Into the Labyrinth

25

Xar was in an ill humor. He had been forced to flee from a bunch of blind behemoths; then he’d been blocked from entering a gate by magic that even a mensch could unravel. Finally, he owed, if not his life, then at least his dignity and well-being to a dragon. This galled him. This and the knowledge that Haplo had been able to enter this citadel and he, the Lord of the Nexus, could not.

“Haplo was telling the truth,” said Sang-drax beneath his breath. The two stood just inside the gate. Three mensch—two females and a male—were staring at them stupidly, much as Xar might have expected from mensch.

“Haplo told the truth,” Xar returned grimly. “I saw into his heart. He was here. He was inside this citadel. And these—these weak-minded mensch managed to get inside.” He was speaking in Patryn and so could express his thoughts freely. “And what is the matter with you?”

Sang-drax had been glancing around nervously, his one eye swiveling to take in every part of the citadel—walls, spires, windows, the shadows on the ground below, the blue-green sky above.

“I was wondering where the dragon went, Lord.”

“What does it matter? The wyrm’s gone. Leave it at that. We have other, more important things to consider.”

Sang-drax continued to look about. The mensch were now staring at him, obviously wondering what was wrong with him.

“Stop that!” Xar commanded Sang-drax, further irritated. “You look a fool! One would almost think you were frightened.”

“Only for you and your safety, Lord,” Sang-drax returned with an oily smile that had a strained quality. The single red eye ceased its roving, fixed itself on the mensch.

One of them, a human female, stepped forward. “Welcome, sirs,” she said, speaking human. “Thank you for driving off the tytans. That was wonderful magic!” She was gazing at Xar with reverence and awe.

Xar was pleased, felt better. “Thank you, madam, for permitting me entrance into your city. And you, sir”—he bowed to the dwarf—“for your assistance with the gate.”

Xar stared hard at the pendant the dwarf wore around his neck. The Patryn recognized a Sartan sigil when he saw one.

The dwarf, glowering, put his hand over the pendant, thrust it back beneath heavy leather armor.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Xar humbly. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I was admiring your amulet. Might I ask where you acquired it?”

“You can ask,” the dwarf said gruffly.

Xar waited.

The dwarf remained silent.

The human female, casting the dwarf an angry glance, slid in front of him, came nearer Xar.

“Don’t mind Drugar, sir. He’s a dwarf,” she added, as if that explained everything. “My name is Rega Redleaf. And this is Aleatha Quindiniar.” She gestured toward another female—this one an elf.

The female was quite lovely, for a mensch. Xar bowed to her. “I am charmed, madam.”

She gave him a cool, languid nod. “Did that Haplo send you here?” Sang-drax hastily intervened. “This is Xar. Lord Xar. The man Haplo is my lord’s subject. My lord sent Haplo. Haplo did not send my lord.” Rega looked impressed. Drugar’s frown deepened. Aleatha stifled a yawn, as if this was all too boring for words. Rega continued introductions. Two males—a human and an elf—had just dashed up.

“This is my brother, Roland, and my... er ... friend, Paithan Quindiniar.”

“Hullo, sir.” Paithan gave Xar a quick glance, then turned immediately back to Rega. “Have you seen him? Did he come down here?”

“Where’ve you been during all the excitement, Roland?” Aleatha asked in dulcet tones. “Hiding under your bed?”

“I was not!” Roland said hotly, rounding on her. “I was—”

“Roland.” Rega tugged at him. “You’re being rude. This is Lord Xar.”

“Good to meet you, sir.” Roland gave the lord a nod, then turned back to Aleatha. “If you must know, Paithan and I were trapped up in the tower with a—”

“He was right in front of us!” Paithan struck in. “He must be here!”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The dragon!” said Roland.

“Zifnab!” said Paithan at the same time.

“Who did you say?” Rega demanded.

“Zifnab.”

Rega stared at Paithan in shock.

Xar and Sang-drax exchanged swift glances. Xar’s lips tightened.

“Zifnab,” Rega repeated in perplexity. “Paithan, that’s impossible. He’s dead.”

“Oh, no, he’s not,” said Roland.

Aleatha began to laugh.

“It’s not funny, Thea,” Paithan snapped. “He was here. That was his dragon. Didn’t you recognize the beast?”

Sang-drax sucked in a breath. The single red eye glistened, narrowed. He made a hissing sound.

“What is it?” Xar asked in Patryn.

“The old man. I know now what he is.”

“He’s a Sartan—”

“No. Or rather, he was. But not anymore. He has become one of them”

“Where are you going?”

Sang-drax had begun to sidle toward the gate. “Beware the old man, My Lord. Beware—”

An imposing gentleman dressed all in black materialized out of the shadows. At the sight of him, Sang-drax pointed. “He’s the dragon, Lord! Trap him! Kill him! Quickly, while he’s in this weak body!”

Xar didn’t need to be told. The sigla on his skin flared red and blue, burned with the fire that warned him of an enemy.

“Ever the coward, aren’t you?” The dragon faced Sang-drax. “This is our battle.”

“Kill him, Lord!” the dragon-snake urged. He turned to the others, who, not understanding the language, were staring in perplexity. “My brethren.” He spoke in human. “Don’t be deceived. This man is not what he seems. He is a dragon! And he plans to slaughter us all. Kill him! Swiftly!”

“Go find shelter, friends. I will deal with this,” Xar said to the mensch. But they didn’t move. Afraid, confused, too stupid—who knew? Stupid or not, they were in his way.

“Run, fools!” Xar yelled, exasperated.

The imposing gentleman ignored both Xar and the mensch, continued to advance on Sang-drax. Snarling curses, Sang-drax was slowly giving ground, sidling back toward the gate.

“Slay him, My Lord!” he hissed.

Xar gnashed his teeth. He couldn’t cast a spell that would kill the dragon without killing the mensch. And he needed them, needed to question them. Perhaps if they saw the dragon in its true form, they would be frightened into fleeing.

The lord drew a single sigil in the air. The spell was a simple one, not being battle magic. The sigil flared red, expanded, blazed through the air toward the gentleman dressed all in black.

At that moment the gentleman caught hold of the whining Sang-drax by the throat. The sigil struck both of them, flared around them, entwining them in magical flame.

An enormous wingless dragon with bright, shining green scales, the color of the jungle in which it dwelt, reared up over the walls of the city. Confronting it was a huge serpent, its foul body covered in slime, reeking of the dead of centuries. Its head had only one red eye.

Xar was nearly as startled by the sight of this apparition as the mensch were. He had never seen a dragon-snake in its true form. He had read Haplo’s description of them on Chelestra, but now Xar understood fully Haplo’s loathing, revulsion, even fear. Xar, Lord of the Nexus, who had battled innumerable terrible foes in the Labyrinth, was shaken and unnerved. The dragon opened massive jaws, closed them on the serpent’s neck, just below the toothless head. The serpent’s tail lashed out, coiled around the dragon with crushing force, seeking to squeeze the life out of its foe. Twisting and screaming in fury, the two thrashed and flailed, threatening to destroy the citadel. The walls shivered; the gate trembled as the massive bodies crashed into them. If the walls fell, the tytans would be able to enter the city. The mensch did not flee, but remained rooted to the spot with terror. Xar could not work his magic—either out of fear of hitting Sang-drax or fear of Sang-drax. The lord wasn’t certain, and his confusion angered him, caused him to hesitate.

And suddenly the two were gone. The dragon and serpent, bound in a deadly embrace, vanished.

The mensch stood staring stupidly at nothing. Xar sought to gather his rattled thoughts. An old man clad in mouse-colored robes wandered out of the shadows.

“Take care of yourself, you sorry excuse for a reptile,” Zifnab called, waving good-bye sadly.