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faster, facing away from the oncoming enemies, and bringing its tail around in a whiplash maneuver that slammed both armored figures aside like a club meeting fruit. They left the ground in flat arcs before they impacted against the wall and fell in a heap with a boilerworks clangor of armor.
    With the two warriors swept aside, it halted its whirl and faced Tindal. It lunged forward, mouth agape, and the kneeling priest saw the baleful glow of dragonfire at the back of the dragon's throat. Then the teeth closed, driven by mighty jaws, and Tindal saw no more.
    Fliss leaped. Even as Y’vin's second barrage of magical bolts ripped along the dragon's side to pierce one wing in many places, to blast aside a dozen scales beneath, Fliss landed astride the dragon's neck just behind the head. Faced back along the neck, Fliss leaned forward, heels dug in tightly to hold on, blades dipping down to find the edges of scales and pry upward. Somewhere, there would be a gap, a place for a blade to pry a scale up and then drive home into the softer meat beneath.
    The dragon lunged again, still chewing on Tindal. It lunged into the passage and whipped its own head upward, slamming Fliss against the roof with all the mass of the dragon's neck behind him. Not once, but twice, three times, before shaking briskly to dislodge the stunned and battered attacker.
    A claw descended. Fully half the weight of a dragon settled on Fliss for a second. Human flesh and bone surrendered to the force and the dragon's taloned foot settled wetly to the passage floor.
    Gorgar and Sir Aramon, stunned by the impact and tangled in each other and their armor, now regained their feet. The dragon backed from the passage as they charged. Swords rose in the pale light of the red-glowing stone where the dragon's breath had touched, and gleamed in the light from the dragon's eyes. The swords descended, driven with all the might of mortal arms. Sir Aramon's blade bit, parted the hardened scales of the beast as it might part a man's breastplate. Blood flowed. Gorgar's blade struck and clanged, deflected.
    The dragon inhaled deeply, head turned to face them directly. Sir Aramon and Gorgar threw themselves aside to avoid the point-blank blast that was sure to follow, but the expected blast of fire did not come. Instead, the dragon laughed, laughed like rocks grinding in the depths of the world, and the head shot forward like a serpent striking. It took Sir Aramon from behind, jaws closing about chest and thighs, great teeth penetrating armor like arrows through cheese, driving deep into the tender flesh of a man. The dragon lifted Sir Aramon, oblivious to the great cry that echoed in the stony chamber, and whipped its head aside. It released the knight with a contemptuous flick and sent the bloodied, armored form sailing through one of the other openings. Sir Aramon's cry echoed back from that passage, dwindling as he plunged downward through darkness.
    Gorgar stepped close, along the dragon's side, and drove his blade upward, under the scales, sending the point deep into the dragon's shoulder.
    The ear-shattering scream from the dragon's throat deafened both attackers. Gorgar yanked the blade free and darted back as the dragon snapped at him, great jaws closing only on empty air. Then the dragon opened its mouth and blasted white-hot fire at the defenseless warrior.
    The flames parted scant inches from Gorgar's face, split apart into streams that blasted to either side in a brilliant “Y”. He gaped as the broad inferno of fiery destruction parted around him and left him untouched.
    On his ledge, Y’vin held a hand extended toward Gorgar. The wizard's face was sheened in sweat and his lip caught painfully in his teeth, but the dragon's fiery blast ended before Y’vin's will broke under the strain.
    Gorgar blinked in the aftermath of the blaze, blinded by the sudden near-immersion in such a river of fire. The dragon ignored him for a moment and looked up, reared up on its