Page 64 of The Dungeon Book

“Sorry.”

“It’s all right. We’re downwind, here. And remember, Nithscalpa’s blind on his right side, so keep to his right. You’ve got to stab between the gaps in his scales, that’s where he’s softest. And let the others go first, let them get eaten. You’re not to get burnt.”

“I won’t.”

“Third-Sister did. I saw her burn. He wanted to burn me, and got her.” She glared at him. “No more dying.”

“I won’t,” he lied.

“She told me a story once. I can’t tell it to you, cos you don’t speak the Dungeon Tongue, but I’m going to tell it to him, only I’m going to change the ending of it.”

Neb had no idea what Bait was talking about. Greatly daring, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. She moved like a trap snapping shut, hugging him fiercely and tightly. “No more dying,” she whispered in his ear.

Even though it was neither the time nor the place for such things, he held on a moment longer than he should have.

“I knew it!” snarled Offa, bounding out of the dark, grabbing at them. Neb swung a fist, but Offa was bigger. His elbow smashed into Neb’s face, knocking the boy to the ground. Bait flung herself at Offa, teeth bared. He caught her, slammed her back down.

“Changeling! I knew it! Nonsense about secret entrances, all too bloody easy!”

“Quiet,” she pleaded. “He’ll hear you!”

He kicked her in the stomach. “I heard you, eh? Let them get eaten! Feeding us to the dragon, is it? Luring us down here as bait!” His sword was in his hand now.

“I—” She tried to say I want the dragon dead too, maybe, or some other plea. I’m not what you think I am. But in that moment of terror, she fell back into the Dungeon Tongue, and all that came out sounded like a monstrous snarl.

His face twisted in disgust. “Changeling!” he hissed. “Treacherous monster!” He raised his sword.

And froze.

Caught in a paralytic ray.

“Eye see you.”

CHAPTER TEN

The glare of the Squinter caught Offa and Bait in an invisible net. It dragged them across the cave and down into the dragon’s lair. They toppled and rolled locked in the same poses they’d been caught in. Balor had to keep two of his eyes trained on them at all times, one to project the paralysing ray and the other for telekinesis, making him appear cross-eyed, but the real indignity was visited on Bait and Offa, trapped as they were in undignified poses, one with sword upraised to strike, the other diving to the side. Cross-eyed he brought them to their doom, hauling them over jagged rocks, through piles of burned and brittle bones, then over jangling coin-mounds, the edges of the dragon’s sprawling treasure-bed. All the while, Offa tried to scream, but all that came out of his frozen mouth was a sort of quiet sigh.

Through the darkness he dragged them.

Into the terrible light.

*

Slow as grief and remorseless as famine, the dragon uncurled. He drew his tail across his bed, clinking cups and scattering coins. Limb by limb he unknotted, marshalling his legion of claws, his phalanx of horn and scale. Wings rustled along the rising swell of his torso as he rolled over. The neck rose like an executioner’s axe.

“What have you brought me, Balor?” asked the dragon. His right eye burned with malice. He slithered towards them, unhurried and amused. “Ahh . . . this meal I shall savour.” He brought his huge head down to examine Bait, twisting to bring his one eye to peer at her. “There’s not much meat on her. Barely a mouthful, even after all these years. Disappointing.”

He licked her then, his massive tongue like a rough wave, scouring her skin. She couldn’t even shudder, not with Balor still leering at her with his magic eye. “The sauce, though, is delightful. Fear, notes of defeat and despair.” Nithscalpa recoiled when his tongue brushed against Bait’s bag. He snorted a gout of flame to clear the taste from his mouth. “Rotten manticore, is it? You thought to feed me poison? Or was that the work of goblins? Oh, I am not so easily fooled.” He picked up the ragged bundle containing flesh cut from First-Sister’s corpse, holding it gingerly between two claw tips, like a human would pick up something unspeakably foul. Then he flung it into the air, and let out another belch of flame, and there was nothing left of Bait’s trap but ash.

“Wicked treachery!” squeaked Balor.

“And what’s this?” asked Nithscalpa, sniffing at Offa. “Another champion?”

Even though Balor’s paralytic beam no longer held him, Offa did not move. His lower lip quivered.

“What did she tell you, little worm? Did she say I’d be sleeping, and that you could cut my throat as I lay defenceless? Did she offer to lead you past my traps and take me unawares? Was it glory or treasure that she promised?”

Offa forced the word out. “Treasure,” he gasped.