Margaret Weis - Dragon Wing

“Stop whining!” Sinistrad rose to his feet. His robes rustled around him as he moved out from behind his desk to confront his son. “You want to please me, don’t you, Bane?”

“Yes, father . . .” The boy faltered. “More than anything. That’s why I want to be with you! Don’t you want to be with me? Isn’t that why you brought me home?”

“Bah! What nonsense. I brought you home so that we could put into action the second phase of our plan. Certain things have changed now, but only for the better. As for you, Bane, as long as I am your father, you will go where I tell you to go and do what I tell you to do. Now, leave us. I will send for you later.”

Sinistrad turned his back on the child.

Bane, a strange smile on his lips, thrust his hand into his tunic. It came out holding a knife.

“I guess you won’t be my father long, then!”

“How dare you—” Sinistrad whirled around, saw the dagger in the child’s hand, and sucked in a seething breath. Pale with fury, the mysteriarch raised his right hand, prepared to cast the spell that would dissolve the child’s body where he stood. “I can get more sons!”

The dog leapt, hit Bane square in the back, and knocked the child to the floor. The dagger flew from the boy’s hand.

Something unseen struck Sinistrad; invisible hands clutched at his. Raging, he grappled with his wife, whose spell crumbled as she fought, revealing her to her husband.

Hugh was on his feet. Snatching up his dagger from the floor, he watched for his opportunity. He’d free her, free her child.

The wizard’s body crackled with blue lightning. Iridal was flung aside in a thunderous shock wave that hurled her, dazed, against the wall. Sinistrad turned upon his child, only to find the dog standing above the terrified boy. Teeth bared, hackles raised, it growled low in its throat.

Hugh struck, driving the dagger deep into the wizard’s body. Sinistrad screamed in fury and in pain. The assassin jerked his dagger free. The body of the mysteriarch shimmered and faded and Hugh thought his foe was dead. Suddenly, the wizard returned, only now his body was that of an enormous snake.

The snake’s head darted at Hugh. The assassin drove his knife again into the reptilian body, but too late. The snake sank its fangs into the back of Hugh’s neck. The assassin cried out in agony, the poison surging through his body. He managed to retain his grip on the knife, and the snake-twisting and coiling drove the blade deeper. It lashed out in its death throes, wrapped its tail around the assassin’s legs, and both crashed to the floor.

The snake disappeared. Sinistrad lay dead, his legs wrapped around the feet of his killer.

Hugh stared at the corpse and tried feebly to rise. The assassin felt no pain, but he had no strength left in him, and he collapsed.

“Hugh.”

Weakly he turned his head. It was pitch dark in the cell. He couldn’t see.

“Hugh! You were right. Mine is the sin of not doing. And now it is too late . . . too late!”

There was a crack in the wall. A thin shaft of light gleamed brightly; he could smell fresh air, perfumed with the scent of lavender. Slipping his hand through the bars of his cell, Hugh held it out to her. Reaching out as far as she could from behind her own walls, Iridal touched the tips of his fingers. And then the black monk came and set Hugh free.

A low rumbling sound caused the stones of the palace to quiver on their foundation. It grew louder, like thunder heard in the distance, marching toward them, shaking the ground. The castle shifted; stone quaked and shuddered. A triumphant howl split the air.

“What the . . . ?” Haplo stared around him.

“The dragon’s free!” murmured Alfred, eyes widening in awe. “Something’s happened to Sinistrad!”

“It’ll kill every living thing in this castle. I’ve fought dragons before. They’re numerous in the Labyrinth. You?”

“No, never.” Alfred glanced at the Patryn, caught the bitter smile. “It will take both of us to fight it, in the might of our power.”

“No.” Haplo shrugged. “You were right. I don’t dare reveal myself. I’m not permitted to fight, not even to save my life. I guess it’s up to you, Sartan.” The floor shook. A door down the corridor opened and Limbeck looked out. “This is more like home,” he shouted cheerfully over the rumbling and thudding and cracking. Walking easily across the trembling floor, he waved a sheaf of papers. “Do you want to hear my spee—”

The outer walls split asunder. Alfred and Limbeck were flung from their feet, Haplo slammed up against a door that gave way behind him with a crash. A gleaming red eye the size of the sun peered through the ruptured wall at the victims trapped inside. The rumbling changed to a roar. The head reared back, jaws opening. White teeth flashed.

Haplo staggered to his feet. Limbeck was lying flat on his back, his spectacles smashed on the stone floor. Groping for them, the Geg stared up helplessly at the red-eyed silver blur that was the dragon. Near Limbeck lay Alfred, fainted.

Another roar shook the building. A silver tongue flickered like lightning. If the dragon destroyed them, Haplo would lose not only his life but also his purpose for coming here. No Limbeck to lead the revolution among the Gegs. No Limbeck to start the war that would lead to worldwide chaos. Haplo ripped the bandages from his hands. Standing over the fallen, he crossed his arms and raised sigla-tattooed fists above his head. He wondered, briefly, where the dog had gone. He couldn’t hear anything from it, but then, he couldn’t hear much of anything at all over the bellowings of the dragon. The creature dived for him, mouth open wide to snatch up the prey. Haplo was right: he’d fought dragons before—dragons in the Labyrinth, whose magical powers made this quicksilver look like a mudworm. The hardest part was standing there, braced to take the blow, when every instinct in the body shrieked for him to run.

At the last instant, the silver head veered aside, jaws snapping on empty air. The dragon pulled back, eyeing the man suspiciously.

Dragons are intelligent beings. Coming out of enthrallment leaves them furious and confused. Their initial impulse is to strike back at the magus who ensorceled them. But even raging, they do not attack mindlessly. This one had experienced many types of magical forces in its lifetime, but never anything quite like what it faced now. It could feel, if it could not see, power surround the man like a strong metal shield.

Steel, the dragon could pierce. It might even pierce this magic, if it had time to work on it and unravel it. But why bother? There were other victims. It could smell hot blood. Casting Haplo a last curious, baleful glance, the dragon slid out of his view.

“But it’ll be back, especially if it gets a taste of fresh meat.” Haplo lowered his hands. “And what do I do? Take my little friend here and leave. My work in this realm is completed—or almost so.”

He could hear, at last, and he heard what his dog was hearing. His brow furrowed, he absently rubbed the skin on his hands. From the sounds of it, the dragon was smashing in another part of the castle. Iridal and the boy were still alive, but they wouldn’t be for long.

Haplo looked down at the unconscious Sartan. “I could send you into a faint that would last as long as I needed it to last, and transport you to my lord. But I’ve a better idea. You know where I’ve gone. You’ll figure out how to get there. You’ll come to me of your own accord. After all, we have the same goal—we both want to find out what happened to your people. So, old enemy, I’ll let you cover my retreat.”