Troy Denning - The Amber Enchantress

She was about to cast her spell when the Dragon opened his mouth and hissed in anger. His long tongue darted from his beak and licked the top of the tower for a moment, then he paused to look over the hills surrounding the village. Whatever had happened, it had apparently not been his doing.

Then Sadira saw the mul standing beneath the gate arch, where the Dragon could not see him, looking dazed and confused. Remembering that Khidar had told her no champion could strike the bearer of a weapon forged by Rajaat, the sorceress decided it would be wisest to hold her attacks until she and Rikus could join forces.

Instead, keeping an eye on both the Dragon and the mul, she went to Agis’s side. What she found made her gasp in alarm. The noble lay on the rocky ground, unconscious and barely breathing. Although he had escaped being hit by Borys’s searing breath, an indirect blast of the fiery sand had burned his robe away and scoured the skin off much of his face. The sorceress laid her hands on his chest, then allowed some of the energy infusing her body to flow into his. With luck, this would keep him alive for a little longer, but her powers did not make her a healer. For that, she needed Magnus.

Sadira rose and glanced back toward the gate. Borys had stepped completely into the village now. Dwarven warriors were swarming around his feet, ineffectually hacking at his ankles with their steel battle-axes. Paying then no more attention than Magnus would have a swarm of mosquitoes, the Dragon paused long enough to run a finger along the wound that Rikus had opened. The edges of the cut fused together, stanching the flow of yellow blood.

That done, he turned and marched through the village toward the sound of Neeva’s birthing screams. The dwarven warriors followed, but succeeded only in getting themselves crushed along with whatever else happened to lie beneath the Dragon’s footfalls. Seeing this, Rikus began to recover from his shock and turned to follow the battle.

Magnus’s heavy footsteps finally came up behind the sorceress. Hardly turning around to address the windsinger, she pointed at Agis’s inert form. “Don’t let him die!”

“I’ll do what I can,” the windsinger replied, panting heavily. “Who is he?”

“One of my husbands,” Sadira answered.

With that, she rushed toward the gate, followed by Sacha and Wyan. She caught up to Rikus just as he started to rush down the lane after Borys and the dwarves. “Rikus, wait!” she called. “You need help!”

The mul stopped and looked back. When his eyes fell on Sadira, his square jaw slackened. “What happened to you?” he gasped.

The sorceress reached over and pushed his jaw back up. “Never mind,” she said. “The important thing is that I made it to the Pristine Tower and found out how to save Tyr-and Kled. Whatever you do, don’t let go of the Scourge of Rkard. Together, I think we can stop the Dragon-”

“You mean kill him!” Sacha hissed.

Rikus glanced over the sorceress’s shoulder and frowned. “What are those two doing here?” he growled. “Don’t tell me they’re with you?”

“They’re the ones who told me to come here,” Sadira admitted.

“I still don’t think we can trust ’em,” the mul growled.

“Don’t think,” hissed Wyan. “That’s not what your kind is bred for.”

Rikus raised his sword to strike at the head, but Sadira caught his arm. “At the moment, we’ve got more important things to fight,” she said. “Especially if Borys is going where I think he is.”

With that, she led the way after the Dragon. It did not take much effort to track him. Even if his body hadn’t towered far above Kled’s small huts, the swath of devastation created by his passing would have made it an easy task.

When they caught up to him, the Dragon was kneeling next to a hut, his arms resting on the top of its walls and his head peering down inside. From the inside came the pained groans of Neeva’s labor, and no other sounds.

The entire company of dwarves was gathered around the Dragon, swinging their axes at his great body as though it were a tree. Occasionally, Borys flicked his tongue into the hut, then said, “Come now, tell me where you have hidden this Er’Stali and his book. If you force me to use the Way, I promise your child will die with the rest of the village.”

From inside the hut, Neeva’s pained voice screamed, “No!”

Sadira took one last look around, noting that Sacha and Wyan had finally yielded to their cowardly instincts and disappeared. When she saw no reason to postpone the attack, she pointed her hand at the Dragon’s head, then whispered, “Now, Rikus!”

When she spoke her incantation, a streak of crimson light shot from her finger and engulfed Borys’s head in a ball of radiance almost as bright as the sun itself. He bellowed in surprise and jumped to his feet, then Rikus was on him, furiously hacking and slashing at the Dragon’s legs. Wound after wound opened, spattering the mul with hot yellow blood and filling the streets with tunnels of liquid fire. Although the heat drove the dwarves away, Rikus ignored the pain it caused him and continued to lash out at Borys.

Before preparing to cast another spell, Sadira stepped over to the hut and peered over the side. She caught a glimpse of Neeva’s naked figure squatting on a bed of soft hides, her hand clenching Caelum’s shoulders for support.

“Caelum, take her and run!” Sadira hissed.

“But the child is com-”

“Carry her, now!” the sorceress yelled, stepping away. As she looked back to the battle, Sadira saw the Dragon reach up and grab her sphere of light as though it were a mask, then rip it away. Instantly, she cast her next spell, firing a streak of darkness at his head. This time, Borys was ready for her and deflected the attack with a flick of his wrist. The bolt struck a hut and swaddled it in blackness. It drained into the ground, leaving nothing behind except a shadow.

Once more, Sadira raised her hand toward the sun. Rikus continued to press the attack, leaping across small stream of boiling stone to thrust his blade toward Borys’s abdomen. The Dragon, much better at defending himself now that he could see, slapped the flat of the blade aside.

“I believe that sword belongs to me,” he said, gesturing at the Scourge of Rkard with one long finger.

“It’s mine now,” Rikus replied. He swung again, lopping off the end of the Dragon’s finger.

A stream of blood shot from the wound and sprayed over Rikus’s chest. The mul screamed and stumbled away, barely managing to keep his hand on his sword. Screaming in rage, Borys slashed at his attacker. Again, there was an ear-piercing shriek and a brilliant flash of blue, then Rikus was nowhere to be seen.

Guessing that the Dragon would turn his attention to her next, Sadira whispered her spell. Instantly, her hand began to vibrate with a gentle hum and glowed in a soft red color. Borys fixed his eyes on the sorceress and opened his mouth, as if to inhale.

“I wouldn’t,” Sadira said, raising her humming hand toward the Dragon. “My magic comes from the Pristine Tower, and you’ve already seen that it can affect you.”

“It won’t after you die,” Borys snarled.

“True, but that would unleash the spell in this hand,” Sadira said, cautiously bending down and touching her fingers to the street. Immediately, the cobblestones began to crack and break apart. “You could still kill me after the globes in your stomach shattered,” she said. “But then, how would you collect the energy you need to keep your prison locked?”

The Dragon closed his mouth and began to shuffle slowly forward, staring at the sorceress in angry silence. Sadira rose to her feet again, but did not retreat. Despite her show of bravery, she was beginning to worry that she had made a mistake. When the sorceress and her friends had killed Kalak, they had caught him in the process of swallowing several obsidian balls as he tried to transform himself into a dragon. They had assumed that he needed the balls for the same reason there had been an obsidian pommel on Nok’s cane: to convert the life-force of animals into magical energy.