The following morning, the adventuring party was practically vibrating with nervous excitement as they broke camp. All of them except Herald and Mak. Herald because she’d already been to the ruined city, and Mak because I was calm — and if I was unbothered, what was there to worry about?

  Mother was amused at how seriously the others were taking it. So amused that she chose to stick around and watch until we’d made it through the last mile of forest and arrived at the city walls. There she took great delight in the wonder with which everyone, Herald and Mak included, looked up at the towering fortifications, which stood half again as tall as those of Karakan, and more in places. The forest ran right up to the walls, and only the tallest trees — not counting the true, towering monsters that grew here and there — even approached their height. Hell, seeing the walls from the ground, and having some idea of the amount of labor it would have taken to build something so massive, even I was impressed.

  “Now, I shall take my leave,” Mother said once the astonishment, and thus her entertainment, began to wear off. Her voice was entirely conversational, but I could see the laughter in her eyes. “I wish you all great amusement finding your way in. I have no doubt you shall succeed, one way or another.”

  There was a chorus of Thank-you-Great-Ladies and Thank-you-Great-Ones. Instinct nuzzled her a bit, getting some chirps and an affectionate rub on the head in return, and then Mother was off, returning to her patrol along the island’s western coast. That pair was still there, flying out to make themselves seen every so often — never actually approaching the island, but never leaving either. But Mother was patient. She had all the Rifts she could consume, and a purpose in keeping them away from me, so she was content with waiting for them to make a move.

  We, meanwhile, needed to find a way past the wall.

  There was a very easy way, which carried the slight downside that it might terminally traumatize the mules — I could just carry them all over. But where was the fun in that? We had a group of seven experienced adventurers in the party. The wall was five or six miles long in total, with three large gates, and it had collapsed partially in more than one place. In the worst case, at least two of the party were excellent climbers, and Mak could probably make a good showing of herself based on physical ability and sheer bloody mindedness. I was not going to rob them off the challenge of making it inside if there was another way.

  What I would happily do was to keep them motivated and excited by letting them know how close they were to the next gate, or the next breach. The first gate they came across was closed, but the first breach looked promising. It had collapsed outward, and the rubble was stacked high enough to have created an earthen ramp over the centuries. But the inside was a more or less sheer, seventy foot drop onto some shattered buildings. The humans may be able to climb down using ropes, but lowering Stalwart, Ashen and Apple, seemed risky. Avjilan announced that it could be done safely with work, but that it would take quite some time. We called the idea a maybe and moved on.

  The next breach was so partial and high up as not to count, but the one after that was just right. It was an almost complete collapse of the wall almost a hundred yards wide at the top, and the rubble had fallen in both directions. Unlike the first breach, though, there was nothing smooth about this section. With plenty of large, jagged blocks of stone peeking up through the layers of soil, it was steep and rough enough to offer a challenge in places, especially for the poor mules. We gave it a good shot, though, and with plenty of help, Stalwart made it to the top. Ashen turned out to be a natural climber, though she was possibly motivated by the breach being away from me, while Apple needed a lot of help, which he accepted gracefully and with barely any attempts to bite anyone.

  Then, of course, we had to get them down, which was a whole new challenge. Mak and Val did a lot of very literal heavy lifting there.

  And then we were inside. It was a little anticlimactic, really — nothing had tried to kill anyone. My presence probably had a lot to do with that. Not that anyone was disappointed; our non-adventurer members, Kira, Ardek, and Mag, were especially happy to make history so easily. The few smallish scrapes they’d been in over the previous few days had been quite enough for them. As Ardek put it: “It’s not so much that I’m scared of a scrap, I’d just like to have a single, Sorrows-beloved chance to either fight or run if it happens. We fought a wolf the size of a warhorse a few days back. I hid behind Mak, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. Common sense, really.”

  Easy or not, history was what they’d made. At least they were well on their way to making it. No expedition to Old Mallin had ever returned; we didn’t know for sure if they’d made it into the city or not. They might have made it in, but not out. But since I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything hurt my humans, that was a non-issue. They’d all return to Karakan, I’d make damned sure of that! And I’d make damn sure they’d be recognized for it, too.

  We held a short celebration with much mutual praise, cheering, and hugs, and then I set them in the direction of what should be the approach to the high city, where the temple, the library, and what we assumed to be the palace were. We’d decided to start with what we knew. For one, the ruined city was huge, and would probably take weeks if not months to explore from ground level. And if that wasn’t enough motivation, Tam’s gut and Sarina’s nose both told them that the high city was where we wanted to go, and Val and Avjilan both wanted very much to see the library.

  The forest inside the walls was much like that outside, with the addition of the absolute mass of ruins that filled the ancient city. Herald and I were used to it already, but to the others it was something to marvel over. Some buildings had collapsed completely, forming mounds and hills covered in bushes and small trees, but many still stood, partially or almost entirely. The Old Mallineans — or should that be Malyoneans? Malyoni? — could build for the future if they wanted to. Whether standing or fallen, every building was feet deep in soil that had built up over the centuries, and my companions kept ducking to stick their heads through windows that gaped open toward what had once been streets and boulevards.

  It was like when I’d walked the upper city with Herald, only more. My companions weren’t careless, exactly; they were always in pairs or better, and always made sure everyone else knew where they were going. But there was a definite sense of fearless excitement as they explored the buildings lining the street we were following. It was an atmosphere of adventure that was impossible not to get pulled into, and before long I was happily trotting back and forth among the trees to look at this and that curiosity that someone had found.

  With most of the humans being couples, they were already naturally paired up. Of the two that weren’t, Avjilan had struck up a fast friendship with Sarina and Marvan and stuck to their side when they went to look at something. That left Mak as the only one who was ever on her own, and I didn’t think much of it since she didn’t run around to look at every gaping doorway or fallen arch we saw. Mostly she brought up the rear while I kept track of the kids, as it were.

  In hindsight, having the smallest person in our party walk all alone at the back where no one had eyes on her might have been a mistake. I certainly thought so about an hour into our slow trek toward Malyon’s high city.

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  I’d been busily herding the mules, keeping them moving in a straight line, when I was interrupted by a surprised yelp from behind me. When I turned to look, Mak was gone. She was getting further away by the second.

  “The fuck?!” was all I managed before Conscience cut in.

  Some kind of bloody great cat! she yelled, as much as a voice in my head could yell. She’s fighting it but she’s confused and… okay, it’s going up a fucking tree! One of the big bastards! Get moving!

  “What’s going on?” Tam called from over by the partially collapsed remains of what looked like an apartment building. Others echoed his question as fury blossomed inside me, and I roared, “Something got Mak! I’m going after her! Stay here, stay together! Get Kira ready to heal!”

  “You’re not going anywhere without me!” Herald said, tearing herself from Maglan’s grip, and by her tone this was something she was willing to test our bond over — not that I had any intention of leaving her behind. Without hesitation, I held back for the few moments it took her to get to my side. When she reached me she leaped onto my back, bow in hand and two quivers at her hip — one that I knew held her enchanted arrows, another with regular, mundane ones — and once she’d settled, there was no holding me back.

  This thing had taken Mak. My sister. My friend.

  It had, the most draconic part of me whispered, stolen my most useful servant. It didn’t matter what kind of animal it had been, or how big or strong it was. When I was done, it was going to be so much scattered fur and steaming meat.

  I didn’t bother trying to run through the forest like some common lizard. Instead I aimed for the least dense part of the canopy and launched myself into the air, folding my wings as I crashed out from among the branches into the open sky. I wasted no breath telling Herald to hold on; she wasn’t exactly new to this, and her latest Advancement kept her glued to my back anyway. Instead I turned in the direction that I could sense Mak and told her, “The giant up ahead! Keep your eyes open!”

  Almost immediately she told me, “I see them! Mercies and Sorrows, that cat is as big and as black as you are!”

  There were four of the giant trees in the ruined city. Four of them might not sound like much, but the giants were normally separated by dozens of miles. Having four of them in something like thirty square miles of city was truly remarkable.

  The one we were heading for was one of the two smaller ones, about seven hundred feet tall if I was any judge. It was close, no more than a quarter mile, and the cat had covered that distance fast. Sprinting cheetah speeds or better, and through dense forest at that.

  If it had been going that fast when it struck Mak, Mercies only knew what kind of damage it might have done.

  “Draka, hurry!” Herald cried. There was an edge of fear in her voice that made my guts churn and brought the taste of venom to my mouth. “She’s fighting, but… Mercies, that’s a lot of blood!”

  She didn’t need to tell me twice. We were already close, but I still cracked on as fast as I could.

  As we got closer, I saw that the thing, a black splotch against the grayish brown of the deeply furrowed bark, was climbing at a speed that frankly made me jealous, and that only made me more furious — it was practically running up the trunk of that gargantuan tree. I also realized that we were going too fast to do anything but ram the enormous panther, or whatever the hell it was. And while smashing into it would have probably been immensely satisfying, I didn’t see that ending in a way that any of us wanted. Much as I hated it, I’d have to pull out and try again. My little dragon would have to hold on for a few more seconds.

  Something happened then. Either there was some kind of wordless, subconscious communication happening, or Herald and I each just predicted what the other would do that well, but the moment I decided to turn and shed speed I just knew that Herald was nocking an arrow. When I chose to go right rather than left, I felt her clench her legs to stabilize herself as she drew back the string. As we passed, in the middle of a turn and going so fast that all I saw was a blur of glossy black and wet red, and all I smelled was a whiff of predator and copper in the air, there was a snap and Herald cried out, “Got the fucker!”

  How the hell she managed that shot, at the speed we were going, but I didn’t doubt her.

  I kept turning, aiming higher than I had on our first approach, and the moment the giant cat was directly ahead there was another snap, followed by a furious howl of, “We’re coming, Mak! We’re coming!” This time I saw the arrow race ahead of us and vanish into the void that was the creature’s body, followed closely by a third and then arms wrapping around my neck in the moments before I struck.

  Oh, how I struck.

  Now, I’d slowed down. That didn’t mean I was going slowly; I was just going slow enough not to bounce. The giant panther-like creature was a mound of sleek fur and rippling muscle, built for speed, stealth, and strength — much like someone else I knew. But all that muscle didn’t do much for it when something equally massive, not to say solid, smashed it into the bark at the better part of thirty miles per hour. The thing let out an undignified, very catlike yowl, and the first good look I got at Mak was when the oversized jaws holding her opened, and she dropped.

  Like hell she was. As I dug every claw I had into the soon-to-be flea-ridden carcass that had tried to take what was mine, I tracked her with my head, ready to let go and follow her. There was no need. Mak’s left hand snapped out, gripping firmly around the half-foot of shaft of one of Herald’s arrows. The arrow wasn’t sunk in firmly enough to be secure, but as it bent and pivoted downward it was enough to turn a plummet into a swing. Mak hit one of the cat’s back legs, scrabbling to wrap her legs around it and. Then, to secure herself further, she snarled and sunk her teeth into its flank.

  How she managed all that, I wasn’t quite sure. Mak looked like death warmed over. My guess would have been that the cat went for her neck, but got her whole arm down its throat instead. Her right arm was twisted and limp, and blood dripped from her fingers, but thankfully it looked like it was all still there. There was a deep crescent of punctures in her armor from her clavicle and down over her breast, and more blood ran freely down that side of her body. Her skin, normally a warm, almost lustrous brown, had a greyish tint to it that screamed at me to get her to Kira now, now, now!

  Mak was a healer herself, but magic needed concentration and energy. And for all her feral fury, she looked like she was spending the last of what she had to keep from falling to her death.

  As I took that in and tore at the cat in my claws, said cat had recovered from the shock of my impact, and it was not about to just give up and let me kill it. Though its paws were mostly occupied hanging onto the bark, it kept climbing. It was helped somewhat by the fact that I was flapping my wings to avoid putting my full weight on and pulling it, and thus Mak, into oblivion, but the damn thing was strong! As it climbed it kept twisting its neck, trying to get its teeth into me, and considering that those teeth had drawn blood from Mak, who was functionally sword-proof, I had some grudging respect for them. As I tore into it, and it tried to get its teeth into my face or wing or anything else, it was slowly making its way toward one of the low, thick branches — low meaning three hundred or so feet above the ground. If it made it there it would be able to move more freely and put its claws to use, which would make the whole damn fight a lot risker, for Mak and Herald if not for me.

  I needed to do something before then. A plan started to—

  Then the cat reared back, and Herald snarled “Oh, fuck this!” and plunged about a foot of finely curved steel through the cat’s right eye.

  The cat looked about as surprised as I was. We hung there for a moment, me flapping my wings harder and harder as the creature’s weight settled onto my claws. Then Herald said, “Grab Mak!” right about the same time as that weight tore my claws through the cat’s skin, and it fell from my grasp.

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