King's Dragon (Crown of Stars #1)

King's Dragon (Crown of Stars #1) Page 34

Chains bound his ankles to the base of the cross, and chains shackled his wrists against the crossbeam. As the wagon lurched to a halt, he deftly balanced himself against its rocking. The hounds yelped furiously, surging around the wagon, nipping and snapping at each other in their frenzy. No one dared approach. The Eika prince stared about the yard defiantly. Certainly all of those from the town and the fortress shrank away from him. Even many of the soldiers took a few steps back, now that he stood so boldly, though chained, among them.

Lavastine turned back to speak with Dhuoda. The Eika prince threw back his head and howled.

The hounds went wild.

They scrabbled madly against their chains, drowning out even the Eika’s awful howl with their own cacophonous barking. As black as a moonless night, they were frightful creatures to behold.

With a splintering snap, part of the side board of the wagon broke off. Two hounds lunged forward. One of them pulled entirely free of the wagon and charged, leaping onto the nearest soldier. Bowling the man over, the hound went for his throat. At first, like an indrawn breath, no one moved. Then came screams. The crowd scattered as the hound, leaving a welter of blood and a still-twitching body behind him, raced on toward the count. The yard erupted with panic and at once dissolved into chaos.

But the other hound had not broken free. He yelped madly after his fellow, then, after straining forward to the limit of his new freedom, broke into a vicious growl, spun, and leaped up into the wagon to attack the captive.

To Alain it seemed an endless space during which no one apparently noticed that the Eika prince, helpless to defend himself, was being savaged. Other soldiers moved impossibly slowly toward their fallen comrade; the burly man at the head of the oxen yanked hard on the head of the lead ox, but to what end? Alain pushed himself away from the wall. He felt as if he were running in a world separate from the rest of the frantic activity in the yard: just himself, alone with the Eika prince and the savage dog.

He reached the side of the wagon. He grabbed the hind legs of the hound, bent his own knees, and tugged backward with all his might.

A new scream, shivering through him. He tumbled backward and fell. The hound landed heavily on top of him. For an instant Alain lay stunned. The hound scrabbled around, claws digging into Alain’s tunic to tear at his skin. It growled deep in its throat.

Alain stared up at the maddened eyes, like dark amber, depthless. Another snarl sounded. He realized then that he had fallen within reach of one of the still-chained hounds. Saliva dripped onto his face, and he saw teeth.

His face was going to be ripped clean off by those powerful jaws.

Far away, like an echo, a man laughed.

Because he was about to die, he said, firmly, but calmly, the first thing that came to mind.

“Sit.”

The hound sat, panting, on his hips. Its weight pressed his flesh into the hard ground, bruising on small stones. Saliva dripped down its incisors and wet Alain’s tunic. The other hound, moving in, nuzzled him, licking his face, smothering his cheek with its wet tongue.

Abruptly, both hounds looked up and growled menacingly at the soldiers who had approached and lowered their spears but who still hesitated to come any closer, even with their weapons. Behind them, a man was alternately moaning and shrieking in pain. Another man issued orders in a curt voice, but Alain for some reason could not distinguish the words. His gaze tracked up and up and past the broad black back of the hound sitting on him and caught on the face of the Eika prince. The savage’s eyes were as black as obsidian. The prince was, oddly enough, grinning down at him. His teeth had much the look of the hound’s: sharp and white. The hound had ripped one trouser leg clean through, and blood seeped out through the torn cloth. A great deal of blood, as thick as a man’s but with a greenish tint. If the wound pained him, he did not show it on his face.

The hound sitting on Alain lunged forward suddenly, plunging through the ring of lowered spears, and closed his jaw around the arm of a soldier. The formation vanished as the soldiers broke backward to escape. With a yelp of pain the poor soldier wrenched his arm free and staggered away. Brought up by his chain, the hound jerked back and growled. Then, content, he padded back and settled his weight on Alain’s legs.

“Move back! Take those men to the infirmary. Get this wagon to the kennels. Go on, man, get those oxen moving. Hold one moment. Let the boy rise.”

Count Lavastine appeared, a black hound panting beside him, his muzzle thrust into the man’s palm. The Eika prince shifted his gaze to glare at his captor.

“Sorrow! Up, boy!”

The hound remained draped comfortably over Alain’s legs.