by Jean Rabe
“Yes, this place is familiar,” Dhamon said. “I realize now I was here years ago, with Rig and Fiona.” He looked to the south shore and saw a monstrous totem of skulls. Faint lights shone from the eye sockets—green, blue, red, gold, and more, all the colors the dragons had been in life. At the base of the statue, nearly obscured by the grass that grew tall around it, rested a black dragon scale.
“This was the last place I wanted to come looking for a scale,” Ragh grumbled. “Wonderful. And I led us here. What was I thinking?”
“You were thinking you wanted to help your friend,” Feril said. She was heading straight toward the totem, eyes fixed on the scale. “There it is.”
Ragh followed, glancing over his shoulder and noticing that Dhamon hadn’t budged. Dhamon was staring at the lake, which was nearly as large as Nalis Aren. Feril was already at the scale, kneeling in front of it and motioning to Ragh.
“I’ll need your help,” Feril called to him.
“I suppose you do. I’ve got the dead Qualinesti, after all,” Ragh said, adjusting the satchel on his back, “and all the magical baubles that Needle didn’t destroy.” He paused, adding for Dhamon’s benefit, “Dhamon, I hope with my heart this works. I hope we’ll be strolling into a tavern somewhere… some place accepting of me… and buying tall tankards of ale, the two of us. We even got some clothes in here for you. Feril got ’em in Nalis Aren. They’ve had a while to dry out.”
Dhamon said nothing, just kept staring at his reflection in the lake.
“Ragh!” Feril called, motioning. The sivak loped toward her, handing the satchel to her.
“I hope you can do this fast,” Ragh said. “This place sends shivers down my spine.”
Feril smoothed the grass away from the scale. It was large, mirror-slick, and shiny; her own expression stared back at her. This scale was loose, just waiting for them— simply shed by Sable and left here, forgotten.
Without a word, Feril began sorting through the trinkets, separating the metal beads from the carved figurines and setting aside the scroll. There were two vials of potions that Grannaluured hadn’t smashed, and these Feril snatched up and opened. She poured the contents on the ground, then tossed the vials away.
“Hey, are you supposed to do it that way…”
Before the sivak could say anything else, Feril clutched the scale with both hands, lifted it up and brought the tip of it down on one of the figurines, shattering it. She raised the scale and brought it down on another.
“What about Obelia… don’t you think you should call out the ghost of Obelia and ask for his advice? After all, he’s the sorcerer.”
She smashed a third trinket, then, to Ragh’s astonishment, raised the shield above the flask that held the Qualinesti ghost, bringing it down hard and cracking the flask. A wisp spiraled up as the water and fingerbones from Nalis Aren spilled out.
“Feril! I don’t understand…”
The Kagonesti whirled on Ragh. Her eyes were black and shiny and filled with an anger and emptiness that was uncharacteristic. She swung Sable’s scale at the sivak and he dodged at the last moment, realization dawning on his craggy face.
“By the memory of the Dark Queen, Feril… when did Sable take you?” He jumped out of her way again, noticing she wasn’t as agile as before, but then Feril wasn’t the one doing these things, Ragh knew. It was the overlord. Feril wouldn’t have destroyed the magical trinkets. Feril would have called out Obelia.
The Kagonesti’s upper lip curled back in a snarl. “In the mountains,” she said, her voice strange and hollow and flat. “When the mountain was crashing down I found her, struggling with one of my scales wedged in a crevice. I knew her as a companion of the Dhamon-dragon, so I took her as my eyes. She is my puppet.”
It was Sable’s voice. The black was speaking through Feril.
“Feril… where’s the scale, Feril?” Ragh edged away, keeping his eyes fixed on the elf, gesturing wildly to Dhamon. “Sable can’t possess you entirely. Tell me, where is the scale that the Black is using to control you?”
Feril obliged with a gloating grin, tugging up her tunic to display a black scale on her stomach. As she dropped the tunic back in place she kicked at the assortment of magical trinkets, scattering them in the tall grass and pools of water.
Ragh felt sick and weak and defeated. “Sable, you foul beast! You could have let him become a human! What does it matter to you? You could have let this magic work. As a human, Dhamon Grimwulf wouldn’t have challenged you, would have left this damnable swamp far behind. You would have won!”
“I’ll still win,” Feril said in the flat, hollow, and eerie voice of Sable, “and the victory will be all the more rewarding. The Dhamon-dragon will be utterly defeated, and his love will have helped destroy him, but I… I will deal the killing blow. I will feel his blood pulse over my talons and down my throat.”
Feril rushed at Ragh, just as the sivak heard Dhamon’s roar from behind him.
24
The great black dragon had risen from the lake, with at first only her huge eyes visible, like an alligator surfacing slowly in search of prey. Then the entire head, massive and midnight black, scales liquid, overlapping, and gleaming in the pale light of the waning sun, burst from the water. When Sable’s eyes locked onto Dhamon’s, they sparkled with malevolence. The black overlord snorted in derision at her hated foe, the water around her snout bubbling and hissing.
Then she breathed a gout of acid that raced across the surface of the lake toward the shore. Steam rose from the water. The lake surged as the water boiled furiously and a heavy stench like rotten eggs cascaded through the air.
Sable rose higher, revealing her back spines and serpentine tail. She breathed again, the acid creating a wall of steam that all but obscured her. The incredible stench made all of them choke and gag, even Dhamon.
Sable swam effortlessly toward him, spewing acid into the lake until the surface was like a fiery cauldron. She reached the shallows and stood, regally revealing her full size. Sable dwarfed Dhamon, easily three times larger than him.
Her legs were as thick and tall as the giant swamp trees. Her muscles rippled and her tail twitched with nervous energy. She clacked her jaws and stretched her neck forward, the breath from her cavernous nostrils blasting the smaller trees into scorched earth and withering leaves, branches, and plant life.
The great dragon was larger and more sinister than ever, Ragh thought, gazing at Sable in horror. The dragonfear that pulsed outward from her made his knees shake. He glanced at Dhamon, who also appeared to be affected; he was bracing himself, however, for the coming fight. Not Ragh, who struggled to flee, though his legs were rooted. “Run, damn you,” the sivak urged himself. “Run. Run. Run.”
Behind him Feril threw back her head and laughed hideously with a cackle that belonged to Sable. The Kagonesti dropped the scale and twirled her fingers in the air, and in response, the grass spiraled up to ensnare the sivak’s legs.
“You’ll die in good time, sivak,” Feril said in Sable’s voice, “slowly and with great pain, but first she will kill the Dhamon-dragon. I will bathe in his black blood, and we will bless you, sivak. We will let you watch.”
Ragh struggled against the plants as vines whipped down from the trees and twisted tightly around his arms. He barely could see anything now as the vines were starting to cover his face. What little he saw made the situation look hopeless. Dhamon had reared back on his hind legs and was beating his wings to buffet Sable. The force of his wings sent tree limbs and water flying, but the overlord’s acid breath shot back and caused a noxious cloud to blanket them all. The draconian, choking and gasping, closed his eyes and waited for the end.
Dhamon roared his anger, the sound deafening. “Monster!” he bellowed at Sable. “I have long wanted this battle! I want to feel my teeth sink into your flesh!”
Dhamon lashed out with talons as he let loose with his own formidable breath. It was a stream of gray lace shooting through the noxious c
loud. Up and toward Sable’s snout it arrowed, hanging momentarily suspended there before striking.
Sable flinched. Gagging and retching, the black overlord lurched back toward deeper water. She whipped her head, her barbels striking the water and sending out a spray in all directions. Acid dribbled from her mouth, causing great billows of steam. The entire lakeshore was drenched in heat and moisture.
Rearing up on her hind legs, the Overlord retaliated, breathing a gout of acid that flew across the water to batter at Dhamon’s legs. Again the water roiled, the steam and the foul stench exploded everywhere. The scales on Dhamon’s legs burned. He howled in pain. He plowed forward into the water, which bubbled furiously from the acid dribbling from the overlord’s mouth. She opened her maw wide, showing teeth as long as pillars, stark white against her black insides, her tongue lolling out, lips curling up, acid shooting forth and hitting Dhamon squarely on his snout.
He didn’t howl this time; he gritted his teeth and, as much as he feared water, dived under the steaming lake. He swam toward Sable, feeling as though he was being boiled alive, opened his mouth underwater, and let loose. His poisonous breath lanced into her, and propelling himself with his tail, he slammed into her, his teeth closing on the scales of her abdomen, biting down with all his strength.
Her scales cracked as he sank his teeth into tough flesh. He felt the warmth of blood in his mouth, the taste vile and acidic, scorching his tongue and throat.
Sable gave a great roar, more in surprise than in pain. She spread her wings and beat them furiously, rising above the lake with Dhamon clamped onto her for a brief moment before he fell back into the water and vanished below the surface. She shot up high in the sky, trailing blood and scales, still roaring. Then she turned in midair, angled her head steeply down, and breathed her worst acid breath.
Dhamon was just emerging from the depths, obscured by billowing steam. He ducked under again to escape the worst of the poisonous wind, while all around him hundreds of dead fish floated up and washed against the shore.
The reek of sulfur was so thick that Ragh felt he was suffocating. Even the Kagonesti covered her mouth with her hands and blinked her eyes, trying to clear them.
The draconian had doubled over, entangled by vines. He couldn’t speak; his mouth was parched and filled with the deadly stink of Sable, but the black overlord wanted him to watch Dhamon’s death. A vine wrapped around his waist and brought him around just as Dhamon came out of the water again, bursting up through the steam and flying like a missile straight toward the overlord.
Scales were slipping off Dhamon, and Ragh could see gaping sores on his friend’s head and neck where Sable’s acid breath had taken its toll.
Run, Ragh tried to say. Fly away from here. Get away and live.
Now Dhamon met Sable in midair, lunging at the overlord, maneuvering under, then dropping down to stay out of the reach of her deadly claws as he swept back up and behind her. She twisted to breathe more acid at him, showering the sky with her deadly poison, bursting into steam as it struck the lake.
“I lured you here,” Feril taunted Ragh in Sable’s voice.
Ragh worked up some saliva. “Go ahead… gloat.”
“I hate you, but that is nothing compared to how much I hate the Dhamon-dragon. I…” Feril paused, glancing up with a rapt face to watch Sable wheel around and attack Dhamon, using her tail like a whip. The black overlord cut a gash in Dhamon’s right wing, sending him off balance and careening down toward the lake. “He took too much of my land, so he will die for it—die horribly.”
Dhamon tucked in his wings as he plunged into the lake. The waters heaved and pitched as more dead fish and alligators bobbed to the surface. After a heartbeat, Dhamon burst up out of the water, streaking impossibly fast toward Sable. More scales fell off Dhamon, but the black dragon was also wounded and losing scales. Sable’s tail had begun to twitch uncontrollably.
“You’ll die, Dhamon-dragon!” Sable screamed as birds screeched off in every direction. Then she spun in the sky, still surprisingly nimble despite her great bulk and her nagging injuries. Her snout and talons were aimed against Dhamon, rear legs kicking him away and into the uppermost canopy of the trees. Branches broke as he collapsed into the weave, and Sable howled in pleasure.
“No one challenges me,” Feril taunted Ragh. “I lured you here using the pathetic ghost from Beryl’s lake. This elf body is useful, sivak, and I expect to be Sable’s greatest puppet ever.” Feril brushed past Ragh, gazing up reverentially at Sable.
The entwined plants continued to hold the draconian captive no matter how much he struggled, yet between thin vines he could watch the battle and Feril.
“I tried to kill you all in the Kharolis Mountain pass,” Feril said over her shoulder, in Sable’s voice. “I tried to bring the walls down on all of you, but you eluded me. Then in the mines, I tried a different tactic. I took the elf’s body and used her to bring you here… to this spot. Fitting that I should kill the Dhamon-dragon right here in my own realm, in the place I first landed when I came to Krynn. The swamp will record his death and ensure that no other creature challenges me! No one ever again will challenge my rule. No one will…”
Dhamon had disentangled himself from the canopy and was back aloft, streaking toward Sable again. He came at her hard, lashing out with his tail, catching hers and holding it fast as he buffeted the Overlord with his huge wings.
“You can’t win, Dhamon,” Ragh whispered. “Become a shadow and run from here. Nothing can beat such a foe, my friend. You can’t do it alone, not by yourself.”
“True. It took a cunning trick and an entire army in the Qualinesti forest of Wayreth to take down the Green Peril.” This voice was thin, lacking strength. The sivak was surprised to hear it again, coming from behind him. “No, your friend cannot beat the overlord. I fear the Black is even more formidable than Beryl was.”
“Obelia? So you are still here. Well, you’ll soon die, me too,” Ragh told Obelia. “Dhamon can’t save himself, so he certainly can’t save us.”
The ghost drifted past the draconian’s shoulder, lingering there as he gazed at Feril, her attention still riveted on the battle in the sky.
“Did you know about Feril?” Ragh asked Obelia. “Feril and Sable?”
“Ah, my poor, poor elf-fish,” murmured Obelia distractedly, addressing Feril and not answering the draconian directly. “This should not be your fate. I thought you were destined for greater things than serving a vile dragon.”
Feril inhaled sharply, barely glancing at Obelia. “This elf body,” she sneered in Sable’s voice, “is destined to serve me for as long as she is useful! That is her great destiny. What is yours, dead one?” Her back rigid and her arms held out straight, she splayed her fingers and aimed at the trees on the far side of the lake.
Sable and Dhamon were locked in struggle above the canopy. The overlord’s weight slowly bore Dhamon down toward the trees. Suddenly, the branches whipped and unfurled, grabbing at his limbs and wings. Vines wrapped around him. Dhamon was caught, and Sable’s talons flashed in the light of the setting sun.
“Poor, poor elf-fish,” Obelia repeated as he stared in dismay. Ragh saw that the specter was barely visible now; he was more like a vague shimmering disturbance in the air. His form inched slowly forward until he stood just behind the unsuspecting Kagonesti, then Obelia put his arms around the elf and embraced her, merging with the elf’s body. Feril shuddered. Her lips trembled as Ragh saw Obelia’s ghostly fingers reach deep into the elf’s heart.
“Be quick, Ragh! There is little, so very little left of me.”
Momentarily, Ragh felt the vines relax around him. He tugged at them until he was free.
“The scale,” Obelia whispered. “Get the scale.”
Not entirely certain what Obelia meant, Ragh rushed toward the skull totem and snatched up the scale Feril had used to shatter some of the magical baubles. He grabbed the scroll tube and pulled the stopper off with his teeth, then raced
back to the Kagonesti. He could see the wispy Obelia, inside Feril, gesturing.
“Break the magic of the scale,” Obelia whispered, his voice softer than ever.
“How? What do I…” Ragh’s eyes widened. He understood. The sivak cursed in an ancient language and quickly began to read from the scroll he had flattened on the grass. Obelia appeared over his shoulder, floating, and reading the same words along with him. Feril, Ragh saw at a glance, was in a kind of trance.
Ragh tried to bend Sable’s scale. He threw all his strength at it, straining his muscles from the effort. He was enveloped by incredible noise—Sable cursing through Feril’s lips, Sable howling in triumph during her battle with Dhamon, trees snapping, the air filled with dragon breath and beating wings.
Finally he heard a loud snap as the scale in his hands cracked. That was followed by a keening wail coming from Feril and from Sable across the lake.
Ragh looked up to see the Kagonesti fall to her knees, hands holding her stomach, her head pitched forward. Looking around, he couldn’t see Obelia.
“Feril?” Ragh sucked in air. “Obelia? Feril!”
Slowly she raised her head, tears streaming from her sweat-streaked face. Her breathing was ragged, her palms were red with her blood where she’d gouged herself. She struggled to stand as Ragh edged warily away.
Then he saw her familiar blue eyes, flecked with bits of gold and green; all the harshness and severity had left her face.
“Ragh… by Habbakuk’s grace… forgive me, I meant to kill you. I used the trees to trap. I couldn’t help myself, I…” She turned to stare across the lake.
Dhamon and Sable were high above the canopy, twisting in air, locked in a death embrace. The last of the sun’s rays caught scales from both of them, falling from the sky. Sable was raking Dhamon with her claws. He hung limply in her grasp.