Blood arced through the air as the blade was pulled free from the lizard-man’s neck, sizzling where it hit the sun-baked stones of the pyramid. As the body keeled over and rolled down the steep steps, Sir Berenthor counted another four between him and Princess Tancia chained to the altar at the top.

A shadow passed over them all and the exhausted knight, spent of every last bit of armour and equipment from his Quest, with little more than boots and a loincloth remaining, glanced up at the dragon circling overhead. A young wyrmling, he thought with the faintest relief, come to accept this cult’s sacrifice.

Calling upon his final reserves of strength, Sir Berenthor bounded up the steps of the small ziggurat. Deftly sidestepping the downward attack of one lizard-man, he swept at the ankles of the next with his enchanted blade, instantly severing both feet. The hissing reptoid took down the first and they tumbled down the steps in a tangle.

The sweating, bruised and bloodied knight pushed for the top where he came face to face with the chief and the shaman of the cult, blocking his path to free the princess. The villains wasted no time, with the shaman invoking a magic spell while the chief engaged the exhausted Sir Berenthor in a duel. The cultist’s primitive club was no match for the magic sword, but the knight did not emerge victorious without taking a hard shot to the arm.

By the time Sir Berenthor was free to engage the shaman, he found himself faced with five mirror images of the lizard-man which began attacking, or appearing to, for all but one were illusory decoys. As Sir Berenthor fought these phantoms, the real shaman was sneaking up from behind, closing in for the kill.

And then, as he raised his ceremonial dagger, the fakes swarming Sir Berenthor all vanished as the shaman found himself garrotted by the chains of the sacrificial victim he thought he had secured moments before. The knight turned to see Princess Tancia on the back of the lizard-man, pulling hard on the links which had formerly bound her.

Sir Berenthor quickly dispatched the monster with a swish of his silver scimitar and the two stood panting and sweating, regarding each other in the light of the setting sun.

“I thought you were drugged and chained,” he finally said.

“The drugs wore off and I was able to pick the lock,” the plucky princess replied, holding up a glittering hairpin.

Sir Berenthor was about to ask with what when he noticed she was fully bejewelled for her sacrifice to – the dragon!

A sizzling streak of lightning blasted the masonry next to the altar and threw the knight and the princess apart. Laying at the edge of the steep steps, shaking off the ringing in his ears and sitting upright, Sir Berenthor saw the big blue beast swoop down and land.

Planted squarely between the knight and the princess was the sapphire scaled dragon with the body of a lion and a long, prehensile neck and tail. Although young, it still measured twenty feet from end to end, with leathery bat-like wings flapping as it steadied itself. The dragon was here to claim its prize, the Princess Tancia!

Sir Berenthor saw but one chance to stop the monster and he made a leap for the creature’s broad back, between the wings. The point of his blade aimed downward and plunged deep into the beast’s abdomen, eliciting a roar of agony from it and a buck so violent it threw Sir Berenthor off – the sword still stuck in the dragon’s back.

This time, he landed with a thud on the hard flagstones next to Princess Tancia. She immediately tended to him, but his stamina was very nearly gone. The dragon leapt and thrashed about, trying to dislodge the knight’s magic sword from its back, and that gave the hero and the princess a chance to make a run for the stairs.

Just as they reached the edge, they were confronted by the last of the lizard-men who fell down the stairs but wasn’t killed. Now, he was the only one armed and he lunged at the pair with his club. Sir Berenthor pushed Tancia aside and barely ducked the weapon only to land flat on the flagstones, prone at the feet of the lizard-man.

The monster raised his weapon above his head for the killing blow and froze when a thrown dagger landed deep in the chest. He dropped his arms, gurgled once as he touched the hilt of the shaman’s ceremonial dagger and toppled backwards, back down the stairs.

Berenthor looked over at Tancia who was kneeling next to the dead shaman, one arm extended from throwing.

“You…?” he uttered, incredulous.

“I love the circus and begged my father to let them perform whenever they passed by the castle,” she said, beaming, “The knife-throwers were my favourites!”

Another shrieking howl from the dragon pierced the air and Berenthor got to his feet with the help of Tancia and they glanced over the side of the ziggurat where the blue dragon was still writhing in pain. With a lucky toss of its head, it managed to hook the hilt of the sword with one of its horns and yank it free with a spurt of blackish dragon blood before turning its baleful yellow eyes up at the top of the structure.

“He looks very angry,” moaned the princess.

“We need to get inside the pyramid, there’s no cover out here,” said Berenthor as he began rushing down the steps of the pyramid with Tancia, the dragon climbing up the other side.

“No! Don’t take me back inside!”

“No choice, princess!”

At the base of the pyramid was a cleft leading to an archway and beyond it was cool darkness. Princess Tancia was nearly immobilized by the conflict of her fear of the dragon on their tails and the terror of what lurked inside. She had been privy to a glimpse of the horrors of the tomb when the priests were preparing her for sacrifice and resisted Berenthor’s strong shoving and pulling. For his part, any danger inside was preferable to that of the dragon outside.

Next: Sir Robb and the Hood