Thomas Reid - The Fractured Sky

"Yes, it is," Tauran said, still kneeling. His eyes were closed and he kept his hand upon the dragon's forehead. Finally, he stood up, looking around. "But I don't understand what happened to him."

Kaanyr snorted. "He bit off more than he could chew, and this little army of wood elf fellows and their giant bear-plant did him in."

"I wish it were that simple, if tragic," Tauran replied, "but there is no sign of the priest within the dragon's corpse. Whatever happened here, Zasian did not die in Tekthyrios's form."

"So he's still running loose," Kael said, whacking his blade against a nearby tree in frustration. "We're not done, yet."

"It appears not," Tauran said. "And what's worse, he left the dragon behind, so he's more difficult to find, and I think he's left the House of the Triad, making that difficult job even trickier."

"Why did he come here?" Aliisza asked. "What is this place?"

Tauran sighed and began walking in an ever widening circle around the dragon. As he surveyed the area, he explained. "Some of those who fought here today are eladrin, fey creatures. Those here have dedicated themselves to being champions of good across the cosmos. They are a bit more free-spirited than most of us who dwell here within the House, flaunting our laws when such strictures do not suit them, but Tyr abides them because they are dedicated to defending this place."

The angel stopped and knelt down next to a patch of earth, tracing his finger through something there. "It would seem that whatever happened to Zasian, here is where he got up and walked away."

Kaanyr moved next to the angel and peered down where he indicated. A set of bootprints wandered off through the underbrush. They would be easy to follow.

Tauran stood again. "It doesn't appear that he's injured, so he's moving rapidly. But these kills are very fresh. He can't be far ahead."

"Then we should not tarry," Kaanyr said, sensing that the end of his servitude might be near. He loosened Burnblood in its scabbard and gestured for the angel to lead the way. "Let's go."

"You!" Myshik snarled as Zasian walked into view. The draconic hobgoblin scrambled to his feet and reached for the war axe strapped to his back. "Where is Tekthyrios?" he demanded, drawing the axe back as if to strike at the priest.

Beside the half-dragon, Kashada shifted her gaze back and forth between the two. Her eyes, peering out from behind that shimmering veil of black cloth and shadow, glittered in amusement.

The shadow-mystic had been genuinely grateful to Zasian for rescuing her, but afterward, he noted something dangerous in her demeanor. She had appeared flustered at first, at least until she managed to redeploy her shadow-illusions. Even afterward, she became aloof, and he caught her staring at him more than once. She would bear watching, he decided.

"The storm dragon is no more," Zasian answered, stopping a few steps out of Myshik's reach. "And if you don't put that down, the same will hold true for you."

"How then will I cleave you in twain to avenge his death?" Myshik asked, a taunting smile appearing on his lips. He took a single stride forward, and Zasian finished the spell he had begun before he and Kashada had joined the half-dragon.

Myshik's eyes bulged when he realized he could not move.

Zasian watched, smirking, as the hobgoblin strained to break free of the repulsive magic. You truly are a simpleton, whelp of Morueme. Always two steps behind the rest of us. As bad as the half-fiends and their fool angel. "Are you done, yet?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"I could heave this blade such that it would lop off your head, Banite," Myshik growled. He continued to struggle and did not notice Kashada step behind him.

"Yes, but you don't know what other little tricks I might have up my sleeve," Zasian replied and nodded to the shadow-cloaked woman. She nodded back and stepped closer, planting what Zasian assumed was a dagger against the small of the hobgoblin's back.

Myshik froze, and his eyes rolled as he tried to peer back over his shoulder at the woman. Her free hand snaked up and took hold of the axe. He resisted for a moment then arched up straighter. Zasian chuckled, imagining how she was pressing her point home. Myshik released the axe and Kashada tossed it to the side. She did not move away from the half-dragon.

"Have you heard the saying, 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend,' Myshik?" Zasian asked. "I believe the nomadic tribesmen who roam the desert near your home use it often, as do the genies in various parts of the cosmos."

Myshik glowered, but he did not say anything.

"Yes, I killed the storm dragon, but you never served him. It was me in control of his flesh and blood, me to whom you swore fealty."

The half-dragon's eyes widened the slightest bit as that realization sunk in.

"I shouldn't think that it would matter too much to you what happened to Tekthyrios," Zasian continued. "I don't believe your father or uncle would be too keen to hear that you were in the service of a storm dragon. The storms and the blues never have gotten along too well, have they? Always squabbling over territory, domains, or some such, right?"

Myshik frowned, but eventually he nodded. "But why?" he asked. "Why the disguise, the trickery?"

"In due time, whelp of Morueme, in due time," Zasian answered. "For now, just know that I am no friend of Vhok's. He was a tool to me, nothing more. In fact, he still serves me in that fashion, though he does not yet realize it. Also know that I do not serve Bane. That lie was a necessary part of my deception with Vhok." Zasian paused and studied the half-dragon, gauging his reaction. Myshik had stopped glowering. So far so good, the priest decided. He continued. "You have two choices to consider now. One is to take a stand, try to fight against me, and die as a result. That is no threat, it is a certainty. It isn't, however, a particularly appealing result to me, because despite your stubbornness and rather simple outlook, I find you useful.

"Which brings me to the other choice. Serve me, as you had been serving me when you believed I was a storm dragon. The terms will be the same. Do as I ask, willingly, eagerly, and I will make certain you receive generous compensation for your efforts. Plus, you get the opportunity to thwart Vhok, make him one miserable demonspawn. That ought to convince you right there."

"I accept," Myshik said.

"What?" Zasian said, taken aback. "No need to think about it? No deliberations over which choice is the lesser betrayal to your conscience?"

Myshik smiled. "As you said, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.' What is there to think about? My uncle gave me very clear instructions."

Zasian's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Perhaps he is more cunning than I gave him credit for. I will have to watch him, he decided. He nodded to Kashada, who stepped back from the half-dragon and slipped her dagger back into her belt.

Myshik relaxed and moved to pick up his axe. He stopped before he actually took hold of it and glanced back at Kashada. "You're not going to use me for target practice when I scoop this up, are you?" he asked.

"Does she have a reason to?" Zasian asked.

"No," Myshik replied, "but I wasn't sure if she knew that."

"I don't think we need fear a reprisal from you," the priest said.

Myshik gave him an even stare for just a little longer than Zasian thought appropriate, then he lifted the axe from the ground. He slipped it back into its spot upon his back and turned to face the other two. "So, what is your intention?" he asked.

"Kashada and I have business elsewhere," Zasian answered. "We must take a journey, one that is likely to be a bit treacherous."

"Yes, this cave you have brought us to," Myshik said. "But where does it lead? Where are we going?"