The Dragons

by Doug Niles

  In one place, the frail figure who was the gold dragon scratched at the ground, clearing away muck to reveal a slab of white stone. Without visible effort, the elf’s body lifted the object back onto a pair of pedestals that stood nearby, restoring a once-elegant bench. Only when he saw the stubs of the rosebushes jutting upward from the soot, forming a perfect ring, did Darlantan realize that this had been the sheltered nook where he had been welcomed by Silvanos.

  For the first time, he wondered about that elven leader, and it was a startling thought: Where were all the elves? There were some bodies here, true, but not nearly enough to account for the city’s population. Had they escaped into what remained of the forests? Or had they been hauled into captivity, perhaps slavery, by the invaders?

  And that led to the natural consideration of who, or what, had done this, and here Darlantan had some specific ideas. He was tired of mourning, of probing through the wrack and ruin, and he decided that it was time to talk to Aurican. He found his brother, still in elven form, slumped over a splintered frame of wood entangled with slender wires. Aurican was weeping, tears streaking down the skin of his elven face. He looked up as the mighty silver dragon loomed over him, but his eyes remained distant and unfocused.

  “This was a harp, Dar … it could make music sweet enough to break your heart. And now it’s smashed … like this whole place, this whole people, smashed!” Auri collapsed, burying his face in his hands as his shoulders shook with the convulsive force of his sobbing.

  “Remember, my brother, you are a dragon!” Darlantan insisted forcefully, embarrassed by the wrenching display of emotion. “A mighty gold—patriarch of your clan!”

  “And where was I when this was happening!” cried Auri, turning his face to the sky. “Where?”

  “Stop it!”

  Darlantan reached forward with a great forepaw and swept his brother’s elven form off the ground. He lifted Auri into the air and shook him forcefully. “Who knows, or cares, where you were? You’re here now, and you’ve seen what happened! What are you going to do about it?”

  “Put me down.” Aurican’s voice was deadly calm, his face blank of emotion.

  Darlantan gingerly set the elven body back on the ground and immediately reared back as he was confronted by a bristling serpent of gold, wings stiff and flapping with menace, lip curled into a fanged sneer. Raising his silver neck in response, Dar met his brother’s furious glare, saw the hatred in the gold dragon’s eyes flare and then, slowly, focus.

  Aurican raised his taloned forepaws, revealing that he held several of his baubles, the gemstones he delighted in caressing, infusing them with the minor enchantments that were the limits of his sorcerous power. Now he took these stones, a bright diamond, crimson ruby, scintillating emerald, and smooth jade, and hurled them into the murk of the destruction. When he turned back to Darlantan, his reptilian face was blank of emotion.

  “Who has done this?” Auri asked intently, his voice a rumbling growl.

  “I have a guess that it was ogres,” Darlantan replied grimly. Burll and Smelt joined them, and he described the large war party that he had destroyed in the southern Khalkists.

  “And you think the target of their strike was the Elderwild?” asked Smelt.

  “They were on a march to approach the elven camp and fall upon them unawares.” Darlantan remembered the weapons bristling from the belts and fists of the mighty brutes and was more certain than ever that they had been plotting violence against the elves. With that memory came another fear: Had the wild elves suffered the same violence as the house elves of Silvanos? He pictured the serene wilderness with a shudder, wondering how much of it remained.

  “I suggest we fly north, toward the Smoking Mountains,” Blayze said, using their old nickname for the volcanic Khalkists. “We will find ogres there, and I am thinking that they will give us answers first, and then perhaps a measure of vengeance.”

  “Aye,” growled Smelt, with Burll and Darlantan nodding in grim agreement. All turned their eyes to Aurican, who looked once more across the swath of destruction, then lifted his eyes toward the northern horizon.

  “Let us fly, then,” he declared. With regal grace and grim purpose, he took to the air, rising in a powerful downdraft of wind. Golden wings shimmered, shifting with the force of his long strokes, as the mighty serpent pulled himself into the sky.

  The others followed, and it was a grim and silent quintet that winged over the wasted forestland. Darlantan flew at Aurican’s right wing, for it was the silver’s memory that guided them toward the realms of the ogres. Smelt, Blayze, and Burll trailed slightly to the rear, a little lower than the leading pair.

  Before nightfall, Burll spotted a deer and took the hapless creature in a sudden dive. The group shared the feast and then once more, without speaking, took wing into the darkness. They flew through the following dawn, and still they soared on. Everywhere the wrack of war, the litter of chaos and destruction, had spread through the woods. In some places, the devastation was limited to isolated outposts, but elsewhere it had reduced huge swaths of forestland or meadow into burned char.

  Darlantan lost track of the dawns and sunsets, the quickly killed deer or buffalo that sustained them in their steadfast flight. Gradually the ground rippled below them, the forests still claiming the surface of the land, yet yielding to the distinctive texture of hills. And then a range of mountains took shape before them, at first indistinguishable from dark cloud on the horizon, soon growing in definition and relief.

  The distant Khalkists were a mass of conical peaks, shrouded by their eternal wreath of smoky cloud. Closer, rising as a lone summit away from the great center of the range, stood a single peak. The pyramidal block of stone lofted above a realm of lakes and woods, and Darlantan remembered the Gathering of the Elderwild he had seen among those pristine waters.

  “It was on the other side of this mountain,” he told Aurican.

  “Then let us be ready to do battle,” the gold replied with a low growl.

  The red dragon appeared with shocking suddenness, a scarlet form that was, in an eyeblink of an instant, just there, hanging in the air, directly in Darlantan’s path. The silver started to twist as his flight took him past the crimson wyrm. He saw the jaws gape and tried to bellow a warning to Burll.

  But the first sound was the roar of an infernal furnace. Dar’s head came around in time to see the bronze dragon fly fully into the hellish blossom of the dragonfire. Burll cried out, his wail a piercing, cloud-shaking keen of impossible pain—and then the cruelly burned dragon twisted and shriveled before Darlantan’s horrified eyes. The once-powerful neck tucked and curled, metallic scales burned away to reveal charred and blackened flesh. The two wings of rippling membrane hissed away in an instant, leaving the horribly burned body looking even more unnatural as it tumbled from the dissipating ball of fire.

  Now Darlantan’s roar of warning was propelled by pure rage, echoed by the cries of Smelt and Blayze. Aurican, grimly silent, had already curled upward to reverse his course at the vicious red.

  And then there were blue dragons there, nearly a dozen of them appearing as shockingly as had the lone red. It’s magic—they’re using sorcery against us! A portion of Dar’s mind shouted the frightening realization even as his body reacted with pure violence.

  Jaws gaping, Darlantan blasted the nearest blue dragon, freezing the monster’s wings with the icy onslaught. Shrieking in fury and pain, the azure serpent twisted frantically before tumbling out of the sky. The silver body arrowed forward, crashing into the blue, and Dar bit down hard, snapping the hateful neck.

  By then a roaring wave of fire crackled through the air as Smelt blasted his incendiary breath at one of the blues, while his fellow attackers spit crackling spears of lightning. Fire and electricity roared together in convulsive explosions, pounding with sound, quickly dissipating into a lingering aura of smoke. The stench of killing and destruction spread even faster than the visible vapors of lingering dragonbreath.


  One of the blues shrieked and fell away, one wing burned off while the other flapped desperately, fruitlessly as the creature plunged to its doom. Even as it dwindled below, the echoes of its dying scream rose from the dusty ground to linger in the air.

  But at least three of the lethal lightning blasts had torn into the roaring brass dragon, stilling his valiant maneuvers. Metallic scales flaked into the air as Smelt jerked violently, fatally around. Killed immediately, burned to a blackened corpse, he fell out of the sky with shocking finality.

  Aurican swept into the melee with a bellowing cry of fury. His golden jaws spread wide as he spewed a massive fireball, a searing cloud of swirling flames that encompassed two of the blues. Oily fire licked across blue scales, scalding and burning. Both of the monstrous serpents screamed and writhed away. Fatally wounded, they struggled and wailed all the way to the ground far below.

  Darlantan drove forward, taking position on Aurican’s flank as the gold plunged after the diving, frantically twisting red. That murderous serpent, a monstrous female, crowed in an exultation of triumph as she banked sharply, driving toward a gap in the looming foothills.

  “Kill her!” rasped Aurican as Darlantan, wings scooping great beats out of the air, passed his golden brother, desperately straining for altitude and speed.

  The silver pressed onward, pulling to draw within range of their foe’s crimson tail. His belly seethed, ready with a blast of frost, and he intuitively knew that the frigid blast would be deadly to the fire-breathing red. Just a bit closer and she would be his, frozen from the skies by the lethal blast of his icy breath.

  But then the hateful serpent was gone—she simply vanished in the air as quickly as she had first appeared. Dar could only hope that she was still there, screened by some sort of invisibility magic. He strained forward, blasting the air with his lethal frost. A moment later he flew through the frigid wake of his own attack to find only empty space. The red had escaped.

  Or had she? A cry of alarm pulled the silver dragon around in time to see the savage crimson wyrm land full on the back of Blayze, who strained to keep up a short distance behind Aurican. Her lethal breath surrounded the copper dragon’s head as cruel claws ripped into Blayze’s shoulders and wings. He screamed, twisting desperately to pull free from the inferno, but his scales had been scalded away, his jaws barren of flesh in a blackened, fang-baring snarl.

  The red cast the dying copper away with a contemptuous gesture as another blue slashed in. Again lightning flickered in the cloudless sky, tearing into Blayze’s ribs, ripping flesh and scales away in a gory slash. Spiraling lazily, as if he were learning to fly all over again, Blayze whirled downward—but this time he never pulled out of the dive.

  Aurican and Darlantan flew at the blue dragon that had delivered the lethal blast. Darlantan’s fury nearly blinded him, but a small portion of his mind reminded him that they were outnumbered, that it was wise to be cautious. Both dragons of metal swept apart as if on an unspoken command, veering out of the blue’s path as a second bolt of lightning hissed through the air between them.

  Twisting back, Darlantan drew a deep breath, feeling the surging power of deadly frost fill his chest. His neck darted forward, pointing his head straight at the azure serpent. Argent jaws gaped as the explosion of dragonbreath wracked Darlantan’s body, spuming forward to engulf one side of the Dark Queen’s mighty wyrm.

  The combined blasts of gold dragonfire and silver dragon ice pinned the blue in a fatal vise, burning away one wing as the other froze, then snapped into a thousand shards when the shrieking serpent tried to flex the once-powerful limb. The cry took on a piteous keen as the wyrm tumbled away, writhing in pain through the long fall to the ground.

  “Flee!” Aurican gasped.

  Darlantan was about to whirl around, to seek the red dragon with the last ounce of his vengeful determination. He whipped his head back, seeking some sign of the threat that had brought forth Auri’s desperate command. He saw many targets, great serpents of new colors, black and white and green, sweeping through the sky.

  Snarling, Darlantan realized they had no choice. Sweeping into a shallow dive behind Aurican, he cast another glance backward and watched the chromatic shapes dwindle in the distance.

  Yet even when they had disappeared from view, he looked around anxiously, wondering where these new and deadly enemies had gone—and when they would be back.

  Chapter 10

  Hope and Fear

  3489 PC

  The treetops of the eastern forest grazed his belly as Darlantan strained for speed, driving his wings with all the power in his mighty shoulders. Beside him, Aurican rushed through the air in a blur of pulsing wings and sparkling metallic scales. The chromatic dragons had been left far behind, though the lingering images and smells and hurts of battle—and the knowledge of their tragic, horrifying defeat—jangled resoundingly in a chorus of grief and shock within Darlantan’s memory.

  “We can’t go to the grotto. We don’t dare,” Aurican said, his voice startlingly calm, in contrast to the cacophony of emotions storming through Darlantan’s mind.

  “Why?” demanded the silver, until another moment’s thought made clear the danger—to the females, and, more importantly, to their eggs. “Where, then?”

  “Let’s find a place to talk. Remember, I’m not one who can fly all night,” replied Aurican.

  “Our meeting bluff is nearby,” Dar remembered, recalling a promontory where he and Auri had held several councils with the elves.

  The pair of dragons glided silently toward the sunset, looking for the knoll. Everywhere tall pines covered the ground, and though it was a relief to see an area where the terrain had not been scorched, Darlantan was so tired he would have welcomed a swath of devastation just for the chance to land and rest his wings. His side ached where blue dragon lightning had seared the scales from his flesh and cruel claws had torn into his flank. The deep gouges burned with an agony that threatened to drag him down, to fold him into a ball of suffering that would plunge, unlamented, into the tangled foliage below.

  Never had he been hurt like this before! Through all the hunting that had marked his life, he had never considered the possibility that, somehow, serious injury could be inflicted upon him, the mighty Darlantan! His memory of the battle was still wrapped in a numbing cloud of disbelief. Perhaps this detachment was a blessing—at least he was able to continue the fast, desperate flight.

  But the numbness did not extend to thoughts of his brothers, his ancient nestmates. Darlantan moaned aloud as his mind turned to the speedy Smelt’s last moments, or the horrible barrage of flame that had knocked powerful Burll from the sky. His jaws curled into a snarl, claws clenching unconsciously as he pictured the crimson dragon of the Dark Queen slaying Blayze from behind. With an unconscious growl, he imagined the killing he would work against them … someday.

  “Magic … dragons of evil and magic,” mused Aurican. His golden wings stroked easily and gracefully, showing no sign of fatigue as the flight extended through the long hours of the night. “How did these things come to Krynn?”

  “Perhaps the dragons have always been here, but they were hiding,” growled Darlantan. “Waiting for the chance to attack.”

  “I don’t think so. We have flown this world for thousands of winters. I cannot believe they could have escaped our notice for so long. And remember, it was only their use of spell magic that gave them their first advantage. I think the magic and the chromatic dragons came to Krynn together.”

  “A plague on together!” spat Dar. “Unless you know a way that we could steal the magic and kill the wyrms!”

  “No … not yet. We must think, plan.”

  “A plague on plans as well!” barked Darlantan. “I say we should turn around and attack, take them by surprise.”

  “I share your desire for vengeance, Cousin. But we cannot win this fight alone. It is time that we counseled with others.”

  “Who?” demanded the silver dragon, but as h
e spoke he knew: the elves, of course. “We fly to the council knoll, do we not?”

  Aurican nodded, straining visibly to lift his head again. Dar’s own wounds pained him, and he knew the long flight was taking its toll upon his kin-dragon.

  “But how did they get the magic?”

  “It could only have come from a god or gods,” Aurican declared. “The Dark Queen herself must have blessed them with sorcery in some distant place, then released them to carry that power to Krynn!”

  “And another plague on how they did it!” snarled Darlantan, his fury at last pulling Aurican’s golden head around. The silver dragon’s pain had faded into the background of his awareness, replaced by a grim fire, an emotion more chilling than any he had ever felt.

  He was learning to hate, he knew.

  “Beware!” The sound was like the keening cry of an eagle, but Darlantan recognized the word spoken in the language of the griffons. Immediately he banked, and Aurican followed in a lazy spiral over the forest.

  “Up there,” the gold dragon said, and his silver cousin angled his head, observing the winged creature diving toward them.

  “A scion of Ravenclaw,” Darlantan said as the griffon slowed with a rearing gesture. The massive feathered wings bore the creature easily between the two mighty serpents. “Have a care, my friend. There are new dangers in the skies.”

  “This I know, and I have come in turn to warn you. There are two dragons, deep black in color, who have claimed the meeting knoll. They disturbed one of my young a short time ago, when they landed there.”

  The pillar of cliff-draped rock was already in view, thrusting upward from the surrounding forest.

  “We will kill them!” Dar pledged, his belly tightening at the prospects of revenge.

  “But first you must find them, and that is why I warn you. After they landed, they changed … disappeared so that they cannot be seen. But still my nestling could smell them. He knew they were there.”