Shaella had stormed away after that, with what might have been tears in her eyes. She couldn’t change his mind. Gerard was climbing alone, or he wasn’t climbing at all.
She was worried for Gerard, but for a different reason than anyone suspected. Another hawkling had arrived bearing a message from Pael. It was Pael who she was afraid of. He wanted her to make sure that her climber stayed in the dragon’s lair until he arrived. She had tried and tried to send Greyber, or one of the Zard, up into the cavern with him, but Gerard was as hard-headed and proud as any man she had ever known. She just wanted someone up there to watch his back. She knew she should’ve explained the situation to him, but she hadn’t been able to. Tears had begun to flow when she tried, and she would have rather died, than to have her Zard army see her as a worried, lovesick girl. Her mission, and Pael’s, had to come first. No matter how much heartache it caused her, she had to keep everything in perspective.
Maybe Pael wasn’t going to do anything drastic to Gerard when he came. If Gerard didn’t dally after he did what he was supposed to do, then he would be down before Pael arrived anyway. If that happened, she knew she would have to deal with Pael’s wrath, but she could handle that. She held out hope that she could get Gerard out of there safely, even if Pael did catch him unawares. It was a slim hope that would require a great deal of good fortune, and more than a little bit of skill on her part, but none of it would matter at all if they couldn’t get the dragon to come out of the lair to feed.
Once the snapper was in place, the gekas were ridden away. The stubborn hesitance they had shown only moments before evaporated when they realized that they were being directed to move out of the feeding grounds.
Now it was Greyber’s turn. He and his group charged out, and began hacking through the thick plated skin of the creature. When they were through it, they peeled back the hide to expose the fresh pink meat. Blood flowed freely. There was no shortage of fresh gore-scent to draw the dragon.
Just to be sure, Cole cast a spell that carried the aroma wafting right up into the dragon’s lair. It wouldn’t take long to arouse the great red wyrm. The Zard had been placing snapper here regularly for half a year, and those meals had been left plain and un-skinned. This offering was being prepared specifically to entice the dragon, and at an interval at least a week longer than usual. All that was left to do now was take cover and wait.
As if tempting fate, Shaella boldly walked out to the would-be-feast and began slinging some specially prepared liquid contents from a fat wineskin, over the most readily available meat. Only after the bladder was completely empty, did she join the others in the cover that surrounded the retched smelling bone-strewn clearing.
Gerard and Flick didn’t have to wait very long. A deep, rumbling roar sounded from above. It was so loud, that it could have come from an arm’s reach away. Gerard thought that he saw tiny ripples radiating away from the rocky formations he was about to climb.
When the dragon finally leapt from its lair, there was a moment of pause, as its wings unfurled, then a heavy whooshing “Thump!” as they caught air. It was huge. Far larger than Gerard had imagined it could be. It was easily a hundred feet long, maybe more. Gerard found himself trembling in place, and otherwise unable to move.
“I hope she can keep that away from here,” Gerard whispered in a quavering voice.
His mind raced for an excuse, any reason at all to back out of this madness, but his thoughts kept going back to all the macho bravado he had spouted during the planning of it. He decided that he would rather die than to face Shaella and the others as a coward.
The whole canoe was trembling now, and he was certain that it wasn’t just him. Only a fool wouldn’t be afraid of the sight of such a perfect predator, and Flick was far from a fool. Gerard found some relief in knowing that the mage was scared too. He took a few deep breaths, and decided that he was as ready as he ever would be. He shouldered the backpack into place then, and ever so gently, stood up in the canoe. For a heart stopping moment, the craft jerked and wobbled under his feet. Only after his hands found the rock face, and he gripped it tightly, could he still himself and let the flock of birds that were flying around in his rib cage settle down.
The hardest part was getting that first foot to leave the floor of the canoe. Once he managed that, it was all instinct. He was so intent on getting this over with, that he didn’t hear what Flick was saying. Apparently, it wasn’t that important.