Jean Rabe: Dragons of a New Age

And he remembered the frustration of not being able to save Kitiara one rare day when she was alone and far from his side. Even across the miles, he had felt her body die, had felt the instant of her death as if an incredible blow had been landed against his own stomach. He had flown to her then and seen the crumpled, weak human shell that once housed her remarkable mind. And through a haze of anger and tears he had watched her spirit slip free and rise above its useless shell. Her spirit still lived!

Khellendros had vowed to snare her essence and find another shell— one that he would guard more carefully— for his partner. The dragon had chased Kitiara’s spirit above Ansalon’s plains and valleys, losing touch with it from time to time, then feeling it nearby but just beyond his grasp. Years he had spent chasing, searching. At times there had been months filled with frustration, when not even a hint of her spirit crossed his path. Still, the great dragon had refused to give up, and at last found her essence again, touched her mind and called out to her.

Skie! he had heard inside his head. It was Kitiara’s voice, and his heart had pounded in triumph. The dragon reached deep inside himself, summoning the magical energies that coursed through his form. He tried to channel them, pull her to him. Skie. He had heard her voice again, little more than a whisper this time.

Then her spirit had vanished once more, and Khellendros knew in his heart she was no longer on Krynn. He had turned to the stone portals, then, hoping that Kitiara’s spirit had slipped into another dimension he could access through the gateways. He mastered traveling through the mystical, ancient portals, maneuvering through the hazy dimensions where faeries dwell and men’s shades drift.

For what seemed centuries to him, he searched. In that time he grew, becoming an ancient wyrm of immense proportions and awesome power. He memorized the foggy passages and slipstreams between realms and planes, discovered races unknown to Krynn, and grasped enchantments long forgotten by mortals. When he believed there was nowhere else for him to search, no dusky dimension left to be explored, he had stumbled upon The Gray.

It was a land without land, a misty domain filled with swirling gray vapors and teeming with spirits. Few creatures of any substance seemed to dwell there— save Khellendros the Portal Master. The great blue dragon hadn’t intended to stay there very long, but he had sensed something precious and familiar to him, a hint of Kitiara. So he continued to search, perhaps for another century. Time passed differently beyond the portals, speeding by as it crawled on Krynn, and the only way the dragon knew this was his increasing growth rate. But time was irrelevant to Khellendros— only Kitiara and mending his shattered pledge mattered.

Finally he had found her, touching her spirit briefly, as if his mind were a hand caressing a loved one’s cheek. She had acknowledged his presence, had asked him to stay at her side in The Gray that had become her home. “Soon we shall be together. Always,” he had whispered. Then he had departed to return through the portal to Krynn.

“We shall be partners again,” Khellendros said as he drew his thoughts back to the present and watched his shadow pass over the twisting Vingaard River. “I shall find suitable flesh for your spirit.”

The expansive grasslands of Hinterlund spread out below him, the wind from his wings rippling the grass. A large herd of deer stopped grazing and glanced up. Panicked at the sight of the dragon, they bolted in a dozen different directions. Khellendros was hungry, and the herd was tempting, but filling his belly would have to wait. First, he would tend to Kitiara’s new form.

During his trip through the portals he had learned a powerful enchantment that would allow him to displace the spirit from a body and put a different one inside. He would choose the body of a warrior, young and healthy, well-muscled and satisfying to the eye— something Kitiara would be happy with.

An elf warrior, Khellendros decided. Elves lived much longer than humans and the other races of Krynn, and the dragon, virtually immortal himself, wanted a body for Kitiara that would weather the decades. When the elven form finally grew feeble and old, he would get her another. He would not let her die again.

The morning and Hinterlund dissolved behind him, with no sign of elves anywhere. The desolate stretches of the Northern Wastes came into view. Waves of blessed afternoon heat rose up from the ground and stroked the underside of his wings. He loved the pulsing warmth of the Wastes’ desert, and he would have enjoyed stretching out on the sand and letting the sun caress his scales. But he hadn’t the time to squander on personal pleasures, and he knew there were no elves in the Wastes.

Though elves come and go from Palanthas, he mused. I need only wait outside the city until I see an acceptable one. Perhaps I shall snare a few and experiment.

He angled his great form toward the west. The country of Palanthas lay beyond the desert, and the city of Palanthas sat on the far coast, nestled between a harbor on the Turbidus Ocean and a range of mountains. It would not take him too long to get there, probably no more than three days if he continued to push himself. Or perhaps he could find another portal and get there faster.

He would eat and rest after he found a few elves. Then he would—

Khellendros’s thoughts were interrupted by something he spied on the sand far below. The figure jumped and glided, flapped its small wings and waved its arms to get the dragon’s attention.

Khellendros focused his keen eyes on the creature. A witless kapak. What could it want? The blue dragon soared past the beckoning creature, but questions about the draconian intruded on his thoughts. Why would it dare bother me? Could it be important? Maybe I should....

Curiosity finally overcoming him, he folded his wings close to his side, reversed his course, and dropped to the desert floor. One brief interruption would not matter. He welcomed the chance to feel the hot sand—if only for a few moments.

The kapak did not fear the dragon. All draconians respected dragons, were in awe of them and their wondrous abilities. The kapak was especially impressed by Khellendros’s size. The moment Khellendros landed, the draconian rushed toward him, waving its arms about to ward off the shower of sand stirred up from the blue’s massive wings. It started chattering.

“Slower,” Khellendros ordered.

“The Dark Queen,” the kapak hoarsely barked. Its voice was scratchy, its mouth and throat dry from being in the Wastes for so long. “My mistress, our mistress, Takhisis, wants the dragons to gather.”

Khellendros raised his massive brow in an unspoken question.

The kapak pursed its cracked lips and struggled to remember its orders. “Here,” it said finally. “Takhisis wants the blue dragons to gather here... in the desert. Draconians, too, if I find any. Gather them together in the desert, the Dark Queen said. In the desert—”

“Why?” Khellendros interrupted before the kapak could continue.

“A battle in the Abyss,” it huffed. “Takhisis wants the blue dragons to gather here in the desert. Others are gathering elsewhere. She will call us all to the Abyss. There will be a glorious battle.”

Khellendros growled, and the kapak stepped back. “I haven’t the time for battles,” the dragon spat. He raised his lips in a sneer, and lightning flickered across his teeth.

“But Takhisis...”

Khellendros closed his eyes, concentrated, and stretched his thoughts outward in an effort to touch the Queen of Darkness’s mind, to verify what the fool draconian was saying. The great blue pictured his multiheaded dragon goddess as clearly as if she were before him, but he could not establish contact with her. He surmised that his goddess was preoccupied with divine concerns, and he suspected the kapak didn’t know what it was blathering about. A battle in the Abyss? Unlikely. If there was one, the all-powerful dragon goddess would not need help. What was more likely was that the heat had driven the simple kapak mad. But its body is in good condition. The blue dragon scrutinized the kapak.