Jean Rabe - Dragons of a New Age

Nothing offered her any significant threat— until the other red came. He was only half the size of Malys, stretching perhaps a little more than two hundred feet from nose to tail. She’d seen him skirting the edges of villages she had decimated, picking through the ruins. She’d watched him slithering through the forest, stopping in clearings she’d made when she ripped up trees to corner particularly tasty animals. He had been watching her, apparently wanting to learn from the best.

One day she spotted him approaching the lair she had created along the coastline, a steep rise perched on a cliff overlooking the Southern Courrain Ocean. She’d carefully sculpted the lair and the surrounding terrain during the past few months. Like a determined potter, she was continually modifying the land, making the rise bigger, craggier, more imposing with jutting peaks and shadowy recesses.

She had carved a massive cave into the inland side of the Dairly Plains, a hole just large enough for her scaly body and the few chests of coins she’d taken from ships. From inside of her comfortable niche, she watched him come closer.

“What do you want?” she hissed as he approached.

“I had to see you,” he snarled. The male growled low and soft, flames licking out of his nostrils. “I heard talk of a large red on the Plains, one who was not in the Chaos War in the Abyss. One who was, perhaps, afraid to fight with the rest of us alongside Takhisis.”

“I am Takhisis,” Malys spouted, remembering the word the young black dragon and the daemon warrior had used. “I am your goddess. Bow to me.”

The male laughed, and a low growl started deep in his belly. “You’re big,” he snapped. “But you’re not Takhisis. You’re not a goddess. Gods don’t have to eat, and they don’t live in caves. All the gods are gone. Bow to me.”

Malys heard the sharp intake of his breath, smelled a trace of sulphur, and knew he was about to send a gout of flame her way. But she didn’t move from her spot. She knew his breath wouldn’t hurt her. It would only prove how foolish he was.

He opened his mouth and a ball of yellow and orange fire raced from between his glistening fangs. It rushed toward Malys, but not directly at her. Instead, it struck the rocky hillside just above her head. The male rumbled again, and Malys felt her lair shake. The male red was not so witless after all. Dirt and rocks cascaded down on her head, sealing her in. Again she heard the crackling of fire, felt the heat, and sensed the crevice closing, the earth baking, and the softer rocks melting beneath the male’s intense breath. The ground pressed against her sides.

“You mean to bury me?” she hissed as the earth coffin squeezed her massive form tighter and pushed ever more uncomfortably against her ribs.

Like a wet dog shaking water from its back, Malys tossed her head from side to side, pushed out with her wings, and lashed backward with her muscular tail. A rumble ignited deep inside her, sounding like an earth tremor. The noise grew as she flailed about, then she took a deep breath and exhaled.

The rocky rise exploded. Stones, earth and white flames shot outward in all directions. Some rocks fell far out into the Southern Courrain, others flew toward the impudent red male and pelted his thick vermilion hide.

He snarled and charged her, unaffected by the fan of fire that continued to pour from her mouth. His claws slammed into her chest, and the impact pushed her back. She wrapped her tail around his rear leg, and they grappled for a moment on the edge of the cliff. Then the ground gave way beneath their weighty bodies and they tumbled down toward the jagged stone teeth that jutted upward along the coastline.

Malys knew her land by heart, had committed to memory the location of every pond and village, every obsidian and quartzlike spike that stuck above the water and threatened ships. In mid-fall she pivoted, twisting the male’s body beneath hers. She dug her claws into his sides, and pulled her wings in close, so she would drop like a stone.

He flapped madly, trying to stop his descent, but she was too heavy. His neck coiled about like an angry serpent, and he brought his head in close. The male’s jaws jerked open wide and closed about Malys’s neck. She screamed in surprise and pain and raked her claws against his side. The male’s warm blood flowed over her talons, while her own blood ran in hot rivulets down her neck. She lashed her tail back and forth, brought it up to slash at his wings, then whipped it against his snout in an effort to make him release his grip.

But his teeth sunk in deeper, and for an instant Malys found it difficult to breathe. She felt dizzy, her lungs tight. Then she felt a jarring impact as the male struck the jagged rocks below. Spikes of obsidian impaled him, pushing through his back and pinning him in place.

In the same instant that he released his hold on her neck, Malys thrust her wings out to her sides and beat them, frantically to keep from joining him on the sharp rocks. Hovering only a few feet above him, her talons grazing his heaving belly, she watched him futilely struggle to free himself. Steam rose from the water where his mouth touched it and he began to shake violently.

“You’re no god,” he gasped.

“But I am alive,” she replied huskily.

Malys landed behind him, as close to the cliff face as she could, where the water was shallow and where there were no obsidian spikes. Creeping forward, she lashed out at his underside with a claw. Her sharp talons cut through his scaly flesh and drew parallel lines of blood.

As the male drew his last breath, Malys inhaled deeply. A shimmering crimson aura lifted from the dead dragon’s body and drifted toward Malys as if it were being pulled there. The red essence dropped down over Malys and slid smoothly over every contour of her massive body like a cloak. Then it seemed to cling tightly to her slightly protruding scales before sinking into her body and disappearing altogether.

Malys looked down at the dead male, who was now no more than a dry husk that was quickly dashed upon the rocks and washed out to sea. She had meant to feast upon him in order to sate her hunger.

Her regret at the missed opportunity was outweighed by the new feeling of power that crackled through her body and danced along the edge of her talons. She felt vital and superior, infused with a heady sense of power. It made her wish she had been part of the battle in the Abyss, the Chaos War he had chattered about. And it made her crave another violent encounter, another chance to prove herself.

“Tell me more about this Chaos War, what led to it.” Malys was snout to snout with a green dragon, another curious visitor to the Dairly Plains. This one she had elected not to kill, as she might have a use for him later—if nothing more than as a source of information about another part of Krynn or as a puppet for her plans. She didn’t trust the green dragon, didn’t trust anyone or anything, but she knew how to feign cooperation and friendship. She settled on conquering the green with silky words and unaccustomed politeness.

The green was a little larger than the red Malys slaughtered better than a month ago. He was the color of the Misty Plains’ forests, with small scales that were supple like spring twigs, not thick and rigid like other dragons. He was handsome for a green, Malys thought, but not so regal or beautiful as a red.

“The Chaos War is a tribute to mortals’ stupidity and their disregard for the gods,” the green began. “The Irda, also known as the high ogres, were the first to show their ignorance. The Graygem was in their possession, and it contained enough of Chaos to keep him at bay and away from Krynn, which he had sworn to destroy. With Chaos restricted, Takhisis could act as she pleased.”