Free Dragonfire by Karleen Bradford

the scaly neck and bounced back off. The shock of the blow nearly tore the weapon from his hand. Pain shot up through his arm, into his shoulder. The horse wheeled again, trying once more to get above the dragon and behind it. The dragon was not to be fooled this time, however. With a dexterity hardly to be believed in such an enormous beast, it swung its body and its long tail around in a tight circle, and Dahl found himself once more facing those blazing eyes. The maw opened, and a wave of fetid air hit him like a wall.
    Dahl braced himself for the final blast of fire, but again the horse evaded it. It folded its wings suddenly and dropped. The flames passed over them, so close Dahl smelled singed hair. A searing pain burned across his right cheek. He screamed. Then, in the midst of his agony, he heard another scream echo his own.
    This time the horse did not circle, but unfoldedits wings and rose up—straight at the dragon. Through a haze of fire and smoke, for the briefest of instants, Dahl saw the dragon’s weak spot within reach.
    Now! he thought. It’s my only chance. He grimaced with pain, but drew back his sword arm and, with a mighty effort, summoned up the strength to make one last desperate thrust. The blade struck true. It sank deep into the beast. As Dahl pulled back, blood spewed, steaming, out of the wound, foaming and black.
    The dragon shrieked. The air around them seemed to reverberate with the sound. The horse checked its flight and turned sharply, but not quickly enough. In its dying agonies the dragon lashed out and slashed the animal across the neck with one razor-sharp talon. Dahl felt the horse quiver beneath him. He tensed, prepared for another attack, but the dragon faltered, wings thundering through the air with an uneven beat. Then the wings ceased their movement altogether. The dragon writhed. Flaming blood spewed from its mouth and poured in molten gobbets onto the trees below. One final scream of fury rent the skies, then the body fell. Turning over and over, slowly, with a kind of evil majesty, it plunged into the heart of the forest beneath them. A plume of inky smoke shot into the air. The trees closed over their prize. The sudden silence was shocking. There was no sign ofthe fallen dragon at all. It was as if it had never existed.
    Dahl gripped the mane of the horse and stared down at the spot where the beast had disappeared, unable to believe what had happened. He had killed it! He and the horse. But as he looked, the trees below began to swim up toward him. Instinctively, he grasped more tightly onto the horse and let his head fall onto the animal’s neck, fighting the dizziness that threatened to overcome him. The horse’s wings faltered. The next instant they were plunging to earth, the horse’s neck and shoulder streaming blood.
    Dahl was thrown hard as the horse landed. The horse itself staggered, sank onto its forelegs, then managed to regain its feet. It stood, sides heaving, blowing heavily. Dahl shook his head to clear it. A wave of pain coursed across the right side of his face. Blackness overwhelmed him. Then, suddenly, a mirror vision of his own face arose in his mind, the dragon’s brand scarlet down its left cheek, burning with the same newness that flamed on Dahl’s own face. It was his face, but not his face. The fury leaping out from it was more than he had ever felt. More than he could ever imagine.
    The Usurper had gained entrance to his mind yet again. But even as Dahl realized this, he realized something else as well.
    When I was wounded, Dahl exulted, he waswounded, too! He is not invincible. He, too, has his weaknesses.
    “Dahl—you’re burned! And the horse…!” Catryn was at his side.
    Dahl looked at the animal. Its head was down, blood poured from its wound. Its mighty wings trailed on the ground. The feathers were singed and blackened. Dahl’s exultation died. The horse was terribly injured. Then, with a rush of pain and despair, Dahl remembered the