The Dragons

Chapter 33

1028 PC

Lectral took to the air, propelled by a sense of profound rage, driving relentlessly through the skies, leaving the High Kharolis behind. Borne by his fury, silver wings carried him over the broad Vingaard plains. He tried not to think about Heart and her knight, but his mind was aflame with the memory of her last words to him.

Love-and for a human? How could she even imagine such a thing? It was an abomination, a blasphemy of the darkest kind! If there was indeed such as concept as love, it belonged to the two-legs-lesser creatures who lacked the majesty of flight, of thousand-year life spans, of inherent magic and devastating breath-weapons!

Powerful wing strokes devoured the miles as Lectral passed the forested foothills and moved to the fringe of the dusty plain, flying over realms he hadn’t seen in many years. Eventually he perceived the great darkness in the north and knew that this was the present area of contention of the Dark Queen’s war.

Drawing closer now, he soared above vast legions, a dark tide overrunning the plain all the way to the Khalkists. Dragons of evil wheeled and spiraled amid the clouds, and Lectral masked himself in invisibility. Even in his nearly blinding rage he retained enough patience to know he should study his enemies, should acquaint himself with their habits instead of making an impetuous attack.

From a distance, he observed dragons of red burning villages, landing to tear at human-built constructs of stone and earth. He wanted to strike at them, but he wouldn’t, having convinced himself that his duty was to the wild elves. Watching one mighty red in particular, he determined that this was the leader of the Dark Queen’s wyrms, and he spotted another crimson wyrm, almost as big, that led many other serpents in the onslaught toward Palanthas. Once, as Lectral circled on the fringes of the battle, that sinister monster raised its head, and the invisible silver shivered to a sensation that he had been discovered.

But Lectral turned toward the east, seeking the foothills of the Kagonesti forests, and the red wyrm turned back to lead his offensive. Closer now, black clouds roiled in the skies, blanketing the plains with a cloak as heavy as the gloom that shrouded the silver dragon’s heart. And still Heart’s words echoed through his mind, mocking and taunting. Love! Could she really believe it?

He growled, knowing that she did. Again he remembered that wild elfmaid who had led him on the chase through the woods, and a plume of frost exploded from his jaws in an unconscious expression of his rage and grief. If the knight, Huma, had appeared before him, Lectral felt certain he would have ripped the man into small pieces.

But he had his task before him, and the evidence of war was all around. Curving toward the Khalkists, he swept over the great arsenals of Sanction, invisibly watching legions of blue and white dragons wing forth, flying to the east, while countless troops-reinforcements to the main armies, no doubt-marched in their wake.

Only then did he turn his flight directly to the south, ultimately soaring above the forest homes of the Kagonesti. With relief, he saw that the woodlands remained green and untrammeled. At least from the heights, it appeared that this time the war had spared the ancient elven realms. The trees were vibrant and healthy, the lakes clean, streams spilling crystalline and pure from the mountain heights.

The ram’s horn was a feathery weight around his neck as Lectral swept low, skimming just above the level of the trees. Unlike the last wars, it seemed that this time the Dark Queen’s fury was in fact directed against the humans, not the elves, and for this Lectral was profoundly grateful.

But did even the humans deserve the help of the mighty serpents of Paladine? Although he knew that twenty of his kin-dragons were flying into battle, bearing human riders with their gleaming Dragonlances, he couldn’t bring himself to believe they did. And he refused to acknowledge that this feeling was petty, caused by his own jealousy. Instead, he convinced himself that his motives were noble and he was the only hope the Kagonesti had.

And he flew on, winging over a verdant swath of undisturbed forest, trying to ignore the war raging within his own soul.

With Heart as their leader, the dragons of metal landed on the courtyards and plazas of Palanthas. Saytica was there, and other silvers as well, and also golden Arumnus and several of his male and female nestmates. Cymbol and many of the coppers, who had been battling the chromatic dragons for several seasons, had willingly volunteered to bear lancers into the fray. Too, Bolt and the bronzes, and Kord, with six or eight of his brass brothers, had also hastened to the proud city, landing on the increasingly crowded fields.

Lectral had been right, Heart saw. There were more than enough dragons for the twenty lances and the equal number of knights who had offered to bear them. Still, she missed him. His absence left a hole in her being that she knew would never be filled.

Saddles had been made by master smiths and leatherworkers, simple straps of leather and steel, and these were fastened to the great flying mounts. The Dragonlances themselves, gleaming shafts of enchanted steel tipped with razor-sharp barbs sparkling like diamonds in the sunshine, were affixed to simple but effective swivel mounts.

Finally the mighty serpents dipped their heads and allowed the riders to climb aboard. Winds gusted across the parade ground as twenty pairs of wings pulsed and fluttered, driving into the air, slowly lifting the great dragons and their bold lancers toward the skies. The cheers of a hopeful populace rang behind them as the flight, with Heart and her beloved Huma in the lead, angled toward the east.

Clouds roiled and churned, spuming like black smoke high into the sky, marking the scourge of Garic Drakan’s invasion. Cymbol had told the others of the terrible devastation taking place, but even so, the taint of soot and ash and death was an affront to the nostrils of man and dragon alike. Yet the flight of metal dragons sped boldly on, venturing into the murk, seeking the sinister colors that would mark the Dark Queen’s serpentine fliers.

Crying challenges, braying toward the vanishing sun, the dragons of Paladine swept through the darkness. Silver Heart was still in the lead, with Saytica and Arumnus to one side, each ridden by an armored knight. On her other flank flew Bolt, with a unique rider, a hulking, dark-skinned minotaur. All the metal dragons spread into a wide V formation, a sight not unfamiliar in the skies over Krynn, yet this flight was faster and far more deadly than any wing of migrating geese.

Disappearing into the heavy clouds, the powerful dragons fought against gusting winds, struggled to keep their neighboring fliers in sight as they surged through the roiling skies over the plains. And then there were flashes of brightness in the black, alabaster wings and gaping jaws of the same color as a dozen white dragons surged forward to attack. The gleaming tips of the deadly spears ripped into the pale wyrms, and with screams of pain and resonant blasts of lightning and frost, fire and acid, war in the skies was joined.

Lectral was alerted by the cry of a griffon, a keening shriek of alarm that came from a faraway mountainside. Sensing a menacing presence above, the silver dragon teleported a hundred feet to one side a split second before the attacking red dragon incinerated the air where he had been.

The monstrous serpent was huge, and Lectral knew immediately that this was the one who had sensed his presence, the dragon who was second in size only to the crimson monster in command of all the Dark Queen’s horde. A quick glance to the north showed him four more reds, all winging swiftly closer, but this great red serpent was the immediate threat.

All of Lectral’s rage came together as, with a shrill cry of fury, he flew toward the attacker. His breath exploded in a thunder of frost, but the red evaded it at the last minute, and the silver was forced to veer aside from another hissing fireball.

“Fool!” brayed the crimson wyrm. “Like the pig Darlantan, your ancestor, you are doomed!”

“Spawn of Crematia! It is you who will die!” Lectral roared in response, straining to close with the serpentine crimson tail.

He snapped, barely missing the red dragon, then whirled through a tight spin to fly after his foe. Slashing claws tore at the scarlet membrane of a wing, rending a single gash, and then the two monstrous dragons crashed together. Clenching, they twisted and spiraled, clawing in frantic rage, breaking apart to leave a shower of scales, mixed crimson and argent, fluttering downward.

The two mighty serpents dipped and dodged, diving and climbing, first one, then the other in pursuit. And all the time the other four reds drew closer, winging with desperate speed. The newcomers were all considerably smaller than Lectral’s awesome foe, but even so, the silver knew their arrival would sway the battle into an unwinnable contest.

“Now, son of Darlantan, you will die!” cried the red, seeing the direction of Lectral’s gaze. “I, Tombfyre, will see your life ended!”

Only one tactic gave him hope. Lectral turned southward, pulling his opponent into pursuit, now carrying the fight away from the foursome of reds with as much speed as possible.

“Coward!” brayed Tombfyre. “Stay and fight! At least do your sire that much honor!”

“I am Lectral, heir to Darlantan and Callak,” the silver roared, diving, curling his neck to shout backward, underneath his belly. “I would slay you, but I am no fool, to die against five!”

“Bah!” sneered Tombfyre, abruptly veering out of his pursuit. “Then the wyrmlings can kill you. I have more important affairs!”

With a blink of magic, the red dragon vanished, and Lectral guessed that he had teleported back to the battle that was raging in the north. Trembling with rage, the silver whirled about, more than willing to face the four younger reds in a duel.

Flying toward him, the crimson serpents closed the distance fast, spreading apart only slightly as they and the mighty silver converged. Abruptly Lectral tilted into a stall, then pulled himself upward with a powerful push of his wings. The sky beneath him became a hellish inferno of crackling fire, but the silver dragon escaped with just a few scorches on his tail.

Quickly he pivoted, slashing past the reds, sweeping downward in a plunging dive.

Then, as Lectral blasted the nearest chromatic with an explosion of killing frost, there were three. His wings drove him ever faster, and now he was the attacker, trying to close the distance. Clawing at a red body, veering away from another explosion of fiery breath, the silver dragon ripped scales from the flank of an enemy wyrm.

But the trio of red dragons swerved back, and in a clash of talons and fangs, all four serpents came together. A hissing cloud of frost and flame roared like a thunderstorm, engulfing all the dragons in a horrific cloud of mutually destructive breath.

And then Lectral was falling, twisting lazily, watching the trees rush upward to meet him. He tried to break away, but his wings refused to move.

“There!” Arumnus declared in a harrumph of flame. The knight on his back leaned over, studying the distant ground.

“I see them-four or five greens, eh?”

“And the blacks!” the gold dragon noted, banking slightly to bring the rest of the chromatic dragons into view. The gold looked around anxiously. Where were Heart and her knight?

With bellows of vengeful fury, the dragons and their knightly riders dived toward the enemy wyrms. Lances ripped through emerald scales or shredded wings of midnight black, and the skies were full of smoke and flames and screams. Serpentine fliers weaved, slashed, and breathed, while knightly riders wielded their lances with deadly skill. In a few shocking moments of battle, every one of the chromatic dragons had been driven from the sides.

Heart and her rider pulled ahead, winging beside Arumnus. The silver flew strongly, but her expression was grim.

“I must go,” she declared. “We have a different fight to wage.”

“But our destiny lies here!” Arumnus declared, indicating a vast wing of red dragons spreading across the sky, angling toward a renewed attack.

“You will take this destiny,” Heart replied. “As to me, I must follow the commands of love.”

“Love is not for dragons!” Arumnus asserted, but his silver kin-dragon and her rider were already gone.

And a great, five-headed shadow began to loom out of the clouds. Arumnus knew Heart’s goal, and he could only pray that she would succeed.

Lectral’s body twisted under an onslaught of unbelievable pain. He flailed as one of the scarlet serpents swerved past, catching the red’s leathery wing with his sharp talons. Tearing savagely, the silver dragon rent the stiff surface, pulling the red to him, feeling the brittle membrane, frozen by his blast of silver breath, crumble in his talons.

Two more red dragons, smaller than the heir of Crematia but still dangerous, tried to free their comrade, but Lectral clung tightly to the squirming serpent. With a crushing bite, he snapped the wyrm’s neck, but then the rippling agony through his own body drove blackness upward into his brain. He struggled, groping for words, for magic, for something!

When he crashed into the trees, he was vaguely aware of the two reds flying away, leaving him for dead. Pain swept through his body, wracking agony that seemed certain to kill him.

But he still lived. In a nightmare of agony, he realized his wings were shredded, several of his legs smashed and broken.

Finally he reached out a claw, felt the curving surface under his talons, and raised the ram’s horn to his jaws.