Grandfather?"
"I want you to get out of your blankets very slowly," the old man said in a voice so quiet that it scarcely reached Garion's ears, "and get your hands on your sword."
"What is it, Grandfather?"
"Listen!" Belgarath said.
From high overhead in the rainy darkness there came the ponderous flap of vast wings and a sudden flare of sooty red light. The wings flapped again, and then the sound was gone.
"Move, Garion," Belgarath said urgently. "Get your sword—and put something over the Orb so that she can't see the glow from it."
Garion untangled his legs from his blankets and groped in the darkness for Iron-grip's sword.
Again there was the vast flapping sound overhead, and then a strange, hissing cry, accompanied by another flare of that sooty red light.
"What's that?" Ce'Nedra cried out.
"Be still, girl!" Belgarath snapped.
They lay tensely in the darkness as the flapping sound faded off into the rain swept night.
"What's out there, Belgarath?" Silk asked tensely.
"She's a very large beast," the old man replied quietly. "Her eyes aren't very good, and she's as stupid as a stump, but she's very dangerous. She's hunting. Possibly she smells the horses—or us."
"How do you know it's a she?" Durnik asked.
"Because there's only one of them left in the world. She doesn't come out of her cave very often, but over the centuries enough people have caught glimpses of her to give rise to all those legends."
"I'm starting to get a very uneasy feeling about this," Silk murmured.
"She doesn't really look that much like the dragons in all those drawings," Belgarath continued, "but she is big, and she does fly."
"Oh, come now, Belgarath," Durnik scoffed. "There's no such thing as a dragon."
"I'm glad to hear it. Now, why don't you go out and explain that to her?"
"Is she the same creature we heard that night in the mountains above Maragor?" Garion asked.
"Yes. Have you got your sword?"
"Right here, Grandfather."
"Good. Now, very slowly, creep out and smother the last of those coals with dirt. Fire attracts her, so let's not take any chances on a sudden flare-up."
Garion inched his way out through the open front of the shelter and hurriedly scooped dirt over the fire pit with his hands.
"Is it really a flying lizard?" Silk whispered hoarsely. "No," Belgarath replied, "actually she's a species of bird. She has a long, snakelike tail, and what she's covered with looks more like scales than feathers. She also has teeth— lots of very long, sharp teeth."
"Just exactly how big is she?" Durnik asked.
"You remember Faldor's barn?"
"Yes."
"About that big,"
From quite some distance off there came another screeching bellow and the murky red flare.
"Her fire isn't really all that serious," Belgarath continued in the same low voice, "particularly since these woods are so wet. It's when she catches you in dry grass that it starts to be a problem. She's big, but she's not very brave—and on the ground she's as clumsy as a pig on a frozen pond. If it gets down to a fight, we probably won't be able to hurt her very much. About the best we can hope for is to frighten her off."
"Fight?" Silk choked. "You're not serious."
"We may not have any choice. If she's hungry and picks up our scent or the scent of the horses, she'll tear these woods apart looking for us. She has a few sensitive spots. Her tail is probably the best. Her wings get in the way, so she can't see behind her too well, and when she's on the ground, she can't turn very fast."
"Let's see if I've got this straight," Silk said. "You want us to sneak up behind this dragon and hit it on the tail, is that it?"
"Approximately, yes."
"Belgarath, have you lost your mind? Why not just use sorcery to drive it away?"
"Because she's immune to sorcery," Polgara explained calmly. "It was one of the little refinements Torak added when he and the other Gods created her species. He was so impressed with the concept of a dragon that he chose it as his totem creature.