"Indeed," Daresha agreed. "We must hurry to the Hall of Dragons at once, or the reds will be debating this matter in our absence."
Marthaen waited for his companion to depart, then locked the door of his chamber behind him. The Hall of Dragons, the meeting place of the parliament, was a vast chamber in the center of the Hall of the Great One. A corridor encircled the outside of the hall, and each representative had his own chamber directly across the corridor from his place in the circular gallery. Each representative sat on a ledge, enclosed on either side by dividing walls with a partial roof overhead. The enclosure, too small for most dragons to spread their wings, was a precaution against a display of their fiery tempers.
As First Speaker of the Parliament, Marthaen's ledge was larger and higher than most, with a stone walkway leading out above the floor of the Hall of Dragons where he could be seen clearly by the others. In all the centuries of the history of Windreach, he was only the third to sit in this place of honor. In the past, in times of great need, the Great One himself had sometimes manifested himself on the highest ledge, far above the gallery, a place where no other dragon dared to go. But the Great One had been absent from the mortal world and the affairs of dragons for a quarter of a century now, and more than twice as many years had passed since the time he had last presided over a meeting of the parliament.
Marthaen had been a only child when he last saw the Great One. He felt almost like a child now, wishing in his heart that the true Lord of the Dragons were there to guide him in perhaps the most important decision the dragons would ever make. As he glanced about the hall, he could see that barely a fourth of all the representatives were present. That might make this discussion shorter than it would have been otherwise. As he had expected, the speakers for the red and the black dragons, Jherdar and Thalbar, were present. Gheradaen of the gold dragons and Lhoran of the blues were there as well. He noticed that both representatives of the white dragons were on hand; they would play no part in the battle unless matters turned particularly desperate. They were tied to the cold lands of the far north, and they would not willingly come down into the southern lands in the summer.
Marthaen watched the others, anticipating the beliefs that each would be prepared to argue. As the First Speaker, he was required to be responsive to the desires of all dragons, not just his own golds. Jherdar and Thalbar, leaders of the headstrong reds and blacks, would be prepared to argue in favor of the death of the Dragonlord. As a blue dragon, Lhoran's opinion could easily go either way. The rest would be waiting to see what Marthaen himself had to say. Marthaen was held in high regard by all dragons for his wisdom and cunning, and even the reds and blacks admired him because of his youth and eagerness. As in a great many such debates, Marthaen would likely have his way on this matter, unless his plans were so abhorrent to a large number of the others that they couldn't support him.
Things had changed quickly that morning. Marthaen had been prepared to test the dragons to see how determined they were to go to war. If possible, he would have suggested sending a delegation to negotiate with the Dragonlord rather than risk an invasion. Now he no longer intended to debate the matter; an invasion of the Highlands had become unavoidable. All he wanted now was for the others to agree to follow him without question, allowing him to deal with the Dragonlord.
He saw his mate Daresha enter, taking her place almost directly across from him. With her arrival, in accordance with a prearranged signal, he assumed that all the representatives who planned to attend were already present. He rose and moved to the very front of his ledge.
"We have gathered today to decide a matter of the greatest importance to the fate of all dragons," he began. "The Highlands army is drawing back from the north, apparently with the intention of establishing a defensive position for a final stand at their city of Braejr. The Dragonlord now decides their policy, and both he and the Flaem clearly no longer wish to continue the conflict with the dragons. How then are we to respond?"
"Are you aware that the Dragonlord has made himself King of the Highlands?" Jherdar asked challengingly.
"I am aware of that/' Marthaen said. "I assume we have all heard the news by now. And I admit that I find it very disquieting. This is not the act of the Dragonlord I knew five years ago. You knew him yourself, Jherdar. He was wise and merciful, unimpressed with his own power."
"I knew him," Jherdar agreed reluctantly. "He showed the dragons mercy and forgiveness."
"I feel that we owe him a debt," Marthaen continued. "I had thought that we could best repay that debt by being patient and open-minded. But the security of all dragons must come first. The Dragonlord had authority thrust upon him by chance with the deaths of the old king and the wizards. Now he seems to have decided that he likes that power and wishes to keep it. What else will he desire? His strength and invulnerability are such that no one could deny him whatever power he desires. If he wishes to be a conqueror, only the dragons could ever hope to defeat him."
"The Dragonlord must be destroyed," Jherdar insisted, thrusting his neck well out over his ledge. "And that time must be now! We know of the ways in which he is vulnerable, and we know that he seeks to find new enchantments that compensate for these vulnerabilities. We must act now before he becomes even stronger."
"I agree," Thalbar declared. The black dragon was standing poised at the front of his ledge. "We should not be discussing whether or not we must fight the Dragonlord, but how his defeat can best be accomplished."
"I agree completely," Marthaen said calmly, sitting back on his haunches. "Jherdar, you say that the Dragonlord is vulnerable. I remind you that his vulnerabilities and limitations are entirely of his own making. He may seem less powerful than the first Dragonlord only because he has not, out of compassion, used the full power of his weapons against us. I have seen for myself what he did to Kardyer, who was considered the most powerful of the renegade kings. I saw him slay six renegades with a single bolt from his sword. If we force him to forsake his compassion, he has the potential to be every bit as dangerous to us as the first Dragonlord."
Jherdar opened his mouth to answer hotly, then paused to consider. At last he laid back his ears, seething at the inescapable truth of Marthaen's. "You are correct, First Speaker. If we press the Dragonlord to the point that he must fight for his life, then he may well be forced to call upon his full powers."
"Both his own powers and the awesome powers of the Dragonlord, for they are indeed separate," Marthaen said. "A combination far greater than those of the first Dragonlord. Our only blessing is that he is not yet aware of his true strength. We dare not force him to that realization."
The dragons remained silent, sitting back on their ledges as they appeared pensive, even confused. Because of their awesome size, strength, and magic, dragons were in the habit of solving problems by simply destroying their enemies in the most convenient manner available at the moment. Patience and cleverness were qualities reserved for when they fought among themselves. The First Speaker had shown them that they were not as ready for this battle as they wanted to believe, and that they would have to think of the Dragonlord in much the way they would any other dragon, and an especially dangerous one at that.
"Then you think we cannot hope to fight him?" Jherdar asked at last.
"I think we must make some response to the present situation," Marthaen answered. "And yet we must be cautious and cunning with an enemy this dangerous. I do not wish to see a single dragon die in this effort, but we cannot deny that an attempt to destroy the Dragonlord in combat would cost us many lives. I believe that the most important thing is not so much that we slay the Dragonlord, but that we find the means to leave him powerless and no longer of any concern."
Jherdar had been prepared to argue, and he was caught by surprise. He sat back on his haunches and craned his neck forward, listening carefully. "You sound as if you have a plan."
"I believe that I do," Marthaen replied. "Thelvyn Fox-Eyes has made himself a king, contrary to his own
duties as Dragonlord. He has had a taste of power and has found that he desires it. He is becoming like a renegade dragon, consumed with a boundless belief in himself and an unrelenting need to command the entire world. That must not be allowed to happen."
"The Dragonlord must be destroyed at any cost!" Jherdar declared.
"No, not at any cost," the gold dragon insisted. "I will not waste the lives of dragons needlessly. We have no assurance that we could ever defeat him in battle. I remind you that he is the Dragonlord and he commands the power of ancient Blackmoor, which almost succeeded in destroying us once. He also has the favor of the Immortals. We cannot be certain of prevailing against either of those, and certainly not both. Is that not so?"
"And yet we must try," Jherdar insisted. "We may well die, but we will not live as slaves."
"That is not my intention," Marthaen replied. "Bear in mind the words of the prophecy. We fear that prophecy terribly, yet have we ever really understood it? The prophecy tells us that, with the return of the Dragonlord, he will become the ruler of all dragons, and that he will set into motion certain events that will shape the destiny of dragons forever. His decision to make himself King of the Highlands seems especially ominous to us because it foreshadows the day when he will conquer us as well. But have we understood the prophecy correctly? There is no inherent threat in those words beyond what we chose to see. That prophecy can just as easily be seen as a promise of hope and glory to come."
Jherdar laughed aloud. "Would you have us believe that the Dragonlord is here to help us?"
"According to the cleric Kharendaen, that is exactly what the Dragonlord himself has always believed. I remind you that the clerics of the Great One have not worked to protect us from the Dragonlord as we expected. Rather, they have seemed almost to help prepare for his return."
"Are you suggesting that the Great One intends for the Dragonlord to rule over us?" Thalbar asked, outraged. Nearly all of the dragons were standing on their ledges now and glaring or muttering in fury.
"No, I do not believe that," Marthaen explained. "Not in the sense that he will conquer us to make us his slaves. I do not believe the Great One or his clerics would betray us. I am saying that I have reason to suspect that the Dragonlord has something yet to do in our benefit, and to destroy him may be to destroy the key to our own future. But if he must be fought, then it must be on our terms. I believe that we must not destroy him yet if it can be avoided."
Jherdar sat back on his haunches and laid back his ears, looking bemused. "Easier said than done."
"We know who and what he is; even he does not know that," Marthaen insisted. "We know his strengths, but we also know his weaknesses. I believe I can fight him, and if I cannot make him submit, then I will destroy him. All I ask is that you follow me, that you do not question my plans at this critical time. I will do my best to explain the reasons for all that I do. I fear that we may face a desperate time, and our dispute with the Dragonlord could be only the first of many battles."
"Are you trying to frighten us into submission?" Jherdar asked suspiciously.
"I only want you to understand the reality of what we face, so that you will know why I find it so important to look beyond our immediate concerns. All other races fear us. Just as we look upon the Dragonlord as a threat that we cannot ignore, others look upon us as a threat they cannot ignore. If we slay the Dragonlord, perhaps others will decide we must be destroyed, just as the men of Blackmoor did long ago."
"Pah! We can take on the entire world," Thalbar asserted proudly.
"At what cost?" Marthaen demanded. "Are we likely to win such a war, or will the Immortals intervene? Every tyrant who has tried to rule the world by force has been destroyed. When Blackmoor fell, the face of the world was changed forever. Nithia was so utterly destroyed that even the memory of its existence was wiped from the slate of history, so that only we now recall that such a place ever existed. Are we so special that the Immortals would not do
the same to us?"
"I understand your arguments for not wanting to destroy the Dragonlord," Jherdar said in a more reasonable tone. "If you can defeat him otherwise, then I will support you willingly. What I cannot comprehend is how such a seemingly impossible thing might be accomplished."
Marthaen dropped his head, his ears laid back. "The wizards of the Flaem nearly defeated him by taking away the enchantments of his armor and weapons. That greatly encourages me, for I firmly believe that we as dragons can do better. We must not attempt to defeat the Dragonlord in battle, since everything about him was specifically designed to have every advantage over us. Our contest must be one of magic, to see if our powers are greater than die enchantments that created him. To this end, I will call together the greatest of all the dragon sorcerers to assist us in this battle."
Jherdar lifted his head. "I believe I finally understand you. If we cannot fight the Dragonlord, then we will defeat him by other means."
"And once the Dragonlord no longer commands his powers, then there is no longer any need to destroy him. He will be ours."
"I am content to have you lead us as you see fit," the red dragon conceded. "My pride argues that we must fight and destroy the Dragonlord, but I am not willing to pay the price with the lives of those dragons who look to me for their protection. If you can tame him by some more clever and less costly means, so be it. But if you fail, then we will battle the Dragonlord to the death."
Jherdar sat back on his haunches in the center of his ledge, as if waiting for others to have their say. But Marthaen knew that the decision had already been made. Now that the Speaker for the red dragons was in agreement with the First Speaker, the others weren't very likely to be in dissent. The vote would continue, but it was only a formality.
"The gold dragons agree," Gheradaen announced after glancing first at Daresha and then at the only other gold representative present.
"The black dragons agree," Thalbar said almost sullenly. He probably didn't understand the arguments that Marthaen had made and wanted only to destroy as many of his enemies as he could, but he would follow Jherdar's lead even against his own will.
"Then it is decided," Marthaen declared. "And if there is no other matter of importance to be considered, I call this session to a close. I must return to the west at once."
He waited for a time in the corridor outside his ledge, knowing that Daresha would join him as soon as she could. He was surprised to see both Jherdar and Thalbar following her, although he knew he should have realized the red dragon hadn't yet had his full say on the subject of the Dragonlord.
"If you are leaving for the west, then we will go with you when you are ready," the red dragon said.
"I will be ready within the hour," Marthaen answered.
"There is someone I must see before I go."
*****
Marthaen didn't have far to go to make his call. He circled the Hall of the Great One higher and higher until he reached the upper reaches of that immense edifice. The upper portions of the hall were dominated by towers and delicate spires. Soon he had risen high above the rim of the volcano; from this dizzying height, the city below appeared no more than some tiny ant village. He had to be careful as he moved in and out among the towers, knowing that the winds here were often unbelievably strong and treacherous. Over time, more than one dragon had found himself dashed against those walls of white marble, only to plummet to his death on the streets far below.
Marthaen knew his errand probably wouldn't be successful, although he had to try all the same. This matter was too important for him not to seek out the advice of the Great One, especially since he was now convinced that the Great One had been one of the principal architects of the Dragonlord's return. And if the Dragonlord was indeed so important to the future of the dragons, then Marthaen simply did not dare to destroy him. He needed to know how to deal with this problem to the best advantage of the dragons. And if he had guessed wrong—if the Dragonlord was indeed the enemy of the dragons and would do
them great harm—he needed to know that as well.
At last he found the right ledge and landed, having to come in quickly before the wind could carry him away. He opened the door and passed inside. The upper levels of the Hall of the Great One were nearly as spacious as those below, but they were more bright and open from being so high above the shadow of the volcano, for here there was light through the windows of transparent crystal all day long. But the passages were also bitterly cold, since the upper reaches of the hall were constantly exposed to the chilling winds. He had only just closed the door when a young blue dragon hurried to meet him.
"I must speak immediately with Saerna," he explained. "It is a matter of the greatest importance."
The young dragon nodded and turned, and Marthaen followed her through the corridors to the inner chambers. There was no question that Saerna would see the First Speaker; whether or not she would answer him was quite another matter, and a choice that wasn't really hers to make. Saerna was the most senior of all the clerics of the Great One, the leader of her order, and quite possibly the oldest dragon in the world. Although she wasn't old enough to remember the first Dragonlord, she had survived the fall of Ancient Blackmoor and the Rain of Fire. Because of her great age, Marthaen would have preferred that she didn't spend so much of her time in this high part of the hall, where it was always cold and the air was thin.
He waited a moment outside the door of her chamber while the young cleric hurried inside to announce him. The small blue dragon returned a moment later and held ihe door for him, closing it behind him when he had passed inside. Saerna lay reclining on the cushions of her couch, a book of draconic proportions resting on a stand before her. The ancient dragon hardly looked her age, for her eyes were bright and her armor was still firm, with perhaps only the slightest blunting of the tips of her crest. And yet she was so old that she belonged to no modern breed of dragon, vaguely resembling a gold in features but more gray in color. Her size was no more than that of a blue.
D& D - Mystara 02 Dragonking of Mystara Page 30
