Murtaghโs cry was too late. Ahead of him, he saw the dim sparkle of Thornโs shape rise above the hill where theyโd landed, and he heard the dull thudย of the dragonโs wings.
โBlast it,โ he muttered between clenched teeth. He quickly read the lay of the land and then sprinted toward a ๏ฌat patch of wheat stubble a few hundred feet away.
He arrived just as Thorn drifted down from above. The gust of wind from the dragonโs velvet wings staggered Murtagh, forced him to spread his feet and brace himself against the press of air.
โDid youย haveย to?โ he said.
An amused sparkle lit Thornโs eyes.ย No, but Iย wantedย to.
โGah. Letโs get out of here before someone notices.โ He scrambled up Thornโs side, the dragonโs scales sharp against his palms.
He grabbed the neck spike in front of the saddle and held on tightโnot bothering to strap down his legsโas Thorn took o๏ฌ.
The crescent moon was near the top of the sky as Thorn sailed over the southern edge of Isenstar Lake, looking for the marshy area the ๏ฌsherman had mentioned. Murtagh considered casting the spell he normally used to hide Thorn from people on the ground but decided against it. No boats lay on the dark water below, and he wanted to save his strength.
He thought as they ๏ฌew, and the more he thought, the more uneasy he felt.
Whatโs wrong?ย Thorn asked.
Iโm worried that Durza might have done something unreasonably clever with Muckmaw.
How so?
Spells take energy, yes? And that energy has to come from somewhere. Durza couldnโt sustain the wards he set on the ๏ฌsh when he wasnโt here. So the energy has to come from Muckmaw.
Where is the problem in that?
Murtagh shrugged, feeling an itch between his shoulder blades.ย Maybe there isnโt one. Only, when Muckmaw was small, how could it have maintained wards strong enough to de๏ฌect spears and swords and the like?
For a moment, the only sound was the sweep of Thornโs wings.ย Perhaps no one tried to kill the ๏ฌsh until it was bigger.
Maybe.
โฆDo you think Durza used the same spell to grow Muckmaw that Galbatorix used on me?
A sudden tiredness came over Murtagh. Remembering the past always left him feeling old and sad.ย Thereโs no way to know, but I wouldnโt be surprised.
Mmh.
They ๏ฌew in silence until a patch of bright-tipped reeds appeared along the shore: the tops of the cattails catching the moon and starlight.
Thorn descended on silent wings and landed on a wide slab of slate that hung over the edge of the lake. Murtagh slid to the stone and looked across the silvered water. In other circumstances, he would have found the sight beautiful, but knowing that a creature such as Muckmaw lurked beneath the surface gave it a dread feelingโthe water a great, dark unknown.
Murtagh shivered and rubbed his hands. His breath showed in a pale plume.
From the saddlebags, he fetched the bow Galbatorix had given him. Murtagh hooked the nocked end of one limb behind his right ankle and, with e๏ฌort, bent the bow until he could slide the stringโs loop over the tip of the other end.
He checked the alignment of the string and, satis๏ฌed, slung his quiver over his shoulder.
The bow was made of dark yew bound with magic. Most men, and perhaps even some Urgals, would have found it too strong to draw. The white-๏ฌetched arrows were appropriately heavy and crafted of solid oak, for any lighter, weaker material would have shattered when the string was released. And as with his lost dagger, Murtagh had set spells on the arrows: spells to make them easier to ๏ฌnd should he miss his mark, spells to help them buck the wind, and spells to help them drive deep into their target, no matter what protection, arcane or otherwise, guarded it.
Also from the saddlebags, he dug out Glaedrโs golden scaleโstill in its protective wrapping of clothโas well as a skein of cord. With deft ๏ฌngers, he tied a foursquare knot, the strands of which he kept loose and open and laid out on the ground like an iron bear trap. Then he donned his gloves and removed the scale from the cloth.
Even by the marble light of the moon, the scale glowed with an inner ๏ฌame, as if part of Glaedrโs ๏ฌre yet ๏ฌickered within its faceted depths.
Murtagh placed it in the center of the foursquare knot and pulled tight the strands until they locked the scale into place.
Satis๏ฌed that it was secure, he removed his gloves. โRight, letโs ๏ฌnd this ๏ฌsh,โ he muttered, and walked to the end of the slate. He spun the scale about his head and let the cord play out of his hand a fair extent. Then he loosed the scale out over the water. It landed with a splash that echoed along the shore and sent up a fountain of droplets before sinking from sight like a dying ember extinguished in the depths of the abyss.
โMaybe I should have tied a log as a ๏ฌoat.โ
I can get one, said Thorn, settling on his haunches. โLetโs wait a bit ๏ฌrst. Here, hold this.โ
Thorn obliged by lifting his left forefoot, and Murtagh looped the loose end of the cord around the dragonโs middle toe. Then Thorn made a ๏ฌst of his foot and secured what remained of the skein.
โGive it a tug on occasion.โ Murtagh ๏ฌt an arrow to bowstring. All of the ๏ฌshing heโd done during their travels had been with the aid of magic,
and never for anything larger than a trout, so he wondered about how best to attract the beast.
He stared into the inky mass of the lake and pushed out with his thoughts. This far from Gilโead, he didnโt worry about being noticed by another spellcaster and so used the full force of his mind.
He closed his eyes to better concentrate on what he felt.
Behind his eyes, darkness reigned. But then he looked to the side, and Thorn appeared as a burning blaze of heat and life, a radiant star amid the void.
In the lake, he beheld many lesser stars, tiny spots of warmth that marked the location of a myriad of di๏ฌerent creatures. Fish ๏ฌoating in safe crevices and by the base of swaying water weeds, resting the night away. Eels burrowed into the lakebed mudโtheir minds faint and indistinct, dominated by the baser instincts: cold, hunger, fatigue. Fainter still were the hundreds, if not thousands, of insects that swarmed the water, darting about, or else resting beneath rocks and sticks or cocooned in shells. And Murtagh felt sure that if his inner eye were sharper still, he would continue to see the life force of smaller and smaller creatures until he came to the smallest iota of matter.
But among the many animals he sensed, and even among the barely perceptible warmth of the water weeds and other lake-born plants, there was no creature big enough to be Muckmaw. Not even close.
He let out his breath in frustration and exchanged mental sight for physical. The tips of the low waves were like chips of metal across the lake.
โNothing,โ he said to Thorn. โThere isnโt even a hint of somethingโฆ. Pull in the scale. Weโll have to try another spot.โ He turned back to the dragon, discouraged. โBlast it. This is going to take days, and we donโt have
โโ
Look!ย Thorn nudged him with his nose, pointing toward the lake. Murtagh spun about, lifting his bow.
Fifty-some feet from shore, the water swelled, thinning and smoothing as it went, like a wave passing over a capsized boat. A huge, bulbous mass pressed the water upward, and in the shadow beneath, Murtagh caught a hint of white-rimmed eyes as large as his ๏ฌst rolling in their sockets.
Then the swell subsided, leaving only a trail of ripples behind.
โI swear, I didnโt feel anything,โ said Murtagh, tracking the ripples.ย Itโs huge!ย Cardus-chewerโs description had failed to adequately convey the true size of the ๏ฌsh. Muckmaw was bigger than a cave bear, bigger even than a three-month-old dragon (if one ignored the wings).
Murtagh marshaled his mental resources and then stabbed outward with his thoughts, aiming to locate and immobilize the gigantic animal, even as the elf had immobilized him at the barrow.
โI still donโt feel anything,โ he whispered. โThorn, can youโโ
A faint growl escaped the dragon.ย Itโs like claws on ice. I canโt catch hold.
Murtagh swore under his breath. โIโm going to have words with that werecat,โ he said, scanning the now-seamless lake.
Durza must have hidden Muckmawโs mind, said Thorn.
โA pretty trick too. Iโm not even sure how Iโd go about doing thatโฆ.
Try drawing in the scale. Letโs see if that gets his attention.โ
Thorn obliged with some di๏ฌculty. The toes on his forefoot were too large for nimble work, and yet he managed to twist and tangle the cord about his limb enough to shorten the line yard by yard.
A new ripple, proud and wide, appeared, moving crosswise to the prevailing current, heading toward where Murtagh guessed Glaedrโs scale was.ย There. It was a long shot, especially when ๏ฌring into water, but Murtagh decided to chance it. In a single smooth motion, he pressed the bow away while pulling the string to the corner of his jaw andโwithout hesitationโreleased.
The arrow whirred as it ๏ฌew, and he sent with it a killing word spoken with fatal intent.
Droplets shot up as the arrow hit the lake just ahead of the ripples. And thenโฆ
โฆthe ripples smoothed and subsided, and from the spell heโd cast, Murtagh felt no drain of energy.
Heโd missed.
He bit back a curse and nocked another arrow, fast as he could.
โHere, ๏ฌshy, ๏ฌshy,โ he muttered, sweeping his gaze across the lake. He squinted. Was that movement to the right? The water was too dark to be sure.
โBrisingr,โ he whispered, and released the energy in a carefully measured trickle, so as to create a dim orb of red ๏ฌre in front of him. It hung over the water like a minor sun, just bright enough to allow him to clearly see the heaving hide of the lake.
He hoped the light might help tempt the ๏ฌsh closer.
Thorn continued to pull in the cord. Glaedrโs scale was nearly to them. Murtagh could make out a golden shimmer beneath the waves, rising toward the surface.
He opened his mouth to suggest that Thorn try jiggling the line.
A great mass raced upward from beneath the scale, and blackness yawned around Glaedrโs jeweled remnant, and hideously wide jaws clamped shut, disappearing it from view.
Thorn yanked on the cord. The line snapped with a wirelikeย twang.
Murtagh drew and loosed in a single motion, and with it, he cried the killing word.
A line of white bubbles traced the arrowโs downward path. It was a good shot. The shaft hit somewhere on Muckmawโs yard-wide head. Murtagh saw, felt, and heard the impact.
The arrow glanced to the side and disappeared into the waves of Isenstar.
Again, Murtagh felt no decrease in strength from his spell.
Then Muckmawโs bulk sank from sight, as a hulled derelict descending to its ๏ฌnal resting place, and no hint of his pale-rimmed eyes remained. Nor of Glaedrโs scale.
Murtagh lowered his bow. Nocking another arrow would be pointless.
He cursed.
Beside him, Thorn shook the slack remnants of the cord o๏ฌ his forefoot.
The ๏ฌsh is formidable.
โIf we lose him, I swear, Iโll drain the whole blastedโโ
A V-shape of ripples formed o๏ฌ to the right, maybe seventy feet from shore. The ripples traced a curve about the tongue of slate he and Thorn
stood on.
Thorn shifted slightly, gaze intent on the disturbance.ย He has not ๏ฌed. โNo.โ
He is playing with us.
โHow intelligent can he be?โ The ripples faded.
Thornโs glittering eyes turned on him for a moment.ย Cunning enough to hunt a man.
Cold concern congealed at the back of Murtaghโs skull. Thorn was right. Most animalsโmostย ๏ฌshโwould have ๏ฌed after being attacked. But then, Muckmaw wasnโt like most ๏ฌsh. That was the entire problem.
Murtagh set his jaw, determined. No ๏ฌsh was going to best him, regardless of its enchantments. He slipped his bow into his quiver, along with the arrows. The time for physical weapons had passed.
โAll wards have a limit,โ he said. โLetโs ๏ฌnd the limits of this one. Iโll need some of your strength, though.โ
Thornโs maw split to show his curved teeth.ย Whatโs mine is yours.
Murtagh matched his grin. Then he returned his focus to the water. The scarred ๏ฌsherman had spoken the truth: killing Muckmaw was a task for an elf or a Rider. Few others would be equal to the challenge. And by disposing of the ๏ฌsh, they could do some good for the common folk of Gilโead, while also furthering their own interests. It was a gratifying combination.
Crouching, Murtagh felt around until he found a piece of loose slate. He cocked his arm and tossed the slate a few yards out into the near waters. Far enough that Muckmaw might feel safe, but close enough that Murtagh would have a clear line of sight.
A string of pearlescent bubbles appeared, rising toward the surface. He tensed, keeping ๏ฌrm the connection between his mind and Thornโs.
Another swell of water formed, not thirty feet away.
Murtagh focused on an area just beneath the surface, pointed, and spoke the Word, the Name of Names.
Along with the Word, he added a phrase intended to strip away the magics bound to Muckmaw, to break and end the enchantments Durza had
placed on the ๏ฌsh more than half a century ago. Although the Word granted him complete control over the ancient language, he still found it helpfulโ and often necessaryโto explicitly state the desired outcome.
He released the spell and, as with most uses of the Word, felt only the slightest decrease of energy. But it was enough to know the spell had taken e๏ฌect. Altering existing magic by reason of the Name of Names required little in the way of brute strength. It was a subtle art more akin to adjusting the weave of a tapestry than shattering a piece of pottery.
โGot you,โ he muttered. Then: โKverst!โ
The word parted the swell of water as neatly as cloth cut by a razor. Underneath, Murtagh glimpsed a ridge of bladed spines and, spread to either side, a broad, humped back covered with a layer of blue-black scales glistening in the silvery light. But the spell did nothing more, and Muckmaw again dove from view.
โWhat?!โ Murtaghโs astonishment shaded into outrage. He drove a spear of thought toward the ๏ฌshโฆonly to strike emptiness and absence. โHow?โ The spell had worked. Heโd felt it! And yet somehow Muckmaw remained unharmed.
Again he spoke the Word, and again he sought to break the magic bound to Muckmaw, and again it felt as if heโd succeeded. But when he sent another killing spell into the water, it passed ine๏ฌectively around the overgrown sturgeon.
He tried twice moreโgrowing increasingly frustratedโand met with the same results.
How was it done?ย Thorn asked.ย Wordless magic?
Murtagh shook his head. โIt canโt be. The spell did what it was supposed to. Iโm sure of it. Itโs justโฆโ Counting Sarros, this made two times now that the Name of Names had failed him. It was not, he was coming to realize, the all-powerful weapon he had originally thought. That, and he had far less of an understanding of magic than heโd hoped.
He squatted on his hams and chewed on the inside of his cheek while he studied the lake. Then he laughed, quick and soft. โYou clever bastard.โ He looked at Thorn. โI donโt know if this is the answer, but one way itย couldย be
done would be to word a spell so that if anything changes or removes it, the spell replaces itself.ย If this, then that.โ Not so dissimilar from the spells heโd experimented with during their trip to Gilโead.
Can you use the Name of Names to stop the spell from returning?ย โMaybe. Probably. But Iโd have to think on it.โ
Then think on it.
An itch formed on his right palm. He scratched. โI donโt know. It might be faster to justโโ His scalp prickled, and his nostrils ๏ฌared as fear jolted through him.ย My hand!ย He spun toward Thorn, saying, โWe have to go. Get us into theโโ
A splash sounded to his right andโ
โhe turned to see a huge, glistening mass hurtling toward him from the water. He barely had time to register a sense of disbelief before the giant ๏ฌsh slammed into him and he, and it, fell into the lake.
