‘Right,’ Zakath said.

They fanned out again, tensely awaiting the dragon’s attack.

Their lances, Garion saw, had been bitten off, leaving only short stumps protruding from the dragon’s sides. It was upon Zakath that she fell, and the force of her strike knocked him out of his saddle. He floundered, trying to get to his feet as the dragon bathed him in flames.

Again and again he struggled, trying to get up, but he instinctively flinched back from each billow of flame, and the dragon’s raking talons dug at him, making it impossible for him to regain his feet. Snakelike, the dragon’s head darted forward, her cruel fangs screeching across his armor.

Garion discarded his strategy at that point. His friend needed immediate protection. He leaped from his saddle to run to Zakath’s aid. ‘I need some fire!’ he barked at the Orb, and his sword immediately burst into bright blue flame. He knew that Torak had made the dragon invincible to common sorcery on the day he had created her, but he hoped that she might not be immune to the power of the Orb. He stepped in front of Zakath’s struggling body and drove the dragon back with great, two-handed strokes. Iron-grip’s sword sizzled each time it bit into her face, and she shrieked in pain with every stroke. She did not, however, flee.

‘Get up!’ Garion shouted to Zakath. ‘Get on your feet!’ Behind him he could hear the rattling of Zakath’s armor as the Mallorean struggled to rise. Suddenly ignoring the pain Garion’s blows were causing her, the dragon clawed at him with her talons, knocking him off-balance. He stumbled backwards and fell on top of Zakath. The dragon shrieked in triumph and lunged in. Desperately, Garion stabbed with his sword, and with a great, sizzling hiss, her bulging left eyeball collapsed. Even as he struggled to get back up again, a strange notion came to Garion. It was the same eye. Torak’s left eye had been destroyed by the power of the Orb, and now the same thing had happened to the dragon. Despite the dreadful danger they were in, Garion was suddenly certain that they would win.

The dragon had fallen back, bellowing in pain and rage. Garion took advantage of that. He scrambled to his feet and yanked Zakath up. ‘Get around to her left side!’ he barked. ‘She’s blind on that side now! I’ll keep her attention! You swing at her neck!’

They separated, moving fast to get into position before the dragon could recover. Garion swung his great, blazing sword as hard as he could and opened a huge wound across the dragon’s snout. The blood spurted out, drenching his armor, and the dragon answered his blow with a billow of flame that engulfed him. He ignored the fire and drove in, swinging stroke after stroke at her face. He could see Zakath directing two-handed blows at the snake-like neck, but the heavy, overlapping scales defeated his best efforts. Garion continued his attack with the burning sword. The half-blinded dragon clawed at him, and he struck at the scaly forepaw, half severing it. Injured now almost beyond endurance, the dragon began a grudging, step-by-step retreat.

‘Keep on her!’ Garion shouted to Zakath. ‘Don’t give her time to set herself again!’

Grimly, the pair drove the hideous beast back and back, alternating their blows. When Garion struck, the dragon turned her head to bathe him in fire. Then Zakath would swing at the unprotected back of her head. She would swivel her head to meet his attack, and then Garion would strike at her. Confused and frustrated by this deadly tactic, the dragon helplessly swung her head back and forth, her furnacelike breath singeing bushes and turf more often than it did her attackers. Finally, driven beyond her ability to bear the pain, she began to desperately flap her sail-like wings, clumsily attempting to rise from the earth.

‘Don’t let up!’ Garion called. ‘Keep pushing her!’ They continued their savage attack. ‘Try to get her wings!’ Garion yelled. ‘Don’t let her get away!’

They switched their attack to the batlike wings, desperately striving to cripple the dragon’s final option, but her armored skin defeated their purpose. Ponderously, she rose into the air, and still shrieking, belching flame and streaming blood from her many wounds, she flew off toward the east.

Belgarath had resumed his own form and he strode up to them, his face livid with rage. ‘Are you two insane?’ he almost screamed at them. ‘I told you to be careful!’

‘Things got a little out of hand there, Belgarath,’ Zakath panted. ‘We didn’t have much choice in the matter.’ He looked at the Rivan King. ‘You saved my life again, Garion,’ he said. ‘You’re starting to make a habit of that.’

‘It sort of seemed like the thing to do,’ Garion replied, sinking exhausted to the ground. ‘We’re still going to have to chase her down, though. If we don’t, she’ll only come back.’

‘One does not think so,’ the she-wolf said. ‘One has had much experience with wounded beasts. You poked sticks into her, put out her eye, and cut her face and forepaw with fire. She will return to her den and remain there until she heals – or dies.’

Garion quickly translated for Zakath.

‘It presents a problem, though,’ the Emperor of Mallorea said dubiously. ‘How are we going to persuade the king that we’ve driven her off for good? If we’d have killed her, we’d have no further obligation, but the king – with Naradas prompting him – might very well insist that we stay here until he’s sure she’s not coming back.’

Belgarath was frowning. ‘I think Cyradis was right,’ he said. ‘The dragon wasn’t behaving exactly right. Each time Garion hit her with that burning sword, she flinched momentarily.’

‘Wouldn’t you have?’ Zakath asked him.

‘This is a little different. The dragon herself wouldn’t even feel fire. She was being directed by something – something that the Orb can injure. I’ll talk it over with Beldin when we get back. As soon as you two get your breath, we’ll round up the horses. I want to get back to Dal Perivor and have a look at that map.’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

IT WAS NEARLY dawn by the time they returned to the palace, and to their surprise, they found nearly everyone awake. A ripple of gasps ran through the throne room as Garion and Zakath entered. Garion’s armor was scorched and red with the dragon’s blood; Zakath’s surcoat was charred, and great fang-marks scarred one side of his breastplate. The condition of their armor gave mute testimony to the seriousness of the encounter.