As they grappled on the soft rim of the mound, Linsha felt something shift. The earth, gravel, and sand that comprised the nest had been piled quickly and had not been packed into place. Abruptly the dirt gave way underneath them, and Linsha tumbled down the slope in a small avalanche of dirt and gravel. Lanther fell beside her, dropping the dagger in his fall. A cloud of dust rose and danced in the band of sunlight that shone on the eggs.
Choked on dust, Linsha coughed and tried pick herself up. Too late. Lanther slammed her down against the slope of the mound and pinned her with his knee. His hand clamped down on her throat. His mouth twisted into a sneer, he reached over and picked up the dirty, damp corpse of the baby dragon.
“My goddess has returned,” he hissed, spitting blood out of his mouth. “Through her and through the magic of the dragons comes my power.” He laughed then, and his blue face became hideous with hate and spite. “I loved you once and hoped to enjoy your body and your mind. But since you have chosen to fight me, I will settle for your body. You do not need a mind to be a womb for my son.”
His words brought terror to Linsha’s thoughts. He would destroy her soul, leave her with nothing but an empty head and a dead heart. She tried to push herself deeper into the mound to loosen his grip on her throat; she tried to squirm free of his weight on her chest. Nothing she tried freed her of his hold. Her eyes stretched wide with fear. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest.
His eyes closed, he muttered a string of incomprehensible words and spun a spell to leech the latent magic from the body of the dead dragonlet and the dragon scales of the cuirass he wore. Dark magic filled him and flared around him like sheet lightning. He lifted his hand from her throat and gripped her forehead.
The pain lashed into her soul.
Far to the north in the city of Sanction, another battle raged. Gold and silver dragons, Knights of Solamnia, elves, and men fought the forces of the Dark Queen Takhisis for the city Crucible had rebuilt. While men and elves died in the skies and at the walls of the city, the goddess herself arrived in a storm of black clouds to descend in a chariot drawn by five dragons. She stepped from her chariot into the sands of a killing arena and surveyed the captive audience that awaited her pleasure. They would witness her entrance into the mortal world, and they would grovel before her.
One woman waited for her on the dismal sand. A young woman-a girl really-with short red hair, amber eyes, and the power to lead an army. This girl had given everything to her Queen and now she waited, her head bowed, her soul willing to make the sacrifice of life itself for her One God.
Takhisis stretched out her hand to take the girl’s offering.
She met resistance. Before her eyes her power failed, and her forces retreated in dismay.
She, who had dared to steal a world and hold in it thrall, realized her plans were collapsing around her.
The other immortals had found her at last, had found the world she had hidden from them.
The gods had returned.
* * * * *
Clear and bright as sunlight on morning dew, a warbling song pierced through the darkness of the tunnel. It sprang into the cavern and echoed off the walls like the first bird songs of spring. There were words in the joyful melody that stripped away the black fog of Linsha’s mind and spread through her thoughts with dawning comprehension.
Varia burst into the cave crying at the top of her impressive voice. “The gods! They have returned!” She swirled and dipped overhead, singing in delight.
Linsha felt Lanther falter. His magic, once so powerful and overwhelming, seemed to drain from her mind. The pain faded to a throbbing ache.
Lanther shook his head. “No! Takhisis, hear me!”
He got no answer. Linsha had spoken many times of the gods. She had used their names, listened to her parents’ stories, and talked to Solamnic clerics who refused to give up their belief in the deities. But not once had she ever truly beseeched a god for help… until she felt the magic of the Akkad-Dar fail and sensed with unutterable certainty that the gods of her people had finally returned to their world.
Kiri-Jolith! she implored to the god most beloved of the Solamnic Knights. Help me!
For the first time in her life, her prayer was answered. Love, hot and sweet, filled her muscles and bones; reassurance surged through her mind. She rose out of the soft earth, knocking Lanther off her chest. He reached for her throat, but she slammed his hands aside and grabbed a fistful of his dragonscale cuirass.
He had sought to use the magic power of the dragon scales for his own evil, but the scales were brass. Brass dragons were metallic-dragons of good, dragons of the light. Their power could not be corrupted for long.
This time a Majere sought the magic of the scales, and there was nothing to stop her. Her own inherent talent and empathy for dragons drew the magic into her mind, increased it five times over, and bent it to her will. She sent it lashing back into the Akkad-Dar, reinforced by all the pent-up grief and anger he had caused.
The magic exploded within him. His hands clamped on his head, and his face contorted with his inner agony. He screamed until his voice broke. He toppled backwards, pulling the cuirass out of Linsha’s hand. His body convulsed a few times and then he lay softly moaning, his eyes staring vacantly at the stone ceiling.
The power faded from Linsha’s control, leaving her both weak and exhilarated. Shaking, she stepped around the mound to fetch the sword she had left. Lanther appeared to be in a stupor, but unconscious or not, she was going to finish what she should have done in the garden house at the imperial palace. Lanther would not live to see another day.
“Linsha!” Varia called. “Come up here! Something is not right!” The owl fluttered above the mound, looking down at the eggs.
All thoughts of Lanther and the sword vanished. Linsha climbed up the soft side of the mound and saw with alarm that the eggs were rocking back and forth.
“Oh, no,” she breathed. “I don’t know anything about hatching dragons!”
“Don’t they just do it themselves?” Varia asked, dropping down to her shoulder.
Linsha swallowed hard. The depth of her lack of knowledge about baby dragons hit her like a punch to the abdomen. She didn’t know what to do to help them.
“Most of the time,” she said. “I… I think. But these have been…altered. They are hatching too soon, and these eggs are different! Those shells are soft, but they’re tough. They won’t crack. Maybe the membranes are too thick. If the dragonlets can’t get out of their shells…”
She couldn’t finish the words. She climbed down into the nest with the eggs and gently put a hand over one. A silent, frantic plea for help radiated from the egg into her head. She stretched out her hands over all the eggs and felt the same desperation from each one.
“They’re in trouble!” she cried. “What do I do?”
“Stay with them. I think they will sense your presence. I will go find Danian.”
Varia hooted and swooped out of the cavern.
The assurance that the tribal shaman was close by and could come to help steadied Linsha’s panicky thoughts. Danian had nursed Crucible back to health. He could find a way to help these babies. She thought of Kiri-Jolith again, and after saying a heartfelt prayer of thanks, she added one more plea for the health of the babies and the life of the bronze dragon who had given so much for her.
“Hold on, Crucible,” she whispered.
“Linsha!”
She was startled to hear a familiar voice call down the tunnel. Hooves pounded on the stone floor, and to her great relief and delight, Varia flew into the cave followed by a centaur she knew very well. Leonidas. The young buckskin trotted into the cavern carrying two men on his back-one an older tribesman with milky blind eyes and the other a young fair-skinned Outlander with red hair. They both slid off the centaur and hurried up the mound.
“Leonidas, remind me to tell you later how glad I am to see you,” Linsha called down before she greeted the two newcomers.
Swiftly she told them about the eggs and the Tarmaks’ insidious experiments.
Danian knelt in the sand beside Linsha and laid his hands on an egg. His sightless eyes stared thoughtfully into the distance. “These babies are in distress,” he said. “They must be released from their eggs.”
“I know,” Linsha replied impatiently. “What can we do?”
“First, you must comfort them.”
Linsha looked at all eight eggs and said, “What?”
He took her hand and laid it on the leathery shell of a twitching egg. “You must be mother to them. Comfort them. Tell them you will help them, but they must not fight the shell. When they are relaxed, we can try to slice the eggs open without hurting them.” He seemed to sense her confusion and dismay, for he turned his blind eyes to her and nodded. “You can do this. I have seen a great power in you. I did not understand it at first, until I spent some time with Crucible.”
She tried to force out a deprecating chuckle, but it just sounded like a gagging noise. “I may be a Majere, but the talent for magic went to my brother. Not to me.”
Danian shook his head. “You are wrong. Your magic is simply different. You have an empathy for dragons, and they sense it and respond. Use that for these babies.”
An empathy for dragons? She had suspected it. Afec told her as much. Was such a thing possible? She knew she liked and respected the native metallic dragons. Could it be that her appreciation for them was based on something innate within her mind and blood?
Her eyes sought Varia, one of the wisest creatures she knew, and looked questioningly into the owl’s steady gaze. Varia tilted her head slightly. One brown eye slowly winked.
“Leonidas,” Linsha said slowly. “Will you please go to Crucible? Tell him the eggs are hatching. Stay with him. I will be there as soon as I can.”
The centaur agreed and trotted through the exit.
Linsha drew in a deep breath. In spite of the return of her magic, she felt exhausted. “I don’t know if I can sustain this long enough to reach all eight eggs.”
“I don’t think you will have as much trouble,” Danian said. “The souls of the dead have been freed. They are no longer under Takhisis’s control.”
Linsha paused. She hadn’t thought of that. For a surprised moment, a stream of familiar faces passed through her memory-Sir Morrec, the knights, Sir Remmik, Mariana, Iyesta, Ian, and a host of others who died and whose souls had been trapped in the living world. She hoped Danian was right and they were free to go-not only for their sakes but for the state of magic. How wonderful it would be to create a spell and have it complete its task without being ripped apart by the souls of the dead.
Kneeling among the eggs, Linsha spread her arms to include them all. She closed her eyes to concentrate better and began the withdrawal into her self to find the power she needed. When all was quiet in her mind, she focused on the beat of her own heart wherein lay the power of her birthright.
Be a mother, Danian had said. But she had been a knight all of her adult life. She didn’t know how to be a mother.
Yes, you do, whispered a part of her instincts, the instincts she had hitherto ignored. Think of your own mother.
Remember compassion. Strength. Love. Sacrifice. The willingness to do anything to protect your child.
She felt the magic energy burst like a spark from a flint. She nursed it carefully on the tinder of her will and felt it flare like never before. She had used the power of the dragon scales to stun Lanther, but this was different. This was her own magic, drawn from her love, from her blood, and it ignited in her heart, burned in her spirit, and set her mind on fire.
Children. She transferred her thoughts to the small lives within the eggs. Do not fear. lam with you.
Eight living minds responded to her touch with such a clamor of fear and confusion that she gasped and clutched her head in her hands. They were so desperate! She felt their need tear at her. It was easy to talk to one dragon like this, but eight was more than she could bear. The connection with their minds began to slip away.
“Hold on to them!” Danian reassured her. “They will listen to you.”
From the oldest memories Linsha had of her mother, she summoned feelings of comfort, caring, and assurance. Warmth suffused her from the ends of her hair to her toes, giving her strength and confidence. She stretched out her arms again and gathered the eight frantic streams of emotion to her.
“It’s all right,” she whispered, and she sensed her magic spread out from her heart to her hands. It enveloped the eggs and settled like a gentle touch over each one. Lie still, little ones, she crooned in their minds. Lie still and we will help you.
The frightened struggles slowly eased within the eggs. An aura of nervousness and tension still surrounded them, but Linsha eased their fears with soothing thoughts. They reached out to her and felt her confidence in them and her love.
Danian pulled a small knife from his healer’s kit and handed it to Tancred. “Carefully, lad, make a small slit in one of the eggs and see what is there.”
His redheaded apprentice obeyed, gently making a cut through the tough, leathery egg shell. “The membrane is really thick,” he murmured as he made another slice with the knife.
“You may have to pull them apart,” Danian suggested.
Ever so carefully, Tancred grasped the edges of the slice he had made in the egg and pulled it apart, dumping the wet, struggling dragonlet into Linsha’s lap. She did not move as the creature keened and tried to flap its crinkled wings.
“Do the rest,” she hissed. “Hurry!”
Firmly gripped in the center of her magic, Linsha did not hear Varia’s furious shriek or see her dive at something behind her. Her attention remained fixed until Tancred looked up and yelled, “Lady! Behind you!”
She dragged her thoughts away from the eggs and turned her head just as Danian’s body slammed into her back and shoulders. She heard the crunch of steel against bone.
Tancred screamed in grief and rage. Varia shrieked like a striking eagle.
Out of the corner of her eye, Linsha caught a glimpse of Lanther, blood streaming down his face, his expression twisted into a feral grimace of hate. Behind her, Danian lay limp against her body, his weight pressing into her back. The dragonlet in her lap hissed and struggled in her arms as Tancred scrambled over the sand after the Akkad-Dar.
In the sudden crush of distractions happening around her, Linsha felt her link with the baby dragons begin to fade. Frantically she shut her mind to everything but the eggs for fear that if she lost the connection now, the dragonlets would panic and die in their shells before someone could help them. She heard, as if from a distant place, the struggle happening behind her between Tancred and Lanther and Varia, but she could not help them yet. She had to get the babies out of their eggs. She gathered the magic from her heart in one last desperate surge and poured it into the minds of the remaining seven.
Be strong, children. It is time!
She moved quickly. Using the utmost care she broke open the eggs and helped the awkward creatures out. In a matter of moments, Linsha found herself surrounded by keening, wet baby brasses, each about three feet long from head to tail. Her magic spell ended, leaving her drained, but the dragonlets’ joy filled her mind until she flung out her hands and burst into laughter. Their little lungs filled with their first breaths, and the warm air of the cave and the residue of Linsha’s magic lent them a sudden, fierce strength.
“Linsha!” Varia screeched.
Her head whipped around and she saw Lanther had pinned Tancred to the sand. The Akkad-Dar’s eyes were wild with madness, and in his hand was the dagger he had used to kill Danian. Hatred, thick and dark as tar, filled her mind, and she struggled to climb out of the pile of dragonlets.
But the baby dragons lifted their heads and hissed. Their small eyes gleamed with sudden fire, and their untried muscles bunched under their scales. In one unified movement, they leaped out of the remains of their eggs and pounced on Lan
ther.
Lanther screamed a Tarmak warcry. He stood, the newborn dragons swarming him, twisting their tails round his limbs, clawing, biting, rending, tearing…
Screaming in rage, Lanther tumbled backward over the side of the mound. Once more he shouted in fury, but it broke in his throat, and his cries turned to panic and agony. Linsha could not see him, but she heard his shrieks, each more desperate and frantic than the last, and in between she heard tiny claws shredding skin and flesh, small jaws biting.
Linsha closed her eyes. She made no move to stop the little dragons. Surely they were hungry, and after all that Lanther had done to their siblings, they deserved their revenge. She paid no attention to the scream cut short or the sounds of eight tiny mouths feeding that came from the base of the nest.
She stared down at the body of Danian, lying in a muddy puddle formed by his own blood. His chest did not move, and all light had gone from his eyes. She prayed to the gods to watch over the old man’s soul.
Tancred crawled over and cradled the healer’s head in his hands. Tears streamed down his face. He stared at Linsha with frightened eyes. His hands were stained with blood from a slash on his arm and the mortal wound on Danian’s back.
“I don’t know what to do without him,” he said hoarsely.
“Yes, you do. In here-” Linsha tapped his forehead-“and here-” she tapped his heart. “The magic has returned, Tancred. Use it.”
They heard a soft flap of wings and Danian’s kestrel sailed into the cave, circled once, and dropped gently to the sand beside the dead man. The bird cried a question.
Varia crooned softly, her voice aching with sadness.
The small raptor tilted his head, his bright eyes as sharp as obsidian chips, then he stepped gently up Danian’s arm and perched on the man’s shoulder. He chirped a brief message to Varia.
Return of the Exile l-3 Page 26