Douglas Niles - The Dragons

“We can’t go to the grotto. We don’t dare,” Aurican said, his voice startlingly calm, in contrast to the cacophony of emotions storming through Darlantan’s mind.

“Why?” demanded the silver, until another moment’s thought made clear the danger-to the females, and, more importantly, to their eggs. “Where, then?”

“Let’s find a place to talk. Remember, I’m not one who can fly all night,” replied Aurican.

“Our meeting bluff is nearby,” Dar remembered, recalling a promontory where he and Auri had held several councils with the elves.

The pair of dragons glided silently toward the sunset, looking for the knoll. Everywhere tall pines covered the ground, and though it was a relief to see an area where the terrain had not been scorched, Darlantan was so tired he would have welcomed a swath of devastation just for the chance to land and rest his wings. His side ached where blue dragon lightning had seared the scales from his flesh and cruel claws had torn into his flank. The deep gouges burned with an agony that threatened to drag him down, to fold him into a ball of suffering that would plunge, unlamented, into the tangled foliage below.

Never had he been hurt like this before! Through all the hunting that had marked his life, he had never considered the possibility that, somehow, serious injury could be inflicted upon him, the mighty Darlantan! His memory of the battle was still wrapped in a numbing cloud of disbelief. Perhaps this detachment was a blessing-at least he was able to continue the fast, desperate flight.

But the numbness did not extend to thoughts of his brothers, his ancient nestmates. Darlantan moaned aloud as his mind turned to the speedy Smelt’s last moments, or the horrible barrage of flame that had knocked powerful Burll from the sky. His jaws curled into a snarl, claws clenching unconsciously as he pictured the crimson dragon of the Dark Queen slaying Blayze from behind. With an unconscious growl, he imagined the killing he would work against them… someday.

“Magic… dragons of evil and magic,” mused Aurican. His golden wings stroked easily and gracefully, showing no sign of fatigue as the flight extended through the long hours of the night. “How did these things come to Krynn?”

“Perhaps the dragons have always been here, but they were hiding,” growled Darlantan. “Waiting for the chance to attack.”

“I don’t think so. We have flown this world for thousands of winters. I cannot believe they could have escaped our notice for so long. And remember, it was only their use of spell magic that gave them their first advantage. I think the magic and the chromatic dragons came to Krynn together.”

“A plague on together!” spat Dar. “Unless you know a way that we could steal the magic and kill the wyrms!”

“No… not yet. We must think, plan.”

“A plague on plans as well!” barked Darlantan. “I say we should turn around and attack, take them by surprise.”

“I share your desire for vengeance, Cousin. But we cannot win this fight alone. It is time that we counseled with others.”

“Who?” demanded the silver dragon, but as he spoke he knew: the elves, of course. “We fly to the council knoll, do we not?”

Aurican nodded, straining visibly to lift his head again. Dar’s own wounds pained him, and he knew the long flight was taking its toll upon his kin-dragon.

“But how did they get the magic?”

“It could only have come from a god or gods,” Aurican declared. “The Dark Queen herself must have blessed them with sorcery in some distant place, then released them to carry that power to Krynn!”

“And another plague on how they did it!” snarled Darlantan, his fury at last pulling Aurican’s golden head around. The silver dragon’s pain had faded into the background of his awareness, replaced by a grim fire, an emotion more chilling than any he had ever felt.

He was learning to hate, he knew.

“Beware!” The sound was like the keening cry of an eagle, but Darlantan recognized the word spoken in the language of the griffons. Immediately he banked, and Aurican followed in a lazy spiral over the forest.

“Up there,” the gold dragon said, and his silver cousin angled his head, observing the winged creature diving toward them.

“A scion of Ravenclaw,” Darlantan said as the griffon slowed with a rearing gesture. The massive feathered wings bore the creature easily between the two mighty serpents. “Have a care, my friend. There are new dangers in the skies.”

“This I know, and I have come in turn to warn you. There are two dragons, deep black in color, who have claimed the meeting knoll. They disturbed one of my young a short time ago, when they landed there.”

The pillar of cliff-draped rock was already in view, thrusting upward from the surrounding forest.

“We will kill them!” Dar pledged, his belly tightening at the prospects of revenge.

“But first you must find them, and that is why I warn you. After they landed, they changed… disappeared so that they cannot be seen. But still my nestling could smell them. He knew they were there.”

“Invisibility magic!” hissed the silver dragon, feeling another surge of outrage.

“We will deal with them,” said Aurican. “Of that you may be sure. And thank you for the warning.”

“Be careful!” urged the griffon, banking into a gentle dive. Soon he was a speck fading into the distance.

They approached the craggy knoll of granite, the barren summit perhaps twice as high as the loftiest of the pines. The dragons of Paladine scrutinized the place, seeking some sign of the invisible dragons.

“There, to the left,” murmured Darlantan, indicating a clearing where several saplings had been flattened.

“Right-and there, on the rocks, is the second,” Auri said.

“Where the bushes are crushed,” Darlantan agreed, feeling the killing frost swell in his belly.

Side by side, the two metal dragons winged toward the bluff. Darlantan lowered himself into a gentle glide, as if looking for a good place to land. He marked both dragons, not because he could see them but because their massive bodies had inevitably disturbed the crowded terrain. Nearing the flattened patch of grove, Dar abruptly lashed his head downward, exploding with a blast of surging, churning frost.

The enemy dragon shrilled its pain and fury, and Dar veered away as a fountain of acid exploded from frost-coated jaws. The black dragon, clearly outlined in rime, twisted upward, but the vengeful silver was too fast. Darlantan settled onto the snakelike serpent, crushing with his silver claws, squeezing his powerful jaws over the squirming throat. With a shudder, the black dragon grew still.

Aurican, Darlantan saw, had dispatched his foe with similar quickness. The pair of metal dragons tossed the limp corpses into the forest below and finally settled to rest on the rocky crest, tucking their wings and squatting between rough outcrops. With a shrug, Aurican shifted into his more compact two-legged form, and Darlantan quickly followed.

He found it a relief to tend to some mundane affairs, gathering some brush for a fire while Auri cleared the stones from the area where they had chosen to sleep. Finally they settled before a small blaze, both of them reflecting on the many centuries of their brothers’ lives… and their violent ends. They talked of Burll’s strength, of Smelt’s lightning quickness. Together they imagined the deadly menace that hot-tempered Blayze would have become, should he have survived the first ambush long enough to embark on a quest for vengeance.

“That revenge shall be our task now,” Aurican murmured, still speaking with the serene detachment that, under the circumstances, Darlantan found profoundly disturbing.