When Dragons Rage

by Michael A. Stackpole

  All from a shadow passing above it.

  As big as the purple dragon had been, the cruciform shadow that passed over it was able to darken it entirely. Kerrigan looked up and caught sight of a black form, then the sun blinded him. He ducked his head and rubbed at his eyes, then looked to the south, following Alexia’s pointing finger.

  The new dragon soared effortlessly to the south and Kerrigan thought, for a moment, it might be heading to Caledo. Then one wing rose and the other fell, bringing it around in a lazy turn. It leveled out and pumped its wings once, speeding north again. Straight toward the city. Straight toward this tower!

  The Black Dragon slowed as it approached and spread its wings wide. Red stripes curved from its belly up the edges of its midnight hide. Huge claws reached out for and grabbed on to the palace’s south tower, crushing stone as they closed. Debris fell to the ground, ricocheting through the streets below. The dragon closed its wings around the tower and clung to it tightly.

  Kerrigan found himself pressed with his back against the tower wall. His terror would have shamed him, but Alexia stood beside him and Bok was crouched, peering out through the stone posts in the balustrade.

  The Black’s massive head loomed over them. A red forked tongue licked out. Tiny droplets of spittle did flick off and one burned a plum-sized hole in the stone next to Kerrigan’s head.

  The Black opened its mouth, but no fire issued forth. Instead, in a voice far too tiny to belong to such a creature, it spoke to them.

  “I am Vriisureol. I can resolve the problem here.”

  Somehow Alexia found her voice and took a half step forward. “You can rid us of this other dragon?”

  Vriisureol’s eyes blinked. “If you see Procimre as the only problem, Alexia of Okrannel, then songs do not lie in telling of Okrans courage. No, I would rid this man town of Procimre and the army. At a price. My price must be met.”

  The princess’ chin came up. “And what would that price be?”

  Vriisureol’s eyes half closed. “I require Kerrigan Reese.”

  CHAPTER 67

  W ill turned slowly and deliberately showed the dragon his back. “Hey, you, you have any idea who I am?”

  The cloaked figure gave no sign he’d heard the question.

  Crow growled. “Will, what are you doing?”

  “I’m fixing to get good and angry.” He glanced at the older man. “I don’t know how I did what I did in Bokagul, but would it hurt if that happened here?”

  “You’re not bleeding, Will.”

  The thief drew a dagger. “I can remedy that.” Flicking his left hand down, he shucked his mitten off, then wrapped his hand around the dagger’s blade. He looked at the cloaked figure again. “I’m the Norrington. That’s THE Norrington. You know the prophecy. Now do you and Gagmar want to be tangled up with that?”

  Laughter came from the cloaked creature, and sibilant echoes of that laughter slithered back from the dragon. “This does make it more interesting, Norrington—infinitely more interesting. It does not change the outcome, however. Turn the Truestone over, and you will live to play out your prophecy. Perhaps.”

  Erlestoke straightened up and shrugged his cloak off. He pulled off the harness with the fragment of the DragonCrown and let it dangle from his left hand. “This is what you want, right?”

  “Throw it here.”

  Will’s mouth went dry. “You wouldn’t.”

  The prince smiled at him. “You can bet your mask on that.”

  Erlestoke let the stone fall to the crust of snow. The light played a green-gold cross through its depths. The cross gave Will the impression that he was being watched. He could feel power pulsing off the stone and felt something inside himself begin to throb in sympathy.

  The prince cocked the quadnel, primed it, and pressed the muzzle to the stone. “Gagothmar might not have wanted to clean ashes off this, but how will he feel about piecing it back together?”

  The thief grabbed Erlestoke’s left arm. “You can’t. Don’t do it.”

  “We can’t let them have it, Will.”

  The cloaked figure shrugged. “Do it. Even one of the vaunted dragonels couldn’t shatter a Truestone, not in that setting. When it was fashioned into part of the Crown, it became even more vital than it was before. These mountains could fall on it and it would survive.”

  Crow rested his left hand on Erlestoke’s right shoulder. “I don’t think he’s bluffing, Highness.”

  “Alas, neither do I.” In one smooth motion the prince raised the quadnel, aimed, and the firelock fell.

  Will ducked from the blast. As the white smoke cleared, he saw that the cloaked figure was down. The gibberers had broken and were running. “Great shot!”

  “For all the good it will do.”

  Will couldn’t understand the resignation in Erlestoke’s voice until he saw the figure slowly struggling back to its feet. “What is that thing?”

  “Relentless.” The prince sighed. “We all really appreciate your traveling this far to rescue us. I dearly wish things would have worked out better.”

  “If you have to die, I guess dragonfire isn’t a bad way to go.” Crow shrugged.

  “No! We’re not dying.” Will drew the dagger across his palm and hissed as pain followed the stroke. Blood sprayed out in a line, dappling snow and fragment alike. Snow blossomed red, but the blood sank into the stone and disappeared. More power pulsed from it.

  Will dropped to his knees and pressed his bloody palm to the fragment, then clutched it and raised it high. “You will never have this!”

  Power pulsed again, heavier and harder. An elf in Erlestoke’s company gasped and doubled over. A number of Resolute’s tattoos lit up, and the metal limbs of meckanshii spasmed. The dragon hissed menacingly, and even the cloaked figure appeared to stagger.

  It didn’t fall, however, and very little pain bled into its voice as it spoke. “Your efforts will avail you nothing.” It stopped speaking in human words and instead gave voice to a wail similar to the one that had summoned the dragon.

  Will whirled, the fragment still clutched in his hand. Blood continued to drip and the stone grew warmer. The pulsing flowed into his skin and inched along his forearm.

  Gagothmar spread his wings and launched himself forward. The wind of his passage swirled snow from hillsides. Lower and faster the dragon flew, with copper highlights slithering over his scales. The shadow played over the ground, drawing ever nearer the chasm. His mouth opened, fangs flashing, and Will braced for the fiery torrent that would consume him and his friends.

  Lunging up from the crevasse, a gargantuan dragon of a deep verdant hue closed its jaws on Gagothmar’s breastbone. The copper dragon shrieked in pain, and sprayed the sky with fire. His wings beat furiously against the green’s snout. Blood gushed, black and steaming, from the copper’s breast. The massive jaws opened again, lunging and closing again, crushing the chest.

  With one whiplash flick of its head, the green sent Gagothmar’s body tumbling back to the west side of the chasm. It rolled in a tangle of wings and tail. Fire trailed from his mouth and burst out through the hole in his chest. Wings cracked crisply in the cold air, but even that sound was drowned out by the gloriously loud crunching as the green gobbled its enemy’s flesh.

  Slowly, sinking talons through the snow and into the stone beneath, the enormous green dragged itself up over the chasm lip. Black blood ran from its jaws. Sunlight sparked off golden flecks deep in its scales as the serpentine creature heaved itself onto the valley floor. It tried to rise, but slumped heavily to its left, triggering a small avalanche of snow that half buried it.

  With one eye it looked at Will. The stone pulsed a bit more weakly, but still sent a trickle of energy up through Will. The spots on his throat burned, and time began to slow as an awareness of shapes and powers, influences and currents—of time and portent—flowed around Will.

  I know you!

  And I, you.

  Will almost felt as if he was watching him
self. While the green had slain Gagothmar, the cloaked figure had not been idle. It had run forward, as fast as it could. The scarlet cloak had flown off, allowing the creature to increase its speed. Its left hand reached for Will, intent on rending him to win the prize he clutched.

  Will spun away from its lunge, twisting around to his right. His left hand came out in a long looping strike. As the creature’s hand shot through empty air, Will slammed the fragment against the right side of its skull. He could feel the bones crack, reducing its head to a sack of mush, then watched as the body spun limply through the air to crash through the crusty snow and slide from sight.

  Will found himself on his knees, staring after the creature.

  Crow looked from him to where the body rested under a slowly drifting cloud of snow. “That was, um, how did you . . . ?”

  “I don’t know.” Will shook his head and pressed the fragment to his own chest. He pointed his right hand at the green dragon. “We have to dig him out. He can’t take the cold in his condition.”

  Erlestoke shifted his shoulders uneasily. “We owe that dragon thanks, but . . .”

  “No buts; he’s a friend.” Will stared at them. “Don’t you get it? That’s Dranae.”

  The effort to dig Dranae from the snow was aided by the dragon himself. As Will drew closer with the fragment of the DragonCrown, the pulsing started again. Will tucked it up inside his coat, without letting go, and as his fingers warmed up again, Dranae opened an eye. A tremor ran through one wing.

  Dranae heaved himself up, letting snow slide from his head and neck, then shook. Sheets of white blinded everyone for a moment, then when it drifted down, in the heart of a huge, dragon-shaped depression, sat Dranae, as naked as the day Will, Crow, and Resolute had first found him.

  They hustled him into a small cavern the meckanshii had discovered while setting up for their ambush. Various individuals donated pieces of clothing, but he refused everything save the cloak that the scaled figure had worn. He swathed himself in that and shivered for a bit, then smiled at Will.

  “Our debt is canceled.”

  The thief blinked in surprise. “I owed you a debt?”

  Dranae nodded. “When you were bitten by the sullanciri, the poison was neutralized.”

  Will’s eyes widened. “You’re Lady Snowflake?”

  The dragon in manform threw his head back and laughed loudly. “No, no, not at all.”

  “Good.” Will blushed, remembering some of the dreams he’d had. “But she did exist?”

  “Yes. She came to you in that room. I watched her clear you of poison.”

  Crow frowned. “But Qwc had chased all of us from the room. He was in there with Will alone.”

  “No. I did not join you. Because I desired it, your minds assumed I did.” Dranae sighed. “If you will recall, I was in the hall, behind Will, and caught him when he fainted. It was not my intent to deceive you, but I knew forces were in play that required me to remain where I was if Will was to live.”

  Will raised his bandaged left hand to the round scars on his throat. “Did you do this?”

  Dranae nodded slowly. “It was the only way to save you.” He brought his right hand out from beneath the cloak. His thumb and middle finger grew sharp talons. As he turned his hand, Will detected the scars from small puncture wounds in the pads of the thumb and middle finger. “I cut myself and mixed my blood with yours, Will. I was able to repair the damage the venom had done. There have been some lingering effects, like your chill, and for that I am sorry.”

  He swallowed hard. “I guess I would have been a lot colder in a grave.”

  Crow crouched beside Dranae. “I, ah, I don’t know how to ask this but . . . what are you?”

  The talons shrank again as he gestured toward the valley. “I am what you saw come up out of the chasm. My name, among my kind, is Dravothrak. By your reckoning, I am old, very old, but among my kind, my age is roughly similar as my age appears to be in this form. I was old when the DragonCrown was formed, unlike that pup I slew out there.”

  Erlestoke pointed outside. “And the thing Will killed?”

  “Dracomorph. A life stage. To you quite formidable, but among my kind, barely worth the waste of a name.”

  “Wow.” Will smiled, then glanced over at Resolute. “You knew all this?”

  The Vorquelf shook his head. “My knowledge of dragons is limited.”

  Dranae looked up. “Still, friend Resolute, you suspected. I called myself by an ancient man-name, not knowing it had passed from use.”

  “I found myself curious, Dranae, but other things demanded my attention.”

  “Of course.” The dragon smiled. “You would like to know why I am here, why I opposed Gagothmar and why I oppose Chytrine?”

  “Yes!” Will glanced around. “I mean, we would like to know that, right?”

  Crow laughed. “Yes, Will, we would.”

  “Not all dragons, as you know, can be commanded by the Crown, even when it is complete. Vriisureol, the grand Black who intervened at Vilwan, fought as Kirûn’s ally. He was not subject to the Crown. Even in pieces, the Crown can exert influence, though most of those who answer its call now are young. What Chytrine cannot compel, they offer willingly.

  “The elders with whom I am associated deemed it important to send their own ambassador to the world of mortals. They helped me learn and work the magick that allows me to transform—though one of them, in her wisdom, caused me to forget my true nature when I transformed that first time. When you found me I knew nothing more than my name. As I traveled with you, I learned what it was to be a man, though I do not think even she imagined I would fall in with such extraordinary company.”

  Erlestoke nodded. “By becoming a man, you could understand our fears and desires, our hopes, strengths, and failings?”

  “Yes, and to report back so we could decide on which side to enter the fight.”

  The thief wrinkled his nose. “So you were testing us? Even though you knew you might end up eating us or something?”

  “Not testing, watching. I watched you deal with the tests presented by others. And, had you any question, I had long since determined I would remain with you and fight at your side.” He smiled carefully. “And your action, with the Truestone, Will, proved to me the wisdom of that choice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I had been coming to realize my nature, day by day. I was able to draw on it to save you in Meredo, but the spell that had stripped me of my memory had the unfortunate consequence of blocking me from the means to complete the transformation. On the bridge, Gagothmar blasted me and the stone. His breath was insufficient to destroy me—no more than Resolute’s rebukes could destroy you, Will. I fell into stone that had been made molten by his breath. It encased me and I felt comfortable. There are points in our lives, such as when a dracomorph transforms into a drake, where being cocooned in stone is a part of the process. I would have remained there, taking comfort, save that your blood and the stone woke me to urgency.

  “I remembered who I was, who you all were.” Dranae snorted. “I remembered the insolence of that pup in thinking he had killed me. Primarily, though, I felt your refusal to surrender. Your spirit, my blood, the stone, the prophecy—all of these things brought me back to myself and I was able to act.”

  “I’m glad you did.” The thief flexed his left hand. “But how did I manage to kill the dracomorph?”

  Dranae laughed. “Part of your nature, Will. You and I are linked. You stole some of my strength and my awareness, so you knew he was coming, and you were able to deal with him.”

  “And this link, because of the blood, is why I was able to do what I did in Bokagul?”

  “That I don’t know, Will—which is what brings me to my next task. I need to report back to Vael, to my superiors.” He sighed heavily. “The debate that ensues could decide the fate of the war and the world.”

  Crow nodded. “I cannot think that the mortal world will have a better ambassador
to dragondom than you, my friend.”

  Will nodded in agreement and slapped Dranae on the shoulder with his injured left hand, then groaned. “Yeah, just don’t tell them that some of us can be stupid at times, too. We will miss you.”

  “No, you won’t.” The cloak dropped away and muscles rippled as Dranae stood. “After all, you’re going with me.”

  CHAPTER 68

  A lexia took another step forward, despite the reptilian scent wafting off the Black Dragon. “I will sacrifice no one.”

  Vriisureol turned his head slightly, watching her closely. “And were I to ask for Alexia of Okrannel? Would Alexia be sacrificed?”

  Alexia started to answer, but Kerrigan shoved himself from the wall. “No. It’s me you want. Fine, then take me. My death doesn’t matter if it’s going to save the city.”

  The Black’s wings spread, then snapped forward. A blast of air buffeted the both of them as the dragon launched itself into the sky. Alexia clung to Kerrigan, steadying him. They both watched as Vriisureol gained altitude, then began to soar in playful circles over the city.

  The princess took the mage by the shoulders and held him out at arm’s length. “What were you thinking?”

  He looked up at her sheepishly, and not a little bit hurt. “I was thinking the deal is good enough to save Navval. You were going to offer yourself, weren’t you?”

  “That’s different.”

  “How?”

  The question made her shiver. She grabbed the back of Kerrigan’s neck with her right hand. Drawing him close, she rested her forehead against his. “It’s different because it is my life. I’m the one responsible for Navval’s defense, and you’ll be a lot more useful to the world, given all you can do, than I will be.”

  “I might have been more useful.” Kerrigan pulled back and pointed toward the Aurolani camp. “But as strong as I am, I couldn’t have done that.”

  The purple dragon had slunk on its belly back to the Aurolani lines. Its claws had ripped great furrows through the snow, bringing up black earth to mark its passage. It glanced back over its shoulder, lifting its chin from the snow and hissed, but fell silent as Vriisureol’s shadow passed over it again.