JAMES CLEMENS

The d'warves held their posts, fresh arrows nocked. Wennar yelled. Again!

The barrage flew but this time, the dragon was ready. A wing struck out, knocking aside the arrows. They fell with a scatter.

Ragnar'k swung his neck, bringing his muzzle back toward Blyth and Sy-wen. The dragon roared, revealing long fangs. Blyth braced himself.

Tyrus was almost to them, coming up on the dragon's wounded left side. He yelled to draw its attention. Yahhhl

A wing snapped, meant to smash him from his saddle. But Tyrus was already gone. He sprang to a crouch in his saddle, then leaped away, flying through the air, over the wide wing, hands outstretched. He willed the last of his magickal reserves to his fingers. They went black instantly, fed by his panic.

A scream rose from beyond the bulk of the dragon.

Then Tyrus landed atop Ragnar'k. He drove his fingers under the thick scales to the tender flesh beneath and unleashed his magick. He felt scale harden, trapping his fingers. This proved lucky: Ragnar'k bucked as flesh turn to stone. He tried to throw Tyrus off, but the pirate prince was melded to the beast. Flung about, he fed his magick in a fierce rush, emptying his heart. Again he felt the dull disinterest in his own mortality.

Senses ebbed. He heard a roar of alarm, and distantly he felt the dragon's fight die away, fading like himself. Granite flowed outward through wings, down a long neck, into clawed feet. Then with a final push, all was stone.

Both dragon and rider, trapped for eternity.

Tyrus was aware of his heart. Its beat faltered from a solid rhythm to a quivering bag of writhing snakes. He allowed himself to fall toward darkness. It was over.

He slipped away from cold stone to something warmer. Then a light grew around him, bathing him, wrapping him. He felt something touch his lips. It took him a moment to realize it was a kiss.

He knew who held him now. He had only tasted those lips once, but it was enough. The stone of his heart melted into joy. A name formed on his lips. Mycelle'

He was not answered. He was still too far off, he sensed.

Mycelle, I'm coming to you.

The warm light resisted him, holding him back. No, my love, you must stay.

His heart broke. / have no reason. You were always my light. And I always will be' But now it is not your time. I wish it, he said with as much command as he could muster. A sternness grew. You wish to die hfye a pirate' but what I ask of you is much harder. There was a long silence. Rather than die like a pirate, you must live like a prince. You are needed. For me, live like a prince.

Tyrus sought words to argue, but deep inside him, he understood her truth. He held onto her a moment longer, wrapped in her light, taking some of it into his heart. Then he let her go. Promise me' he whispered.

You know I already have. And then nothingness. He was alone. With the bit of warmth and light held to him, he melted the stone around his heart. The fist of muscle in his chest beat weakly' once, twice, and again, stronger, marking the time until they would be reunited again.

Stone melted to flesh. He felt himself slip from atop the granite dragon, but arms were already there, catching him. Vision swirled back, but the world had darkened since last he saw. He looked right and left. Fletch and Hurl held him upright. Beyond them, the flames were gone from the fire pit.

The fire died along with the dragon, Hurl explained, reading his confused expression.

He took deep breaths, working the stone from the corners of his being.

The dragon filled the world on one side, a granite sculpture of perfect form. It sat on its haunches, wings tucked, neck curled to bring its muzzle close to the floor. Tyrus was close enough to feel the heat steaming off it. It was like standing by a giant coal, fresh from the hearth.

Blyth, Hurl began, drawing his attention back. He' The Northman shook his head.

Tyrus then remembered: the dragon, his first mate, and Sy-wen. Fear brought his legs under him. He glanced to Fletch, but the Steppeman wouldn't meet his gaze. Take me to him, he ordered.

Together, they circled a group of d'warves gaping at the stone dragon, to where Wennar knelt over Blyth. Blood pooled under them both. Sy-wen knelt at the edge, face buried in her arms, sobbing.

Tyrus hurried forward, sure Blyth was already gone. But he found the man alive. Wennar had a thick wad of cloth pressed to the first mate's side. Only then did Tyrus notice Blyth's left arm was gone, clear to the shoulder.