The cursed towers 239
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her hair hanging like a curtain. Despite herself Isabeau shrieked, clinging to the dragon's spines
desperately, then the dragon was upright again, her wings spread.
I wish ye would give me some warning when ye do that! Isabeau said.
The young dragon-princess gave a mocking bugle which shook the snow from the crag of rock below
them. Isabeau watched it fall hundreds of feet like handfuls of white feathers, gradually melting away in
the wind. She could not help giving a shiver of fear at the vast distance beneath them. She gazed down at
the green alpine meadows so far below and suddenly her eyes sharpened. Far below was a crumpled
pile of red.
Asrohc, would ye fly lower for me? I think I see something . . .
Obligingly the dragon folded her wings and they dropped as fast as an eagle plunging for its prey. Isabeau
gasped and clung on, grateful yet again for the complicated leather straps that kept her secure on the
dragon's back. The heap of red she had seen rushed toward them. Isabeau had just realized that what
she had seen was a body, when the dragon suddenly changed direction and was soaring again into the
sky.
Nay, Asrohc, go back!
It is nothing I wish to touch ground for, the dragon responded.
Please, Asrohc! They may be hurt and in need o' my help. Even if they're dead, I canna leave them
for the wolves. Will ye no' take me down?
The human lives, but not for much longer. Better that ye let the breath fail in her body.
She be alive? Asrohc, take me down!
If thou so desirest, though why thou wouldst wish to help one such as she, I understand not.
Puzzling over the contempt in the dragon's mind-voice, Isabeau leant forward, trying to see over the
scaled shoulder as the dragon slowly descended in ever decreasing circles. Asrohc landed lightly in the
meadow, coiling her tail around her claws as Isabeau unbuckled the straps and climbed down. It took
her a moment to regain her balance after the giddy descent, but once the world had stopped whirling,
Isabeau crossed the meadow and knelt at the side of the woman lying facedown in the grass.
She was wearing a torn and muddied gown of red velvet, and her face was obscured by dark hair.
Isabeau felt for her pulse, which was very light and uneven, then carefully rolled her over so that she
could clear her mouth and nose. The mud-matted hair fell back and Isabeau sat back on her heels in
amazement. It was Maya.
The former banrigh was breathing harshly, and the gills at the side of her neck fluttered weakly. Her skin
was dry, its fine scaling rough to the touch, her narrow lips blue. There was a bruised, inflamed wound at
her temple, thick with dried blood, and the soles of her slippers were in tatters. Isabeau felt her forehead
and it was burning hot. The apprentice witch chewed her fingernails in anxiety. She knew she had to get
Maya into salt water as quickly as possible if the Fairge was to live. She glanced back at the dragon.
Asrohc was resting her great, angular head on her claws, regarding Isabeau with enigmatic golden eyes.
Her long, spiked tail twitched from side to side.
Asrohc, she will die if I do no' get her to water quickly. Will ye fly us back to the dragons' valley so
I can immerse her in the bubbling pools?
