The Black wing (d-2)

by Mary Kirchoff

  The campsite was strewn with torn bodies, blood still pumping from dying hearts. Khisanth's red-flecked face looked up sharply from the last kill and saw that only one more ogre stood between her and the treasure.

  Khisanth paused to consider the last ogre. Its cured-hide loincloth was of high-quality deer instead of bear, and much less moth-eaten than the others, suggesting some care. This ogre was noticeably bigger than its comrades, its dusty, sweat-streaked forehead a little less sloped. Something about its heavily scarred face suggested enough intelligence for the creature to realize that this was its dying day. Yet there was an absence of fear in this one, too. Khisanth noted that the ogre's eyes still gleamed with a feral light as she slithered over the corpses, preparing her attack.

  "You dragon?"

  Khisanth stopped short. "You know what I am?"

  "Hear stories."

  "What have you heard?"

  The ogre drew back warily. A weak, threatening growl rumbled through its filed orange teeth, as if warning her to keep her distance while it thought.

  "Tell me what you know, or I'll kill you slowly," Khisanth growled, leaning in.

  The creature had been chieftain of this small band of ogres and had killed enough foes to realize that mercy in exchange for information was unlikely. The ogre's eyes shifted from side to side, looking for something to help it. Bursting into motion, the tall warty creature stooped and snatched up a sword lying in the dust. The chieftain's attack was straight shy;forward and ferocious, wasting nothing on cleverness. The ogre simply lunged and drove the point of its sword toward Khisanth's breast.

  Ever wary, the black dragon lashed out with her right claw. The dusty sword was torn from the ogre's hand, sent spinning across the clearing until it disappeared in the dark shy;ness among the trees. The ogre's eyes hopelessly followed the weapon for only a moment. It looked back again quickly, hatefully, at Khisanth.

  She threw back her head and opened her toothy jaws in laughter at the creature's impotent rage, displaying slimy chains of pink-tinged slaver.

  The ogre's scarred face testified to countless scrapes with death, and it called upon that hoarded experience for another ploy. Keeping its eyes locked on Khisanth, the ogre reached down again and snatched up the torn corpse of a fallen com shy;rade, holding it by its ankles. A rake of Khisanth's claws had ripped away the creature's shoulders and head just moments before. The chieftain swung the gruesome torso in a circle overhead and launched it at Khisanth before she could dodge away. The gory bulk slapped her in the left eye, a broken rib slashing across her leathery eyelid. Her own blood streamed from the gash and mingled with the corpse's.

  Squeezing the throbbing eye shut, Khisanth could see the desperate ogre scramble over broken weapons and dead bodies. If the creature reached the woods, she would be unable to follow.

  Khisanth pulled back her thick lips and constricted her abdomen. The black dragon's gorge rose, and she felt the hot, salty acid race up her long throat, storm over her crimson tongue, and roar through her tightly drawn lips. As it hit the air, the steaming bile exploded into a shimmering mist and blasted across the clearing in a five-foot-wide stream of ruin. Plants withered and dissolved in the awful vapor. Droplets fell and sizzled upon the remains of bodies in the path of the blast, filling the air with a noxious green fog and the scent of burning blood.

  In less than a heartbeat the full force of the blast slammed into the back of the fleeing ogre. The corrosive river splashed around the beast's shoulders and head, eating through its deerskin clothing and past to its flesh. The chieftain's death scream pierced the air for a second before fading into a stran shy;gled gurgle. Then the forsaken creature fell forward on the hideous remains of its face.

  The only sound in the still clearing was the hungry sizzle of acid burning through bone. When it had finished its meal, the darkened liquid bubbled and soaked into the dirt and ashes, burying itself.

  An eerie, whispering wind rose to fill the silence in the clearing. Khisanth stood among the wreckage, her hind legs a bit shaky. The bloodlust that had driven her was gone,

  leaving her weak and light-headed. The blast of acid had left a sour taste in her mouth. She bent her head to feast on the corpses, if only to cover up the bitter taste in her mouth and renew her strength.

  A beam of light suddenly sliced across her path. Khi-santh's gore-covered face popped up and looked toward the night sky. The moon had cut through the clouds, and the angled beams of bluish light provided a pathway for Kada-gan. He slid along the moonlight and landed soundlessly at the dragon's hind feet.

  "Did you see the battle?" she asked the nyphid eagerly. Kadagan nodded. "Thou fought brilliantly, striking with the power and unpredictability of lightning."

  Khisanth's brows raised at the pleasing comparison. Resuming her feast, she spoke only between gulps. "I used the qhen technique and fought on instinct. You would have been proud of how I just let myself be a dragon. Nothing can stand up to the power of a dragon who knows qhen."

  "Thou knowest nothing of qhen," said Kadagan, his voice and bright blue eyes as cold as ice.

  Khisanth's head snapped up. "How can you say that?" she gasped. "You've seen how I've studied and practiced."

  "It is not a skill to employ when it suits thee," said the nyphid with silent fury. "It is a way of living."

  "How can you say in one breath that I was brilliant, and in the next say I know nothing?"

  "Greed blinded thee to thy goal. Qhen is focus, and patience, among other things. What hast thou accomplished, and what not?"

  Chortling, Khisanth puffed out her chest. "I knew I could overpower fifteen ogres, and I proved it!"

  "To whom hast thou proven what thou already knew?" The dragon bristled. "I also have a full belly, and gem-studded weapons with which to line my cave." "Was thy goal to slaughter a band of ogres?" "No, but-"

  "Hast thou furthered thy goal to study Styx or sight a human female?"

  "No, but-"

  "Could the ogre thou spoke with, undoubtedly their leader, have furthered either goal if thou hadst not killed it in anger and lust?"

  "No!" Khisanth snapped defensively. Frowning, she thought for a moment, then had to mumble, "How do you mean?"

  "Perhaps, living so close to Styx, it knew something of the village, or even of Dela."

  Khisanth thought about that for a moment. "The ogre was not going to tell me anything."

  The nyphid surveyed the stinking goo that was once the chieftain. "Thou hast ensured that with thy thoughtlessness."

  Khisanth looked up with angry eyes. "Have a care, little creature," she muttered, her tone low and threatening. "I tol shy;erate you when you are useful. When you are not-"

  The little nyphid was not cowed. 'Thou cannot control me in a meaningful way, if thou cannot control thyself."

  Khisanth's first instinct was to pluck off the nyphid's wings, but on some level she realized she would only be proving him right. The dragon turned away from her teacher in frustration. Hoping to calm herself, she ran her long, moist tongue over a small abrasion on her left foreleg.

  Khisanth stopped abruptly. Kadagan's displeasure had soured her mood so that she found even the taste of blood was dulled. Moving clumsily over the mounds of bodies in the small glade, Khisanth thoughtfully hooked her claw into another ogre corpse and dragged it to the growing pile of bones in front of her. The task of separating ogre bodies from their treasure was tedious with her large claws, which were not suited to such fine work. She neither wanted nor expected the help of Kadagan's slender fingers. His silent observation of her work made her burn with unspoken fury, yet she did not express it, would not give him the satisfaction of proving she couldn't control her temper.

  Kadagan surveyed the wreckage around the campsite, then looked to the moon traveling across the night sky. "It is late," he muttered. "We will return to thy lair."

  "What about Styx?" Khisanth asked. "We still have time to observe, and perhaps spot a human woman."

  "We
will return to thy lair/' Kadagan repeated firmly. "Only dogs are about at this late hour. Further, after tonight's display, I would not allow thee near Dela." Before Khisanth could fire off an angry defense, the nyphid issued an order. "Use thy acid to destroy the evidence of thy folly." Snatching up a loincloth from a dead ogre, he darted out of the way.

  Startled by the tone that brooked no insolence, Khisanth obeyed. When she finished, she saw that Kadagan had fash shy;ioned the filthy loincloth into a sling that accommodated the swords she'd pilfered from the dead ogres. His thoughtful acknowledgment of her desire for treasure angered her since it engendered the first pangs of guilt she had ever experienced.

  "Canst thou fly?" Kadagan asked, considering her wounds. "I did not expect to need Joad's services on this trip."

  Khisanth stood slowly and stretched her wings high. There was some stiffness. The descending moon shone as a fuzzy blotch behind the translucent, leathery membranes, except in a few places where it streamed through jagged tears in the flesh. She would be sore for several days, but Khisanth was certain she could make the flight back.

  Taking three powerful, rabbitlike hops she sprang into the air. Then the dragon dipped her left wing to pivot north toward her lair in Endscape.

  Summer gave way to autumn while Khisanth applied her shy;self to her studies. The leaves turned golden and tumbled from the trees. Ambling in the form of a white-striped badger through grasslands gone stiff and brown, Khisanth was con shy;templating the stride and stance that made her form uniquely that of a badger. She had long sharp claws like a dragon, but-

  Khisanth's head jerked up. She heard soft rustling ahead in the tall grass, coming toward her. She stood only half as high as the weeds, so she could not see what approached. Baring her teeth against possible predators, she waited.

  Joad popped through the grass and waved her on. "Come," he said, his voice old and scratchy from lack of use.

  Khisanth's badger body nearly fell over with surprise. "You talked!" she rumbled.

  "Of course," Joad said simply, as if his speaking were nothing unusual. "Thy progress has renewed my strength. I am grateful." His old gray head bowed.

  Khisanth had thought of late that the elder nyphid looked better, not so sad, his lightning-blue eyes less hollow. She was strangely gratified.

  "And now I have a surprise for thee in the forest," he rasped. "Come." Seeing the badger's eyes focusing, he reached down and laid a soft hand on her head. "Do not change-a dragon would be far too large to follow where I lead thee."

  Thrilled at the change in Joad, intrigued by the mystery of his surprise, Khisanth followed, past the pods the nyphids would soon have to abandon when the grasses died entirely. Nyphid and badger entered the trees, tiny booted feet and splayed claws crunching over mounds of fallen brown leaves. The forest looked more spacious to Khisanth than when she'd first seen it, but she wasn't certain if that was because the leaves had dropped from their branches or because, as a badger, she was so much farther from the canopy.

  Cresting the near side of a hillock, Joad turned left and fol shy;lowed a narrow, twisting gully downhill. Rounding a sharp corner, the gully joined with a trickle of water, scarcely a stream since it came only to where the fur on Khisanth's bad shy;ger legs gave way to paws. As she splashed in the cool water behind the mysterious nyphid, Khisanth's curiosity grew with each step.

  Joad stopped so suddenly, Khisanth's pointed snout met with the back of his legs. He jumped to one side of the gully and gave her a clear view of an abrupt drop, the small stream of water forming a narrow waterfall. Joad leaned over and looked down, waving Khisanth to do the same.

  Creeping forward cautiously on the opposite bank, the badger peered over the edge and was amazed. The drop was short, perhaps one and a half times the nyphid's height. But that was not what amazed Khisanth. Like a furry blanket, lush green moss covered every dead branch and rock below in a six-by-six-foot swatch. Somehow it had sustained its rich emerald color long after the underbrush around it had turned brown. The forest seemed to be holding its breath; a damp green scent filled the air.

  "It remains green year-round," said Joad.

  "How? The stream?"

  Joad bobbed his head toward the center of the collection of mossy rocks. "Their energy," he said mysteriously. "Look, they know we're here."

  Squinting, Khisanth saw thousands of the yellow-tailed glowbugs that often hovered near the nyphids at night. The insects crawled through the green cracks between the rocks. She could hear the faint sound of tiny, fluttering wings. "Why are they all gathered here?"

  "They always return here to pass the daylight hours. Each spends its lifetime gathering energy. They give it back to us by illuminating the night." Joad paused, then gave a happy sigh. "That is a life well spent, I think."

  With that, the nyphid led the way back up the ravine. Khi shy;santh was silent, pondering the great wisdom she was certain she'd just witnessed. But like most of the nyphids' lessons in qhen, Khisanth did not immediately understand the mes shy;sage.

  The difference now was that she was content to wait, for Khisanth knew that one day Joad's message would be clear to her.

  Chapter 5

  Autumn had given way to an early and unseasonably cold winter in the Khalkist Mountains, bringing snow to the higher eleva shy;tions, which Khisanth was now approaching by wing. A shadowy form against the night sky, the black dragon sliced through the pearly flakes, silent, steadfast.

  Khisanth could scarcely remember her first stumbling attempts at flight, just a few months past. The activity was now as much a part of her spirit, as important to her vitality, as eating. Where once she had to concentrate to counter the effects of even the smallest air currents, her body now utilized them without conscious thought. Khisanth remem shy;bered hearing before the Sleep stories of dragons who'd been permanently grounded by wing damage. She knew she would commit keptu, ritual dragon suicide, before she would live without flying.

  Solinari, the white moon, had made two full revolutions around Krynn since Khisanth had last flown this route to Styx. The days since the encounter with the band of ogres had been overfilled with silent study, deprivation to promote patience, deep breathing to foster concentration and strength. Each day Khisanth grew closer to achieving the heightened sense of awareness, of qhen, that Kadagan taught in his mys shy;terious, sometimes nonsensical, way. She suffered occasional feelings of foolishness and humiliation because she had seen the positive effect of every single exercise, no matter how odious. She felt less the ignorant child, more the admiring student. Best of all, whenever she was able to demonstrate true patience or unique observations, Kadagan rewarded her with time to develop her natural spellcasting abilities.

  Khisanth knew from the pace they set, never Kadagan's composure, that the nyphids were increasingly anxious to complete her training. Whenever she inquired about Dela's health, Kadagan calmly informed her to focus on her studies.

  Until this morning. Waiting for Kadagan to arrive for the daily lessons, Khisanth had been on her haunches in the tiny cave, tinkering with the effects of a simple cantrip. She could create and hold a healthy spark on the tip of her claw, but had difficulty turning it to flame. Summoning her energy, she'd channeled it down her right claw arm and focused it on the index talon, banishing all other thoughts. A tiny, flicker shy;ing yellow flame leaped to life. Khisanth's lips drew back in a smile of triumph.

  Suddenly the usually serene and nimble nyphid stormed into her lair. Startled, Khisanth's concentration wavered, and the flame extinguished. The dragon glared at Kadagan through a thin trail of smoke.

  "It is time," the nyphid had said, out of breath. His glow shy;ing golden hair was disheveled, his green tunic twisted, his soft skin flushed. "Get ready to depart before the sun climbs to midday."

  Khisanth stood up, bumping her horns on the ceiling. "Whaf s happened?"

  "Dela's signal to Joad has been weakening," the nyphid explained hastily. "It has become erratic. Joad thinks they are movi
ng her … or something worse." Kadagan's expression became sadder than Khisanth had ever seen. "I had hoped to give thee more time for study, but we dare not wait another moment. We may lose her if we do…."

  One way or another, Khisanth had thought inwardly. "I'm ready," was the reply she voiced.

  "Perhaps," the nyphid said before departing again to make his own preparations.

  Khisanth had only one thing to prepare; a way to transport her small treasure hoard. She was determined not to return to the tiny cave, no matter the outcome in Styx. The sling Kadagan had fashioned before had been utilitarian, but too cumbersome to carry as a human. She needed something that would free her hands and be unobtrusive, if ever a dozen swords could be. She'd settled on stringing the hilts of the weapons through a length of soft vine and tying the unusual necklace tightly around her throat. She could use a spell to shrink the choker later.

  Now, many hours after leaving her lair, Kadagan's finger was aimed ahead of them in the twilight sky, toward the dull glow rising up from the lantern-lit village. "There it is," he said from behind her head.

  Both nyphids, wearing furry vests over their usual green tunics, rode between Khisanth's wings and neck. Joad sat behind Kadagan, clutching the younger nyphid. Slung over the elder nyphid's shoulder was a sack of dried curative herbs.

  Joad's spirits had picked up considerably in the past month, as Khisanth's qhen skills increased. The elder nyphid had begun to believe that the dragon might be able to rescue his daughter. After the trip to the moss garden, when he'd first spoken, she found she pushed herself even harder, seek shy;ing the silent wise one's praise.

  As he peered toward the village where his daughter was held, however, concern filled Joad's eyes. He alone knew the depth of Dela's despair, how little time was left.

  Khisanth would have recognized the village without the nyphid's help. Under her now, the rolling farmlands on the north edge of Styx were tilled and dotted with snow-covered hayricks, harvested since her last trip. Just ahead, trails of smoke rose from the chimneys that poked through the thatch roofs on the buildings clustered around Miremier Bay. One street followed the curve of the bay, its dirt turned to slushy mud by the snow. At regular intervals, impossibly narrow cobblestone walkways passed between the closely placed buildings, like the spokes of half a wheel.