Sir Aldric Brightblade's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

Aldric spread the smuggler's map on a flat rock. The courier would reach the fort in three days. His party was four fighters and one limping priest. The vault sat deep under stone, behind Garrick's quarters. Four people could not dig it out before Garrick moved the relic beyond reach. "We need more hands," Rowen said. He wiped mud from his sun-marked tabard. "Or we need a different door." Sylara crouched beside the map. She traced the eastern drain with one finger. "I got Rowen through that once. It's narrow. It won't pass enough of us to fight a garrison." She looked up. "We can't win this with numbers we don't have." Aldric stared at the sketched canyon. He thought of the drain, the vault, the single deadline. Then a sound came from the trees. Twigs snapped. A low, warbling chirp. Sylara spun, bow half-drawn. A small shape padded into the clearing. It was a dragon no larger than a hound, covered in black fluff, horns barely sprouted. It blinked at them and chirped again. Behind it, slower, came a second dragon, tall as a horse, scales like polished silver. "That's mine," Aldric said. He lowered the holy sword. "I lost her in the first chase. She found my scent." The silver dragon lowered her head and pressed her snout against his chest. The black fluff ball tumbled against his boots. Rowen laughed for the first time in days. "That changes the count." Aldric knelt and ran his hand along the silver dragon's neck. An idea took shape. "We don't breach the vault from inside. We don't need bodies for that." He pointed at the map, at Garrick's quarters above the vault. "She can tear the roof off his rooms. Fire and claws, from above. The garrison runs to the fire. The drain stays open." Sylara understood at once. "The distraction and the entry, both." She nodded slowly. "I pin the walls with arrows. Rowen and I take the drain while they fight the sky." "And the relic lies right under the floor she breaks," Aldric said. "We dig down through the burning quarters while the fort looks the wrong way." Rowen frowned. "That wakes the whole gang. There's no quiet exit after." "No," Aldric agreed. "But we were never going to walk out quiet. Garrick named me already." He stood. The deadline no longer beat them. One dragon had evened the odds no army could. Father Matthias gripped his cross and watched the silver dragon fold her wings. "God sends strange help," he murmured. They broke camp before dark. Aldric rolled the map and tucked it away. The little black dragon trotted at his heel. The courier still rode toward the fort. But now Aldric rode toward it too, with wings at his back and a plan that no longer needed more men.