The Radiant Dragon tcc-4

by Elaine Cunningham

  Like a hawk circling a meadow, Teldin's magically enhanced vision searched the ship for his friend. The bionoids, however, were eerily identical, and Teldin was not sure he could recognize Hectate when he found him.

  One of the bionoids fought at the head of the stairs, barring the way to the lower decks and to the captain's quarters, and its flashing halberd held off two of the invaders. Teldin's instincts told him with unerring certainty that Hectate lived within the creature.

  As Teldin watched, one of the invaders leaped, a spiked foot kicking out with lightning speed. The Hectate bionoid apparently anticipated the move, for he nimbly sidestepped and circled upward with the staff of his halberd, catching the attacker behind the knee. A quick twist threw the creature off balance. It landed heavily, and Hectate was upon it instantly. He planted one enormous foot on the creature's back, pinning it to the deck, then he hooked the curved blade of his halberd under a plate of insectlike armor and wrenched his weapon back toward him as if it were a giant lever.

  A horrible cracking sound rent the air as the bionoid's armor gave way, followed by a woman's scream of unbearable anguish. Hectate's enormous body shuddered, but he quickly plunged the blade of his halberd deep into the opening. Ichor puddled on the deck, and the red light faded from the fallen bionoid's crystal eye. With a creaking groan the creature's body began to compact, for in death it reverted to its elven form.

  As if from a great distance, Teldin noted that the fallen bionoid had become a tiny, red-haired elven woman with a huge, gaping wound under her left shoulder blade. Teldin saw his monstrous friend slump, and he felt Hectate's grief and despair as if the emotions were his own. He knew with certainty that Hectate had known the bionoid he had just slain, and known her well.

  The second bionoid advanced, its enormous sword held out before it, and Hectate halfheartedly raised his dripping halberd into a defensive position. The creature came closer, but it did not attack. Its insectlike head tilted to one side, giving it an oddly quizzical air.

  "Hectate? Hectate Kir, can that really be you?"

  The creature spoke in a woman's voice, a voice that was soft, intimate, and full of longing. It sheathed its sword and stepped forward, massive hands reaching out and up as if to cradle Hectate's bionoid face. Hectate's weapon lowered reflexively.

  At the last moment, the creature's fist smashed into Hectate's vulnerable crystal eye. Teldin's bionoid friend slumped as if lifeless to the deck.

  "No!" Teldin screamed. A second keening cry escaped him, only to be lost in an explosion that shook the swan ship to its keel. With effort he forced aside his grief to attend the ship. Again he slid his expanded vision over the elven vessel.

  The Trumpeter's stern had been damaged almost past recognition. One of the bionoids had loosed a spell, taking out the swan ship's rear catapult and sending the heavy machinery crashing to the lower level. The blasted bodies of elven crew lay amid shattered boards and smoking debris.

  To Teldin's surprise, the invaders abandoned the fight as abruptly as it had begun. One after another, the shrike ships dove in, hovered, and threw down boarding ropes. Within moments the bionoids were gone. All of the bionoids; try as he might, Teldin could not locate Hectate anywhere on the ship. The klicklikak faded from sight, and the shrike ships darted off into wildspace after it.

  Teldin took inventory of the ship's wounds. The bridge was gone, and with it the lookout tower and the primary helm. Their heavy weaponry had been destroyed. The Trumpeter was without eyes, power, or defenses. They had to put down for repairs, but they still were many days from Radole.

  He sought outward for a solution. Below them was a world, a tiny gray sphere streaked with white. From this distance, it looked very much like his last glimpse of his native Krynn. With sudden resolve, Teldin sent the swan ship into a rapid descent.

  Vallus Leafbower burst into Teldin's cabin. His silver hair was disheveled and the shoulder of his uniform had been slashed open. His once-proud tabard was stained with blood and ichor. "What in the gods' names are you doing?" he demanded.

  "Landing," Teldin murmured. "We're landing."

  "No!"

  "The ship is damaged. The helm is gone. We've got to put down."

  "But that's Armistice. We can't land there."

  "Why not? Doesn't it have large bodies of water?" Teldin asked in sudden concern. The swan ship wasn't designed to put down on land, and an attempt would doubtlessly reduce the battered ship to kindling.

  "Vast oceans, but elves must not land on that planet."

  "Spare me your elven scruples," Teldin said wearily. "We haven't got much choice."

  "We do. The secondary helm is operational. I've got someone on it now, but we can't override the magic of your cloak."

  "Damn right," Teldin muttered.

  "Let go, Teldin Moore," Vallus insisted, taking a step closer. "We cannot land on Armistice. It's heavily patrolled by the Imperial Fleet, and for good reason. There are huge nations of orcs and hobgoblins there, landlocked monsters who would do anything to obtain spelljamming capability. If the swan ship lands, we present them with not only a ship and a helm, but also your cloak."

  "Vallus, let's fly that hawk when its feathers are grown," Teldin said. "The swan ship needs repairs now, or we're in serious trouble. We might not make it as far as Radole."

  "I know," Vallus said quietly, "but it would be better to lose the swan ship and everyone on board than to put the cloak in goblin hands."

  "Haven't enough people died for this damnable cloak?" Teldin snapped. "I won't put the crew at risk."

  "Really? And what do you think would happen to these elves in the hands of the Armistice orcs?" Vallus demanded. When Teldin hesitated, the elven wizard repeated, "Do not land the ship."

  Teldin's resolved firmed. "I'm sorry, Vallus."

  "So am I," the elven wizard said softly. He began to cast a spell, his long fingers gesturing as he murmured arcane syllables.

  Teldin tensed, not sure what to expect. The cloak's magic had protected him from physical attacks many times before, but he had no idea whether it would turn aside a spell, especially one from a wizard as powerful as Vallus Leafbower.

  A second voice joined the chanting, then suddenly there was only one. Vallus's fingers and lips moved, but no sound came from him. Chagrin flickered across his face, then fury. He spun to face the second spellcaster. In the doorway stood Raven Stormwalker, arms crossed as she leaned casually against the doorjamb, a catlike smile on her face.

  "About time someone put him in a sphere of silence," she observed. She leaned her head back to look over her shoulder. "Oh, Chirp! Take the so-called wizard to his quarters, won't you? Keep him there until the captain orders otherwise."

  The dracon poked his mottled green head into the cabin. He hesitated, though, his reptilian face uncertain as his gaze flicked from Teldin to Vallus to Raven. His green shoulders slowly slumped under the weight of such a mind-boggling question of hierarchy. Seeing Chirp's dilemma, Raven shoved Vallus out into the hall.

  "This elf attacked your kaba," she said briskly. She pointed across the hall that separated Teldin's quarters from those of the elven wizard. "Throw him in there and see that he doesn't get out. I'll stay here and protect the captain."

  Chirp's rubbery face embodied outrage. "On your command, Celestial One," he said. He prodded the silent Vallus across the hall with a series of shoves, haranguing him as they went. The dracon's voice faded in and out as he entered and exited the sphere of silence surrounding the wizard.

  Raven came into the cabin and seated herself on the cot beside Teldin. "Go ahead and put the ship down, Captain."

  Suddenly Teldin wasn't so sure that Vallus was wrong. "There are orcs down there. I've fought scro-space orcs- before, and if those orcs are anything like them…" His voice trailed away uncertainly.

  "Look at me," she demanded.

  The elf s voice thrummed with power. Startled, Teldin glanced up into her mismatched eyes. His vision swam, and it seemed t
o him that Raven's eyes glowed with a compelling, golden light. He felt himself drawn into that light, into a swirling, sleepy haze. As if from a great distance, he heard her voice again.

  "You don't look well, Captain. I think you could use some help." Still holding Teldin's gaze, she reached into the front of her leather jerkin and pulled out an antique pendant set with a blue stone. Even through the golden haze that held Teldin in thrall, he felt a stab of dread and dismay. It was as he'd feared. Raven had an ultimate helm of her own, the one described by the slain lakshu.

  Raven's fingers tightened around the sapphire pendant. In response, the rich blue color faded from the gem, and a faint pink glow dawned in the heart of the sapphire. "Rest," she suggested. "I'll take over."

  Despite his weariness, Teldin regarded the pendant-helm warily as he remembered his first attempt at using his cloak as a helm. "You've done this before?"

  "Spelljamming? Since the day I was hatched," she quipped lightly. "Not with this magic bauble, of course, but how hard could that be?"

  A twinge of panic twisted Teldin's gut, and suddenly he feared he'd handed a death sentence to the ship's crew. Raven's vanity and utter self-confidence could easily blind her to the real difficulties ahead. He felt he had lost Aelfred's hammership, as well as some good people, the first time he'd tried landing a ship. Even if Raven succeeded…

  "Maybe we shouldn't land there." Teldin fingered the edge of his glowing cloak. "The scro want this. I think you know why."

  "Sure do," she said in a jaunty tone, "but don't worry about the scro. I've met worse creatures on my travels, and you've come this far wearing most of your skin. Between the two of us, we can handle a few overgrown goblins."

  "But-"

  "Oh, stop fussing," Raven chided him with a touch of impatience. She leaned closer, and it seemed to Teldin that the golden light of her eyes intensified. An image filled his mind, the memory of a long-ago trip to market, with his grandfather driving the wagon and himself as a lad curled up in the back.

  All would be well, Teldin thought with drowsy contentment. He could sleep and be safe. With a sense of relief he began to release his hold on the cloak's spelljamming magic. As his cloak faded, the light in Raven's sapphire correspondingly increased. The transfer from one helm to the other was as smooth and effortless as if they'd rehearsed it a dozen times.

  Suddenly it occurred to Teldin that he'd just turned the ship over to his most serious rival for the Spelljammer. He struggled to free himself from the lure of slumber.

  Raven hissed with exasperation. "By the gods, you're being difficult! Let go, would you? After all the time I've spent looking for you, Teldin Moore, I'm not about to let anything happen to you now."

  Her words puzzled Teldin, but he was too weary to examine them. As he drifted into a half-conscious sleep, his last thought was that Raven had sounded a little surprised by her own cryptic admission.

  When Teldin Moore finally was snoring, Raven shook her head in disbelief. "Must be losing my touch," she muttered to herself. "That damn human was harder to charm than a dwarf's in-laws." Despite her disgruntled tone, she regarded the ensorcelled, sleeping human with a measure of respect. Maybe, just maybe, Teldin Moore would be a credible partner-even for a radiant dragon.

  Less than an hour later, the wounded swan ship splashed safely down in the frigid oceans of Armistice.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Hectate awoke, his first observation was that he'd regained his half-elven form. His head hurt and his vision was still blurry, but he could see well enough to know he was aboard an unfamiliar spelljamming ship. Beside his hammock was a chair, and in it sat a slender feminine form.

  His eyes focused on the familiar face, elven and delicate, and his heart ached with sadness. The beautiful woman beside him was utterly unlike the monster who had attacked him aboard the Trumpeter, yet there was more similarity between her two aspects than Hectate could bear. She was wearing a uniform of sorts, and Hectate took that to be a bad sign. After experiencing the Change, bionoids traditionally wore loose, silver robes for a period of meditation and purification. Tekura wore no robes; she did not mourn the lives she had taken.

  "How are you feeling?" Her voice was soft, and her green eyes were as warm as if Hectate had never left the Clan-had never left her.

  "Puzzled," he answered frankly, not knowing what else to say. "Why have you brought me here?"

  "You belong here, now more than ever. We're nearing a great prize, a great victory." Tekura leaned forward, reaching out to take one of Hectate's hands between both of hers.

  Hectate's fears crystalized into a dull, aching certainty. Clan Kir had entered the race for Teldin Moore's cloak.

  "Ah, our guest is finally awake," said a voice behind them.

  The scratchy whisper startled both bionoids. At the door stood a tall, robed figure with an elflike face. He came into the room and lowered the cowl of his robe. The dim lamplight revealed a narrow, pale green face, above which prehensile antennae slowly unwound to rise high over elflike ears. Hectate recoiled from the insectare with a surge of horror.

  A second shock came with the insectare's shadow. Behind the creature stood three bionoids, all from Clan Kir, all of them known to Hectate since late childhood. Wynlar, the scholar, and his two brothers: the wizard Zeddop, and a wiry, flame-haired farmer named Enester. Their faces brought a flood of memories. The extended clan had taken him in when he was a confused, wounded lad grieving the death of his parents. Clan Kir had been a warm, closely knit community made up of several related families and a number of adopted bionoids such as himself and Tekura, and it had been his entire world. Yet he'd left over ten years ago when he realized that Clan Kir had been formed to be a battle clan. Seldom in bionoid history had such a clan been gathered, and the results had been so appalling that both elves and bionoids shrouded those episodes in secrecy. Refusing to be a party to another such disaster, Hectate had left Clan Kir and gone his own way. Even so, he was gladdened by the sight of his family after so many years.

  Wynlar had greatly aged in the intervening years, and Zeddop's perpetually worried expression had chiseled deep, parallel lines into his forehead. The red tabard that signified the death of a beloved was draped over Enester's uniform as the farmer-turned-warrior mourned his daughter's death. The sight brought a despairing chill over Hectate, and his vision swam, to be momentarily replaced by the sight of a red-haired girl lying dead on the deck of the swan ship.

  Hectate turned his eyes back toward the insectare. The evil monster at his bedside was easier to contemplate than the death of merry little Soona-his childhood playmate- at his own hands.

  Tekura had risen immediately upon seeing the insectare, and as she stepped forward to greet the creature, her deferential attitude brought new, raw pain to Hectate's heart.

  "You keep strange company, Tekura," he said softly.

  She shot him a look of unmistakable warning, then turned back to the newcomer. "Lord K'tide, this is-"

  "I know." The insectare's voice reminded Hectate of the snapping of dry twigs. The creature walked to Hectate's bedside and lowered himself into the chair Tekura had just vacated. Hectate heard a faint chittering sound beneath the robes, and he shuddered. He knew that the insectare's body was covered with hard, interlocking plates, with only the exposed face and hands covered by humanoid skin. As he regarded the elflike creature, Hectate had the strange sensation of being confronted with the dark side of his own dual nature. He often had feared becoming trapped forever in his own monstrous form. What manner of creature would he become? The answer was one he did not care to face in his darkest dreams, yet here it was, sitting at his bedside.

  "Your clan speaks highly of you, Hectate Kir," said the insectare in his dry, brittle voice. "When we were forced to abandon the elven ship without the human, acquiring a fighter of your caliber made the attack not entirely without gain. Your skills, not to mention your connection to Teldin Moore, make you an invaluable ally."

  "I'
ll not fight with you," Hectate stated. His voice was quiet but inflexible.

  "Let me tell you an ancient tale, Hectate Kir," K'tide said as if the half-elven bionoid had not spoken at all. "Many centuries past, orc priests developed a mighty weapon of destruction. Like them, it was crude and difficult to manage, but effective. Oh, yes, undoubtedly so."

  Hectate swallowed a wave of revulsion as he realized the nature of the weapon. "The Witchlight Marauder," he whispered as soon as he could speak.

  One of K'tide's antennae quirked, the equivalent of an arched brow. "You know history," the insectare said approvingly. He leaned forward, his multifaceted eyes compelling. "The question is, are you ready to make history?"

  Tekura stepped forward. "One of the secondary Witchlight Marauders has been tested in battle, with great success." She paused significantly, giving him time to absorb her revelation. "We soon will release another!"

  "Where?" Hectate whispered.

  "Lionheart." Tekura's voice rang with triumph, and her eyes held cold fire. "The first marauder ate its way through an elven armada. Let us hope its twin is equally hungry."

  Hectate had to turn away from the sight of her. "What manner of creature have you become, Tekura?" he asked softly. His gaze shifted to the insectare, and the implication was unmistakable. Tekura flushed, but she lifted her chin in defiance.

  "An outcast," she said flatly, "like all bionoids. Our only hope of improving our lot is to break the power of the elves."

  "But what happens once the elven high command is destroyed?" Hectate argued. "How will that aid the bionoids? The goblin races, particularly the scro, will simply fill the void. They hate all things elven or elflike. Do you think they will regard us with tolerance and respect?"

  "So far, they've-" Tekura broke off abruptly, biting her lip in chagrin. She looked quickly at the insectare, who merely regarded her with his strange, expressionless eyes.

  "No, Tekura. You can't be working with the scro," Hectate said, aghast. Despite everything he'd seen, he could not bring himself to believe that of Clan Kir.