ELEVEN

  With the guild leader's location in hand, a place not far from the church, Vidar left the terrified thief behind and descended through the hatch and down into his domain. When the lock clicked shut above, a sense of security washed over him. Vidar breathed a sigh of relief, feeling exhausted after the exchange with the thief. Still, he had the dragon rider to find.

  He climbed downward, moving out of the small passageway and onto the platform overlooking the water. The location was well known to him at this point but Vidar didn’t head straight there. Instead, he continued to the location where water dropped into the huge basin with the broken wall. From there, he hoped to see some sign that his theory was correct.

  The light from the kenaz rune on his forehead made the eyes of the dead dragon glimmer far below, where it rested in the vast, empty chamber. That was, however, not all that was visible in the darkness. A faint greenish glow of a circle showed up next to the skeleton. It was a sort of light Vidar had never experienced before. How the light functioned did not matter. What mattered was that he'd just received the sign he'd been hoping for. Rend's location. He'd found it.

  The descent gave him no trouble, and soon he saw the luminescent circle. It was broken, not a full circle, and part of that same strange light streaked from the circle toward the dragon.

  “No,” Vidar said, talking to himself and narrowing his eyes. “The circle is blocked.”

  A young man lay on his side across the painted line. His shirtless, pale chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. Rend, the dragon rider, was unconscious. Vidar frowned and stepped closer. Touching the green-tinted, white light, he noticed no trace of essence within it. The strange paint rubbed of, sticking to Vidar’s fingers, which glowed with that same eerie light. Ever so carefully, Vidar stepped into the circle to see what would happen.

  Nothing. Disappointed, he knelt next to the unconscious figure inside. Rend's leg did not look well. Crushed beneath the corpse of a dragon, it hadn’t regained its original shape and still appeared somewhat flattened. Now, black spots covered the skin, with blemishes showing the telltale signs of bleeding beneath the skin.

  “There’ll be no walking on that leg today,” Vidar said. “Perhaps never again.”

  Looking around, he muttered, “I should have brought something for support.” He shook his head. “No matter, that will have to wait.”

  Unsure what else to do, Vidar slapped the man across the face and screamed, “Wake up, dragon rider!”

  The boy stirred with a groan. His eyes flickered open, unfocused at first. Then, with a long rumbling breath, his gaze steadied.

  “Hello again, asshole,” Vidar said, holding out a skin full of water. "Drink."

  One word left the rider’s hoarse throat as he accepted the water. “Slayer.”

  He guzzled down the offered water.

  “Slayer?” Vidar asked. “Now there’s a title. Can you sit?”

  After some coughing, the rider drank a little more, then said, “Maybe.”

  Vidar studied the man. Weak. Shivering. The rider’s eyes flickered to the dragon skeleton, then to the light glowing from Vidar’s forehead. He’d dimmed the kenaz rune, so as not to blind the poor cripple.

  “Blasphemer,” the rider muttered, his voice filled with scorn.

  “Not as glorious a title,” Vidar snorted, handing over a small bag of dried, salted meat and nuts. “I saw the rune you painted on the wall in blood. What does that make you, then?”

  Rend peeked into the bag, perhaps in an attempt to hide the color flushing into his cheeks. “Weak,” he admitted. “Blasphemer. Unworthy of majesty.”

  Vidar followed his gaze to the dragon skeleton. “This is what you were looking for with all that digging?”

  Rend shook his head. “Not I. Scout. Vatrfjall,” he searched for the right word. “Dragon excited. Struggle.”

  Sweat poured down Rend’s face. His pale skin almost shone in the darkness. The way he spoke, feverish and unfocused, did not bode well for his leg or his overall health.

  “I have a lot of questions,” Vidar said, pushing the bag of food against Rend’s chest. “But first, I’ll get you fixed up. First, though, tell me about this miracle.” He dragged his glowing finger across the painted line, holding it up. “What is it and, more importantly, how can I get more of it?”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Mushrooms,” Rend said, his voice hoarse. “Crushed.” He lifted a trembling finger, pointing to the dragon’s head. “Surtandr's tribute. Gold... Gone.”

  “Tribute?” Vidar echoed, his voice rising. "I don't know what happened to the gold, but you need to tell me where I can find more of those mushrooms!"

  Rend let out a few panting breaths, then spoke in a rasping voice. "Home."

  Vidar sighed, then cleared his throat. “Dammit. Anyway, let’s get you out of here and into a more comfortable resting place. We’ll need to do something about that leg. Thankfully, I know a character well-versed in the art of healing.”

  Rend didn’t seem to hear him, but he drank a little more water, which was a good sign. So, the dragon rider knew the name of the dragon before them. Many questions were welling up in Vidar's mind, but they would have to wait, or Rend would not live much longer.

  “You’re going to need a crutch,” Vidar said, standing up. “I can’t believe you made it over here from Nordstan in the dark.”

  “Surtandr,” Rend mumbled. “Calls me.” His eyes never left the bones of the dead dragon.

  Vidar shuddered and stood, walking toward the corpse. “I should have brought something,” he muttered again. “But since I didn’t, perhaps a bone will do.”

  Behind him, Rend’s eyes closed.

  Vidar pulled out Alvarn’s device. The rune scribe hadn't named it, as far as Vidar could recall, but Pen of Burning sounded awe-inspiring enough to his ears. He triggered the sowilo rune and put it against a bone he thought would work, burning a thin line into it.

  “No!” Rend shouted.

  Vidar stopped and turned around. “What?”

  “No bones,” Rend said, his voice fierce. “No touch!”

  Vidar sighed. Rend was talking nonsense, but the terrible expression on his face said all that needed to be said. The boy would be furious if Vidar used a dragon bone as a crutch. He might even refuse the use of it.

  A grinding sound of stone against stone gave Vidar another idea. He relented. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right back. I’ll return soon.”

  The many skeletons crushed little by little over the years by the circular, enormous stone gate, remained. Whatever happened to those men and women who left their bones at the entrance to the dragon's final resting place, Vidar did not want to disturb them too much. Taking from the long-dead creature was one thing, but to steal from people who'd perished with weapon in hand? Quite another. Still, there was nothing else to do. To leave this place, Rend needed a crutch. Even then, it would be a grim task to get the young man out.

  With two spears from the dead warriors in hand, Vidar returned. The dragon rider was still sitting up, eating. From the determined look on his face, Rend did not enjoy the taste, or perhaps he had trouble swallowing, because he ate with some difficulty, taking large swallows of water to get the nuts and meat down.

  Vidar stepped on the haft of the spear, shortening it. It should work. Despite the age of the weapon, the wood held up well enough. With the second spear shortened as well, and the sharp heads tossed far into the darkness to get them out of range from Rend, Vidar didn't quite trust him with a weapon, he tied the two together to strengthen the crutch further. The now empty bag of food he'd brought fit nicely on top of the spears, creating a thin padding to prop under Rend's shoulder.

  "Ready?" Vidar asked, holding out his hand.

  Rend grabbed Vidar's hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Well, foot.

  "We have to deal with that leg of yours, or it'll be the death of you."

  Vidar helped him get the crutch in position, then wrapped Rend's free arm around his shoulders for support.

  The first step resulted in a wail of pain and the two of them crashing to the floor. On the second attempt, they stayed upright. After that, Vidar supported most of Rend’s weight, each stride a pain-filled battle.

  If regular walking was a challenge, the ladder back up was a mountainous task to overcome. In the end, Vidar climbed second, with Rend almost fully seated on his shoulders. The dragon rider helped by pulling with his one free hand. It did little to ease the weight, and they needed to stop and rest several times.

  Once back up after what felt like days of climbing, they collapsed onto the stone floor of the corridor, breathing too hard for any conversation to be had. The next hurdle in their ascent to the surface was the fact Rend wore almost no clothing. In his fevered and injured state, the young man would not survive long in the cold and snow. Instead, Vidar guided them through the underground passages, going by pure gut feeling. Their destination, the veterinarian, wasn't far from another entrance to the underground systems. It was one he hadn't used before, but having been down there so many times, and having memorized the map to a degree, Vidar steered them in the general direction of that part of town.

  Sure enough, when Vidar climbed up by himself to take a look, they were near to the house and barn occupied by the traitor who'd sold him out to the thieves' guild. Vidar descended again and let Rend borrow one of his most prized possessions, his new coat. Widening the triggered opening in the runic circles, the sowilo runes flared with warmth in anticipation of the cold above. The two of them repeated the ladder climb. Fortunately, this ladder was much shorter. It was time to pay the bastard veterinarian another visit. The man would love to see Vidar come calling again.

  Even with the sowilo runes' help, there was no keeping the cold at bay, especially not now when the sun had long since set. Both of them shuddering to the point of teeth chattering, they ever made their way over to the veterinarian's residence. Far too many minutes of banging later, the door opened.

  "Oh no!" the veterinarian barked, trying to shut the door.

  Vidar lodged his foot in the opening, shouting, "Don't you dare close this door!"

  After a moment of hesitation, the veterinarian opened the door with a sigh, gesturing for them to enter. "I am a veterinarian, not a physician!"

  "If you report us being here to the thieves' guild," Vidar said, glaring at the veterinarian. "Well, you remember what happened to Torbjorn."

  "Torbjorn," Rend muttered.

  He was half-asleep on his feet now, with Vidar carrying almost all of his weight.

  "What happened to this one then?" the veterinarian asked.

  "The leg got crushed."

  The veterinarian hunched down and pulled up Rend's pant leg, producing a wail of pain from the poor bastard. Sniffing before standing back up, he shook his head. "Bring him in then. You best pay me this time."