Redemption

Chapter Two Sheep’s Clothes

The child sat on a low, moss-covered rock, bare feet grazing a stagnant puddle, toes lazily stirring circles on its surface. The insects were thick around her, a living fog that kept a respectful distance, not even a gnat daring to land upon this child.

She hummed softly, an old elven tune she’d heard months past and had taken a liking to, and the flies buzzed seemingly in harmony. Occasionally the shrill cry of a parrot intruded, and in the distance there was the snarl of a great cat and the noise of something large splashing in the river—but all these sounds accommodated the child’s melody and pleased her. A smile tugged on the corners of her dainty mouth, and she tipped her head back to catch the late afternoon sun. Its rays were diffused by the swamp’s thick canopy, but they were still intense enough to make the temperature hot and steamy—the way the child preferred it.

Finishing the tune, she glanced down at her reflection, tinted a pale olive green by the wispy growths on the water. A cherubic face with wide, innocent eyes stared back, and soft, coppery curls moved about her shoulders, teased by a nonexistent breeze. She let out a deep breath, fluttering the ringlets that hung down over her forehead, then she kicked her feet, the littler plops summarily dismissing her reflection.

She smoothed at her dress, which appeared to be made of fragile flower petals, and brushed at a spot of water on the hem. Then she spun around and eased herself down on the other side of the rock, giggling when the ferns that grew in profusion there tickled her legs.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Maldred!” The child spat the name in a tone that was anything but childlike. “You’ve no reason to spy on me! Not here! Not in my domain! You should be well away from here and—”

“Your domain? You don’t own this swamp.” The speaker was a statuesque man with ropy muscles tanned from long hours in the sun. Despite his size, he moved as gracefully as a panther, making scarcely a sound as he approached. “You don’t own me, either, Nura Bint-Drax. I’ll go where I choose, and I’ll watch who I choose.”

She made an “oohing” sound, with a sultry woman’s voice, then punctuated it with a petulant little-girl pout. “You’ll be where the master tells you to be, Maldred, and when he tells you to be there. It is he who pulls your strings, as you well know.”

Maldred crossed his arms and stared down his hawkish nose at the child-woman. He opened his mouth as if to protest, then changed his mind and shook his head. He was sweating from the heat, his hair and clothes damp with moisture, and beads of sweat ran down his forehead and into his eyes and dotted the skin above his lip.

There was not a single drop of sweat on the child.

“Whereas I am his ally, Maldred, you are his slave,” she added pointedly.

He continued to quietly regard her, laboring to appear stoic and unemotional but failing when his mouth turned downward in a sneer. No matter how hard he tried, Maldred couldn’t hide his contempt for Nura Bint-Drax.

“The master came to me, asking for my help, Maldred. Sought me out above all others in this swamp.” She thrust out her chin for emphasis, clearly trying to provoke him with her taunting. “O

Crowned Prince of Blöten, you crawled to the master, begging for his help. That makes me strong and desirable, and that… that makes you—” she paused, letting the silence weigh heavy between them—“that makes you practically nothing, O Prince.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, but still Maldred held his tongue.

The ageless child paced a tight circle around him, then returned to stand in front of him, her bright blue eyes slowly appraising him. “I’m surprised the master hasn’t sent you on some menial errand,” she persisted, eyes narrowing and small finger wagging. She pursed her lips and stepped closer, and he retreated to keep her at arm’s length.

“Especially since you lost Dhamon Grimwulf in Shrentak. I’m surprised the master doesn’t have you cleaning a cave or gathering food for his pets. In fact, I’m surprised he hasn’t dismissed you entirely from his service.”

Maldred’s eyes flew wide, and he finally retaliated. “Dhamon was with me in Shrentak. I didn’t lose him.”

“You lost him to the mad old woman.”

“The sage. I led him to the sage.”

“Which wasn’t part of the plan. You should have died for the affront of changing the plan. Helping him wasn’t at all part of the plan.” She placed her tiny fists firmly against her hips. “Because of your impudence, you lost Dhamon.”

“I wouldn’t have—”

“…what? Wouldn’t have lost him if the black dragon’s minions hadn’t interfered? Dhamon had released Sable’s prisoners. There was bound to be a fight. Dhamon could have perished there, Maldred, and it would have been your fault. All your fault… losing him as you did. I thought you were going to keep such good track of him. I thought you were going to deliver him to the master. Isn’t that what you agreed to do?”

“I did what I felt I needed to do,” Maldred countered. “Besides, it was all part of the test, wasn’t it?

All part of pushing Dhamon to his very limits to see if he was the one.”

She laughed lightly, the sound of crystal wind chimes tinkling in a breeze. Then the air shimmered and swirled around the child, as if the cloud of insects had all become fireflies performing at her behest. Her pale skin began to darken and take on the sheen of polished walnut, and she began to grow. Her stubby fingers became long and elegant, ending in pointed, manicured nails. Her legs grew shapely and sinewy, complimenting a lithe body that would attract attention in any city. Her face, though attractive, acquired a hardness and was crowned with a cap of short, inky hair that matched her flashing eyes. Her dress of pale flower petals became a worn, black leather tunic that had once belonged to Dhamon Grimwulf.

She’d stolen the garment from him, along with his precious magical sword, when he encountered her in Ergothian whore-guise in the foothills of Blöten. She’d nearly killed him then, another one of her tests, but he successfully fought his way out of that trap.

And out of the next one.

“What you felt you needed to do…?” She reached out a slender arm and poked Maldred in the chest with a finger. A spot of blood blossomed from where she’d pricked him with her sharp nail. “What you needed to do was bring him here to me. Do you fail at everything you attempt, O Prince?”

He stared blankly, not replying, eyes meeting hers balefully but seeing something in their darkness that made his skin crawl.

“Don’t like this form, Maldred? It’s human. I would have thought you’d find it pleasing. Or do you prefer my true one?” Her smile was definitely evil now, her eyes suddenly ice.

Maldred involuntarily shuddered as he watched the next transformation.

The seductive Ergothian’s skin rippled like disturbed water, changing hue and texture, the smoothness becoming scales as large as coins. Her legs melded together into a tail as she towered above Maldred, and her body thickened. From the neck down she became a snake, one easily twenty feet long. Alternating bands of black and red scales glistened on her like wet jewels in the waning sunlight. Her head was not that of a snake, however, but that of the ageless child, and her copper-colored hair fanned away to form a hood. She raised herself up and leaned back on her coil, looking reproachfully at Maldred.

“Appropriate,” he pronounced contemptuously. “You change forms the way a snake sheds skin.” A pause. “And one form is no more preferable than the other.”

Her eyes darkened and sparkled, and motes of blue light leaped from her face and danced in the air.

“You, however, prefer this pretty human shell you’ve painted over your own ugly body, don’t you?

Humans are a lesser race, Prince, but I suppose even they are above your inferior race.”

The motes of light grew brighter, sharper, becoming yellow, then white, then with a simple gesture from the child-snake, they sprang forward like darts to strike Maldred in the chest.

He recoiled from the impact, hands clutching where the light darts had embedded themselves. He doubled over, gasping, as a second volley struck. He was quick to raise his head, eyes that wished they were daggers aimed at her.

“You bitch!”

He would have continued to curse her, had her magic not taken hold. The light darts had burrowed under his skin and begun to chase away the spell that cast the handsome human form over his real body.

Maldred’s muscles bulged, and his frame expanded, ripping his vest and pants until the clothes barely covered him. His chest became broader as he grew to a height of more than nine feet. His sun-bronzed skin changed to a bright sky-blue. His brow thickened above his eyes, his nose becoming larger and puglike. The short hair that had appeared meticulously trimmed turned snow-white and flared away from his face, a wild mane that fell well below his shoulders.

“There,” the child-snake said smugly when the metamorphosis was complete. “I do like to gaze upon your true ogre-mage body, Prince. I despise you, and yet I gain greater pleasure from despising something as hideous as your ogre self.” There was more silence between them before she added, “I wonder if the master also considers you hideous?”

Maldred’s words came fast and angry. “Just which one is your master, Nura Bint-Drax? The Black, Sable? Or the one lurking behind us?” He spun and glanced at an ancient willow and the darkness beyond the veil of leaves that hung to the ground, hinting at a cave opening. After a moment he turned back to stare at her. “Or do you really think you can be loyal to several masters?”

She cackled. “My loyalties are certainly not to the overlord in Shrentak. I only pretend to serve that bloated wretch of a dragon—as that serves my real master’s needs. I gain power and information from Sable. Magical incantations. The ability to create spawn…”

“And abominations.”

A sly nod. “The things I learn from Sable make me more valuable to my real master. Our master.”

“Serving two dragons is dangerous, Nura Bint-Drax.”

“Allying myself with two dragons. And I choose to think it is wise.”

It was Maldred’s turn to nod, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. “If Sable somehow wins, you have a place in this fiendish world. And if the dragon behind us wins…”

“…I will have a place at his side.” She rocked back on her coiled tail smirking. “Whereas if Sable wins, you lose everything, and if the master wins, you’re still nothing more than an ugly servant. No matter what happens, you have forever lost your dear friend Dhamon Grimwulf.”

Maldred dropped his hands to his sides, clenching and unclenching his fists. Dhamon had been as close as any brother to him.

“Does it pain you to betray him, O Prince?”

He would have struck her then with all the force in his massive ogre body, but he detected a rustling in the willow leaves behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he spotted a faint light emanating from beyond the cave mouth.

“So the master has awakened,” Nura said simply. She slithered by Maldred and passed through the veil of foliage.

Maldred turned to follow, moved a hand to part the leaves, then paused momentarily. He closed his eyes and searched for the spark within his barrel-like blue chest. Searching… there! Wrapping his mind around the spark, he coaxed it to grow until a warmth more intense than this steamy heat rolled down his arms and legs, up his neck, until his skin tingled with magical energy. When he first learned the spell, there were also gestures and words, and it took some practice, but through the years this spell had become second-nature to him. Now all he had to do was concentrate. As the spark brightened, his ogre-mage body shuddered, and the skin began to purl. In the passing of a few heartbeats Maldred appeared to fold in upon himself, and his bright sky-blue skin returned to its sun-bronzed hue. The stark white flowing mane shed, to be replaced by short, blond hair that looked as though it had just been cut and combed. But Maldred’s clothes still hung on his human frame in shreds, for his magic only affected his body—not what he wore.

The ogre in human guise retreated to the stagnant puddle and glanced at its surface, satisfied with what he saw. He knew he made a striking man, roguish and powerful looking, and just a bit noble from the set of his jaw. It was a form that turned the heads of women in practically every town and gave men pause about confronting him. It was a patchwork form he’d perfected, taking the best physical features from men who visited Blöten to deal with his father—he’d borrowed the brow of a brigand-king, the build of a pit-fighter, and the eyes of a Kaolyn assassin, who almost a decade ago had been hired to slay an upstart ogre warlord who threatened his father’s power-base. Maldred’s complexion was that of a young pirate he’d spotted years back on the coast near Caermish, and his smile was from a spy in Wayfold, whom his father had dispatched after he outlived his usefulness. The walk and mannerisms were strictly his own. He had grown to appreciate his human image, to prefer it over his natural form, as indeed he had grown to prefer humans to ogres. Nura Bint-Drax only said what he knew in his heart of hearts; ogres were an ugly, brutish race.

“Nura’s right.” He frowned and shook his head, released the spell, and his massive blue form again replaced the attractive human one. “I’m not worthy of pretending to be a human.”

Then Maldred glanced over his shoulder, seeing the willow leaves that covered the cave entrance rippling from the force of the dragon’s breath. A moment later, he brushed aside the veil and entered.

The light inside the cave came from the dragon’s eyes—large, catlike, and dull yellow, eyes made murky in part because of a thick film covering them. The dragon, like all dragons, was immense, and not all of the beast was visible because of the dense shadows of the cave, but Maldred could easily make out its massive head and part of its huge neck. The dragon was black, yet it wasn’t a black dragon. Its form was sleeker, head longer and wider, its color flat, not glossy, and the spikes of the thorny ridge that ran from just above its eyes and disappeared in the shadows along its neck were long and thin. It was not quite like any other dragon on Krynn. There was no scent about this one, though the cave carried the same strong, dank odor as the swamp. This dragon exuded tremendous power and radiated intense dragonfear. This latter had to be suppressed whenever Maldred and Nura Bint-Drax stood in its presence.

“Maaaaldred,” the dragon said, drawing out the word in a throaty purr.

“Master.”

The dragon looked tired and ancient to Maldred, though he knew that as far as dragons went, this one was actually quite young. Quite young but quite threatening, and Maldred hated the creature almost as much as he hated himself for working for it.

Its snout was vaguely horselike, and Nura Bint-Drax was coiled in front of its face, hands that she had formed, strangely attached to her snake-body, reaching up to gently tease the barbels that hung from the dragon’s lower jaw.

“So you have decided to join us, O Prince,” the child-snake cooed.

Maldred ignored Nura Bint-Drax but respectfully bowed to the dragon, then set his feet wide. A rumbling raced through the stone floor as the dragon spoke. The words were long and sonorous, and Maldred found himself having to concentrate to understand them.

“The human. Tell me about the precious human.”

“Yes, master,” Nura was quick to answer the dragon. “I will tell you about the human Dhamon Grimwulf. As I have already reported, Maldred allowed him to escape from Shrentak a few days past—on the back of a manticore…”

The dragon snarled, the sound rocking the cave.

“But I am remedying the situation,” she continued merrily. “I dispatched spawn, master. I ordered them to follow Dhamon and his companions and to capture him.”

The rumbling grew. Maldred clenched his teeth.

“The spawn will bring him here to us, master,” Nura continued. “Dhamon’s companions will, of course, be killed, but they are of no consequence. One is an addle-brained Solamnic Knight, the other a worn-out, wingless sivak. I told the spawn to make sure that Dhamon was kept safe but to take their pleasure with the other two.”

The rumbling softened, and Nura swayed in front of the dragon, obviously pleased with herself and considering the dragon’s rumbling to be praise. Then the rumbling abruptly stopped, and the dragon raised a lip, revealing sharp, misty-gray teeth and a charcoal black tongue.

“The precious human is gone.”

“My spawn will bring him back, master. I promise.”

“Your spawn are dead, Nura Bint-Drax.” The dragon blinked, and a veil of fog appeared in the cave mouth. “Watch.” Within a few seconds images materialized in the fog—the manticore and its riders, and the three spawn that initially pursued them.

“Dead.”

“I sent more spawn,” Nura quickly cut in. “I sent more to be certain Dhamon Grimwulf would be captured. The second force was more formidable—larger in number and stronger, more resourceful—the manticore could not best them all.”

“No? I tell you most of those spawn are dead, too.” The magical vision in the fog now shifted to show what remained of Nura’s formidable force—eight bedraggled spawn flying erratically back toward the swamp, a horrendous storm raging all around them.

“And Dhamon?” Maldred asked in a whisper. “Is he dead, too?”

The dragon growled, and the cave shook once more. If there were words buried in the growl, Maldred could not discern them.

When the rumbling subsided, Maldred met the dragon’s gaze. “If Dhamon Grimwulf lives, he will come back to Shrentak. He left me there, and the bond of friendship is too great between us. He will not allow himself to abandon me. He will be back soon, looking for me.”

The dragon blinked, and in response the veil of fog disappeared. “My magic does not reveal the precise location of Dhamon Grimwulf and his companions. However, it does give me a sense of where he is headed, and it is not to Shrentak.”

“Alive,” Maldred breathed in relief. “Dhamon is still alive.”

“Tell me, master,” Nura quickly cut in. “Tell me where Dhamon Grimwulf is going, and I will send another force of spawn. Within days, I swear to you, Dhamon will be in this very cave and—”

The dragon growled more angrily then, the sound echoing off the stone of the cave and the vibrations threatening to crush Nura and Maldred to the floor. Dust and bits of rock fell from the ceiling, and a crack appeared in the floor. When the tremors finally ended, the dragon reached a shadow-gray talon to its head, scratching at the row of scales along its jawline. One the size of a plate fell to the floor, and this scale the dragon nudged toward Maldred. A pale green glow spread from the talon to cover the scale. The glow became cloudlike, obscuring the talon and scale, then after several moments winked out. The scale sparkled darkly with its own magical energy.

“You say the bond of friendship is strong between you,” the dragon said to Maldred. “Prove it. Take this scale and find Dhamon Grimwulf. When you break the scale, you and he will be brought magically to me.”

Maldred bent and picked up the scale. The edges of it were sharp and hot, slicing and burning his fingers. He hid the pain and held the scale in front of him, seeing his broad ogre face reflected in its surface. The scale was thin and hard, yet he knew he was strong enough to break it when the time came.

“As you wish,” he told the dragon.

“Do not tarry,” the dragon continued. “Sable’s swamp grows a little larger with each passing day. If you do not wish the swamp to swallow up your beloved ogre lands and your father, you’d do well to find Dhamon quickly. And make no mistakes this time.”

“He will be yours soon,” Maldred vowed. With one more nod to the dragon and a brief look of triumph at the snake-child, he whirled and left the cave.

Behind him, Maldred heard the dragon say, “I also have an errand for you, Nura Bint-Drax.”