, only to be replaced as intense pain, beyond anything she'd felt before, made her right shoulder feel on fire—then suddenly cold.

Only a few finger-widths of sword had pierced Penelope's breast before she'd tightened her grip on Hilda's upper arm—and pulled. With the limb torn free, she found herself still struggling to subdue the woman with her right talon and, so, tossed the arm aside and used her left to dig her claws in on one side of Hilda's neck and slice sideways.

Feeling her life slipping away, and not able to speak because of the bubbling noise at her throat, Hilda managed to fix her eyes on Penelope above her, and wept at how perfect her end had been, while the dragon standing over her roared in victory.

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Waking up from death was a new experience for Hilda, let alone one so magnificent. She jerked, lifting her right arm immediately and, shocked at the sight of it reattached, tried to sit up.

"Please wait. Since this is your first time experiencing this, you will have some disorientation. Your sense of balance will take a few moments to recover, and your shoulder will itch. You will also experience a sensation that will happen whenever you are resurrected in the future. It can be as small as a constant need to sneeze or as big as annoying feelings of muscle-strain." It was all the normal speech for Fairheart, but the look on the huge woman's face held confusion and annoyance in equal measure. "You cannot understand me?"

Before Fairheart could get her answer, though, a gentle knock on her inner sanctum's door made her call out, "I have a reborn with me."

"One of the kobolds from the dungeon is insistent. She says she can understand and talk to your reborn."

The softly spoken voice drew Hilda's attention. She recognized a word from it, "kobold."

"Send her in." Fairheart knew a lot of the kobolds now in the dungeon. Many had spoken to her before finalizing their decision to join their fate to Travis'. When the door opened and Ludmiller walked in, though, she had to admit she only knew this one by her kobold reputation. The soft lighting of the perpetual candles in her temple seemed pushed back and actively repelled. "Ludmiller. You are here for our guest?"

"Sorry to interrupt, but Travis thought it would be best to have someone who Hilda can understand present." Turning to face the impressive warrior, remembering her from the invasion, Ludmiller gathered her confidence—and was cut off.

"The Ghost." Hilda couldn't believe how small Ludmiller was. Before her was a kobold she knew had wrecked her sister, Donna's, efforts to take control of one dungeon, reduced every siege engine they'd had to rubble dozens of times over, and had almost cost them the one win they'd had—sapping the walls. She dipped her head and instantly regretted it.

Ludmiller was faster than Fairheart, shifting herself to Hilda's side to catch the huge woman before her head connected with the altar. She held Hilda until she could balance and get herself upright.

"Fast. Strong. Hard to see. Why is everything blue?" Moving slowly, Hilda stood with one hand on Ludmiller's shoulder. It was even harder to balance, but she fought down nausea to keep her composure.

"Blue? That's probably going to be your thing each time you resurrect. Thank the priestess; she and her acolytes rushed outside the walls to pick you up and get you back here. Take two of the talismans there— Actually, take a stack and store them at your new fort. Give them to all your soldiers."

Guiding Ludmiller toward her armor, Hilda scoffed and picked up what remained of her bevor. "Need something stronger to protect against dragon talons. Spikes? Maybe reinforcement? How do I say 'thank you'?" When Ludmiller repeated a sound back to her twice, Hilda looked at the priestess and dipped her head slower, trying to avoid nausea and offense—particularly to someone who had gifted her with the ability to fight again. "Thank you."

"Tell her she's welcome, and to take some talismans." Dipping her own head in return, Fairheart felt her goddess smiling down on her. She didn't like the word heathen, but she could see a little hope in offering Hilda and her people her goddess' more natural faith. "And more for her soldiers. She can leave her armor here and pick it up when she's more capable. There are robes to your left."

"I did. I'll see they get them." Focusing her attention back on the giantess of a woman balancing on her shoulder, Ludmiller told her, "She says you're welcome. You can leave your armor here for now and wear one of these robes home."

The thin cloth was as good as nakedness for Hilda, which got her thinking. "When we are born and destined to be a warrior, we are left exposed for a day and a night. I feel—"

"You'd spend a day and a night in the city guard's jail. Folks might have gotten used to Breath of Spring and her minions walking around naked occasionally, but I don't think they'd make allowances for you. The robe won't protect you from the cold, anyway." Ludmiller glared up at Hilda until the big woman grunted, but kept the robe on.

"My armor." The piece in Hilda's hand was caked in blood, the leather straps were cut where they hadn't been torn, and it had two deep gashes in it where claws had shredded it like paper. "I will be back for it. I want it to—to remember my fight."

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