The Sorcerer

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

3 Eleasias, the Year of Wild Magic

No sooner had Shade Enclave stopped wobbling than the summons came to Malygris, the Blue Suzerain of Anauroch. Though it took a mighty act of will to resist the call of the Most High, the dracolich lingered atop his perch, watching to see if the thread of shadow that ran between the enclave and the dark lake beneath would dissolve, or if the capsized mountain would rise to its former place high in the sky. When neither happened, Malygris deigned to answer. Lifting his boneless magnificence off the peak where he'd been resting, he flew into the city.

Before entering the cave where the Most High always met him, Malygris took a turn over the enclave and found that the magnificent metropolis had degenerated overnight into a drab city of hovels and tenements. The Palace Most High, whose grandeur had awed even him, was in the light of Anauroch's sun little more than a barren field, with a freestanding arch to mark the entrance and a handful of stairwells leading down into the ground.

When Malygris finally entered the Cave Gate, he found Telamont Tanthul waiting with a pile of freshly decapitated heads large enough to hold a dragon. The stench was awful, but that would change with a decade of curing. Though he tried not to show it, Malygris was impressed. The next time the accursed Cult of the Dragon priests came to his lair with some errand, he would enjoy watching their faces when they looked upon his new nest

Malygris was so grateful that instead of forcing the Most High to come to him as usual, the dracolich landed in front of the shade. The platinum glow of Telamont’s s eyes seemed less bright, but there was another sign of his weariness.

"You were occupied, Mighty One?" Telamont asked.

"That is none of your concern." Malygris raised his horny snout bone toward the pile of heads and asked, "You have gifts?"

The Most High nodded and waved an empty sleeve toward the heap. If he realized his confidence was being tested, he showed no sign.

The Cult of the Dragon," said he shade.

Malygris's jaw dropped.

"The whole cult?"

"Only the fools who knew of your bondage," Telamont clarified.

"All? You're sure?" Malygris asked. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. "I am free?"

Telamont inclined his head.

"Did you not tell me it was impossible to free me of the Cult?"

"It was then," Telamont answered. "We acted when we could be certain."

"And when your need was greatest," Malygris said, turning toward the cave mouth. "You may deliver the heads to my lair."

He spread his wings, but found himself unable to launch. The weight of Telamont's will pressed down on him so hard he thought it might crush one of his minor wing bones, and he found himself speaking thoughts he had intended to keep private.

"I have seen the true face of Shade, and I am no longer awed."

Malygris tried to stop there, but Telamont’s s will forced him to continue, "The Chosen mammals are peeling your blankets from the High Ice, and the strength of the other warmblood realms will soon return. It will not be long, I think, before your city crashes into the lake or flees back into the shadow."

"You are mistaken, my friend, but I will not hold it against you."

Telamont pointed at the floor by his feet, and Malygris found himself clattering over to lay his magnificent chin on the cold stone. He thought instantly of the amulet the cult priests used to control him, but it was not hanging from the Most High's neck. Telamont Tanthul had his own magic.

"Shade is here to stay."

"Shade is here to stay," Malygris found himself repeating.

"We have many enemies, but we are accustomed to enemies."

"We have many enemies-" Malygris tried to resist saying "we," but the will of the Most High was as heavy as all of his coin piles together-"but we are accustomed to enemies."

"Shade will prevail as it always prevails, by hiding in the darkness and striking from the shadows."

Malygris's resistance crumbled, and he found himself repeating the words of his own will.

"Shade will prevail as it always prevails, by hiding in the darkness and striking from the shadows."

"Good," Telamont said. He raised his sleeve and wrapped five tendrils of cold shadow around Malygris's nose horn. 'Together, we will triumph."

When he spoke this time, Malygris believed what he was saying.