But as the journey wore on, such thoughts fragmented, faded and died away. Should have, could have — what the hell difference did it make now? He had done the best he could; he simply hadn’t thought of everything. A pledge made under duress was probably worthless. Unknown magic was probably more dangerous than no magic. Things were better as they were; he would find a way to make do with what he had.
They reached the Fire Springs late on the third day out. The gnomes had taken him deep into the wasteland east of the Greensward, a country of mixed horrors — barren plains of desert sand and dust, hills of saw grass, scrub, and gnarled short trees, sucking swamp that oozed red mud and quick-sand, and petrified forests where the trees were tangled, broken bones that jutted from the earth. The land had a wintry cast beyond anything that Ben had seen in the other parts of the valley, a washed and colorless mix from dying vegetation and broken earth. Even the Bonnie Blues did not grow here. The three had worked their way through hills and ridges grown thick with stunted briar and tangled brush to a forest of deadwood, cresting a deep ravine. They walked their horses, unable to ride them through the heavy undergrowth. Mist floated in thick clouds over everything, a blanket that smelled of the land’s death.
“There, High Lord!” Fillip cried suddenly, bringing Ben to a halt with a hasty tug on one sleeve.
“The Fire Springs, High Lord!” Sot announced, pointing into the distance.
Ben peered through the mist and trees. He couldn’t see a thing. He peered harder. Now he caught a glimpse of something flickering against the gloom — a sort of light that reflected on the mist.
“Let’s get a bit closer,” he urged. “I can’t see anything from here.”
He started forward again and then stopped. Fillip and Sot were not moving. They glanced at each other, then at him, then at each other again. Their furry faces lowered and their noses twitched.
“This is close enough, High Lord,” Fillip advised.
“As close as we’re going, High Lord,” Sot agreed.
“We have no protection against the dragon.”
“No protection at all.”
“He would eat us without thinking twice about it.”
“He would burn us to the bone!”
Fillip hesitated. “The dragon is too dangerous, High Lord. Leave him and come away.”
Sot nodded solemnly. “Let the dragon be, High Lord. Let him be.”
Ben studied them a moment, then shook his head. “I can’t let him be, fellows. I need him.” He smiled ruefully and walked back. He placed a hand on the shoulder of each. “Will you wait here for me? Until I come back?”
Fillip looked up at him, eyes squinting. “We will wait for you, High Lord. Until you come back.”
Sot rubbed his paws together absently. “If you come back,” he muttered.
Ben left them with the plow horses and forged ahead into the tangled undergrowth. He picked his way cautiously, trying to be as quiet as possible. He could see geysers of steam rising from beyond the ridgeline to mingle with the mist. The flickering light shone more clearly, a shimmer of brightness dancing against the sky. He could smell something as well — something unpleasantly reminiscent of spoiled meat.
Sweat and dust streaked his face and arms, but he was cold inside. He had been anxious for this until now.
One hand stole to the pockets of his tunic. What remained of the Io Dust from the emptied pod was in his right pocket. The full pod was in his left. He really hadn’t devised a plan yet for using the dust. He didn’t have any idea at all what sort of plan would work. His sole objective was to get as close to the dragon as possible and hope that an opportunity presented itself.
A King of Landover ought to have a better plan than that, he thought gloomily, but he couldn’t seem to come up with one.
He crested the ridgeline and peered over. A broad, misshapen ravine sprawled away before him, pitted with craters of all sizes and shapes, their bowls filled with an unidentifiable bluish liquid on which yellowish flames danced and burned, casting flickers of light against the shroud of mist. Tangled thickets and mounts of earth and rock clogged the floor of the ravine between craters, a formidable array of obstacles to anyone who sought to enter.