Michael Stackpole - When Dragons Rage

“If you have to die, I guess dragonfire isn’t a bad way to go.” Crow shrugged.

“No! We’re not dying.” Will drew the dagger across his palm and hissed as pain followed the stroke. Blood sprayed out in a line, dappling snow and fragment alike. Snow blossomed red, but the blood sank into the stone and disappeared. More power pulsed from it.

Will dropped to his knees and pressed his bloody palm to the fragment, then clutched it and raised it high. “You will never have this!”

Power pulsed again, heavier and harder. An elf in Erlestoke’s company gasped and doubled over. A number of Resolute’s tattoos lit up, and the metal limbs of meckanshü spasmed. The dragon hissed menacingly, and even the cloaked figure appeared to stagger.

It didn’t fall, however, and very little pain bled into its voice as it spoke. “Your efforts will avail you nothing.” It stopped speaking in human words and instead gave voice to a wail similar to the one that had summoned the dragon.

Will whirled, the fragment still clutched in his hand. Blood continued to drip and the stone grew warmer. The pulsing flowed into his skin and inched along his forearm.

Gagothmar spread his wings and launched himself forward. The wind of his passage swirled snow from hillsides. Lower and faster the dragon flew, with copper highlights slithering over his scales. The shadow played over the ground, drawing ever nearer the chasm. His mouth opened, fangs flashing, and Will braced for the fiery torrent that would consume him and his friends.

Lunging up from the crevasse, a gargantuan dragon of a deep verdant hue closed its jaws on Gagothmar’s breastbone. The copper dragon shrieked in pain, and sprayed the sky with fire. His wings beat furiously against the green’s snout. Blood gushed, black and steaming, from the copper’s breast. The massive jaws opened again, lunging and closing again, crushing the chest.

With one whiplash flick of its head, the green sent Gagothmar’s body tumbling back to the west side of the chasm. It rolled in a tangle of wings and tail. Fire trailed from his mouth and burst out through the hole in his chest. Wings cracked crisply in the cold air, but even that sound was drowned out by the gloriously loud crunching as the green gobbled its enemy’s flesh.

Slowly, sinking talons through the snow and into the stone beneath, the enormous green dragged itself up over the chasm lip. Black blood ran from its jaws. Sunlight sparked off golden flecks deep in its scales as the serpentine creature heaved itself onto the valley floor. It tried to rise, but slumped heavily to its left, triggering a small avalanche of snow that half buried it.

With one eye it looked at Will. The stone pulsed a bit more weakly, but still sent a trickle of energy up through Will. The spots on his throat burned, and time began to slow as an awareness of shapes and powers, influences and currents—of time and portent—flowed around Will.

I know you!

And I, you.

Will almost felt as if he was watching himself. While the green had slain Gagothmar, the cloaked figure had not been idle. It had run forward, as fast as it could. The scarlet cloak had flown off, allowing the creature to increase its speed. Its left hand reached for Will, intent on rending him to win the prize he clutched.

Will spun away from its lunge, twisting around to his right. His left hand came out in a long looping strike. As the creature’s hand shot through empty air, Will slammed the fragment against the right side of its skull. He could feel the bones crack, reducing its head to a sack of mush, then watched as the body spun limply through the air to crash through the crusty snow and slide from sight.

Will found himself on his knees, staring after the creature.

Crow looked from him to where the body rested under a slowly drifting cloud of snow. “That was, um, how did you… ?”

“I don’t know.” Will shook his head and pressed the fragment to his own chest. He pointed his right hand at the green dragon. “We have to dig him out. He can’t take the cold in his condition.”

Erlestoke shifted his shoulders uneasily. “We owe that dragon thanks, but…”

“No buts; he’s a friend.” Will stared at them. “Don’t you get it? That’s Dranae.”

The effort to dig Dranae from the snow was aided by the dragon himself. As Will drew closer with the fragment of the DragonCrown, the pulsing started again. Will tucked it up inside his coat, without letting go, and as his fingers warmed up again, Dranae opened an eye. A tremor ran through one wing.

Dranae heaved himself up, letting snow slide from his head and neck, then shook. Sheets of white blinded everyone for a moment, then when it drifted down, in the heart of a huge, dragon-shaped depression, sat Dranae, as naked as the day Will, Crow, and Resolute had first found him.

They hustled him into a small cavern the meckanshü had discovered while setting up for their ambush. Various individuals donated pieces of clothing, but he refused everything save the cloak that the scaled figure had worn. He swathed himself in that and shivered for a bit, then smiled at Will.

“Our debt is canceled.”

The thief blinked in surprise. “I owed you a debt?”

Dranae nodded. “When you were bitten by the sullanciri , the poison was neutralized.”

Will’s eyes widened. “You’re Lady Snowflake?”

The dragon in manform threw his head back and laughed loudly. “No, no, not at all.”

“Good.” Will blushed, remembering some of the dreams he’d had. “But she did exist?”

“Yes. She came to you in that room. I watched her clear you of poison.”

Crow frowned. “But Qwc had chased all of us from the room. He was in there with Will alone.”

“No. I did not join you. Because I desired it, your minds assumed I did.” Dranae sighed. “If you will recall, I was in the hall, behind Will, and caught him when he fainted. It was not my intent to deceive you, but I knew forces were in play that required me to remain where I was if Will was to live.”

Will raised his bandaged left hand to the round scars on his throat. “Did you do this?”

Dranae nodded slowly. “It was the only way to save you.” He brought his right hand out from beneath the cloak. His thumb and middle finger grew sharp talons. As he turned his hand, Will detected the scars from small puncture wounds in the pads of the thumb and middle finger. “I cut myself and mixed my blood with yours, Will. I was able to repair the damage the venom had done. There have been some lingering effects, like your chill, and for that I am sorry.”

He swallowed hard. “I guess I would have been a lot colder in a grave.”

Crow crouched beside Dranae. “I, ah, I don’t know how to ask this but… what are you?”

The talons shrank again as he gestured toward the valley. “I am what you saw come up out of the chasm. My name, among my kind, is Dravothrak. By your reckoning, I am old, very old, but among my kind, my age is roughly similar as my age appears to be in this form. I was old when the DragonCrown was formed, unlike that pup I slew out there.”

Erlestoke pointed outside. “And the thing Will killed?”

“Dracomorph. A life stage. To you quite formidable, but among my kind, barely worth the waste of a name.”

“Wow.” Will smiled, then glanced over at Resolute. “You knew all this?”

The Vorquelf shook his head. “My knowledge of dragons is limited.”

Dranae looked up. “Still, friend Resolute, you suspected. I called myself by an ancient man-name, not knowing it had passed from use.”

“I found myself curious, Dranae, but other things demanded my attention.”

“Of course.” The dragon smiled. “You would like to know why I am here, why I opposed Gagothmar and why I oppose Chytrine?”