“Tetlin’s ass!” Moya yelled.
Persephone didn’t know if it was their shouting in unison or the little spear that had just missed its mark that caught Balgargarath’s attention, but something did. The great monster lifted its ugly head from the pinned form of the dragon to look their way. No doubt about it: The beast focused on Moya.
“Close,” Persephone said. Hope was back, and with it came fear. “Try again.”
“That wasn’t my fault. That cul of a stick went off target,” Moya said, her voice more than a little shaky. “At the last second I felt a kick.”
Balgargarath continued to stare, then took a step toward them.
Moya held out her hand, rapidly opening and closing it. “Roan! Give me…the…ah…I need another one…another one with a row. Give me another row. Hurry up!”
Roan handed it to her, and watched as with shaking hands Moya had trouble fitting it in the string. She aimed and let the shaft fly. Again the little feathered stick flew straight, but again it went wide to the left and out the door.
“Mother-filling son of the Tetlin whore!” Moya yelled.
“You’ve really nailed shooting through the crack,” Persephone said.
“It’s not my fault,” Moya yelled back. “That should have been perfect. I was right on.”
“Did it kick again?” Roan asked.
“Yeah.”
Persephone watched the demon. Balgargarath looked out the open door. When he turned back, he focused all his attention on Moya and roared. “Oh, Grand Mother!” she exclaimed as the demon let go of the dragon and charged.
“Give me another row! Give me a row! A row, a row!” Moya screamed.
Persephone passed her the last marked shaft.
“No!” Roan snatched it away.
The cavern shook as Balgargarath pounded his hooves into the floor, leaving chipped ruts and kicking up shards of rock. The monster closed on them, and was only a few strides away when the dragon downed it with a swipe of her tail.
Bits of stone sprayed them as the wind from the collapse blew by.
“Roan, what are you doing?” Moya shouted. “I need it. Now!”
Roan ignored the demand and tore off one of the flights. “Fit it with the missing feather against the bow staff.”
Looking desperate and exasperated, Persephone wondered if Moya had heard.
Balgargarath kicked at the dragon and got to its feet.
Moya drew back the bow and let the shaft fly. This time it didn’t waver, didn’t hitch. The spear flew with perfect precision and an ever-so-slight arc that Moya had managed to account for. The bolt punched into the center of Balgargarath’s chest. It couldn’t have been a better shot.
“Yes!” Persephone cried out.
The beast looked down at the shaft sticking out of its dead-corpse skin.
“Isn’t it supposed to be dead?” Frost asked, almost pleaded.
Suri looked up confused.
Roan had the answer. “It didn’t go deep enough. Not all of the name is inside.”
“I need another one,” Moya said. “I need another arrow.”
“Almost done,” Brin said.
“No,” Roan told her. “Start over on the other side. Make the markings closer to the point.”
“We don’t have time,” Moya said.
True enough. Balgargarath snapped the stick off its chest, and with a horrible growl, it began to charge.
“I’ll just pull back farther. Give me the arrow!”
Brin looked to Persephone. “Do it!”
Moya took the arrow and started to fit the shaft. “Dammit!” She put the feathers to her mouth and tore off one of the four.
Rain flung his pickax at the charging demon with both hands, causing it to flip end-over-end three times before the point glanced off Balgargarath’s leg. The dragon made another lunge, but missed.
The giant horned monster with its beady eyes, sharpened teeth, and bulbous head shook the ground with its last few strides, cracking stone as it drove forward at an astounding speed. Nothing could stop it. The forward momentum would propel Balgargarath through them and past the wall beyond.
Moya nocked the arrow and hauled back on the bow until the notched end of the shaft was at her ear.
In the instant before the arrow flew, Persephone saw Moya standing alone in the path of the giant—a perfect sight. She wasn’t shaking, never flinched, didn’t cower even though a ghastly mountain was charging at her. Moya was a true hero. And as she let go of the string, Persephone overflowed with pride.
That’s one damn fine Shield!
The arrow’s trip was short by the time Moya loosed it. Given the size of Balgargarath, she couldn’t possibly have missed. Persephone never saw the shot land, as the moment Moya let go she and everyone else were blown flat on their backs. The massive gust of wind ripped Persephone’s torc off her neck and scattered the stack of stone tablets. The table was thrown over. The explosive blast slammed their swords, packs, glowstones, and all of Roan’s worldly possessions into the walls, and the fire that Suri had made was snuffed out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Death by Steps
How many tears must we weep? How loud must we cry? How many farewells must we say, for the dead to hear goodbye?
—THE BOOK OF BRIN
From out of the dark Frost asked, “Anyone else alive?”
Persephone heard a cough that sounded like Brin.
“You’re not rid of me yet,” Flood replied. “Rain?”
“What?” the third of the trio asked.
“Never mind.”
“Moya? Moya?” Persephone called.
“Still here,” the woman said with a labored breath. “Got him that time, didn’t I?”
“Roan? Brin? Suri?” Persephone called out, and in turn they all answered that they, too, survived whatever it was that had happened. Arion was the only one who failed to speak, but Suri declared her no worse than before.
Persephone spotted the muffled light of one glowstone buried under debris, and crawled to it. Digging the stone out, she held it up. The room was still there although a scorched spot marred the floor where Balgargarath had been. Smeared marks of blackened stone flared out in all directions from that point. Everything else in the room was plastered against the outer walls, including each of them.
Persephone noticed a throbbing in her head. She reached up and felt a lump on the back of her skull. She must have hit her head on the floor or wall, but had no memory of doing so.
“Suri, can you make a fire?” Persephone asked.
A short pause, a faint humming sound, a clap, and then a bright flame appeared. The brighter light revealed the rest of the cave. Everything that had been in the middle of the cavern was scattered, thrown away in equal measure from the center point that had been Balgargarath. Brin had an ugly cut across her forehead that bled into her eyes. Moya, who still held on to the bow, sported a scrape on one cheek and a set of bloody knuckles as if she’d been in a fistfight. The three dwarfs and Roan had only minor scrapes. Being so far away and close to the wall, Suri and Arion showed no injury; Persephone knew better.
The dragon was still there as well. In the light of Suri’s fire, she turned around three times before lying down. The great beast tucked her serpent tail around herself and lowered her head between two great claws. Her open eyes focused on Suri.