The Black wing

Chapter 17

Studying the crumbling north wall of Shalimsha Tower, Sir Tate Sek-forde felt a momentary twinge of regret that it hadn't been possible to drag a catapult from Lamesh. Two or three well-placed boulders would have tumbled the remaining links in the wall like a child's set of wooden blocks. As it was, the fortress would be so ridiculously easy to breach, Tate never considered trying to batter down the central gate. The knight couldn't conceive of raising an army without repairing the outer curtain. He could only conclude that the man inside who called himself a highlord must be very arrogant to assume no one would attack him.

Tate's legion of soldiers, along with their baggage wagons, pack animals, and all the train of war, had marched over the parched land for four and a half days-thirty-three leagues in choking dust. At least it wasn't hot, thought Tate, just damnably dry. The knight was grateful enough for the rela shy;tive coolness. He was wearing his heavy plate mail, the only heirloom he'd taken from Castle DeHodge. Still, the constant clouds of dust didn't help the sore throat he'd woken with on the morning they were to set out. But he couldn't delay the march if they were to take advantage of the waxing moon. Tate was glad they hadn't. They'd marched the last three miles tonight in moonlight so bright it looked as if daylight's wick had simply been turned down. Now the sky was light shy;ening toward dawn; the time for attack had come.

"Sir Wolter," Tate called to his sponsor, who was talking to some men-at-arms a short distance away. The stout, gray-haired knight nudged his horse next to Tate's. "Take fifty knights, our best swordsmen, and get them into position near that big breach." He pointed at the largest section of crum shy;bled wall, to the right of the north wall's arched wooden gate. "Tell them to wait until Regist's archers have flanked them and picked off the few bowmen on the ramparts. Then send the knights in, led by a handful of crossbowmen who can shoot into the breach just before the charge. The crossbows can fall back after firing. Obviously, the attack will have to be made on foot. Find a place to shelter and tether the horses."

"What about the dragons?" Welter's bushy gray eyebrows were raised.

"What about them?" snapped Tate. "They're supposed to stay out of it, if that's what you're asking. Khoal said he'd be able to delay the other two evil dragons from joining the fight, if not keep them out of it entirely."

"Let's hope we can trust the word of a traitor."

Tate heaved a sigh. "Look, I know what you think of my arrangement with the black dragons. Let me assure you, it's not a situation that I would have initiated. The dragon came to me, not I to him. How could I reject an opportunity to dis shy;able the Black Wing, the center of evil in this region? Isn't that why we came to the frontier?"

Wolter extended his hand as if to deflect an angry response. "How do you know if s not a trap?"

"I consulted Wallens," said Tate. The lord knight beckoned to a soldier with bookish eyes and a solemn face. "Tell Sir Wolter what you've read in the ancient annals, what the order knows about the nature of black dragons."

Sir Geoffrey Wallens lowered the hand from his brow to his saddle pommel, pausing briefly on the way to stroke his thin brown mustache. "Black dragons are driven by greed, self-aggrandizement, and self-preservation, mostly in that order. They are evil, unpredictable, and unreliable. Unfortu shy;nately, sir, they are quite capable of breaking their bond to us, as they have to their own kind."

Scowling, Tate waved the too-honest knight away. He gave the grim-faced elder knight an earnest look and directed his gaze to the crumbling walls. "Come on, Wolter. If this is a trap, if s not a very good one. Why didn't they repair the walls? The dragon spoke truthfully about Shalimsha's layout-mountains with dragon lairs to the west, the north wall easily stormed. The chaos inside the compound looks genuine to me, too." His brown eyes scanned the mauve, early-morning sky. "I see no signs of dragons perched for attack, either."

Sighing, Wolter peered about to make sure that only Tate could hear him. "Look, lad," he whispered, "I understand you think you're doing what you must." He shook his hel-meted head. "Call me old-fashioned, but it just feels wrong to make a pact with creatures renowned for evil. I'm certain the Council of Knights wouldn't approve."

Tate laughed without humor. "They scarcely approve of me!" He grew suddenly serious. "I truly believe there's no dishonor for the knighthood in this. I've prayed for months to Kiri-Jolith, and I have sensed no displeasure for the plan."

Tugging up his gauntlets, Wolter managed a rueful smile. "If you've spoken to your god, you shouldn't have to answer to a crotchety old knight like me." He clapped his young friend on the shoulder. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got some knights to assemble." Wolter's well-worn plate armor disappeared in the throng of soldiers.

Tate's eyes followed him fondly, then slipped past to eval shy;uate the inside of the fortress. With any luck, they would soon be fighting there. He was surprised at how similar the layout of Shalimsha Tower was to Lamesh. There was no central keep here, either. Instead, the few buildings that had been repaired lined the inside walls, with a courtyard in the center. Must be a regional thing, Tate thought, since keeps were very common in Solamnia. He could see why the open courtyard would be an advantage for an army with dragons; a keep in the center of the courtyard would make it difficult for dragons to land.

Two years had passed since the fire had damaged Lamesh and destroyed part of the garrison's stockpiled grain. Tate had vowed by the end of that lean, hard winter to never eat another potato. He and his men had worked tirelessly to rebuild the burned sections so that they were better than before. News of their progress had spread to Solamnia; in the spring, fifty-two more young knights, eager for the chance for quick advancement, made their way to the frontier at Lamesh, further speeding up the reconstruction. That reinforcement also strengthened fate's troops to the point where he could field an army and still leave behind thirty men-at-arms with a handful of knights to defend Lamesh Castle. That was a small garrison, but the castle was strong and well situated.

Tate had been stunned, impressed despite himself, when he met his first dragon, the one who called himself Khoal. He'd been poring over some account ledgers on an early spring day, a tedious task he despised, when his adjutant ushered in a glassy-eyed farmer. Expecting to hear some complaint about the taxes, the lord knight was taken aback, to put it mildly, when the man calmly told him that he'd just met a black dragon.

"He was as nice as any creature you'd like to meet, and pretty. He wants you to meet him in the hills at sundown."

Back in Solamnia, Tate had first heard the rumors of drag shy;ons returning. At Lamesh, he'd even spoken to several eye shy;witnesses who claimed to have seen black dragons flying in the area, and others who had encountered physical evidence on the ground. Obviously, the creatures were not allies of Good. The farmer showed definite signs of having been mag shy;ically charmed, for no one would call the first dragon he met, particularly a black one, 'nice.' Aside from being surprised, Tate was certainly intrigued. "Why does this dragon wish to meet with me?"

"He said he has a business proposition."

Tate had plied the farmer for more information; the man had favorable, but not particularly informative things to say about the creature who had bewitched him. Though Wolter strongly disapproved, Tate rode into the mountains at the appointed time with two other knights. They dressed in the full ceremonial armor and regalia of their order, as they would on any other diplomatic mission. His primary motiva shy;tion had been curiosity.

With the farmer as a guide, they had no difficulty getting to the rendezvous point. The spot was a shallow valley at the foot of the mountains. The farmer indicated that only Tate was to approach closer than a hundred paces, and that he should leave his horse behind. Tate agreed as a practical mat shy;ter, since he suspected the horse wouldn't react well in the presence of a dragon.

The enormous beast was perched on its belly on a slab of rock that was slightly higher than Tate, forcing the knight to look up at it. Its foreclaws curved around the edge of the rock shelf, talons like sickles. Leathery wings were folded intri shy;cately along its flanks. Tate was mildly surprised to note that while the creature was covered in flat, leathery scales, like a reptile, it also had smooth patches of hide. The dragon's col shy;oring was astounding. Never had Tate seen such black. It was liquid and luminous like ink, polished and impenetrable like onyx.

Its most arresting feature, though, were its eyes, set in a head nearly as long as Tate was tall. Dozens of paces away, Tate could hear its breathing and feel the rush of hot air from its lungs. But the eyes were quick and bright, despite being as big as a man's head.

Tate had expected to face a monster that was dull and hor shy;rid. He had found instead a beast with majestic, if unsettling, beauty. To the knight's surprise he felt more awe than fear in the presence of the magnificent animal.

Human and dragon studied each other at a distance. Finally the dragon spoke. "So this is what a Knight of Solam-nia looks like up close."

"I should say the same about dragons," admired Tate, eyes on the dragon's supple scales, gleaming like polished marble in the last rays of daylight.

"I was not admiring, only remarking," said the dragon stiffly. "You look much like any other human-puny and pale. Though your armor is better than most."

The haughty demeanor was no surprise. Such a slur com shy;ing from a human would have started a fight. Tate ignored it. "You speak the Common tongue."

"I speak twelve languages."

Tate blushed, feeling foolish. He spoke only one other, his native Solamnic.

"I haven't much time before my delay will be noticed," growled the dragon. "On behalf of myself and two comrades, I propose a deal. In exchange for three pieces of land at War shy;den Swamp in your Solamnia," the dragon had said, "my comrades and I will help you disable the Black Wing."

Under darkening skies, the dragon laid out the entire plan that night. Tate had been too stunned to respond. The dragon left him to think it over, promising to return within three days for Tate's answer. The lord knight of Lamesh had thought long and hard, prayed on bent knees to Kiri-Jolith as though all three days were holy ones. In the end the young knight had agreed, for the very reasons he'd told Wolter. Though he never saw the dragon's comrades, Tate met with Khoal twice after that, to determine the timing of the attack the dragon proposed against the Black Wing's stronghold.

What Tate hadn't told anyone was what he'd promised the dragons in return; Warden Swamp was not his to give away. Tate had no doubt the Council of Knights would never approve the residence of three black dragons in the middle of Solamnia. They barely wanted Tate there. He had resolved early on to find an answer to that problem when the need arose-if it ever did. Though Tate still stood by his decision, he wasn't without trepidation. There were countless ways the magic-wielding dragons could yet betray the deal. Tate tried not to dwell on such thoughts. He had cast his lot with them; there was no turning back now.

"Sir Wolter has assembled the knights, as ordered, sir." The messenger, a junior Solamnic Knight, sat his charger uncom shy;fortably at speaking to the lord knight, switching the reins from hand to hand. After several initial volleys of flaming arrows to create smoke and confusion in the compound, Tate's archers had begun to address arrows at the enemy bowmen on the battlements. "The knights await your signal, sir."

Tate hesitated. He'd never sent men into battle before. Remembering his prayers to Kiri-Jolith, the Knight of the Crown gave a brisk nod over the throng of armed men to Sir Wolter. The Knight of the Rose ordered the charge. The tense atmosphere suddenly exploded with the whoops and war cries of the attacking knights. They followed on the heels of the brave crossbowmen without armor or shields, chosen to blaze their trail to the breach. Two of seven bowmen fell within seconds to enemy arrows from above. The knights, slashing and stabbing with swords, axes, and halberds, pressed on across the rubble and through the wall.

When the knights were fully engaged with defenders inside the breach, Tate waved Wolter back and instructed him to create a similar, secondary line of attack on the other side of the gate, using slightly less than two-thirds the num shy;ber of knights. The battle-hardened elder knight nodded his approval of the plan and set off to implement it.

Before Tate the battle raged with the roaring cries of attackers and the defiant shouts of defenders. Clanging metal and thudding arrows competed to be heard above the squeals and groans of dying men and the whinnies of spooked horses. Many a gay tunic and shield crest was besmirched with the blood of the first men to die, their abandoned weapons smeared and tacky from the dust that rolled like brown fog across the battlefield.

Tate stayed behind, monitoring progress, waiting for the moment the storming of the breach was complete. His gaze continually swept the sky, looking for signs of the dragons.

So far, so good. Still, Tate was tense, anxious for this to be over. He cleared his throat impatiently and spat vehemently on the ground. "Sir Albrecht," he snapped to a young knight he'd held in reserve, "what is your view of things? Speak quickly."

Albrecht spurred his horse forward to ride up even with Tate. "Lord," he fairly shouted, "the men are hotly engaged, and pushing the enemy back into the fortress in waves! See for yourself!"

"I wish I could." Tate wiped his dry mouth with the back of his leather gauntlet. "Damn this dust! I can tell where my troops are only by the clouds they raise. It appears we're pressing them back now, but they were surprised," he said, speaking his thoughts aloud. "Soon they'll regroup and the fight will get much hotter. With any luck and Kiri-Jolith's blessing, the dragons will stay clear of the battle. I'd hate to fight them and this army, too."

Just then, as if the gods had heard his words and mocked him, Tate saw a number of enormous, swiftly moving shad shy;ows darken the dusty air about the fighting knights. Almost afraid to look up, the knight saw the pale underbellies of three black dragons circling not far above the castle, armed riders on their backs. They didn't appear to be attacking yet. In fact, looking above the clouds of dust, Tate thought he could see their irate highlords prodding them in vain to swoop on the attackers.

Tate wasn't about to wait for them to turn on his men, if that was their plan. Sir Tate Sekforde brandished his sword and waved the remainder of his troops onward toward the primary breach, to draw this battle he alone had started to a quick close.

"Who are they?" demanded Jahet. "Where did they come from?"

"My guess would be they're Knights of Solamnia from Lamesh."

Stunned, Jahet looked away from Khisanth's impassive face. The lead dragon quickly scanned their ranks of archers, cavalry, and infantry. "But they have no dragons. How can they possibly hope to win against our aerial attacks?"

"I believe they have three dragons on their side," said Khi-santh tersely.

Jahet's thick lips ruffled. "Look," she said, pointing to Khoal, Dnestr, and Neetra, soaring low over the fortress. "They're with their riders-our commanders."

"Then why haven't they attacked the enemy yet?"

"Because I haven't been able to give the order!" snapped Jahet. "I've been trapped in my lair!"

Khisanth took note of Jahet's frustration and adopted a tone meant to persuade. "Jahet," she said, her voice sanguine, "how do you explain the unexpected size, let alone arrival, of this army of knights? Who's been flying recon to the north? Not me, not you-but Khoal." Khisanth paused, letting Jahet absorb that truth. The anger lines around Jahet's snout and eyes eased a bit.

Khisanth pressed on. "They've obviously been lying about troop numbers at Lamesh. Khoal rearranged the schedule yesterday so there was no chance I'd go north and spot their approach. And so I'd return early enough to be sealed in last night." She could see Jahet reluctantly absorbing the truth of it. "Why is it so hard for you to admit their treachery?"

Even before she'd finished the question, Khisanth knew the answer from the look on Jahet's face. Their betrayal was a black spot against the ranking dragon. Khisanth actually felt an unfamiliar twinge of pity for the other dragon. Jahet's alle shy;giance to Maldeev, if not the Dark Queen, was so great, she obviously felt great shame at the disloyalty of dragons under her command.

"No one but Takhisis could have made them suppress their own greed, Jahet." The ranking dragon said nothing, her gaze focused below.

From their vantage point on the piney ridge to the west, Khi shy;santh and Jahet could see into the courtyard. It was a scram shy;bling tumble of disorganized humanity that was pushing south toward the tents and drill field. Fires burned unchecked inside the compound. Smoke mingled with dust to form a haze over the courtyard. Chickens squawked and skittered around; dogs barked. They watched as Khoal, Dnestr, and Neetra dropped from the air and landed on the drill field amidst the confusion.

"I can't figure out why those three haven't attacked the wing yet," mused Khisanth, "but we've got to get them out of the battle before they do."

"I'll bite their heads off myself!" spat Jahet, preparing to take flight toward the drill field.

Khisanth reached out a claw to stop her. "Think, Jahet. If we show up late and strike at our own dragons, we'll look like the traitors."

Jahet scowled. "I hadn't thought of that."

Khisanth put in quickly, "I have another idea that will remove them from the fight without engaging them for the whole wing to witness."

Jahet leaned in eagerly. "Tell me, quickly!"

Khisanth grimaced. "I don't think I want to tell you the details," she said uneasily. Before Jahet could voice her protest, Khisanth cut in with, "Let me explain. Someone has to restore order to our ranks, or the knights will burn the tower to the ground without Khoal and the others having to lift a wing against us." She regarded the disorganized masses of soldiers still scrambling aimlessly in the tower below.

"Maldeev must surely be wondering where you are. You must go to him, tell him what we know of the dragons. Together you need to fly against the knights-eliminate their archers. The troops will rally behind you at once. There's one problem, though."

Khisanth paused, snaring her lower lip between razor-sharp teeth as she considered the three dragons, who were gathered on the southwest corner of the drill field. "It's essential that the other dragons think we're still trapped, at least until I can implement my plan for sending them away. Can you manage to stay hidden for that long?"

Jahet winced, realizing that the entrapment in her lair had caused her to break her vow to never keep Maldeev waiting.

She glanced at the knights, still launching flaming arrows and charging the walls. "I must join the highlord immedi shy;ately, but I could try teleporting directly into the great hall, then send someone into the courtyard to find him."

She winced slightly again. "I'm a little rusty at teleporting, though-haven't used much magic since my union-Mal-deev doesn't trust it around him. If I make it to the hall and find Maldeev, it'll take us a few moments to formulate a solid plan to reorganize the troops."

'That'll have to do," said Khisanth.

The lead dragon closed her eyes promptly, preparing to cast the dimly remembered spell, then opened them again to ask, "I could-I should-order you to tell me your plan."

Khisanth shook her head and gently nudged the other dragon with her snout. "You're better off not knowing. High-lord Maldeev's dragon must be above such skulduggery. If I succeed, their threat will be eliminated without tarnishing either of our names.

"If I fail," Khisanth shrugged philosophically, "I'll be beyond such mortal concerns. You'll be safe, too, because they won't even suspect you know their true colors, until if s too late for them."

"I'm trusting you to not fail, Khisanth." Jahet squeezed her large eyes shut tightly and was gone, leaving only a wispy trail of jet-black smoke drifting in the golden glow of dawn.

The ranking dragon had no way of knowing that Khisanth was about to break a vow of her own, made over the dead body of her lover one cold winter day.

The tall, raven-haired young woman purposefully pushed her way through the teeming throng of harried soldiers who were trying to assemble on the drill field to stop the flow from the courtyard. Her tawny gold eyes were focused on her intended destination.

Like many of the mercenaries around her, including the dead one she'd looted, the woman's torso was covered to the

top of her hips by a hardened leather cuirass. Leather tassets suspended from the cuirass protected her thighs. Wool pants were stuffed into the tops of her soft leather boots. Though her clothing was ordinary enough, her exotic good looks would never have allowed her to blend into the crowd. Nei shy;ther would the fact that she was the only female soldier within the ranks. Fortunately for Onyx, the men and ogres around her were too busy fearing for their own survival to give her more than a curious glance.

Knowing that success depended almost solely on her abil shy;ity to project confidence, Onyx marched straight toward the dragons at the southeastern corner of the drill field, then stopped at a distance to observe. She knew in an instant how they had remained grounded. She could hear their riders, including second-in-command Wakar, trying in vain to get them airborne.

"We are forbidden to attack unless the ranking dragon or her highlord gives us the order to do so," Khoal was saying stubbornly. Wakar and the others threw up their hands and marched off to join the fray in the courtyard.

Onyx watched them depart, then looked over her shoul shy;ders for eavesdroppers. No humans but riders would will shy;ingly get within earshot of three dragons, which is why they were so surprised to see the young woman below them.

"I come from Lamesh."

At first they seemed not to hear her. Khoal fixed his hot-orange eyes on her suspiciously. "Human, you're either very foolish or very brave to get so close to dragons for curiosity's sake."

"I am no curious onlooker," said Onyx fearlessly. Looking about again, she lowered her voice. "I am a messenger from the Knights of Solamnia."

All three dragons dropped their jaws and afforded her glances ranging from disbelief to distrust.

"Then you are both brave and foolish," Khoal said cau shy;tiously, "walking into the enemy camp and announcing your position. What makes you think we won't slay you on the spot?"

"Because we all know that we are on the same side in this battle," said Onyx evenly. "My commander sent me to reward you for your services. Keeping Maldeev ignorant of our num shy;bers and impending attack has been most helpful." Onyx kept her words deliberately vague, since she was only guessing about the alliance between the knights and the dragons.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Khoal quickly, his voice low and threatening. "I think I will kill you now." Onyx could see him summoning the acid from his stomach.

"My commander will surely interpret an unprovoked attack as a sign of bad faith," she cut in. "You don't want to risk losing the reward for which you've worked so hard."

"I certainly don't," said Neetra quickly. "I didn't fly all those long reconnaissance missions to keep Jahet and Khi-santh from the north for nothing! If I can get out of this with shy;out risking my hide, I say all the better."

Onyx felt her blood boil at the mention of her dragon name. She was forming a response when Dnestr, the smarter of the two intermediate dragons, frowned and said, "It seems odd that the knights would send you in the midst of the battle to give us our land."

Onyx took note of the last remark. She thought quickly, while Khoal watched her closely. "My commander thinks your uninvolved presence here adds to the general confu shy;sion-you know, dragons on the field frightening his knights. Besides, the battle is nearly finished, thanks to your entrap shy;ment of the other two dragons in their lairs. What's more," Onyx continued, managing an almost embarrassed look, "it would be best for the image of the Knights of Solamnia if they could avoid open confirmation of an alliance, however brief, with black dragons. You understand."

Neetra and Dnestr had only confirmed the alliance, and were obviously convinced by Onyx's explanation. Khoal, however, still looked skeptical. He said nothing as yet, nei shy;ther denying nor confirming his involvement, watching the interaction between the human and the younger dragons. "How do we get our land?" Neetra demanded greedily.

Onyx's eyes widened against her will. "Obviously, no one can lead you there this moment. My commander has ordered me to direct you to fly into the Khalkists, near Ak-Baral-do you know where that is?" Dnestr and Neetra nodded eagerly. "Wait there. Another agent will find you after we have won the battle, as we inevitably will, and lead you to the reward you so richly deserve."

The two dragons considered the crowd of evil soldiers milling at a distance, and they hesitated.

"Fly!" Onyx prompted. "Tell your riders you're evaluating the enemy's strength, if you must. Before they realize the truth, you'll be gone. Besides, what human would dare try to stop a dragon?"

The argument was enough for Neetra and Dnestr. Giving the silent Khoal the pitying look they would grant a fool, the two dragons leaped into the air and took wing to the west, headed for the mountains.

"You're not joining them?" asked Onyx.

Ignoring the question, Khoal looked down his nose at the young woman far below at his feet. "Funny you should men shy;tion the wing's other two dragons." The dragon's voice trailed off meaningfully. "When Jahet and Khisanth failed to appear after the claxons rang, I began to wonder if they were not betraying the wing." Khoal circled once around the ram shy;rod still woman.

"Then Neetra and Dnestr, those foolish young dragons, confessed to me that they'd made a pact with the Knights of Solamnia and arranged a pre-dawn attack. What's more, they'd had the last-minute inspiration to trap Jahet and Khi shy;santh in their lairs"- Khoal locked his gaze onto Onyx's tawny eyes — "without telling a soul." His brows raised. "Strange that you would know about it."

Khisanth did not for a minute believe in Khoal's inno shy;cence. Still, she couldn't prevent her face from falling at the realization of the trap into which she'd stumbled.

The dragon bent low and hissed into her ear with hot, meat-scented breath, "Why don't you tell me your comman shy;der's name?"

Khoal had been a liar his whole long life. Not even his nat shy;ural greed prevented him from recognizing one on sight. As the ancient dragon pressed in, evaluating the best way to slay the foolish young woman, he was only mildly interested in her motives for trying to trick him. He was certain he never met her, and yet there was something vaguely familiar about her voice, her cocky attitude. As his eyes focused on her shiny black hair and he prepared to claw her face from her skull, Khoal was about to receive the first true surprise of his long life.

The old dragon blinked. His face seemed to turn ashen beneath his scales. Where the young woman had stood was his most hated foe, that ambitious sycophant, Khisanth. Before his mind could make sense of it, the other dragon's mighty tail raised, delivering a vicious, air-snapping blow that sent him staggering. Khoal sailed some thirty feet, crashing into vacant tents and a small gathering of soldiers who'd wandered too close. Rolling himself from his side and back to his hind feet, Khoal sounded his rage in a bellow that sent all human and ogre soldiers within a hundred yards diving for cover.

"So, Khisanth, you can shapechange," snarled Khoal, cir shy;cling slowly around his opponent. "I should have guessed. You tried changing yourself into Jahet often enough, with all your showing off to Maldeev. Unfortunately for you, you can't change into a better fighter than me." Khoal's chest rose with pride. "I learned my skills before you were even a wyrmling," he gloated. "I fought in the great war against Huma."

Khisanth threw back her head and laughed aloud, a hate shy;ful, braying sound. "And we all know how that turned out!" She circled around in tempo with Khoal, keeping her eyes on his wrinkled, hoary face at all times. "Perhaps if our queen had more able fighters then, the history of dragons on Krynn would be much different, and we would not be answering to lowly humans…."

The taunt hit home. Roaring wildly, Khoal lashed out with his right claw. Khisanth darted to her right. Anticipating the dodge, the ancient dragon swung his tail and delivered a slap that hit squarely. With nothing to break her tumble, the

younger dragon rolled over and over, wings snapping against the dirt of the drill field. Finally she skidded to a thundering stop. Propping herself up with her claw arms, Khisanth regarded her foe with bitter and true hatred. She tried to think like her opponent to gauge his next move. She could see the light flicker away in his eyes, as if his thoughts were elsewhere briefly. Khisanth knew that look. Khoal was casting a spell.

Not sure what to expect, Khisanth quickly cast a general defensive spell. Instantly, her enormous black body was engulfed in a faintly shimmering sphere that looked vaguely like a bubble. Khisanth hoped Khoal wasn't going to cast anything too powerful, or her protective globe would prove useless.

If Khoal had not been concentrating on his own incanta shy;tion, he might have noticed her shield in time to alter his spell. The six bolts of lightning that flashed from the tips of Khoal's long, pearly talons bounced off her shield, zagged around wildly, then fizzled out. Khisanth's globe twinkled and winked away.

"Tell me, Khoal, when you awoke this day, did you sense it would be your last?"

The taunt, in addition to his thwarted spell, only served to further enrage Khoal. The ancient dragon charged like a bull directly at Khisanth, the ground shaking in his wake. He turned, preparing for a wing buffet. Reacting quickly, Khi shy;santh focused her thoughts on the first image that came to mind; the female dragon abruptly became a seven-foot-tall owlbear. Aiming his buffet to connect with Khisanth's head at dragon height, Khoal's wing swept harmlessly over the owl-headed bear. While the ancient dragon's back was turned, Khisanth reverted to dragon form. Springing high into the air, she delivered a stunning, one-footed kick to Khoal's right flank, a blow that sent him reeling, snout-first, into the dusty field.

Khoal scrambled onto all fours and spun around. Humilia shy;tion had turned the dragon's yellow eyes fiery and streaked them with blood. "I'll pull your entrails out and eat them while you still live!" Khoal snarled, rabid slather spraying from his jaws.

"Shouldn't you be winning, to make such a vow?" Khi-santh asked artlessly, stepping backward to contemplate her next move. The dragon knew she wouldn't be able to shape-change indefinitely; her energy was already flagging. Khoal's rage was making him careless. That's good, she thought, let his own anger defeat him.

Squealing in panic and pain, an ogre whose rags and fur had caught fire ran at full speed into Khisanth's flank. The hysterical brute flailed at her scales, trying to climb across the obstacle, too blinded by fear to turn aside. Glancing back, the dragon swept her wing outward, shoving the doomed crea shy;ture away.

Khisanth's head jerked up in time to see that Khoal had closed the gap between them. The black dragon's neck shot forward, and sagging old lips pulled back to expose his long, jagged teeth. He was heartbeats from severing Khisanth's head from her neck.

Again, the spry young dragon did the first thing that came to mind-she changed into the familiar form of the brown field mouse, far, far below the slathering jaws of the enraged dragon. She hadn't time to be smug about the close call, because Khoal was thinking fast as well. He raised his hind foot and, creating a cage of sorts with his spread wings, pre shy;pared to stomp the little mouse.

Khisanth knew she was trapped. She couldn't revert to dragon form easily in the small area; even if she could, Khoal's foot would crash into her skull before she could top shy;ple him. Or would it?

Taking a chance, Khisanth summoned her dragon form. The instant she felt the change begin, the dragon reached out, snagged Khoal's hind foot, and struggled to tip him off bal shy;ance before he could squash her. Khoal was a much heavier dragon than Khisanth, thick-muscled and dense. Just as Khi shy;santh was beginning to despair of toppling the ancient dragon, her form expanded beneath him. She felt the crush of his incredible weight for only a moment, before the stunned

dragon tumbled from her back and crashed unceremoniously to the ground from a height of at least twenty feet. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs. Khoal lay in a heap, gasping raggedly for air.

Khisanth launched herself at the other dragon. Before he could raise a claw to defend himself, Khisanth sank her teeth into Khoal's fleshy chest, tearing away large, bloody bites, scratched at his eyes and face with her claws until Khoal couldn't see through his own gore. But the killing blow came when Khisanth simply leaned in, clamped her jaws around his neck, and twisted until she heard a loud snap. What was left of his eyes rolled back into his enormous skull. Khisanth unclenched her claws and let Khoal's head drop to the dirt with a loud, flat thud that raised an enormous cloud of dust.

Khoal's death gave Khisanth great satisfaction. The black dragon turned her sights to the knights who'd penetrated Shalimsha's north wall and were engaged in battle with the wing inside the courtyard. Khisanth would need to hear the death cries of a great many humans to still the hatred throb shy;bing at her temples.