The seasoned wood of walls and roofs burned quickly, and in minutes, the inhabitants ceased their pathetic wailing. Those courageous enough to break from their shelter met a faster and more merciful end that was nevertheless just as fatal and violent.
Satisfied that no more humans survived on the small island, the wyrm went to each corpse and tossed it into the sea. The sheep, too, he gathered and killed and tossed into the brine. It wasn't that the gruesome bodies would have affected the dragon in any way. It was simply that this, too, was part of the plan of Talos. Once again Gotha could do naught but obey.
Next he followed the shore of the islet along its full circumference, noting several wooden-hulled fishing boats pulled up beyond the reach of high tide. These he punctured, driving one sharp claw through each keel and then pushing the vessels into the surf, where they quickly foundered and sank. One cove held several slightly larger craft, bobbing at anchor, and these too he sank, crushing the hulls with forceful blows of his massive foreclaws.
Finally the serpent returned to the cave. The rock-enclosed cavern sprawled beyond a narrow niche that cracked the top of the island's tallest summit. Gotha pulled and tore at the rock, widening the entrance and clearing the field of view down the slope. Using the strength of his massive forelegs, he excavated parts of the shelter that did not meet his fancy.
In the course of this quarrying, he collapsed a thin shelf of rock that separated his cave from a lower network of passages. Delighted, he pressed forward in eager exploration. The lower tunnels led to a vast sea cave, where salt water splashed in a great pool. It was low tide, and Gotha could feel the wind scouring past. The tunnel was open to the sky!
This was a splendid discovery, for one of the finest features of any lair was the existence of an escape route to the rear. At low tide, at least, the dracolich would be able to sally forth at sea level.
Gotha crept upward again, toward the large chamber he would claim as his sleeping room and, perhaps later, the site of his hoard. More of his flesh and scale had fallen away during the exertions of his journey and the claiming of the island. His wings were bare outlines of bone, and his ribs showed as white streaks on both sides of his wretched, decaying body.
Yet he felt no weariness, none of the stiffness nor sore muscles that would have plagued him five hundred years ago should he have attempted such a vigorous campaign. No hunger gnawed at his belly. The bites of meat he had taken during the killing had been enough, apparently, to maintain his fiery breath weapon.
Neither did he feel any need to sleep. This, too, he marked as an advantage, since a dragon was always most vulnerable during the time he lay curled in sleep.
Gotha coiled himself, awake, and lay still for a time. His flesh continued to rot, but his evil soul remained as vital as ever. He needed only to wait now for the inevitable commands from his god.
The Raging One spoke to Gotha, then, in the midst of the rain-lashed night.
You have found your lair, my wyrm.
Instantly the dracolich tensed, hissing smoke from his gaping nostrils and fixing his crimson eyespots on the opposite wall of his cave. "Give me my task, treacherous one."
The god may have chortled internally at Gotha's insolence. In any event, Talos did not punish his servant. You will participate in a mighty triumph of chaos, for we shall bring down a kingdom that has been founded upon law and justice! In its place, we shall set a reign of unadulterated evil and corruption.
"What reign is this? How do we destroy it?"
Several kingdoms shall fall-one of the Ffolk, and others of the northmen. We topple them by bringing about that which the humans will gladly do on their own-we sow the seeds of war and allow the realms of men to reap its harvest.
"And my task?"
It involves many steps, which you will learn as you need to. We shall have powerful allies, but we must work with subtlety as well.
The time we begin is now.
Talos the Destroyer was the subject of attention in another part of the isles on this same dark night. To the south of Gotha's isle and a little to the east, the great island of Alaron darkened the surface of the sea, forming the eastern bulwark of the entire Moonshae group.
The southern portion of Alaron, mostly rolling hill and fertile dale, fell under the dominion of the High King himself, for this was Callidyrr. The Fairheight mountains formed the northern frontier of that kingdom. The remainder of the island, a rough and tumbled expanse of rocky crag and icy fjord, fell under the sway of the northmen of Gnarhelm.
In the heights of the range, farthest cantrev to the north and west of Callidyrr, was the Earldom of Blackstone, and here met two men to whom the workings of Talos were very significant indeed.
They gathered in a darkened hall at the heart of Caer Blackstone, the earl's manor. The Earl of Fairheight himself leaned forward, his scowling features etched in the light of an oil lamp as he listened earnestly to the hoarse whisper of the second man's voice.
The latter sat in the shadows, visible only by the soft outlines of his dark cloak and the hood that fell far forward on his head, masking his face.
"The money, then?" inquired the cloaked figure. His voice was like the rasp of a file on coarse wood. "Have you the coin for my labors?"
"Of course." Blackstone, too, whispered. He hefted a sack from the floor-the brawny lord needed both hands to lift it-and grunted as he set it on the table.
"Excellent. My apprentices maintain their charms and beseechments. It pleases Talos to continue his onslaughts against the farms of the Ffolk, and your payment has ensured that we can purchase the necessary components to extend the castings indefinitely."
"With a little extra, no doubt, to compensate for your troubles," growled Blackstone, his humor very dry.
The nameless robed figure made no response, nor indeed was any reply necessary. For five years this man had represented himself as the agent of Talos the Destroyer, claiming influence over that capricious god. Supported by the wealthy coffers of the earl, he had exhorted his vengeful god to smite the Moonshaes with all manner of storm-wracked violence.
"My god works his violence against the farms, while you get rich from your mines. It is a fair trade," suggested the stranger.
"Aye-satisfying to both, as long as your god does as he is bid!" grunted Blackstone, his mind already considering other problems.
The other man looked at the earl, his eyes hooded but blazing scorn at the man's arrogance. Blackstone missed the expression, but undoubtedly he wouldn't have noticed even had he looked up.
"And the queen?" The stranger asked the question. "When do you expect her?"
"I don't." Blackstone shook his black mane of hair. "I received word today. The elder princess, Alicia, journeys here in place of the queen. I took it as good news." The black-maned lord nodded his head. "The High Queen was once a druid. I'd rather she not be the one to have to condemn a Moonwell."
"Do not be too delighted," cautioned the robed figure. "The daughters of Kendrick are not without capability."
"Do you mean that we should fear her?" asked the earl in disbelief.
"It is a wise man who practices eternal vigilance. Now, I must make haste to Callidyrr. I, too, have a meeting with a princess of the isles."
The lamp still flickered, and the shadows remained thick, but even in the darkness, the earl could see that his robed visitor had gone.
The party of Alicia, Tavish, and Keane rode alone, since the reign of Tristan Kendrick had seen a virtual end to banditry and danger on the highways. At first the queen had planned to send along an escort of the king's guards, but Alicia had convinced her, with little difficulty, that this was unnecessary. Indeed, the road was well traveled and passed through many small cantrevs, and every few miles in the countryside, a cozy inn offered shelter to the weary traveler.
The smooth-paved King's Road connected the towns of Callidyrr and Blackstone, twisting and climbing around the foothills that lay between the two communities. As far as Keane was con
cerned, this avenue was the only thing that made the trip-a two-day ride through lashing rains and winds that howled like dervishes-remotely possible. Alicia and Tavish, however, seemed to take no note of the weather, and their high spirits taunted the teacher for every league of the ride.
Consequently Keane went to great pains to point out that he was an educator and scholar, not an adventurer.
"Ah, but you studied the spells of sorcery," Tavish pointed out. "And at a very young age, as well. I should think you'd have a wanting to test those in the real world, wouldn't you?"
"The world of my library and study is quite real, thank you," Keane sniffed, responding to Tavish. "And one can sample it without suffering the constant thrill of water trickling along one's spine!"
"You gave up those studies when I was still a girl," Alicia reminded him. "Why?"
Keane shrugged, frowning. As always, this was an issue he preferred to avoid. "Wisest thing I ever did," he grunted finally. The princess continued to wait for an answer. "Some people are suited to magic, and others very definitely are not! Now, can we stop somewhere for a cup of hot tea before my teeth chatter to nubs?"
"Stop complaining!" Alicia cried, finally exasperated. "We've slept indoors every night. We've even stopped at inns for our midday meals! The horses move at a walk along this smooth road. This is not an adventure!"
"It's plenty of adventure for me," retorted the tutor, wrapping his scarf tightly around his face and sinking into his saddle, a ball of misery.
For a time, the rain lifted enough that they could see craggy foothills around them. The road followed the winding floor of a wide, flat-bottomed valley, twisting through long and gradual turns as it led upward into the hills. Patches of pine and newly leafed aspen swathed the slopes, looking as soft as down in the distance. A shallow, gravel-bottomed stream rumbled and spumed beside the road, carrying off the excess water delivered by the heavy clouds.
Finally the highway veered from the stream and crested a low rise between a pair of blunt, rocky tors. The gray clouds hung overhead, but for the time being, they held their moisture intact, so the trio saw the valley before them unobscured by showers or mist. They reined in, sharing a mutual but initially silent reaction.
Despite the absence of rain, the air of Blackstone was far from clear. A dark, smoky haze thickened the atmosphere, obscuring the view of the far side of the vale. A mixed stench of sulfur and coal and other, more acrid, odors swept upward, encircling them as they passed the rim of the valley and started the gradual descent toward the cantrev.
From this distance, the dark spots of tunnel mouths were visible near the bases of the slopes that ringed the valley. Black chimneys jutted into the air from a long row of large, sooty buildings. From many of these, fresh gouts of thick smoke belched forth, adding to the haze that lay in the air.
"Kind of takes your breath away, doesn't it?" Tavish observed wryly as their noses and throats stung from the bitter air.
"I was here years ago," Keane noted. "It was always dirty, but never like this! Of course, it was just an iron cantrev back then. They discovered gold here only five or six years ago."
Alicia looked around in sadness. She knew that the gold, and to a lesser extent the iron, from these mines and forges was the lifeblood of the kingdom, but the extent of the devastation sickened her. She felt somehow that this was wrong.
The feeling lingered during the final walk to, and through, the cantrev itself. It was late afternoon, and raucous laughter erupted from many of the countless saloons, brothels, and taverns on the town's main street. Though this avenue had once been part of the same King's Road that had brought them from Callidyrr, in the town, the graveled surface had long been trampled into an all-encompassing sea of mud.
The earl's manor house was in reality a small castle perched on a low knoll on the far side of the cantrev. A wall of stone, topped with a castellated rampart, encircled the great structure, while the Blackstone banner-a midnight-black background, bordered in gold, emblazoned with a crossed pattern of swords and shields-sagged limply in the windless air over the gatehouse.
They felt a growing sense of oppression as the road climbed toward the great structure of Caer Blackstone. Passing underneath the gray gates, Alicia felt an urge to whirl her horse around and flee. She would have been comforted to know that her two companions resisted the same compulsion.
The house loomed before them as they halted their horses and dismounted. It shambled off to the sides and towered overhead, with a stone parapet ringing the flat roof and several towers jutting upward from the corners. The grounds within the walls were spacious, with stretches of lawn, paved courtyard, and thick brush and foliage.
"Greetings, royal visitors!"
It was the earl himself, standing with outspread arms on the great steps of the huge stone house. His thick black mane of hair spiraled outward, giving him the likeness of some great bear. His smile was friendly, though his eyes remained hooded and narrow.
"I request the shelter of your walls and the warmth of your hearth," announced Alicia, responding formally, although she did not curtsy in her leather riding breeches. She remembered her discomfort at Blackstone's earlier presence and realized that the feeling was only amplified now that she was his guest.
"It is granted, my Princess. Come, you shall have the shelter of your rooms and a bath, and then we shall dine. I am anxious for you to meet my sons!"
Alicia couldn't shake off a vague feeling of alarm, though her companions quickly relaxed under the auspices of the earl's hospitality. The rooms, in fact, were splendid: three adjoining bedchambers with private dressing rooms and a central parlor. All were furnished in the most elegant style, with silken canopies over deep feather beds. They equalled in every way the sumptuous guest quarters of the grand palace at Callidyrr.
Only the view from the window, in the fading light of the late afternoon overcast, showed them the truth. A small lake, perhaps half a mile away, lay stagnant and brackish. No vegetation grew around it, while the mouths of many mine tunnels trailed red tailings to the water itself. These rusty scars showed the progress of Blackstone's excavation. Never, thought Alicia, had she seen such a lifeless scene.
When they had washed and dressed for dinner, they descended the stairs to find that the Great Hall, too, boasted of the earl's wealth and grandeur, if not his good taste. Blackstone had set out a massive table for the royal party, decked with white linen and plates of burnished pewter.
Alicia felt something scrutinize her from above. Startled, she looked up to the top of the dark-paneled wall. A great bear leered down at her, widespread jaws gaping in a soundless expression of lasting hatred. Only as she gasped and flinched away did she realize that it was merely the head of a bear. Looking along the wall, she saw the mounted heads of wolves, deer, several smaller bears, and-across the hall, above the massive hearth-a green dragon.
Below the grim trophies, the walls proudly displayed an assortment of finely crafted weapons. A great double-bladed axe hung near the dragon, its smoothly curved head of gleaming, highly polished steel. The weapon, like many of the swords, halberds, and spears mounted beside it, showed nicks and scrapes obviously inflicted during hard use.
Blackstone noted her reaction with a hearty chuckle, and Alicia felt a hot surge of anger. She took a deep breath, as her mother had taught her, bringing her temper under control while the earl blabbered about this stalk and that kill. Though she held nothing against hunting-indeed, with her own bow she had brought down many a deer, rabbit, and bird, whose meat had gone to the palace table-she found something vulgar, even sacrilegious, in the ostentatious display of the earl's trophies.
"Ah, my sons!" Blackstone's voice boomed as two men entered the hall. "Come and meet the Princess Alicia, heir to the crown of the isles."
The sons were even larger men than their father, one dark of skin and hair, the other fair. Their beards hadn't grown in so full as the earl's. The dark one wore a green tunic, the other a cloak of deep b
lue. Together they advanced and bowed.
"This is Gwyeth." The earl indicated the son in green, who had hair as dark as his father's as well as the same glowering eyebrows.
"And Hanrald," Blackstone concluded. The latter, who bowed with a shy smile, was not so huge nor so hairy as Gwyeth. His hair and beard were speckled with cinnamon-colored strands.
Alicia nodded her head politely as she watched the pair. "We have met, Lady," announced Gwyeth, rising and grinning crudely at her. His dark eyes flashed, and she suppressed a sudden urge to back away from him.
"It was our honor to be knighted by your father some years back, in the Great Hall of Callidyrr," Hanrald added quietly. The younger son seemed embarrassed by his brother's rude stare, but he finally met her eyes and smiled tentatively.
"Oh, yes-of course," she said, smiling in return. She did not in fact remember, for King Tristan had dubbed a good many knights during the last ten years or so.
Other guests filed in-a royal visit was cause for no small celebration-and Alicia and her companions saw the bald, pudgy Lord Ironsmith, who had accompanied the earl to Callidyrr before Tristan's departure.
"Who's that with him?" asked Alicia, indicating a large-breasted young woman a good foot taller than Ironsmith who clung protectively to the lord's arm.
"His wife," replied Blacksmith. He chuckled lewdly before remembering that he spoke to a maiden princess. He tried to swallow his humor by clearing his throat.
Others came, too, mostly wealthy merchants who had gained huge profits from the mines and forges, though a smattering of local nobles showed up as well. Blackstone introduced Alicia's party to Lord McDonnell, who was the mayor of Cantrev Blackstone and a loyal follower of the earl's, and to Lord Umberland, owner of extensive holdings in the mountains.
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