Jean Rabe - Dragons of a New Age

“But he knew the dragon—rode it himself!” Rig ranted. “When he was a Knight of Takhisis. He called the dragon his partner!”

“When he was a Knight of Takhisis,” Palin returned. “ Was —your word. And I thought he was your friend. He rescued you from the ogres.”

Rig’s shoulders sagged. “Shaon is dead.”

“She should be mourned, but not forgotten,” Palin continued, his back still to the mariner. “It would not be honorable to blame Dhamon for her death. How can you condemn a man for a life he left behind? How can you blame him for the despicable deeds of a dragon? Isn’t there anything in your past you want to leave behind and bury?”

The mutiny, Rig thought, as he continued to cradle Shaon’s form. But I couldn’t have prevented the death of my captain. This is different.

“Isn’t there anything you prefer to leave behind?” Palin persisted.

Through a haze of tears Rig gazed at Shaon’s still form. Maybe Dhamon couldn’t have done anything else....

“I’m going after Dhamon,” Feril, who had been watching, announced. “He can’t take on that blue dragon alone. And he’s why we came here to fight the dragons.”

“I’m coming with you,” Palin said, turning to face his companions. I’ll inform the others below.

“Let’s hurry,” Feril urged.

The rain continued to fall as they wedged their way through the crowd on the shore and struck off toward the western hills. The sorcerer moved quickly, despite his years and the fatigue he felt. Still, his pace was not as fast as the mariner’s. Rig had caught up with them before they reached the edge of town. He carried the lance.

“Damning him won’t bring Shaon back,” Rig admitted to Feril. Then to Palin, he said, “I guess you’re right. Sometimes pasts were meant to be buried.”

Dhamon scrabbled up the mountainside. The rocks were slick with rain, and more than once he almost lost his footing. The storm continued to rage around him, and the lightning illuminated the dragon perched high above him.

Gale watched his former partner approach, and he flapped his great wings to create a strong wind to complicate Dhamon’s climb. Lightning flickered about the blue dragon’s teeth, and he sent a thin bolt down.

Rock shattered near Dhamon’s feet, pelting the backs of his legs and causing him to scramble for better purchase.

“Change your mind?” the dragon boomed. “Come to apologize? Come to seek my forgiveness and ask to ride with me again?”

Dhamon didn’t answer. He gritted his teeth and continued his ascent. Gale’s form loomed closer.

The dragon waited patiently and continued to orchestrate the storm. Gale willed a gust of wind to rush down the mountainside, and the dragon watched with amusement as Dhamon’s feet flew out behind him, his hands the only things anchoring him to the rocks.

“Persistent,” Gale observed. “But you were always persistent.”

At last Dhamon reached the top and stood in the blue dragon’s shadow. “You didn’t have to kill her,” he said. “She’d done nothing to you.”

“Nothing but befriend Palin Majere,” the dragon returned. “And killing her hurt him.”

“He barely knew her,” Dhamon said crossly.

“Then I erred in my target. Help me pick another, one that will have more meaning to the sorcerer.”

“There’ll be no other targets,” he told the dragon.

“I no longer take my orders from you.”

Dhamon stared up into the large eyes of his once-friend, then he reached for his sword and stepped closer.

Gale’s eyes grew wide. “You mean to fight me?”

“I mean to kill you,” Dhamon said as he rushed forward. The blue dragon tensed his leg muscles, pushed off, and flapped his wings to take him skyward. In that instant, Dhamon sprang up and swung his sword. The blade sunk deep into Gale’s rear leg.

Dhamon held tight to the pommel as he felt himself being lifted. His legs dangled in the air as he struggled to pull himself up.

“We were allies once,” the dragon hissed. He slowly turned his head over his great scaly shoulder and opened his maw. “We were more than friends, we were brothers. Don’t force me to kill you.”

Dhamon held tight to Gale’s leg, finding handholds on the blue scales. He tugged free his sword, sheathed it, and climbed higher, over the dragon’s haunch and to his back. Dhamon knew Gale could have easily tossed him from his precarious perch. The dragon was being magnanimous, but not overly so. He saw Gale glance backward at him, felt the dragon inhale, and he held tight to the spiked ridge as a bolt of lighting shot out between the dragon’s fangs. Electricity raced harmlessly along Gale’s scales, but not so harmlessly into Dhamon. The painful sensation jarred him. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and tried to block out the pain.

It was a warning, Dhamon knew.

“We were allies,” the dragon repeated.

“Allies in the past!” Dhamon yelled over the storm. “That life is dead to me!”

The dragon closed his eyes and sadly shook his head. “Then, you are dead, too.” Gale beat his wings fiercely now, trying to throw Dhamon from his back. But Dhamon held on as his left hand closed around a dragon scale. The sharp edge sliced into his hand, and he felt the blood rush down his palm, but still he maintained his grip.

“Why didn’t you stay in the city? I would have let you live—for old times, for past pleasures,” the dragon cried.

“You killed a friend of mine!” Dhamon cursed. “You destroyed a new life I have been building!”

“I was following orders,” Gale boomed. The dragon again released his lightning breath along his back. This time it was not a warning.

Dhamon cringed as the pain from the bolt sent numbing heat through him. He felt his muscles relaxing, his legs and fingers releasing their hold on the dragon.

“No!” he cried as he scampered for another purchase. His hands flailed about, meeting only slick scales. He was sliding off. At last his elbow locked around a spiked scale on the ridge of the dragon’s back.

He climbed up, hand over hand. Gale rolled in the air, turning on his back and nearly toppling him. But the former knight was dogged. He ignored the pain and continued his climb. The dragon righted himself, soaring higher. Dhamon was nearly up to Gale’s neck by now. Locking his legs around a spiked scale and holding onto another with his left hand, he drew his sword and raised it. He plunged it down into the base of the dragon’s thick neck. The blade sank in deep, and Dhamon grabbed the pommel with both hands to hold on.

Gale roared and the sky reverberated. The rain lashed sideways—tossed by the fierce wind, spurred on by the drum of thunder. The dragon dipped over a rise, dropped and pulled his wings close to his sides. Dhamon held on desperately as his legs flew free behind him.

Feril reached the top of a hill. It was all she could do to stand there against the roaring wind and rain. She screamed when she realized it was blood that splattered her tunic. In horror, she watched the injured dragon pass overhead and dive toward a lake nestled among a ring of hills. Then all of a sudden the dragon pulled up, and his claws grazed the water. He climbed higher and higher.

She saw the tiny form of a man hanging on, and heard the thunder fill the air.

“I had no closer friend once,” Dhamon said.

“But you deserted me!” the dragon hissed, his words all but drowned out in the roaring wind.

“I abandoned that life of evil.”

“And when you left the Knights of Takhisis, I resigned too! I couldn’t go on with another partner!” the dragon cried. “Now I serve a better master. I serve the Storm Over Krynn!”

The dragon rolled onto his back. Dhamon gripped the pommel of his sword and flailed about, trying to find something his legs could hold onto. At last the dragon righted himself, and Dhamon’s legs closed about a scaly spike at the base of Gale’s neck. He tugged the sword free.