The Dragonstone

by Dennis L McKiernan

is too low.”

  “?”

  “Energy, durance, vigor. Your vitality has been sapped by your long, hard journey. But a good night’s rest will restore much of what we will need.”

  “Enough!” snapped Arilla. “You must do as Lysanne says, else you may never reveal that which is now obscured.”

  Arin sighed and nodded in glum resignation.

  Satisfied, the Sage glanced at the waterclock. “Four marks, and we shall return.”

  As Arilla and Lysanne left, gloomily Arin watched them go. Biren handed Arin her gear, and, fretting, she chose a muted-green guest-room door and moved toward it, Aiko at her side.

  * * *

  Bathed and somewhat rested, four marks later Arin stepped into the great common room. Waiting were Arilla and Lysanne, pouring tea from a service. Ruar and Melor were already there, as were Biren and Perin. Aiko was there as well, the warrior having moved her gear in the interim to the red-doored room adjacent to Arin’s green. As Arin took a cup from Lysanne, Venidar and Rissa emerged from their room, Silverleaf laughing.

  When all were arranged in comfortable chairs, tea in hand, Arilla cleared her throat. All eyes turned her way. She took a deep breath and began: “Let me tell you of a day long past at the gates of Black Mountain when the Dragons came to call.”

  CHAPTER 22

  The air over the Grey Mountains of Xian was filled with bellowing roars and the thunder of leathery wings. Dragons, mighty Dragons—glittering red and silver and black and green and other sheens—filled the summer sky. Down they came, spiraling and spiraling, ’round the towering Black Mountain where Wizards dwelled. Gate guardians cried out in fear and fled inside, slamming the great portals to. But still the Dragons descended, to land on mountain crests all ’round, settling like weighty, gleaming monoliths atop the lofty spires…all but three of the mighty Fire-drakes, and these came to rest before the shut iron gates of the Wizardholt. Two of these Dragons were massive and black, deep violet glints shimmering as they shifted about, and they had ebony claws like sabers which scored the dark stone of the foregate court. And they flanked a third Dragon, small by Dragon measure—if any Dragon could be said to be small. Green, he was, with a yellow cast, and seemed cowed by the other two. And in one claw he held a leather bag, tied tightly at the top by a thong.

  “Wizards, we would parley!” bellowed the monstrous black Drake on the left.

  The Drake on the right turned and hissed in rage and spoke in a tongue from the dawn of time, the words sounding like great brass slabs grinding heavily upon one another. [“I shall be the speaker here, Daagor, for I occupy the highest ledge!”]

  Daagor’s massive tail lashed furiously. [“Only because I was in Kelgor, Kalgalath, at the time of the mating.”]

  The green Drake in between crouched lower.

  At that moment a postern gate opened and out stepped a Mage dressed in a dark red robe.

  Black Kalgalath eyed the Wizard, and then turned to Daagor. [“We shall settle this once and for all at the time of the testing. But for now it is I who will speak for all of Dragonkind.”]

  Daagor roared in challenge, shifting his bulk to face his nemesis. Black Kalgalath bellowed in response.

  The green Drake scuttled backward, out from between these rivals, and the Mage at the gate clapped his hands over his ears in pain.

  But from the mountains all ’round, a hundred or more Dragon voices were raised, thundering bellows of their own blaring through the air, and the mountains entire shook and boomed with the echoes of Dragon shouts.

  Warily, Black Kalgalath took his eye from Daagor and scanned the crests above, and Daagor did the same. Then Daagor hissed, [“The ledge was and is rightfully mine, Kalgalath, yet even we together cannot defeat all of them, hence I will permit you to speak to this Mage.”]

  [“I need no sanction from you, Daagor, for that which is rightfully mine.”]

  Now Kalgalath turned to the Wizard and spoke in the common tongue, though his voice still sounded as great brazen slabs dragging one upon another. “Mage, we have come to parley.”

  The Wizard stepped forward. “Parley?”

  “Yes, we have a small favor to ask.”

  “A favor?”

  “The tiniest of things.”

  The Mage barked a laugh and flung his arms wide, taking in the entire assembly of Drakes. “The whole of the Dragon nation comes knocking on my door and then requests the tiniest of favors? I think not, Kalgalath.”

  “You know my name?” Black Kalgalath turned his head and gloated at Daagor.

  “Yes, and Daagor’s as well.”

  Now it was that dark Drake’s moment to exult.

  “Who would not know the names of the two mightiest Dragons in Mithgar?” asked the Mage rhetorically. “Dragons visit woe unto the world—Kalgalath and Daagor most of all.”

  Both Drakes raised their heads and arched their necks in high conceit; had there been a great mirror at hand they would have pridefully gazed at their reflections within…though truth to tell, Kalgalath and Daagor were so nearly identical that they merely need look at one another to see the image each sought.

  “Yet you did not bring all of Dragonkind here merely to hear me sing your praises,” said the Mage. “Instead you came to parley.—This favor, this tiniest of things, just what might it be?”

  Kalgalath glanced back at Quirm and the leather bag he held, and then at Daagor and finally up at the perched assembly of Drakes. “We would have you hold a thing for us.”

  “A thing?”

  “Yes, but first, all of Magekind must swear an oath.”

  The Mage grunted in surprise. “An oath, eh?”

  “An unbreakable oath,” said Daagor.

  Kalgalath glared at his rival. “An unbreakable oath,” repeated Kalgalath. “A pledge to hide this thing away forever and leave its secrets unlearned…and to ward it from all who would do otherwise.”

  “And just what do you propose to exchange for the keeping and warding of this thing, sealed with an ‘unbreakable oath’?”

  Black Kalgalath nonchalantly examined the saberlike claws of his right forefoot. “For the keeping and the oath we would pledge to leave your Mageholt alone, unplundered by Dragonkind.”

  “Ha!” barked the Wizard. “You pledge to leave undone that which you never had the power to do in the first place.”

  “Take care, Mage,” hissed Daagor, “else you will see what Dragonkind can do.”

  Again Kalgalath shot Daagor a vitriolic glare, then turned to the Wizard. “Only I am the voice of all Dragonkind, Mage, yet in this case Daagor speaks true.”

  The Mage shook his head and gestured at the Wizardholt behind. “First, I do not speak for all of Magekind. There are those of us within Black Mountain, and those on the island of Rwn, and yet others scattered across the face of this world. Too, there are many in the world of Vadaria and a few on the other Planes. I can only promise to bring the matter before the Council here at Black Mountain. And even then the pledge would only concern the Mages of this Wizardholt.

  “Second, ere we promise to speak oaths and receive oaths in return, we would know just what this thing is that we are to ward for Drakedom, for we would not give value without knowing the value of what we give.

  “And so, my friend Dragons, I would see this thing you would have us safeguard.”

  With a jerk of his head and a hiss of [“Quirm,”] Black Kalgalath summoned the green Drake forward to stand once again between him and Daagor. Kalgalath glared down at Quirm and hissed, [“Let the Wizard heft it.”] The green Dragon set the leather bag onto the forecourt stone.

  The Mage raised an eyebrow. “You would have me walk within reach of your claws?”

  Daagor hissed, “Wizard, you are within reach of our claws even where you stand.”

  The Mage looked left and right and fore…and shrugged.

  Kalgalath snarled at Daagor, then turned to the Wizard. “If you would feel the weight of this thing, come heft it.”


  The Mage stepped forward to where the bag lay between Quirm’s flexing claws. He stooped and took up the leather sack. “Hmm. Rather heavy for its measure. Something rounded inside. Ovoid. Perhaps the size of a melon.” He squatted and set the bag in front of him and began plucking at the thong. “What’s in here? A malformed crystal ball?”

  “You cannot open it, Mage,” said Black Kalgalath.

  “Ha!” barked the Mage. And he looked at the tightly lashed strip and muttered, “Laxa!” and the thong fell loose to the forecourt, and the bag slid open and down, revealing an oblate spheroid of translucent, jadelike stone, flawless and pale green and lustrous—some six inches through from end to end, and four inches through across—and it seemed to glow faintly with an inner light.

  All three Drakes roared and backed away and turned their heads aside, just as did the Dragons all about on the crests above, the mighty bellows reverberating among the jagged peaks. Whelmed by the sound, the Mage slapped his hands to his ears in agony, and blood seeped from his nose.

  “Put it away,” cried Black Kalgalath. “Put the abomination away.”

  But gritting his teeth, the Mage hefted up the egglike stone, its weight nearly twenty pounds.

  Risking short glances, Black Kalgalath slithered forward and reached outward with his great black claws and hissed, “I said, put it away…else I’ll shred you where you stand.”

  The Mage squatted and set the stone in the leather sack, and then he drew the bag up and about and retied the thong. As he did so, he asked, “Whence came this stone?”

  Now recovered, Black Kalgalath glared full at him. “That is not for you to know.”

  The Mage stood. “What are its powers?”

  Daagor roared. “Fool! Did we not say that was not for you to know?”

  Undaunted, the Mage said, “This I do know: here we have a mighty token, one that even Dragons fear. If you would have our pledge of warding, then we need to know something of it, else you can go from here unsatisfied, the stone yet in your grasp.”

  Daagor and Kalgalath exchanged glances, but Quirm blurted, “We cannot sense it, Mage, and he who holds it and learns of its powers will command—”

  [“Silence!”] roared Kalgalath in the ancient tongue, turning on Quirm in fury. Yet at the same time flame roared forth from Daagor, and his claws slammed against the green Drake’s skull, driving him hindwards. [“Yield nothing, nothing, to these Mages!”]

  [“Daagor, cease!”] bellowed Black Kalgalath. [“We can trust none but the weakest of us to bear the stone.”]

  Reluctantly, Daagor lowered his claws and muted his flame and stepped back from the cowering green Drake.

  The Mage had scrambled away from the fury of the Dragons and now stood near the gate, ready to flee through the postern at need. But when he saw that the fighting was done, he called out, “I will bear your request to my fellow Mages. We will confer, and I will bring you our answer tomorrow.”

  * * *

  But Magekind debated for three days instead of but one, for such a critical issue could not be decided overnight. They speculated on the powers of the green stone and mulled over the reaction of the Drakes. And they considered Quirm’s words and the attack of Daagor upon the green Drake for revealing what little he did.

  It was of no moment that the Dragons at times had spoken in their ancient tongue, for the seers within had understood their every word. Given the import the Drakes placed upon the stone—now referred to as the Dragonstone—they debated what they would ask in return for their own unbreakable oath. The debate was long and heated, for there were many who vowed to make no pledge whatsoever unto Dragonkind, and a few who called for all to pledge falsely and study the stone and its hold over the Dragons, to use it to force them into abject submission, if indeed it held that power.

  In the end they came to their conclusions and took a binding vote, and only a few renegades refused to stand by it, and these would be no longer welcome in the Wizardholt should the Dragons agree to the Mages’ demand.

  * * *

  When the bargaining Wizard finally returned to stand before the gate, Black Kalgalath and Daagor and Quirm—and the green stone—were yet there, as were the Drakes on the peaks above.

  And the Wizard said, “We will ward your Dragonstone, and take the pledge you require, but this we demand in return:

  “Dragonkind will no longer plunder at will but instead will let the world be: all cities, towns, dwellings, farms, ships at sea, ports, forests, Mageholts, Elvenholts, Dwarvenholts, human habitations…” The Mage droned on and on, naming and restricting, proscribing and banning, describing and detailing, but in the end finally saying, “…and if you do not agree, and swear a binding oath on it, then you can take your stone and fly away.”

  All the while he had been speaking, Daagor and Kalgalath and even Quirm had lashed their tails and flexed their claws as their fury had grown, and even at times had roared, for to command compliance, obedience, in a Dragon was intolerable, insufferable, not to be borne.

  Yet in the end Black Kalgalath glanced once more at the leather bag in Quirm’s possession and said, “We will consider your despicable demands and give you our answer on the morrow.”

  * * *

  But the Dragons debated for nearly two weeks, and the mountains roared with wrath and rage. And some flew off in fury—Sleeth and Redclaw and Skail and others, Daagor among them.

  At last Black Kalgalath and Silverscale came to the Wizardholt, Quirm between the two, the green Drake yet bearing the bag.

  “This we will agree to, Mage,” said Kalgalath.

  “We will remove ourselves to remote places and limit our raids to that which is needed for sustenance—a horse, a cow, or other such now and again.

  “We will not plunder unless we are plundered ourselves, though I cannot imagine a creature who would even attempt to do so.

  “We will not seek to take treasures owned, yet treasures abandoned are fair game.

  “We will not mix in the affairs of humans, Dwarves, Mages, or aught others, unless they first meddle in the affairs of Dragons, in which case we will be free to take our just retribution.”

  Black Kalgalath continued to detail that which the Dragons would accept and that which they would reject, and the Mage took their proposal back unto the Council.

  * * *

  The haggling lasted for another month, demands made and accepted or rejected, omissions and ambiguities clarified, wordings made just so…but in the end the agreement was struck, both sides pledging, and those among the Wizards who would not pledge were banished from the holt. There was some haggling over the fact that not all Dragons pledged, but the Dragons countered that all Mages had not sworn the oath either—each side had their renegades. And so it was settled at last.

  And the pledged Mages took the Dragonstone into the darkness of Black Mountain and locked it away in a deep vault, and as they had sworn they did not probe into its secrets at all…though some Mages beyond Black Mountain, Mages who had not taken the oath, would now and then meddle in the affairs of the Drakes.

  And the oathbound Dragons took to their remote fastnesses and for the most part let the world be—but for an occasional stolen cow or horse—and peace reigned for millennia…except for the scattered ravages of the unpledged renegade Drakes, Daagor’s savage plunderings among the worst.

  * * *

  But then one day it was discovered—virtually by accident—that the Green Stone of Xian had vanished, had disappeared from the vault; just when this might have occurred, none knew. And when they plied their Wizardly talents to reveal what had happened, and where the missing green stone now lay, to their dismay they discovered that the Dragonstone was completely unscryable, hence anything concerning it—past, present, or future—stood beyond the reach of their arcane arts.

  * * *

  And thus things stood until Arin of Blackwood came.

  CHAPTER 23

  They sat in a small, remote, darkened chamber, where nought but a
single candle burned, and that but a scanty taper. Arin’s eyes were fixed on the flame as Lysanne spoke softly to her. Aiko knelt nearby on the dark stone floor. None else were present. Arin’s eyes were heavy-lidded as Lysanne murmured gently, and at last they closed.

  Lysanne set the candle aside, then turned to the Dylvana deep in an unforced trance.

  “Can you hear me, Dara Arin?”

  “Mmm,” replied Arin.

  “You may speak, Lady.”

  “Vi oren ana.”

  “Speak in the common tongue, Dara. Can you hear me?”

  “I hear thee.”

  “Good.” Lysanne glanced at Aiko. “Remember, child of Ryodo, all that you see and hear.”

  Aiko’s black eyes glittered, and she nodded sharply once.

  Now Lysanne turned back to Arin. “Dara, you too shall remember all that passes within. Do you understand?”

  Slowly, Arin nodded.

  “Good.” Lysanne leaned back in her soft, padded chair and steepled her fingers. “I want you to return to that night in the glade when you saw the vision.”

  Arin shifted uneasily and her breathing sharpened.

  “It is all right, Dara,” soothed Lysanne. “I am here, as is Aiko, and nothing evil is at hand.”

  There came the whisper of steel being drawn as Aiko slid her swords from their scabbards. “I will protect you, my Lady.”

  Lysanne frowned at the yellow warrior, but Arin seemed to relax slightly, though her breathing was yet sharp.

  “What do you see and hear, Dara?”

  “I see the flames. I hear the horns.”

  “Horns?”

  “The hunting horns. I know the stag now runs.”

  “Ah.” Lysanne nodded. “I understand. But now, Dara, I would have you move forward in time, to when the hunt is done and the hunters returned, to when the vision comes. Tell me now what you see.”

  “Blood.”

  “Blood?”

  “The slain stag is bleeding.”

  “And…?”

  “And I look away, into the flames.—Oh, oh, oh.” Arin began weeping and her breath came in harsh gasps.