Standing on a high ridge, Nathan studied the crude charts from Cliffwall so he could get his bearings. “This way. Almost there.” No one questioned his definition of “almost.” He wiped his brow with Mia’s special kerchief, then tucked it away before setting off, refreshed.
“I hope you’re correct,” Nicci replied. “We have been gone for too long already, and Life’s Mistress will keep growing more powerful back there in the valley.” Seeing the breathtaking sweep of the rampant growth, she had no doubt this scourge would grow even faster than the Lifedrinker’s desolation. Yet again, she would have to stop an enemy that would threaten Lord Rahl, the D’Haran Empire, the Old World and the New.
After pushing through the untracked mountains, they finally arrived at a saddle that overlooked a stark and secluded hanging valley. The rocky bowl below was guarded by sharp volcanic barricades and towering rock spires, like a walled-off preserve skirted with glaciers and broken cliffs. The black-rock basin held patches of snow and a partially frozen lake among the giant boulders and pinnacles of solidified ash.
Nicci recognized the place instinctively, and she could feel in her heart that this was where they needed to be. “Kuloth Vale,” she whispered.
Thistle pointed eagerly. “Look! See the bones?”
Looking closer, Nicci could discern the scattered white skeletons of enormous creatures—dozens of them, lying stark against the desolation.
The sharp breezes blew Nathan’s white hair into his face. He wore a satisfied smile. “Dragon bones, all right,” he said, as if he were particularly familiar with such things.
Bannon craned his head upward and peered into the sky as if expecting to see the angular silhouette of a circling dragon.
“We have to get down there,” Nicci said. She paused to assess the difficult route down into the rocky valley, but Thistle set off like a mountain goat, making her way down the loose rocks. When the scree slid beneath her, she merely hopped to a more stable boulder, and kept descending into the bleak basin.
With the goal finally in sight, Nicci picked her way down the slope without dwelling on the spectacular scenery. Bannon and Nathan followed close behind them, the wizard toiling with great care and the young man offering unwanted help. Behind them, Mrra remained at the top of the ridge, a silhouette in the afternoon light; the panther did not go farther, refusing to enter Kuloth Vale. Nicci knew the big cat would make her own choices.
Among the broken black rocks at the bottom of the bowl, they came upon the first dragon skeleton. Its rib bones had collapsed in like the legs of a dead spider. Time and weather had twisted the vertebrae. Its skull was hollow, and many of its long fangs had fallen loose. Its empty eye sockets stared upward at eternity.
Nathan went to the skeleton and tugged on a curved rib. “Should we just take the first one and go?” He rapped his knuckles on the hollow-sounding ivory. “You could fashion one of these into a bow.”
Bannon looked at the wizard in disbelief. “We can’t leave yet! We have to explore. This is the lost graveyard of dragons—think of the stories!”
“We need to choose the right bone,” Nicci said. “I want to test the size and resiliency of the ribs.”
They moved among the grim clutter, exploring the wealth of ribs, vertebrae, and skulls in the final resting place of the last dragons.
The wizard paused beside a towering skeleton to which some shreds of scaled hide still clung. Nicci examined the enormous skull, which was as large as an oxcart. Its long fangs were pitted, possibly rotten with age. The rib bones that curved majestically up from the skeleton were twice her height. Even in this faint remnant, Nicci could feel the power still resident in this great creature. She understood the closely bonded life magic throbbing within the bones. Yes, a bow made from such a rib could hold enough power to quench Victoria’s rampant spell.
“This one looks like a black dragon,” Nathan said. Each ebony scale was the size of his outstretched hand. “A great dragon, possibly a king among his kind.”
Nicci was more pragmatic. “Perhaps so, but this rib is far too large for me to use. We need to find a more appropriate skeleton.”
Moving around the upthrust volcanic rock, Bannon paused to inspect another set of collapsed bones. Nathan came up beside him, nodding. “Look there, see the slight differences in the shape of the head and the structure of the wing bones? This was a green dragon, I believe. Note the horn protrusions on its snout? That is how one can identify a green dragon.”
Bannon frowned. “Wouldn’t you know it’s a green dragon by the color of its scales?”
“Yes, my boy—but once you are that close, then you face troubles far more pressing than scientific classification.”
As they worked their way deeper into the valley, clouds scudded across the sky. They walked among the skeletons, piles of them, as if at one time there had been a great die-off of dragons.
“I wonder when the last one came here.” Bannon bent down at another skull, a small one, perhaps that of a young dragon that had perished beside its mother. Even the young dragon was larger than a draft horse.
Thistle scampered ahead to explore among the rocks. She climbed out of sight as she found more and more cluttered bones, ancient generations of fallen dragons.
“Over here, Sorceress!” Nathan called. “Perhaps this one? It’s a silver dragon, based on the configuration of its skull and the bony back ridges there. Metaphorically, at least, this one might be best for fighting.”
Joining him at the skeleton he had found, Nicci assessed the length and curvature of the rib, extended her arms as if holding an imaginary bow. “A good possibility.”
Bannon stepped up with his sword. “If that’s the one you want, Sorceress, I can cut the bone free. We’ll shape it into a bow when we get back to Cliffwall.”
Thistle screamed.
Nicci moved in a flash, bounding over the pitted volcanic rock and dodging the jumbled skeletons. She reached a pumice outcropping from which she could see the girl racing away in terror. Something stirred among the rocks and bones—something enormous.
A pair of angular wings unfolded, and leathery gray skin stretched taut. With a hiss, a serpentine neck scattered the rocks and heaved itself up in a spray of dust and gravel. The piled bones clattered and tumbled away from the half-buried form. It was a reptilian beast with wattled skin at its throat and tendrils drooping from fang-filled jaws. Many of its pewter-colored scales were missing, leaving exposed sections of wrinkled skin.
With the sound of blacksmith’s bellows, the dragon inhaled air into its lungs, flapped its broad wings, and lifted itself up. Fire lit its golden eyes. The creature seemed incredibly ancient, but not at all weak.
As it rose up, the gray dragon scattered debris, looming over them. Thistle cringed, directly in its line of sight. She had nowhere to run.
The beast spoke with loud thunder that caused more rocks to tumble from the steep slopes of the vale. “I am Brom!” He flapped his wings backward, making a stir of wind. “I am the guardian. I am the last.” The ancient gray dragon snorted, inhaling again to fill his withered, wrinkled hide. “And you are intruders.”