They reached the home of the dragon late in the afternoon the following day.
Dismounting, Darkfest stared down into the valley that so many had entered and from which none had returned.
He had thought they would have to hunt for the dragon, but Blackencrill was there for all to see, his deep green scales shining iridescent in the sunlight. Small puffs of smoke wafted from his nostrils as he slept, his long body curled around a shining blue castle that shimmered like an enormous sapphire. Trees, shrubs, and grass all wore the scorch marks of the dragon's breath. The remains of charred skeletons, both man and animal alike, were scattered across the valley floor.
The dragon stirred, a low rumble of pain issuing from his throat, along with a short burst of flame. Lifting his great horned head, he took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring.
It was then that Darkfest saw the hilt of the sword protruding from the dragon's flesh. Embedded in the dragon's massive neck, the weapon looked no larger than a woman's embroidery needle.
"Who goes there?" The voice of the dragon was as the sound of a rusty saw being dragged over stone.
"My lord - "
"Be silent, Channa Leigh. Dinna move. He canna see you."
Gathering his courage, Darkfest moved away from where she sat her horse. Walking slowly, he descended several yards, then came to a stop. The scent of smoke and charred flesh filled the air.
"I am Darkfest, master of fire and flame."
What might have been a laugh filled the valley, followed by a great whoosh of orange flame that incinerated a nearby tree. "Thou? Master of fire and flame?" Another laugh as the dragon sent a tongue of flame arcing toward him.
Gathering his power around him, Darkfest summoned a ball of dark blue fire and flung it out to meet that of the dragon. There was a great fiery explosion as the flames met in midair. Sparks of blue and orange rained down on the ground.
"Who art thou?" demanded the dragon. His tone now carried a faint note of respect.
"I am Darkfest, wizard of the north. The name of Blackencrill is known throughout the land and I have come seeking a boon at thy hand."
"A boon? Of me? What is it you seek?"
"A drop of thy blood."
"And what will you give me in return?"
"I will remove that sword from thy flesh and heal thy wound."
"Who is the woman that awaits thee?"
"My betrothed."
"And if I want the woman?"
"Ye cannot have her. She is mine."
"What need have you of my blood?"
"It is to restore her sight."
"You intrigue me, wizard of the north. Come closer."
"Do I look a fool?"
"You fear me?"
Darkfest let his gaze wander slowly over the charred skeletons scattered on the valley floor. "Aye."
"I give you my word you may enter my valley in safety."
"And my woman?"
"And the woman."
"Did these others also have thy word?"
"They did not think to ask."
"And when we wish to leave?"
A low rumble of laughter rocked the valley floor. "You are a wise wizard. I shall do nothing to harm you or the woman."
"Are you sure 'tis safe?" Channa Leigh asked, trepidation clear in her voice. "How do you know you can trust this dragon?"
" 'Tis a chance we'll have to take."
She lifted her head as they rode across the charred valley floor. "I smell... death."
"Aye, lass," Darkfest replied, and for once he was glad she could not see the destruction that surrounded them. What he had seen at a distance was far worse seen up close. Skulls leered at him, their mouths open in screams of terror.
The dragon awaited them, an enormous beast with thick scales and feet armed with claws as long as battle lances. His eyes were large and black, and watched, unblinking, as they approached.
Dismounting, Darkfest lifted Channa Leigh from the saddle. He could feel her trembling.
"My woman is weary from the journey."
The dragon nodded in the direction of the castle. "You may refresh yourselves inside."
With a nod, Darkfest led Channa Leigh into the castle. It was bigger than any dwelling he had ever seen, with ceilings a hundred feet high. The floors were made of translucent crystal, the walls of jade. The hearth was large enough to roast a dozen oxen at one time. The furniture was of gigantic proportions.
The first door off the main hall was a bedchamber. A wave of his hand brought a fire to life in the hearth. He settled Channa Leigh in a chair, removed her shoes.
He found a ewer filled with water, as well as a bar of fragrant soap and a bit of toweling. He warmed the water in the ewer with a glance.
"There is water to bathe with," he told her. "Have ye need of anything else?"
"Nay, my lord."
"I will return as soon as I can."
"You will be careful!"
"Aye, lass."
"I dinna trust that dragon."
"Nor I." Placing his hands on her shoulders, he drew her up against him. "I will not be long," he promised, and kissed her gently.
Her arms went round his neck and she pressed herself to him. "Hurry back to me, my lord."
With a nod, he kissed her again. Then, taking a cup he found next to the bed, he went out to gather the dragon's blood.
"The castle is to your liking?" the dragon asked as Darkfest emerged.
"Aye. Who dwells there?"
"Only the memory of the creature who once tried to enslave me."
"What happened to him?"
The dragon flashed a smile amid a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth. "What think you?"
"I think I would rather not know." He looked up, his gaze meeting that of Blackencrill. "Will ye now keep your word?"
"Think you I would not?"
"I think I would not like to meet the fate of the giant."
A low chuckle stirred the air above Darkfest's head. "Indeed, you would not." The dragon lowered his head, putting the hilt of the sword within Darkfest's reach. "Pull it out."
Darkfest wiped his hands on his trousers. The sword had obviously been embedded in the dragon's flesh for some time. The skin around the blade was black and putrid, the smell overwhelming.
" 'Tis likely to hurt."
"Do you think it doesn't hurt now?" the dragon roared. "Remove it!"
Wrapping both hands around the hilt of the sword, Darkfest gave a mighty tug. The blade tore free with a sickly wet sound. Blood oozed from the wound. It sizzled on the ground; the grass withered and died wherever it touched.
A drop landed on Darkfest's cheek and he howled with pain as it seared his flesh. He glared up at the dragon. "Ye might have warned me!" he exclaimed, tossing the sword aside. "How is she to drink this vile stuff?"
"You are the wizard."
"Aye. Be still now." Closing his eyes, Darkfest gathered his power. It grew within him, refining his senses, racing like quicksilver through his veins, dancing over his skin. He placed his hands over the wound in the dragon's neck, the power thrumming through him erecting a barrier of protection between the dragon's blood and the wizard's flesh.
"I am Darkfest," he murmured, his voice like the roar of the wind. "Master of fire and land. Be healed now, dragon, by the power of my hand!"
He felt the power flow down his arms and out through his hands, felt it spread over the dragon's flesh, burning away the foul infection with the clarity of healing fire. When he stepped back, all trace of the wound was gone.
Darkfest pulled the cup from inside his shirt. "Will ye now fulfill your part of the bargain?"
"Aye. A single drop, no more."
Darkfest nodded.
Using one of his fearsome claws, the dragon made a small scratch in his chest. Lifting the cup, Darkfest caught a single drop of glittering bright red blood. It landed in the cup with a soft sizzle.
"My thanks, my lord dragon."
"And mine," Blackencrill replied. "I have carried that sword in my flesh for a decade and more."
Darkfest gestured at a nearby skeleton. "Perhaps ye should have asked one of these to remove it for ye instead of burning the meat from their bones."
"They came to rob and to plunder," the dragon replied scornfully.
With a flick of his mighty tail, he gained his feet and stretched his wings. Such wondrous wings, pale green and gold streaked with crimson. Seeming light as thistledown, the dragon rose in the air.
"Be gone before sunrise, wizard," he called, and with a stroke of his powerful wings, the dragon left the valley.
Darkfest stared after the creature. The dragon had promised he would do them no harm; still, though mystified by the warning, he took it to heart. They would be away from the valley before dawn.
Channa Leigh stood at the window, letting the evening breeze waft across her face, letting its warmth dry her hair. She had bathed and washed her hair. When she went to put on her dress, she was surprised to find her old dress gone and a new one in its place. Now, waiting for Darkfest to return, she wondered if the blood of the dragon could indeed restore her sight.
She sensed the wizard's presence even before he spoke her name. She turned toward the sound of his voice. "My lord?"
"I have conjured a potion made from the dragon's blood," he said, entering the room.
A shudder escaped her at the thought of partaking of another creature's life force. "Is it... does it taste... vile?"
"Nay, beloved. It tastes of peppermint and honey."
"How can that be?"
"A bit of wizardry," he replied, and she heard the smile in his voice. "A lovely potion for a lovely maid."
She flushed, pleased by his flattery.
He closed the distance between them and placed the crystal goblet in her hand. "I am Darkfest," he intoned. "Master of fire and light. Drink, Channa Leigh, and receive thy sight."
With hands that trembled, she lifted the goblet to her lips and drank. It did, indeed, taste of peppermint and honey.
Darkfest watched her carefully, his heart pounding with anticipation as she drank the last of the brew.
He took the cup from her hand and set it aside. "Channa Leigh?"
She followed the sound of his voice. "Perhaps it takes a bit of time for the magic to work."
"Nay. I must have mixed it wrong." He paced the floor, going over the spell in his mind, and then he shook his head. "No, I did everything that was to be done, as it was meant to be done."
"My lord..."
"Forgive me, Channa Leigh."
"There is nothing to forgive." But he heard the disappointment in her voice. It was like a knife slicing through his heart. He had given her hope, and now that hope was gone.
He paced the floor, muttering to himself, as night flung her cloak across the sky. Channa Leigh slept, her head pillowed on her arm, and still he paced until he felt the breath of the sun warm the land.
In an instant, he recalled the dragon's warning. Lifting Channa Leigh from the bed, he draped her over his shoulder and bolted out of the castle even as it began to dissolve.
Their horses waited outside. Grabbing the reins, he closed his eyes, a distant part of his mind wondering why Channa Leigh did not wake up.
In desperation, he summoned his power, uncertain of the danger that stalked them. And even as he felt it slither up his spine, he saw it take shape, moving like a long black shadow around the edge of the valley, and everywhere it touched, thorns sprang in its wake. A dull roar filled the air, as if the very earth cried out in pain.
"I am Darkfest," he shouted, "master of fire and tide. Thou wicked dragon, I summon thee to my side!"
There was a mighty beating of wings, a blast of furnace heat, and Blackencrill descended to stand beside him.
Darkfest glared at the beast. "Foul dragon, you will take us from this place now, or your flesh will rot from your bones."
The dragon snorted, an oddly delicate sound coming from so large a creature. "I but promised I would not harm you," he said. "In return for your kindness, I warned you to leave the valley before the sun's rising." He glanced at the sky. "I fear you did not listen."
Channa Leigh stirred in his arms. "My lord?"
"All is well, beloved," Darkfest said. "Fear not. The dragon will see us to safety."
"Very well," Blackencrill said. "Hurry."
Darkfest settled Channa Leigh on the dragon's back. "Wait," he said, and lifting his hands, he summoned his power once more. "I am Darkfest, master of fire and ice. Horses and mule now become mice."
A rush of power flowed from his hands and a trio of mice stood where his and Channa Leigh's mounts and the mule had been. Gathering the creatures up, he dropped them into his pocket. Climbing onto the dragon's back, he put his arms around Channa Leigh and held her close. "Away, dragon!"
With a powerful thrumming of his wings, the dragon soared above the valley. Looking down, Darkfest saw that the valley was now surrounded by a tall hedge of briers and thorns. He could only wonder what might have awaited them if they had remained.
"Thy blood, dragon, why did it not work?"
Blackencrill shook his head. "You are the wizard, not I." And so saying, he landed in a broad meadow. "Perhaps you sought the wrong dragon. Be off now and begone. I want no more of your magic."
