seemed like a very long time ago, a part of a life he would soon be leaving behind.
Kharendaen led the way, since she was the only member of their party who had been to this place before. Of course, both Thelvyn and Sir George had been here once as well, but they had approached by the trails from the south, while only Kharendaen knew the way on the wing. She selected the place where they would wait, descending into the evening shadows deep within the valley, gliding low over the towering trees until she found a meadow beside a swift mountain stream. When Thelvyn landed beside her, he glanced back over his shoulder to see that there was a clear view of the Citadel. Now he knew why she had chosen this place.
Marthaen circled around to land closer to the woods, while Jherdar came down near the edge of the stream. Sir George quickly dropped down from the saddle worn by the red dragon. The old knight immediately turned to stare up at the Citadel of the Ancients, over a mile distant.
"I never thought I'd be coming back to this place," he said. "At least not so soon. Perrantin will burst with jealousy when he learns that he missed this trip. My word, it seems like only yesterday."
Thelvyn glanced at the old knight, smiling fondly. Apparently they had very different views regarding the passage of time in the last few years. His life had changed tremendously in those six years. Sir George was still very much his old self, although somewhat wealthier for his troubles and with his left hand restored, a gift from the Great One. He had had the adventure of his life and more than enough dragons to satisfy him.
"I suppose that we should hunt up something to eat before it gets completely dark," Marthaen remarked, looking around at the rapidly darkening sky. "Jherdar, we should be able to catch a couple of elk in, say, an hour or so."
"Yes, an hour sounds sufficient," the red dragon agreed. "Back in your saddle, worthy knight."
Sir George looked confused. "You don't need me to hunt."
"We need your company more than they do," Jherdar told him as discreedy as possible.
Sir George finally got the hint. He climbed back into the saddle as jherdar lowered himself to the ground. Then the two older dragons leapt into the sky, following the valley southward before they began to rise and move away to the west. With the deep forests of the Sylvan realm only a few miles to the southwest, between the mountains and the coast, they would be able to find good hunting as well as keep themselves away for the promised time. Thelvyn and Kharendaen both had been trying very hard to hide their amusement, but now they sat back and smiled.
"I didn't know your brother was so considerate in such matters," Thelvyn said as he lowered himself slowly to lie down in the soft grass. The long journey from the east had left him weary and in considerable pain, and he had never quite recovered from his fight with the gemstone dragons the evening before.
"Marthaen is finally beginning to recognize that some things are inevitable," Kharendaen said, moving slowly to lie down close beside him. "Although it seems a little late now."
Thelvyn stared at the ground. "Everyone, including myself, lias been assuming that this is a time for farewells. But that seems a little premature. There would be no point in my undertaking this quest if I weren't going to return to fight the Overlord."
"But you cannot stay with me," she complained.
"I cannot stay," he said, "but there might be some other place where we can be together. I don't know where, but there seem to be many possibilities. You loved the person I used to he, before I assumed the shape of a dragon. Will you love whatever person I become?"
Kharendaen did not answer in words. Instead, she rubbed her cheek gently along the side of his neck. "I do not know what is going to happen, but I cannot help but be very anxious all this is over with and we have discovered just what our futures hold. Perhaps we were fools to love so much when we have always known our futures were so uncertain."
"Do you have any regrets?" Thelvyn asked.
"I have no regrets," she said. "But now that the moment is at hand, I find that I do not want our time together to end."
Thelvyn shook his head slowly. "I never expected this parting to be an easy one. Even having these last few weeks to prepare myself has not made it any easier."
She looked at him. "You knew that this was going to happen?"
"I suspected it," he admitted. "Ever since the night when we spoke with the Great One at Silvermist. I realized then that there was only one reason why an Immortal should take such trouble to have a child."
"I should have guessed," Kharendaen said, sitting up on her haunches. "Are you going to take your harness and weapons when you go?"
"I don't think so," he answered uncertainly.
Responding to her gentle prompting, he rolled over on his side so that she could release the buckles of his harness. Then he sat up for a moment so she could pull away the heavy leather straps, tossing the harness and the massive sword to one side. After that, she carefully removed the Collar of the Dragons from his neck and laid it aside, returning to press herself closely against his breast. For a time, he sat upright so that he could hold her against him in his arms, and the two dragons gently rubbed their cheeks and muzzles together.
"How is your back?" Kharendaen asked as they lay very close against one another.
"Not too bad," he admitted. "In fact, it might even help to give it some exercise."
For their last hour together, they were able to forget their concerns as they made love in the fading light of evening. They were still lying together, stroking each other's necks, when their companions finally returned. Day had long since given way to a cool, star-filled night. Marthaen and Jherdar circled discreetly for a time, waiting until they were seen before landing. Each carried the carcass of an elk, already dressed out and ready to be cooked. Jherdar collected firewood from the forest while Sir George hurried to prepare a fire, and in a short time, dinner was cooking.
Thelvyn thought that they should hurry, since he had no idea how long it would be before he was called. He had already put on the Collar of the Dragons once more, waiting patiently while Kharendaen fastened it about his neck. In the absence of other instructions on the matter, he had decided he should wear the collar. It had been made for the Dragonking, and as such, it seemed to be tied to his fate. He also considered again whether or not he should wear his harness and weapons, electing to leave them behind with Kharendaen.
Before they knew it, the meat was cooked, but no one had much appetite. It might be only minutes before Thelvyn was summoned. Kharendaen was bearing the wait with the calm patience of a cleric, but Marthaen couldn't hide his unrest. Sir George was also obviously quite worried, although he had always felt he was something of a father to Thelvyn, and he tried to seem good-natured and unconcerned. Curiously, Jherdar was having the hardest time of all. He was both sad and also rather sullen that the Dragonking was having to make some sacrifice that he did not entirely understand.
"I am reminded of a story told to me by my friend Alendhae, a sorcerer among the Eldar," Marthaen said as they sat staring into the fire. "The Eldar once believed in a concept they called the Burden of Time. On the first day after the world was created, the elemental Immortals brought into being the Eldar, the first and oldest of all the races, who were granted the power to remember, to measure, and to mark the passage of time; They believed that time began only when there was someone in the world who was aware of its passage, and that time would end when no one was left to mark its passage. Of course, Alendhae thought the story only proved the egocentricity of his ancestors."
"That somehow sounds like a very draconic concept," Sir George remarked.
"Remember, they were also our ancestors."
Jherdar sighed loudly, almost a low growl. "Do you know what is going to happen?"
Thelvyn shook his head. "I know nothing of what to expect. Those who have taken this path before me have not said much about what they saw. Cheer up. A few weeks ago, you would have done anything to be rid of me."
"It's not so
mething to laugh about," the red dragon complained, looking off into the night. "You turned out to be a better king than I expected you would. I don't want you to do this, but I love you all the more because you are willing to do it to protect our people. You've never lost your capacity for surprising me."
Thelvyn glanced away. "I should have come alone. This wait is a torment to us all."
"Perhaps it is," Sir George agreed, "but I would still rather be right here with you."
The others paused, suddenly aware that Thelvyn and Kharendaen had both lifted their heads and were staring across the fire into the night. Turning quickly, they saw the image of the Great One standing at the edge of the woods behind them, just as he had appeared to them in the mountains far to the east the night before. Marthaen and Jherdar both rose and moved quickly to the other side of the fire, standing almost behind the Dragonking. Sir George retreated as well, nearly hiding behind Kharendaen.
"I am ready," Thelvyn said, trying to sound brave.
"The time is at hand," the Great One told him. "Now you must go alone into the Citadel of the Ancients, where you will surrender the armor of the Dragonlord. Tonight your time of service as the second Dragonlord will come to an end. Wait there. When all is ready, I will come for you."
"I understand."
"Dismiss your companions to return to the east, where the other dragons need them," the Great One continued. "You will join them soon."
Thelvyn bowed his head, and the Great One was gone when he looked up again. He sat again for a moment, feeling very uncertain now that the moment had come. Then he saw that Kharendaen was watching him, and he leaned forward quickly to rub his cheek against hers. The best parting, he thought, would be a quick one, sparing no time for painful farewells.
"I will be back as soon as I can," he assured them. "Keep the dragons out of danger until I return."
"Remember me," Kharendaen called after him as he moved farther out into the clearing.
Thelvyn looked back at her, surprised by her words. "How could I ever forget you?"
Spreading his wings, he crouched low and then sprang upward, launching himself into the air. He circled once to gather speed, then climbed quickly toward the dark form of the Citadel of the Ancients standing on the side of the peak high above. The others watched him for as long as they could, but after a few moments, he disappeared into night.
Kharendaen lowered her head, looking alone and frightened as she stared at the ground. After a moment, Marthaen moved close to her side and placed his arms around her shoulders, holding her tight. Sir George sighed softly and put his hands in his pockets as he walked away to gather his things for travel. Jherdar pulled what was left of their dinner from the spits and the meat to the edge of the woods for the wild animals. Then he sat down and turned his long neck to stare up at the ancient fortress on the mountainside, as if hoping for a last glimpse of the Dragonking. All the world was silent, waiting. Brooding.
"What a night," he sighed sadly. "I feel almost as if the world is waiting for one of the ancient gods to die, and nothing will ever be the same."
"The world waits for a new god to be born," Marthaen corrected him. "If we did not fear for our friend, this would be a time of hope and joy."
*****
Thelvyn landed just below the steps of the citadel, surprised to see that the double doors were opening slowly at his approach. The doorway was small for a dragon, and he had to crouch and crawl through almost on his belly. A soft light came from portions of the smooth, blue-gray stone, just enough so his sharp eyes could see the inside of the citadel clearly. He paused for a moment, looking up through the eight-sided central chamber, where ring after ring of narrow balconies rose into the darkness far above. The inner wall of each level had heavy wooden doors leading into plain, win-dowless cells like strong rooms. These chambers once held many of the greatest treasures of ancient Blackmoor.
For a moment, he paused to recall his first visit to this place. He was rather surprised to notice how familiar this place seemed to him, even after all that had happened to him in the last six years. But his errand this night would not lead him into the levels above. He moved out onto the floor of the central chamber, which was sunken slightly, like a shallow pit surrounded by many steps. Once again he paused in the center of the chamber, this time sitting back on his haunches so that he could remove the Collar of the Dragons and carefully lay it aside for a brief time while he completed his first task.
Once the collar was removed, he shifted to his Eldar form and teleported himself into the armor of the Dragonlord, feeling the protective embrace of its deceptively light weight for the last time. No longer used to two legs, he crossed the floor awkwardly to a short passageway in the back wall of the main chamber. The inner door of ancient wood opened easily at his touch, leading him into a larger version of the cells or storerooms in the rest of the fortress. The remains of ancient tapestries and other furnishings lay in dusty fragments on the floor.
In the center of the chamber was the place where the armor of the Dragonlord had waited through the centuries, or at least the shell of that place. All that remained was a circular stone rail, like those that might encircle a fountain or pool, with a matching circle of stone on the ceiling, once the frame of the pillar of protective crystal that had encased the armor. In the center of the circle stood the empty frame that had supported the armor itself.
Now that the moment had come, he found himself strangely reluctant to part with the armor. He had not actually physically removed the armor in the six years since he had become the Dragonlord. Each time he had needed to remove it, he had simply teleported it by will into its unknown place of waiting until he had need of it again. The armor had always been a source of tremendous security to him, never failing him even during some very difficult tests of its powers, saving him again and again. One of the first things he had to learn when he became a dragon was having to deal with being vulnerable once again, dependent upon his own strength and magic.
But he dared not delay too long, knowing that he was expected. He removed the armor piece by piece, laying it out on the floor until he had removed it all. Then he fastened all the pieces back together on the stand in the center of the stone ring. Finally he removed the old clothes that he had worn beneath the armor, folding them carefully and laying them on the floor just below the stand. When all was ready, he stepped out of the stone circle and turned back to face it, willing it to seal itself again. The air within the circle shimmered with a pale silver light, and the pillar of crystal returned, encasing the armor once more until some distant day when a third Dragonlord might be called to serve.
At last he left the inner cell, closing the door behind him. When he was back in the open central chamber, he returned to his dragon form. As he was fastening the Collar of the Dragons around his neck, the fact that he was no longer the Dragonlord was finally beginning to seem very real to him. Parting with his former life was sadder than he had expected. He had done many good deeds during his time as the Dragonlord. For the first time in a life of great uncertainty, he had finally found some cause to feel proud.
Once the collar was fastened, he lowered himself slowly to lay his full length on the cool stone floor while he waited. He was glad to rest; die pain in his back had followed him even during the brief time that he had changed form, although he had no idea why that should have been. The relentless pain of the last few days was almost enough to make him satisfied to be leaving his former life behind. He was still very young for a dragon, but in the last few days, he had begun to feel old and weary. He knew that, given time, a dragon would recover completely even from terrible wounds, an aspect of their dual nature as creatures both magic and mortal. Nevertheless, he realized he had given too much of himself lately; there would be no going back to the boundless joy and energy of youth.
Had he succeeded? Had he performed his duty completely enough to feel that he had done well? He hoped that he had. Certainly he had been a hero worthy of bei
ng called the Dragonlord, not only in his deeds but also in the spirit of his duty, knowing the joy of giving to others without concern of honor or reward. He had been a king of men, and a king among dragons. And the dragons that had once feared and cursed him had come to respect and even to love him. And of all the events of his life, that was the one thing he cherished most, that the dragons seemed to be the better for his example.
If anything was lacking at that time, it was Kharendaen. She had been with him from the moment he had first become the Dragonlord, the moment he had begun to fulfill his destiny. And she had been at his side constandy since he had become a dragon, absolute and uncomplaining in her devotion to him, quick and capable in her service. She had become so much a part of his duty that it had been almost as if they were two equal parts of the same destiny. Because he had no choice in his service to the dragons, he had come to overlook the fact that all she had done and all she had suffered had been by her own choice, out of her love and devotion to her people, to the Great One, and to himself.
"There is a time for duty, and a time for reward."
Thelvyn looked up and saw that the Great One stood before him. "Father?"
The Great One looked surprised and troubled. "I cannot expect you to acknowledge something that exists only as a matter of convenience to serve a greater end."
"I have not been unaware of your concern and regret about what you have had to ask of me," Thelvyn said as he rose. "And I think I am not wrong in suspecting there may have been love behind that concern."
"And more pride than you may ever know," The Great One agreed.
Thelvyn placed one claw to his breast and bowed his head. "I have come, and I have done as you asked. As I understand such matters, I must now present myself for the final test."
"It seems that you do indeed understand," the Great One said. "You understand that you were prepared by the events of your life, even by the circumstances of your conception, to become the second dragon Immortal. What you may not understand is that there are four common paths to becoming an Immortal. The one element they share is that each requires a lifetime of absolute devotion and unflagging effort. But there is also a Hidden Path, open only to dragons and other creatures of strong magic, by which one is chosen by the Immortals who sponsor him because of his special qualities of worthiness.
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