their weapons they lowered their stances and began to circle their adversary.
‘Idiots!’ snapped Darkmount with a sneer of disdain. ‘You face a Bishop of the Faith! A true Master of Stone!’
Again reaching his hands into the floor he tore free a length of rock. Quickly passing his hands up and down its surface, he shaped it into a long mace. Then, raising it above his head, he began to whirl it round and round, all the while feeding his power with his stonesinging.
The first warrior made his move. The others, gaining courage from his action, also darted forward, but Darkmount was quicker. Much quicker. Punching the mace forward like a spear, he thrust its blunt head deep into the first soldier’s gut. Lashing the club backwards, he struck the second warrior on his shoulder, hip, knee and wrist in quick succession, before spinning it round to crack against the remaining soldier’s skull.
He grunted in approval as he surveyed his work. Seeing that the majority of the guards weren’t moving and that those who did were writhing in agony, he allowed his song to slow and the light to dim from his hands.
Moans of pain filled the silence and, apart from the occasional twitch from one or two of the fallen guards, the dungeon was still.
Charlie stared at Darkmount with a combination of awe and alarm. Creepy he might be, but she got the impression he might be better than having a battering ram or armoured tank on her side. Much better.
‘Mmmmmmmmmmggggg!!’ protested a familiar but muffled voice. ‘Mmmmmmmmhhh!’
Charlie moved across the mouldy dungeon where, to her surprise, she found Nibbler. He was struggling between taut lengths of chain. A leather harness had been forced over his muzzle, preventing him from opening his mouth, and all that escaped his lips were the peculiar murmurs that groaned their way across the room.
‘Mmmmmmmmmmmg, mmh-nng-mmmmmmmmhhh!’
‘Oh, Nibbler,’ breathed Charlie, partly in relief at seeing her friend still alive and partly in dismay at finding him in such a bedraggled condition. She wanted to crack a wise joke, something to make everything better, but the sheer scale of failure that had accumulated over the past couple of days weighed heavily on her heart. All she could say was, ‘Oh.’
Stumbling over on leaden feet, she stroked the side of his face. The sight of the cruel harness was enough to push her Will into a tight knot of concentration that twisted and burned within her soul. It swept out from her mind, down her arm and flickered with a wobbling intensity from the tips of her fingers. It was a puny display of power, nothing compared to her normal abilities, but it was enough to tear the harness from Nibbler’s face and the cruel chains from his wings and legs.
‘Ppfffft!’ spat Nibbler. He staggered backwards on unsteady feet with a wild look in his eyes. ‘Ugh! Yuck, yuck, yuck!! Do you know how long I’ve been dying to spit? That harness tasted of sewer fish! It stank of rotten underwear and mouldy broccoli and … and … two days I had it stuck in my mouth!’ Nibbler hopped up on his back legs and used his forepaws to wipe at his tongue. ‘Two days, you know! I can’t believe it. Ppft!’
‘Oh, Nibbler, are you –’
‘Ack! Eurgh! Ick!’ coughed Nibbler as he tried to spit out the taste. ‘Two days of foot cheese and toe jam in my mouth!’
‘Nibbler, did they hurt –’
‘Two!’ snorted Nibbler. His eyes spread wide with horror and he waved one paw above his head in protest.
‘Nib–’
‘Aaahh … urgh … ppft!’
The young dragon continued to prance around, shaking his head in disgust and gesturing wildly. He was so caught in the moment that he failed to catch the look that crossed Charlie’s face. When Charlie finally opened her mouth it was like an explosion going off.
‘NIBBLER!’
‘Huh? Oh … uh, hi, Charlie. How’re you doing?’ The silence, combined with Charlie’s tip-tapping foot, caused Nibbler’s eyebrows to wriggle in concern. His shoulders hunched forward and a flustered look passed across his face. ‘Uh, the, uh, taste …’ he tried to explain, realizing a little too late that he was in trouble.
Charlie’s frown deepened. ‘Do you have any idea how concerned I’ve been? I’ve been stuck in a manky, rat-infested cell worrying about what might have happened to you and all you want to do is have a sissy fit about a bad taste. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be that stressed