Bier led the way, meter by agonizing meter, down the stony path, barely wide enough for his thick frame to negotiate. If they faltered, if the path ran out and he couldn't bridge it with his magic, they would have to circle back, find a better approach.
Sidney hadn't been able to give them more details about the surrounding area - one canyon was as good as another in Dragonhome - and Bier held faith that between his magic and
Lorn's music they would reach the bottom safely.
Already the white mist was gathering around them, filtering the bright sunlight into white haze. It was like looking through a glass left out to gather condensation. He marveled at it as best he could before returning his attention to each precious space his heavy feet would occupy next.
Soon, the mist was too thick to see beyond the immediate space around him, and Bier was grateful to Lorn's singing, which hadn't stopped or shifted since they began their descent. He could trust he was there, following closely, even though he was obscured.
Judging by the sound of stones dropping around them, Bier guessed they were close to the floor of the canyon. He could barely make out the shape of the enormous monstrosity against the white diffuse light of the sun, its horrific shape almost completely swallowed by the fog. Only when it turned did its wrongness become apparent, and Bier felt a primal kick in his chest of horror and revulsion.
Then, just barely below them, Bier heard a distinct voice. It was closer than he expected, and it belonged to no one he knew. When it spoke, it spoke words that Bier's head could not parse into functional phrases. It sounded draconic, but it sounded wrong, and the words were gone from his mind as soon as they had entered, like a dream.
The shape was visible by Bier's hip for just a moment before the dragon was close enough to see completely. He moved with a limp, half his face gone, leaving only bone and sinew in its place. He stopped cold for a moment, then felt movement near his shoulder, saw another nearby, smaller, but no less clearly dead.
He shied back, startled, and nearly trampled Lorn behind him on the path. It was then he realized the pearlcatcher had stopped singing.
"Lorn?" he asked.
He felt his friend's paw at his hip. "I know them," he said distantly, as if peering through the fog to his own literal past. "But Nighlan died in the Wasteland. And Kiern was lost at sea..."
The taller of the two lunged for Bier's head, its claws rank and dripping, and Bier pushed Lorn further up the path towards safety. He could feel the tremor in the pearlcatcher's hand quake into his leg, and he looked back to see another shadow pushing through the mist behind them. There had been no one up on the ridge with them, not besides that other dragon that Bier still hoped was
Karina.
He did math quickly, knowing that there was no way to guess how many were behind them, but also that they were so close to the ground, and down there they'd be able to better hold their own. He squared his shoulders and set his fists. "Lorn did the blight finally take your throat? Sing!" he roared, then barreled forwards, charging his silvered knuckles into the waiting fiend ahead.
