The Black wing (d-2)

by Mary Kirchoff

  Khisanth had noticed a decided chill in the air during all encounters with Salah Khan since the battle at Lamesh. They both knew that if not for Jahet's death, Khisanth would be exchanging vows with Maldeev's second-in-command today, not the highlord.

  "Highlord Maldeev said he would be returning momen shy;tarily. Enter and wait," she invited, nodding toward a spot near the hearth.

  The human commander paused, considering. "Thank you," he said at last, then stepped around the door. He moved in to stand before the fire with his arms clasped stiffly behind his back.

  Dragon and human waited together in uncomfortable silence. Khisanth feigned sleep; Salah Khan stared straight ahead. Finally the human broke the stillness.

  "I wish you well in your impending union, Khisanth," he said. "The wing will benefit from the combination of your's and Maldeev's impressive skills."

  "Thank you, Khan," said Khisanth.

  The human seemed to relax a bit and even turned to look at the dragon. "Highlord Maldeev must be favored by the gods to have merited union with two such impressive drag shy;ons in one lifetime."

  Khisanth only nodded, feeling her spine tingle slightly at the reminder of Maldeev's own assessment of their union.

  Salah Khan clasped his hands together and turned his masked face toward the ceiling. "I only thank Takhisis that our brave highlord had the foresight to wear a magical ring into the battle that killed the mighty, faithful Jahet." He was watching Khisanth closely out of the corners of his eyes. "Just think, if he had not overcome his distrust of magic simply to appease Andor and Jahet, why, he might be dead himself!" The human shuddered.

  Khan shook his wrapped head. "We shouldn't dwell today on such grim thoughts of what might have been. This day is a monumental one for the entire Black Wing," he finished brightly.

  Khisanth could hardly hear the human over the thoughts Kahn's artless words had sent tumbling through her brain.

  "Do you think Highlord Maldeev will be much longer?" Salah Khan was asking, looking anxiously toward the door. "I really must be getting back to deal with the problem between the draconians___"

  Khisanth struggled to her feet. "Tell the highlord I couldn't wait any longer," she instructed, her tone brusque and dis shy;tant. "Tell him I had something to attend to, that I'll see him in the temple at sundown." With that, the black dragon stormed out of the large doorway and into the courtyard.

  Watching her hasty departure, Salah Khan smiled beneath his mask.

  Why hadn't she thought of it herself? Khisanth stormed inwardly. The dragon-turned-rodent scurried through the corridors of the tower, pressed into the shadowy corners where wall met floor.

  There were only three magical things in proximity to Jahet in the battle that had killed her. Jahet herself, Khisanth, and Maldeev's ring.

  Wear the bloody thing, Maldeev. What will it hurt? It just may come in handy.

  Jahet herself had talked Maldeev into wearing Andor's creation.

  Andor and his ring were the key to the puzzle. The dark cleric was central in, if not the instigator of, a conspiracy against Jahet. His mysterious murder supported the idea that he didn't act alone. Khisanth could think of no reason the cleric would want Jahet dead. Now he was dead, too. Some shy;one had silenced him.

  That left only the ring as evidence. Khisanth couldn't sug shy;gest to Maldeev, today of all days, that he might have unwit shy;tingly played some part in Jahef s death. The highlord would be furious and refuse to allow her to inspect the ring. She would simply have to find and examine the ring without his knowing it.

  Which was why Khisanth was scurrying toward Mal shy;deev's chambers as a mouse. She hadn't much time before he would return to change for the ceremony. As if to confirm the thought, a young serving girl in muslin cap and apron passed by the mouse, sloshing boiling water from two heavy, gray pine buckets. Setting the pails down before the high-lord's door, the girl knocked perfunctorily, knowing the highlord was not yet present. She turned the knob and kicked the door open. The girl didn't see the brown mouse that skittered in behind her before she kicked the door closed with her heel.

  Khisanth's first look at Maldeev's chambers surprised her. The decor was austere for a man of his rank. The main room was spacious enough to hold a dragon, if one could only get inside. The far wall consisted almost entirely of walk-out windows that led to a southern parapet overlooking the courtyard. Maldeev had spoken his first words to her from there, she remembered.

  The windows were divided by a ten-foot-wide section of wall that provided the backdrop for Maldeev's bed. Khi shy;santh's eyes widened at the sight of the only luxurious item in the room; three steps led up to the enormous, canopied thing draped with netting and covered with mounds of soft pillows.

  Khisanth looked around for anything that might house a ring and spotted a wooden clothing press on the short, east shy;ern wall. At this distance and angle, she could just make out a chest on top. Looking to the serving wench who was pouring the water into a copper bath, Khisanth hugged the wall and made her way to the press.

  Now what? she asked herself. How was she going to get to the top of the towering wooden cabinet? Then she spied the tapestry hanging behind it and had her answer. Extending her delicate ivory nails, Khisanth sprang from her hind feet and hooked her little claws into the weave, pulling, pushing her way up the wall tapestry. Coming just past the top of the press, Khisanth launched herself at its smooth, polished sur shy;face, and nearly skidded off the far side. She stopped the skid by latching onto an embroidered cloth beneath the chest, which was twice her height and three times her length.

  Khisanth's little heart hammered against her ribs at the near accident. Pausing only a moment to slow her breathing, she fiddled with the simple clasp on the chest until it snapped up with a soft "ping." She raised up on her hind feet, pushed the lid of the velvet-lined chest over her head, and peered within.

  Khisanth pushed aside several ribboned, wax-sealed scrolls and an elaborate silver circlet she had never seen the highlord wear. Spotting a number of rings in the dim recesses of the box, Khisanth slipped her hind quarters over the edge to get a closer look. For someone who never wore rings, Mal-deev sure seems to have a lot of them, she grumbled inwardly, trying to recall the brief memory of the ring he had worn at Lamesh. It had been smooth and black, like smoky glass, she remembered, with a gold band. Her eyes fell on it, and her pulse jumped with excitement. Running her paws over the flat, smooth stone, then over the edges, her right claw met with a catch.

  "Highlord!" she heard the serving wench cry suddenly.

  Khisanth's mouse head shot up from the box. Maldeev was marching into his chambers, whistling a tune softly. He patted the serving girl on the bottom in an obviously familiar gesture.

  "I wish we had time now, my dear," he said wistfully, as he began stripping off his clothing. "It'll have to wait until after tonight's festivities." Bare-chested, Maldeev headed across the room for the press. Khisanth dived into the box.

  "I was delayed by some unpleasantness, and I'm not even sure I'll have time for a bath now."

  Maldeev would surely see that the lid of his chest was open, and then he would look inside and find her! How on Krynn could she explain this? She was so close! Khisanth looked at the ring next to her in the box. What had the knight Tate said? "Live to fight another day," or some such thing. It made more sense to her now in her much smaller mouse form.

  Khisanth sprang from the box, scrambled across the press, tiny nails clicking against the wood. Maldeev was mere steps away, head bent to the task of fastening his cuffs. Heart ham shy;mering, Khisanth launched herself at the tapestry and sank her claws in. She paused one frantic heartbeat to catch her breath, then slid paw over paw down the wall hanging, and dropped soundlessly to the floor. Hugging the floorboards, she made for the door.

  "Someone has been in my chest," she heard Maldeev say angrily when he reached the press. "What do you know about it, girl?"

  The young serving girl's voice trembled. "I
know nothing, sir. I came in just moments ago with water. There was no one here. I swear I have walked only between the door and the tub, sir."

  "Where is the ring?" he screeched, shuffling frantically through the items in the box. He sighed in relief. "Ah, good, here it is. Nothing seems to be missing."

  Khisanth didn't need to see Maldeev's hands to know which ring he'd been so frantic to find. She was not surprised to see him step back and hold a gold-banded black gem up to catch the light of the lanterns. In the yellow light, the high-lord's face was aglow with a smile of malicious contentment.

  * * * * *

  As the sun sank behind the mountains in the west, trum shy;peters in two crisp lines on the temple steps announced Khi-santh's arrival. The black dragon touched a claw to her sword-and-skull choker to make certain it was properly cen shy;tered around her neck before stepping through the archway.

  Khisanth felt a bit light-headed, and only partially because she had not had time to feast. She had the same disorienting feeling she did when shapechanging, as if she were standing outside herself, watching her stiff-legged approach. Would she have the strength to do what she must?

  Khisanth was vaguely aware that the crowds of human soldiers gathered in the temple for the union ceremony were cheering her name. She blinked away the smoke from the many burning braziers and stepped forward. Maldeev stood waiting at the front of the temple, before the altar to Takhisis.

  The temple had been one of the first structures Maldeev had designed in the renovation of Lamesh, and it reflected his tastes. Cold, clean lines, smooth edges, open spaces, all arching toward the front of the temple, to end at the simple altar. The shrine to Takhisis was really just a smooth black marble slab held aloft by two uncharacteristically ornate columns. The pillars were each a carved image of a chromatic dragon with five intertwined dragon heads.

  Two silver chalices waited for Khisanth and Maldeev on the black marble slab.

  The trumpets blared again, reminding Khisanth that she was supposed to join the highlord at the altar. The dragon stepped forward mechanically, past the cheering men, past Maldeev's second-in-command in the front row. Salah Khan's expression was as unreadable as ever through his black head wrap. He stood without cheering, though he looked up and nodded once as the black dragon passed him.

  Khisanth moved to stand next to the dragon highlord of the Black Wing, resplendent in a red-velvet, fur-lined cape, horned highlord mask, ceremonial dagger… and black ring.

  Wiib, the short, bald cleric who was taking Andor's place, stepped from the shadows behind the altar, swinging a smoking brazier on a chain. He set the brazier on the stone floor, took a scroll from the depths of his coarse robe, and unfurled it. Wiib cleared his throat.

  "Maldeev and Khisanth. To blood you are committed, by blood you shall unite your bonds to the almighty Queen of Darkness. Together you shall fight for her glory and in her cause." The little man lifted a chalice in each hand and extended it toward the man and the dragon. Khisanth had to stoop down to receive it. "Drink the essence of Takhisis."

  It isn't, really, Khisanth reminded herself, but having met the Dragon Queen, she could not stifle an involuntary shud shy;der. The dragon took the small chalice of red wine in her right claw and tossed it down her throat. Next to her Mal shy;deev did the same.

  Khisanth set the chalice on the altar and turned abruptly to face the throng, clearing her throat. "We have completed the highlord's portion of the ceremony. Now I propose a tradi shy;tional dragon ritual to signify and secure undying trust."

  Maldeev looked up at her, clearly surprised, even with his mask to cover his expression.

  "We will mingle blood." Khisanth held her left claw-arm out and raked a talon from her right claw over the tough hide, bringing a fine bead of red blood welling to the surface. She nodded toward Maldeev to do the same.

  The highlord hesitated for a moment, eyes shifting. When he could find no reason or way to decline, Maldeev pulled his cape back from his left arm and slipped his dagger from its sheath. Khisanth's eyes lingered on the diamonds twin shy;kling around the hilt, then blinked to bring herself back to the task at hand. Biting his lower lip, the highlord nicked his forearm just enough to raise a thin line of blood to his white skin.

  Her pulse pounded at Khisanth's temples as she held her enormous forearm to Maldeev's small white one. Their blood collided. The dragon was almost physically knocked back by the brutal assault to her senses brought on by the revelation of Maldeev's true feelings, true mind.

  She saw hatred for all creatures, a desire to kill anything more powerful than he, revenge, betrayal, greed, naked ambition, and not one ounce of kinship with anything….

  There was now no doubt in Khisanth's mind who had killed Jahet. Murdered Andor. She yanked her claw arm back to end the excruciating mingling.

  The dragon's first reaction was to rip Maldeev apart and devour him before his men. Somehow, Kadagan's teachings penetrated her numb brain, bade her be calm, to think. The dragon despised the highlord, had not one whit of respect left for the human. She'd had more regard for the knight Tate than for this pitiful human who stood next to her, and she'd impaled Tate. Funny how she had so carefully kept herself from taking a rider. Now she was uniting with the most despicable human she had ever met.

  The words of the Dark Queen came, unbidden, to mind. Trust no one. What you seek is a human worthy of your talents. Look in unexpected places. You will know him when the time comes.

  Khisanth closed her eyes. She'd misread the signs, selected her rider in the most obvious of places. She thought of Tate, remembered her own comparison between him and Maldeev after she'd slain the knight. The dragon would not be so fool shy;ish as to misinterpret the queen's words again.

  Khisanth became suddenly aware that Maldeev was star shy;ing at her with a strange, expectant look. The dragon made her decision.

  "Maldeev and Khisanth shall not betray," she mumbled the traditional words, knowing as she did that Jahet had spo shy;ken them before her. The difference was that Khisanth knew what Jahet had not; the vow was a lie. The knowledge gave her immense power over Highlord Maldeev.

  Khisanth allowed the ceremony to come to a close around her. All of this pomp and circumstance was symbolism for the enjoyment of humans, anyway.

  After all, she was Khisanth, touched by the Dark Queen herself. Astinus would record the great deeds done by the magnificent black dragon in the name of Takhisis.

  She had only to wait, and to watch her back.

  Epilogue

  Khisanth had been ever-vigilant as the Black Wing's ranking dragon. For over two years, she watched for Maldeev's betrayal. So intently, in fact, that she didn't see the frontal attack coming from Maldeev's second-in-command.

  Salah Khan's campaign of whispered lies eventually earned him the position of highlord of the Black Wing. The masked human had been like a viper in both dragon and highlord's ears. In many subtle ways, Khan had reminded Khisanth to be watchful. In not so subtle ways he had told Maldeev that Khisanth was too greedy to be trusted. The ten shy;sion between Khisanth and Maldeev had become palpable.

  Then one day, as the queen's war machine neared comple shy;tion, Maldeev had decided to participate in an otherwise rou shy;tine drill, claiming he needed the practice with his dragon. Without warning or consulting Khisanth, he had invited a new dragon to fly wing. Remembering the last time the high-lord had made such an offer, something inside the ever-wary black dragon snapped.

  Khisanth clawed her soul mate's face to shreds, while Salah Khan watched.

  At least that's what Takhisis told her when she pulled the insensate black dragon into the Abyss one last time. The Dark Queen was true to her promise: Khisanth did not fare well in her second meeting with the queen. Takhisis was most dis shy;pleased by the murder of a highlord at so crucial a time. Unlike the last time, Khisanth didn't even try to explain her shy;self. She knew there was no point.

  I seldom give second chances, Khisanth. Never a third.

>   The black dragon held her breath, readying herself for the killing blow.

  Don't force me to regret making an exception now. You'll wish I had slain you here.

  The Dark Queen had sent her post-haste to Xak Tsaroth to guard the blasted staff for Verminaard. A sentence that, as time wore on and nothing of consequence happened, seemed more punishment than reprieve.

  Heaving an enormously bored sigh, Khisanth leaped back onto the stone altar and reclined on her haunches. Spotting the ancient spellbook, she picked it up in her talons and began to thumb through the musty brown pages. At least she could improve her skills in this wretched hole.

  The horns on Khisanth's head suddenly quivered, sensing vibrations from the upper levels. Ears tilted, the dragon held as still as black marble, listening. Something, or someone, was definitely walking above in the Plaza of Death. It was neither gully dwarf nor draconian; she knew that for sure. Khisanth's heart began to hammer in anticipation. She had waited so long for someone to come.

  The dragon sprang from the altar and began her ascent the thousand feet to the ceiling of the underground city. Halfway up, she passed the north falls, but kept climbing to the bot shy;tom of the well. Knowing she would need more than ordi shy;nary speed to ascend through the well shaft, Khisanth concentrated on the words of a haste spell. She gave one last upward thrust, clamped her wings to her sides, and shot up the shaft at twice her normal speed.

  Khisanth burst from the mouth of the well and into the sunny Plaza of Death. Pivoting in air, she saw her first human in years, bent over the fallen form of a young elf girl. The man was a dark-haired, well-muscled barbarian, wear shy;ing only wrist bands and a loincloth over fringed leather leg shy;gings. The dragon's red eyes abruptly grew wide.

  In the barbarian's hands was the wooden staff.

  Khisanth's weathered lips drew back in a smile of anticipa shy;tion. The barbarian was obviously of little importance, but he would be easy enough to slaughter.