Emperor of Ansalon

Epilogue

Tombfyre carried his human warrior to Sanction, soar shy;ing in one day over mountain ridges that had taken Aria-kas and his companions a fortnight to cross. Securely strapped to the dragon's flanks were a pair of saddle shy;bags, stuffed to bulging with the powdered dust of the plague fungus.

Before the pair had departed Zhakar, Ariakas made certain that Whez Lavastone had appointed a new emis shy;sary, and that the caravan was ready to march. That Zhakar merchant lord would bring a large load of mold to Sanction very quickly, Ariakas suspected, for only then would the dwarves receive their first payment.

Also during his high-handed negotiations, Ariakas had demanded that the Zhakar provide him with large companies of foot soldiers and lizard riders. Those would be marching along with the caravan, Whez Lavas-tone had promised, and the highlord had been inclined to believe him. The troops would join the ranks of the mercenaries he would hire, and the draconians that would soon march forth, in great numbers, from the Temple of Luerkhisis.

The highlord relished the sense of grim satisfaction that could only arise from successful vengeance. Tale Splintersteel and Rackas Ironcog had each paid in full measure the cost of treachery. Justice had been served, and Ariakas reflected that revenge was indeed the sweetest taste.

Flight over the Khalkists was exhilarating, and Ariakas — warmly bundled in furs, ensconced in a deep saddle created by Zhakar leatherworkers-enjoyed the long day of barren, rocky vistas. In flight, Ariakas relished a sense of mastery over even the mountains themselves. He and Tombfyre were alone in the heavens, high above even the soaring eagles. Yet when smoky Sanction hove into view, the human felt fully ready to rejoin humankind. Now, at last, he would do so as master and conqueror-a true highlord!

In the teeming streets people pointed and gawked, and when Tombfyre swooped low overhead they trembled in fear. When the red dragon set to ground before the Temple of Luerkhisis, hundreds of priests ran from the twin gates to prostrate themselves before their emperor and his mighty steed. Soon, Ariakas vowed, he would fly his dragon into the Fireplaza, and there he would gather the squabbling mercenaries of the city to his banner. They didn't know it yet, but those warriors would form the key regiments of an army that would threaten all of Ansalon.

But even that host wouldn't be enough. Already the Zhakar had been enlisted to the cause, and Ariakas had

plans to fly to Bloten, threatening the ogres with oblitera shy;tion if they didn't rally to the Dark Queen's banner. There, as in the city, the highlord felt certain of eventual success-not just because of fear, but because ogres and human warriors both would be unable to resist the pic shy;ture of victorious battle and rich plunder that Ariakas would use to lure them.

Wryllish Parkane hurried from the temple gates to kneel reverently before both the dragon and the high-lord. The high priest quickly rose to his feet, his face serious.

"Apprentices-grab those saddlebags!" barked Aria shy;kas, dismounting and striding to Parkane. "Come on- let's go to the egg rooms."

"The shadowpeople have invaded the Sanctified Cata shy;combs!" burst the high priest. "They've seized the egg chambers, and resisted all of our attempts to drive them out. They say if we bring an army down there they will destroy the eggs!"

"They won't hurt them," Ariakas said with certainty. "But perhaps I can talk to them."

"Indeed-the leading warrior, one called Vallens-wade, has asked to speak to you personally."

"Where are they gathered?" asked the highlord.

"They're holed up in a large cavern, where the tunnels all come together. They have all the entrances blocked, and there's no way we can reach the eggs," replied the priest.

"I'll… talk to them. Bring the mold along quickly-it won't be long before we can get to work," Ariakas said, starting into the tunnels of the Catacombs.

On his back gleamed the emerald-green blade of his sword.