The donkey might have been as safe behind the common room as it would be within the courtyard, but the madness to which the dragon’s bellows had driven it did not permit the beast to halt there. When it galloped past the bath house at the south front corner of the complex, both donkey and dragon realized what had happened. The former vectored off braying, back up toward the main road. The dragon strode after it. As Perennius had found its power and savagery stunning when the creature roared and clawed at the wall, so its speed was a horrible augury for the agent’s chances of being able to leave the inn and complete his mission.
The dragon moved its legs with the deliberation of a robin picking its way across a lawn. Distance and the absurdity of a biped on that scale permitted the strides to seem dainty, but each one thrust the body forward another ten feet. There was a serpentine grace to the movements. The neck and tail swung sideways in unison toward the leg lifting for each stride. When the clawed feet struck the ground, dirt and gravel blasted away in a volume that mocked the cloud raised by the donkey’s frantic hooves.
The dragon reached its prey well short of the hilltop. It strode in parallel with the donkey for a moment, like a greyhound with the rabbit it is coursing. Then the great head dipped lower than balance alone would have required. The jaws hung open. The slam of their closing was like the sound of a marble statue hitting the ground. The donkey responded with a screech that had no semblance to the noises that living things make.
Inertia carried the dragon a further two steps. It tossed its head, spraying the air and its belly with a vast quantity of blood. The donkey was silent and flopping limp by now. The tossing did not tear loose the gobbet encircled by the great jaws.
The dragon stopped. It raised its head again and threw it from side to side while it gripped the carcass with its front claws. The forelimbs were powerful, but the size of the great hind legs made them look small by comparison. Muscles, tendons, and bone gave way with a ripping sound. The donkey, missing part of its pelvic girdle and hams, thudded to the ground.
The dragon’s jaws unhinged like those of a great snake. Its head cocked skyward while the tongue and throat muscles combined to force the huge mouthful down the esophagus. The beast’s nostrils made sucking sounds until the lump disappeared further downward and the jaws fitted themselves once more into their sockets. The dragon bent forward for another bite.
It was a shocking demonstration, but the Gaul looked more sickened than afraid. He felt the agent’s eyes on him and read their expression. Gruffly, the Gaul explained, “There was four of us. Marcellus was late getting mounted like always. We’d hoped he might be joining us anyhow. Mithra!”
On the hill fronting the inn, a third of the full-grown donkey had already disappeared down the slayer’s maw.
The Gaul ran a hand through his short, under-helmet haircut and went on, “Now this on top of that other. I swear, I don’t know.. . .” He turned, eyeing Perennius more carefully while his fingers drummed the cross-guards of his spatha. “I’m Ursinus,” he said. “Like you figure, we’re soldiers.” He did not mention his post or unit.
The agent nodded. “I’m Perennius,” he said. “I’ve been other things, but I’m a wool buyer now.” He frowned toward the dragon before adding in corroboration, “It can’t have eaten all the sheep, but I don’t suppose there’s been much shearing going on lately. You been here long?”
“A day.” Put like that, Perennius’ question had not aroused suspicion. “Thought we could outrun it, even without remounts, if we travelled light. Mithra. Lay-over here, then ride on in the morning. Only it jumped us when we were watering the horses, and we beat ’em so hard for the next mile that hell, I don’t know when I’ll want to chance going out again. Plenty of food and fodder here, but not a soul. Not a goddam soul.”