The Crimson Hunter raced after them, its legs stabbing at the ground as the creature hurtled forward. The thing was at least as fast a cantering horse. Sigaldra and Adalar dodged around piles of coins and statues and rows of stone tables, but the Crimson Hunter kept on gaining. Sometimes it climbed over obstacles like a smaller spider. Her mind raced, but she could think of no way to fight the creature. Mazael’s sword and Timothy’s magic were the only weapons they possessed capable of wounding the Crimson Hunter, and both the hrould and the wizard were trapped within that ring of blue fire. Sigaldra did not know whether the Prophetess or Azurvaltoria had cast that spell. Perhaps the dragon had lost patience and decided to kill every single one of the intruders. Or maybe the Prophetess had some trick up her sleeve, some trick that even the ancient dragon had not foreseen. Sigaldra did not know, and she would never find out, because the Crimson Hunter was going to kill her. At least it would be quick.
