2 - The Dragons at War

  "Thank you, sir."

  Lyndruss shivered. Foreboding crawled up his back as a runnel of rain wormed its way beneath his leather armor. He expected an insult from his battle partner, but for once the bronze remained silent.

  Battle approached and though neither admitted it, this was what each lived for.

  *****

  Tariskatt dove into a dense cloud bank. Raindrops stung Lyndruss's skin. His eyes fought to penetrate layers of murk, but grays upon grays were all he could see.

  They were suddenly clear of the low clouds, diving directly for a scout dragon and its young human rider caparisoned in the blue and gold of Takhisis's armies. With a roar Tariskatt took the smaller beast from above, dropping his impressive weight in perfect position against the middle of the enemy dragon's neck. Tariskatt's huge claws reached, clamped, and held. Floundering, the scout dragon desperately pumped the air with its wings, trying to match the war dragon's great speed as he surged upward. After a short desperate time of trying to keep up, something snapped like a large breaking branch in the scout dragon's neck. Lyndruss's mount let go. The Dark Queen's dragon folded and fell, accompanied by terrified screams from its rider.

  "Huh," complained Tariskatt. "The crowd."

  They were now joined by six other pairs of fighters, the entire compliment of the Sky Squadron. The dragons formed a loose wedge behind Tariskatt and Lyndruss, staying well away from their unpredictable and inflammatory leader. Several times the group circled the soggy battlefield where foot soldiers were gathering into formations, then winged off through the rain looking for battle.

  Tariskatt's wingbeats increased suddenly, throwing Lyndruss against the back of the saddle again as the bronze spotted something. He attacked at full speed. The rival dragon, a black, howled and met him with outstretched claws as its rider brandished his sword. Lyndruss crouched behind the dragonlance, watching for an opportunity to use the weapon.

  "Right," the warrior shouted to the bronze, seeing a weakness open in the black's defense. "Right, quarter roll!"

  Tariskatt wasted no time. Ducking beyond raking talons, he plunged almost underneath their enemy. This set the human's weapon in the perfect spot. Lyndruss drove the metal-tipped shaft through the enemy's scales and deep into the chest of the black. The dragon howled, surprised at the mortal wound, and tried vainly to latch its teeth onto Tariskatt's neck.

  Sinking, the rival dragon only managed to catch its talons in the top of one of the bronze's chest plates, loosening it. Tariskatt grunted and backwinged, gaining a little altitude. Rapidly weakening, the black's wingbeats slowed and faltered, its eyes glazed. The shaft of the dragonlance snapped as the bronze rose and their enemy dropped. Lyndruss saluted as the black and his dazed rider plummeted.

  Tariskatt suddenly writhed, the shock of a surprise attack vibrating throughout his body. Lyndruss gasped and clutched the hilt of the useless dragonlance, sharing his mount's stun almost as if they were one entity. After what seemed a very long moment of silence, the bronze bellowed, whirling, to face Curor Bonebreak and a grinning Zanark Kreiss.

  Lyndruss cursed. The enemy had used their moment of euphoria and relief after the kill to the best advantage possible. It was a trick from which he should have guarded them, a trick he himself had warned the rest of his flight squadron about only a short time ago.

  "We finally meet," yelled Kreiss through the hissing rain. "I've heard you might make decent sport."

  Not bothering to reply, Lyndruss considered their situation. He knew Tariskatt was wounded, but he dared not take his eyes off the deadly pair before him to find out how badly. He glanced around, searching for help. The rest of the fighters were engaged in their own battles. He and his partner were on their own.

  Feeling naked without the dragonlance and knowing he and his mount were now very much on the defensive, the warrior pulled off his back scabbard, drawing the hand-and-a-half blade. He grimly prepared for a battle of wits and short weapons.

  Still showing a good deal of strength, Tariskatt banked abruptly and flew into a thick cloud to gain time. He made two tight turns to throw off their opponents, and winged back to the battle.

  Lyndruss had hoped for more surprise. Kreiss and Curor had made nearly the same maneuver. The enemy only had to swing three-quarters of the way around in a tight circle before the dragons clashed. No more than a dozen heartbeats passed while the warrior settled into his saddle, howled his battle cry, and readied his sword.

  Roars and slashes with teeth and claws. Wind whipping across wing leather. The dragons grunted in their efforts to outmaneuver one another, augmented by the commands of their riders.

  Tariskatt wheeled for a strike. Lyndruss knocked away Kreiss's spear with his blade and made a feint he couldn't hope to follow up because of his dragon's rising wing. His enemy brought his two-handed weapon around quickly for another pass, the long sharp blade slicing across the bronze rider's upper arm. Lyndruss felt the heavy hide of his boiled-leather armor part, hot blood cascade down his arm. It wasn't a deep wound, but bad enough. Lyndruss set his mind against the pain and readied his hand-and-a-half again as the dragons twisted and grappled.

  Kreiss made a series of shallow slashes along Tariskatt's near wing just to irritate the dragon. They weren't serious, but blood loss from cuts such as those could change the course of battle as a dragon tired. Lyndruss had to get rid of his opponent's spear and even the odds.

  "Up, Tariskatt! Now!" The warrior urged his bronze partner upward with all of his soul. Turning slightly away from the red, the big metallic-hued dragon beat against the rain for altitude. Speed and a little distance opened the tiniest opportunity for Lyndruss and his sword. He timed his blow between his own mount's wingbeats, leaning out of the saddle and cutting down on the red wing. Lyndruss had hoped to break the bone. Instead a deep ragged gash opened, spewing red droplets that looked almost black in the dim light.

  Curor howled and broke off, shearing into a cloud. The bronze followed him closely and attacked, causing the red to turn again. His tattered wing gave him less maneuverability. Kreiss poked at them with his lance, exactly what Lyndruss wanted. Watching his timing, the warrior held his blade until the last instant. With a mighty downstroke he severed the pole a few inches from its silvery head. Cursing, the enemy dropped the useless wood, pulled his own sword, and urged his mount to attack. The dragons met with a deafening crash.

  The battle continued until the bronze heaved with exertion and his rider felt giddy. Neither pair of fighters dared call a halt to breathe. Neither dared to give away the slightest advantage to his enemy.

  "This day will belong to the dragon with more stamina," thought Lyndruss grimly, hacking at Bonebreak's legs. "Let that be you, Tariskatt." One of the red's claws glanced across his forehead, leaving a shallow cut before the warrior could parry. He shook blood from his eyes and fought on.

  The wily bronze pulled out his most devastating attacks and his best feints. Curor matched them with his own inventive strategies. The dragons were as equal a match as the two warriors on their backs. The humans shouted instructions and slashed at one another as their mounts bowed, lifted, and grappled in the mid-sky dance of death.

  The bloody froth on his dragon's lips and the faltering effort in his wingbeats finally told Lyndruss the truth. Today would not belong to him and Tariskatt. Nor could any days in the future. Zanark Kreiss's broad smile showed that he knew where victory lay.

  With a bellow loud enough to shake the sky, the bronze gathered himself, winged away, turned suddenly, and made a mad dive toward the red. Far too late to change the plunge into anything else but an all-out attack, Lyndruss lifted his sword with a numb arm and assessed the closing distance with hot, dry eyes. He figured the time of collision precisely right. The warrior realized too late what this assault would cost his partner.

  "You damned worm!" he howled. "Are you mad? Don't-"

  Seeing his danger, Curor labored for similar speed. The dragons came together with shattering force. On
e of Bonebreak's claws caught in the loose scale on Tariskatt's chest. Lyndruss saw the hideous gleam of delight in the dragon's eye as the red ripped and scythed until unprotected flesh glistened.

  With equal satisfaction, Lyndruss stabbed deep into the red dragon's eye and braced himself as the beast jerked his head back, bellowing. Tariskatt took advantage of the reaction and raked all four feet down, down and down over mutilated scales on Bonebreak's belly. Curor howled as his own red drops fell among the rain. He broke off abruptly, veering for the relative cover of thick clouds, leaving the metallic dragon and his rider masters of the sky.

  "Down, easy," ordered Lyndruss as Tariskatt shuddered, trying to reset his wingbeats to normal speed. They faltered. The dragon had no strength left. His wings stopped, sending them into a steep dive. Mind sagging with the pain of his wounds, Lyndruss prepared himself to die. Closing his eyes, he commended himself and his excellent fighting dragon to Paladine.

  A jerk made his eyes open on gray, always gray. They were flying again. The motions were uneven and still aimed groundward, but their angle was much more gentle.

  "What are you doing?" his rider yelled.

  The silent dragon labored on, blood speckling his rain-shined scales.

  "What are you doing? Tariskatt! Answer me!"

  "Landing," the bronze finally gasped, voice rusty with effort.

  "You don't have the strength. We'll go down together."

  "No."

  Communication cost the beast much in energy. Lyndruss gritted his teeth, knowing he could do nothing to change his partner's mind. The only thing the warrior could do now was ride the rest of the way, and hope.

  Their landing was hard. Tariskatt tried his best to backwing them, but the effort proved too much for his remaining strength. He crashed, breaking both front legs with cracking sounds that sent splinters of agony through Lyndruss's soul. The impact widened the wounds in the dragon's chest as he skidded. With a grunt of pain Tariskatt lay where he had fallen, unable to move.

  Lyndruss sliced through the waist straps of his harness with his sword and tossed the weapon to the ground. Sliding down the beast's shoulder, he hit the mud at a run and came to a stop at Tariskatt's head.

  The brilliance of his partner's eye was already fading as the dragon's lifeblood stained the puddled rain. Lyndruss could only watch, caught in a welter of unfamiliar emotions. He felt desolate, at a loss as to what to do, and frustrated there was no way to save the great bronze.

  "Our fight will be remembered in songs," the dragon whispered. It almost seemed as if he was trying to comfort the human.

  "Only winners make songs," Lyndruss replied savagely, kneeling in the mud beside the horned face that had suddenly become as precious as life to him.

  The one metallic eye the fighter could see blinked once, far too slowly. "You're a good rider, human. Don't let it go to your head." Tariskatt's chest heaved one last time. His eye closed, he shuddered. The bronze dragon lay completely still.

  Lyndruss felt a great, tearing pain. A scream surged through his mind and through his lungs. Raising his face to the heavens, he roared the dragon's name again and again and again. The best friend he'd never realized. The dependable partner. The great intellect so unlike his own. Only his dragon, who had known and understood his strengths and foibles as no other ever had, mattered.

  Frustrated, Lyndruss stared into the skies, watching the battle that, for him and his partner, was over. Lowering his head, the fighter stumbled through the rain toward a cliff rising at the edge of the plain.

  The top of that cliff burned in Lyndruss's mind like a beacon. The warrior climbed the rain-slick height, bruising his hands and knees. He welcomed the small pains that pushed through his dulled senses.

  Staring at the battlefield carnage below, lit by a lurid sun setting between two banks of thunderheads, Lyndruss realized what he wanted most. To die with such a great dragon warrior as Tariskatt would have been an honor. But the last act of that crazy beast had been to save him, the human rider he loathed.

  Was the final wish of Tariskatt's dragon-centered mind to die without a human on his back? But Lyndruss had been on his back, ridden the dragon down, been the only witness to the great beast's demise and his parting words. A compliment. Had the two of them used hate to cover other, more unfamiliar emotions?

  Desolation swept his soul. Lyndruss felt cheated by the dragon, an enemy turned friend suddenly gone. He felt cheated by life. He desired release from his mortal body with every fiber of his being.

  His eyes dropped to the edge of the cliff on which he stood. All he had to do was step into the fading light, already dim enough to hide the base of the sheer stone wall and the talus that littered its foot far below. So easy. So final. He raised one foot over the void.

  So wrong. The warrior threw himself backward, shaking. After fighting Takhisis's army for many months with Tariskatt, he couldn't, no, should not make his last act wasteful.

  A slow smile stretched his mouth, his blue eyes flamed as a thought arrowed through his mental agony. Quickly he turned away from the brink. He skidded recklessly down the same slope he'd lately climbed, taking small boulders, bushes, and showers of gravel with him.

  His new sense of purpose glowed as brightly as Tariskatt's bronze scales. There was a way for Lyndruss to take final advantage of his skill, as well as honor the dragon. He ran back to the battlefield and began stripping weapons from the dead, collecting as many as he could carry. Distributing them about his body took some time, but the fighter didn't care. Everything had to be within easy reach-hung from thongs laced through holes punched in his leather armor, his belt, wherever he could find space. It no longer mattered if the heavy leather was ruined. Soon he would not need it any more.

  Lyndruss rested for a moment after he'd finished. Then, with his usual thoroughness, he checked the positions of the knives, maces, swords, bows, and arrows he now wore. The fighter began walking toward the largest enemy war camp in the area. He would sneak in under cover of darkness, taking out sentry after sentry. Then, just at the right moment, he would fling himself into the midst of the draconians and the Dragon Highlords, yelling his new battle cry.

  His would be a proper tribute to the best companion he'd ever have. Lyndruss planned to take many of Takhisis's minions with him into death, shouting the great bronze dragon's name.

  Tariskatt would thunder once more among his enemies.

  Blind

  Kevin T. Stein

  Dragons ... are free to choose among the alignments of the gods.

  The Creation of the World

  "Cheats," Borac muttered under his breath. Turning away from his four companions, he pretended to reach into a riding bag. From under the gaze of the men sitting cross-legged at the foot-table, Borac slid off the bottom quarter of the card deck and palmed them in a strong grip. The rest he tossed into a nearby cookfire.

  "What game next?" Tynan grunted, drinking deeply from a flask. When one of the others tried to grab the bottle, Tynan scowled and swung the flask into the man's nose. The man yelped more in anger than pain and reached for his sword. A threatening look from Tynan cowed the man into submission. He wiped at his bloody nose.

  Borac used the distraction to run his thumb over the edges of the cards. Under his sensitive fingers, he could feel that half were marked at the edges. He sneered and threw the remaining quarter into the fire, shaking his head in disgust. This time, he didn't care if anyone saw him.

  "What's your problem?" Tynan demanded, pulling out a handful of dice from inside his battle-worn black riding armor.

  The smoke from the camp's fires mingled with the stink of sweat and unwashed bodies in Borac's nostrils. His companions were among those of the most unwashed, with the exception of Captain Tynan, who at least had enough self-respect to clean himself after every sortie. But his general appearance was ragged, like a beggar who had stolen his clothes from a soldier found lying in a field.

  "Cheats and liars, boasters and braggarts! I ha
te you all," Borac said. "You have no honor nor respect for a better man."

  Tynan glanced at his companions, winked. "If there were another man sitting at the table things might be different. All I see is you, Borac!"

  Borac clenched his fists so hard the leather of his gloves creaked above the general din of the camp. He had come to this point many times during this war, when he wanted to kill the men with whom he was forced to fight. His muscles strained tightly beneath his immaculate jet black clothes. He rose slowly, carefully, to his feet.

  "You, Tynan," Borac stated coolly, pausing, taking a deep breath with each word, "are so ... lucky ... to have the Dark Queen's alliance."

  Borac could smell their fear, all except Tynan, who was too drunk to be afraid. Tynan's expression dropped to bored neutrality.

  "Live with it." he muttered and took another pull from the wine bottle. When he was done, he looked sidelong at the man with the bloody nose, who now held a greasy rag to his face.

  "I've more respect for this idiot," Tynan said, jerking his thumb at the man. "He takes what he wants-or tries to. All you do, Borac, is whimper like a woman about fairness and the Alliance."

  "The Alliance is the only thing keeping you alive, Tynan," Borac returned. "I'd like to kill you myself."

  Tynan sneered. "Go ahead . . ." The other men shrank back, away from the pair. Borac hesitated, fists clenched. Tynan drank from the bottle and rattled the dice.

  Borac's hands unclenched. "You don't deserve the honor."

  Tynan laughed raucously. He opened his hand and let everyone see the dice, shook them loudly till they all got the idea, pulling out their own. They all made a point of not meeting Borac's gaze. They picked their favorites by color and pips. After Tynan's first roll, they shouted, money changing hands quickly, losing dice picked out among the winners.

  "Afraid to fight, eh, Borac?" Tynan said without looking up from his throw. He laughed harshly at his companion's misfortune and scooped up the coins from the little table.