Douglas Niles - The Dragons

The silver dragon felt the pulse of magic as the first of the blacks, the magically hastened serpent, was swallowed by the powerful essence of the stone. The monster simply vanished from the air, the sound of a whirling vortex roaring through the crater of the lofty mountain. The rest of the midnight-dark dragons swept onward, bellowing in rage at the disappearance of their fellow.

A blast of magic swirled through the caldera, much stronger this time as Aurican’s spell captured the spiritual force of six black dragons. Spray rose from the wet snowfields as the wind focused, whirling, rising into a raging funnel cloud. Aurican stood, his feet firmly planted, holding up the gem as the wind curled and blustered.

Abruptly Darlantan saw a flash of crimson, like a slash of living flame in the sky, and he knew that Crematia had arrived. The red was poised above the circular crater, and the silver dragon saw her tuck her wings and arrow toward Aurican-who had his back to the scarlet horror, his full attention still riveted upon the black stone pulsing in his hands. She rushed downward, jaws gaping, foreclaws outstretched.

“Beware!” cried Darlantan, veering through a sharp turn. Aurican still took no notice; his concentration was focused upon the swirling storm and the enchanted gem.

Crematia swept lower, jaws gaping as she approached the figure of the elf, but suddenly she noticed the silver form racing toward her from the side. At the same moment, the whirlwind of sound rose to a thunder, echoing and roaring through the crater, casting a cloud of debris through the air. The red dragon banked away as the swelling crescendo of magic roared in Darlantan’s ears.

And Crematia disappeared, vanished as abruptly as the seven black dragons. The power of the dragongem was a surging wave in the bowl of the valley, a resonant force echoing with sorcery, magic potent enough to swallow the black dragons… and apparently Crematia as well.

The vortex of the cloud swept up the steep slope of the crater, finally rising to whirl around Aurican. The buffeting of the storm was tremendous, but still the elven figure didn’t budge.

And then the wind was gone, snuffed out like a small candle by the pure magic of the dragongem. Aurican held the black stone in his hands, smiling at the silver serpent who wheeled overhead. The skies were clear of chromatic dragons.

“Now,” Aurican shouted, his tone swelling with exultation, “bring me the blues!”

3357 PC

Campaigns raged across the face of Ansalon, scoring bloody scars over each summer season. During the colder times, the vast armies rested, recouped, and prepared for the upcoming offensives. The tide of battle flowed over the plains of Vingaard, lapped at the foothills of the mountain ranges flanking that great flatland, and washed deep into lands that had once been hallowed forests.

However, with three clans of evil dragonkind imprisoned in the stones of life-trapping and Crematia nowhere to be seen, the blue wyrms had become more cautious. They still sent their lightning against helpless mortals on the ground, but no longer did they join in the great campaigns of Blacktusk’s-and later his heir, Talonian’s-vast army. Thus the elves of Silvanos and the elven leader’s human allies were able to gradually drive back the evil force’s most aggressive spearheads.

Crematia, by all reports, had disappeared at the time of the ambush of the black dragons, and Aurican had quietly voiced the hope that she had somehow been entrapped with her inky cousins. Still, the gems had been specifically forged for a particular kind of dragon, and in darker moments, the gold dragon speculated that the red female had simply teleported away to spare herself from Darlantan’s attack. Thus, she could be biding her time, waiting for her revenge.

Yet finally, after a campaign of more than a hundred winters, victory lay within the grasp of Aurican, Darlantan, and their elven and human allies. Only the blue serpents remained, and the silver and gold had patiently awaited a chance to trap them within the remaining dragongem, the enchanted stone of blue.

Until that stone was stolen.

For once, the ogres used cunning instead of brute force. Bribed by great treasures, some humans had betrayed the rest of their kind, enabling the ogres to penetrate the heart of the army camp where the bluestone was being held for safekeeping. The monsters had made off with the orb, carrying the precious treasure somewhere into the Khalkists.

Now the army of elves and humans was encamped across a vast plain, several days’ march from the forest that had been their only protection in the days before the dragongems. Silvanos and his human allies had taken this position with audacity, in a blatant attempt to lure Talonian into a final battle-a contest that would almost certainly decide the outcome of the war.

Beside that position rose a single, steep-sided mountain, and it was atop this peak that two long, serpentine forms sprawled with regal ease. Starlight reflected from glittering scales of silver, rippled along sleek wings of gold, as the ancient nestmates overlooked the flatland and its burden of twin armies.

The blot of Talonian’s horde lay to the north, a dark stain on the dark land. Moving hastily, camping without fires, the ogre chieftain had brought his troops on a brutal forced march, so desperate was he to meet the elves while the enchanted gem was unavailable to them. Now that massive swarm was encamped along the northern horizon, and even in the darkness, the two dragons could smell the stench of many thousand ogres, a bitter and acrid blight on the night wind.

On the plain below, sprawling for as far as they could see, were the innumerable sparkling cookfires of the human and elven force. Pickets were placed and the formations were encamped in company order, ready to fall into line in the morning. From the mountaintop, the glittering specks marking Silvanos’s massive army stretched almost to the far horizon.

“Or is it even Silvanos’s army anymore?” mused Aurican pensively. “He tells me there are ten humans for every elf in his ranks.”

“That is good for the elves, then,” Darlantan noted dryly, “for the humans will likely do ten times as much dying.”

“Indeed,” Auri agreed sagely, missing the irony his nestmate had intended.

Even to Darlantan humans, were short-lived and reckless beings, lacking the dignity and wisdom inherent in elves. Yet increasingly the silver dragon had discovered that he not only found humans to be fascinating, but that he also actually enjoyed their company. Perhaps because of the memories and legends of the benefactor Smelt, the humans had welcomed the assistance of the silver serpent with enthusiasm and gratitude, and Darlantan had been eager to help when he could. He had walked among humans many times during more recent years, finding a peculiar and enervating excitement in the chaotic tangles of their messy, disorganized cities. Many men seemed to be industrious and unpredictable folk, and though he couldn’t explain his reaction, the silver dragon had long ago realized that he was fascinated by them. He also wanted to protect them, insofar as it was possible, from the depredations of the Dark Queen’s wyrms.

“Tell me,” Aurican asked, interrupting his kin-dragon’s musings, “has the wild elf heard any word about the bluestone?”

“The news is hopeful. Kagonos has located it, and has a chance of returning it to Silvanos. Unless he can do so-until he does, in any event-it will be up to us to stand against the Dark Queen’s blues.”

“It is fitting enough, if only to get the war over with,” Aurican said with a sigh. “There are ballads to compose, lyrics to record… too many things that have been put aside for this priority of violence.”