Jean Rabe - Dragons of a New Age

“Takhisis wants the blue dragons to gather in the desert,” it repeated.

The kapak’s body had a hint of magic about it—and the essence of a dragon. Suitable for a woman with the heart of a dragon, Khellendros mused. More suitable than the body of an elf.

“There will be a battle in the Abyss,” the kapak droned, unaware that the dragon was scarcely listening. “Takhisis says the Irda broke the Graygem and released Chaos. The allfather is angry, wants to destroy Krynn. Everyone must fight Chaos in the Abyss, Takhisis says.”

Khellendros’s mind buzzed with thoughts. Draconians are immune to human diseases. They live a thousand years. Kitiara would approve. The great blue dragon knew that the kapak, and all other draconians, were created by the Queen of Darkness to serve as her minions—messengers, spies, assassins, soldiers.

From the eggs of good dragons she fashioned these sterile draconian forms and encased the essence of tanar’ri, evil spirits of the Abyss, inside them. This kapak came from the egg of a copper dragon. It was a superior form.

Khellendros edged closer until his huge snout was inches from the kapak. He snaked a paw forward, and his claws closed gingerly about the surprised draconian.

“What?” it snapped.

“You’re coming with me,” Khellendros replied.

“To the Abyss?”

“To my lair.”

“But Takhisis! Chaos! No!” With the kapak’s last word it spit a gob of saliva on the dragon’s claw and began struggling.

Venomous and caustic, the liquid hissed and popped. With a growl, Khellendros released the kapak and thrust his paw into the sand to soothe the annoying sensation.

The kapak stepped back and stared, finally realizing that the dragon was not going to follow its precious instructions. It whirled and dashed across the sand, intending to tell Takhisis, whenever she touched his mind, that this insolent blue dragon had disobeyed her. The draconian madly flapped its wings and leapt into the air, and glided about a dozen feet before it landed on the sand and leapt upward again, still flapping furiously.

A rumble started in Khellendros’s belly as he watched the draconian try to flee. Only one type of draconian could truly fly, he knew, those made from the eggs of silver dragons. The kapak’s attempts at flight were pitiful, laughable.

But you shall be able to fly, Kitiara, the blue dragon thought, as the rumble raced up his throat and he unfurled his wings. Khellendros rose from the sand as he opened his maw, and the rumble erupted as a lightning bolt that struck the ground in front of the fleeing kapak.

The startled draconian twisted to the right and pumped its legs harder, sending a shower of sand behind its stubby tail.

Another bolt landed several yards in front of it, spewing sand everywhere as the desert sky boomed with thunder. The kapak shuddered as a bolt landed behind it. The creature cringed and swung again to the right, its feet churning over the ground. But it was instantly overtaken by Khellendros’s shadow, and skidding to a stop, looked up to see the blue dragon’s belly.

Khellendros’s claw reached down, snatched the kapak by a leathery wing, and climbed high into the sky. The dragon sped to the north with its struggling, spitting prize, uninterested in its banter about the Abyss and concentrating instead on the sound of the wind whistling merrily about his blue wings.

When night brought its cooling touch to the desert, and the stars began to wink into view, Khellendros descended toward the base of a slight rocky ridge. There was a single moon in the sky, a large pale one. It was unlike any of the three moons that had revolved around Krynn since the world’s creation—the red Lunitari, the white Solinari, and the black Nuitari. But the dragon was thinking only of Kitiara and the draconian in its grasp, and the pale moon went unnoticed.

There was little fight left in the kapak, so the blue dragon tossed it on the sand and set about digging near a recess in the ridge. His long claws stabbed into the desert floor and ripped upward, pulling with them dirt, sand, and rocks. The kapak cowered, afraid the blue dragon meant to bury it alive. But as the night grew older, the hole grew bigger. The moon rose higher and its light exposed an immense cavern.

Not long after, dawn found the Northern Wastes, but the shadow created by the ridge effectively hid the entrance to the dragon’s reclaimed lair. Khellendros quickly shoved the kapak toward the opening and followed it inside.

“The Dark Queen—” the draconian started to say. Its voice was soft and cracked after each word, its leathery lips swollen from lack of moisture.

“Created you,” Khellendros finished, as he looked about his home. The blue dragon was pleased that nothing had been disturbed while he was gone, that no other dragon had discovered the huge underground cave and seized it along with its vast treasures. Piles of coins and gems feebly flickered and sparkled in the faint light that spilled in from the entrance. His hoard, covered by a faint layer of sand and dust, was intact, and soon he would share it with Kitiara.

“Takhisis—”

“Gave you a weak mind,” the blue dragon interrupted. “But she gave you a fine, strong body, and I shall use it well.”

The kapak trembled. Its lips formed pleas, but no sound came out, and its heart beat wildly in its chest. A dragon threatening one of Takhisis’s minions? It isn’t right, the kapak’s mind screamed. The creature watched in horror as Khellendros settled himself nearby. With a sharp talon, the blue dragon began to etch a pattern into the stone, his gaze drifting between his work and his kapak prisoner.

The minutes stretched by until finally Khellendros was finished, and he crooked a claw toward the draconian, beckoning it. Numbly, the kapak complied, shuffling forward until it stood in the center of the design.

“I learned spells,” Khellendros hissed, talking to himself more than to the draconian. “I learned ancient enchantments that Krynn’s pathetic human sorcerers would barter all they own for.” The dragon extended a talon until it touched the kapak’s breastbone. The draconian cringed and inhaled sharply as it was dragged downward. Blood and coppery scales spilled on the stone floor. “I learned how to displace minds.”

As Khellendros withdrew the talon, the draconian clutched at its wounded chest, forced itself not to cry out and reveal pain and weakness. The dragon began mumbling words that were foreign, rich and deep. They filled the underground cavern and added to the kapak’s fear. The blue dragon’s sonorous voice quickened, and he looked straight into the draconian’s eyes as the spell ended.

The kapak’s resolve melted into a single, piercing scream. It dropped to its knees, and threw its clawed hands up to the sides of its throbbing head. Its tail lashed madly about, and the muscles along its legs and arms jumped and quivered. A thin sheen of sweat formed over its scaly hide.

Khellendros waited, heedless of his captives agony, watching as the kapak fell forward. It gasped for air, twitched wildly, and retched. After several long moments, its writhing movements slowed, then stopped. Its chest heaving, it slowly picked itself up off the floor and fearfully regarded the dragon.

“Takhisis—”

“No!” Khellendros cried. He batted at the kapak, sending it careening into the cavern’s wall. The thing’s mind should have been gone, its spirit displaced. It should have been unable to think or speak. The draconian should have been nothing more than an empty husk, immobile, but living. It should’ve been awaiting Kitiara’s essence. “Takhisis’s magic is too strong!”

The dragon crawled forward as a lone tear of frustration spilled from his eye. The drop rolled down his azure cheek and dripped onto the diagram, mingling with the kapak’s blood and scales. Khellendros stared at the etching as it began to spark and shimmer with blue and pale gold.