Varek cleared his throat. “Good. Now, let’s get out of here. Dhamon says there’s a dragon nearby, though how he can tell…”
Dhamon had turned away from the totem now and was pointing to a few glimmering specks in the sky. So graceful in their flight, at first they looked like gulls. Within a few seconds they became larger and more distinct and brought a snarl to his angular face. “Sivaks. Three of them.”
There has to be a dragon nearby, too, he added to himself. The vision of a black dragon still haunted the recesses of his mind, and the scale on his leg was warming. The three companions tensed as the draconians dropped from the sky, claws outstretched and muscular bodies angled like arrows. Dhamon waded forward almost eagerly, leaping and slashing at the lead one. Blood and silvery scales flew, and he swept the knife in a wide arc again and again, biting deep into the creature’s leg. It retreated into the sky. Its two companions dived at him, teeth bared, claws shining like polished steel in the late afternoon sun. The first dropped beneath Dhamon’s swing, managing to skim the water and slash at his side as it glided past. Its wings beat hard, sending a spray of water in its wake and carrying it swiftly toward the advancing Maldred.
Maldred swept his greatsword at the creature and cleaved its left arm. The stump spurted blood in an arc that stung his face, blinding him. Unseeing, he continued to swing hard as he spun, miraculously landing another blow and slaying the creature. Maldred furiously wiped and pawed at his face with his sleeve, blinking to clear his vision.
The other draconian clawed at Dhamon. “I need a sword!” Dhamon shouted as he shifted the grip on the knife. “This damn pig-sticker is useless.”
“Minell do!” Maldred said as he charged forward. In the next instant, Dhamon dropped in a crouch beneath the thing’s claws as Maldred swung and connected, slicing off a piece of the draconian’s wing. It careened into the water. Varek shouldered his staff and headed toward the floundering creature.
“Dhamon, one’s dropping!”
The last one now streaked toward them, claws outstretched, wings pulled close to its body.
“Foolish thing should get out of here while it’s still alive. Foolish thing should… together now!”
Dhamon and Maldred struck it simultaneously, the latter’s greatsword cutting deep into the creature’s thigh. Dhamon drove his knife into the sivak’s chest and tugged it free. He watched the draconian fall backward, sending a shower of water and blood away from its corpse. Before Dhamon could catch his breath, the image of the black dragon swelled in his mind and paralyzed him for an instant. He sensed that the dragon was close, diving, streaking like a bolt of midnight through the lush green canopy of the swamp. Dhamon backed away, toward the nearest wall of plants. He looked up, searching the sky, expecting to see the dragon descending on the clearing.
“Nothing,” he whispered. “Where is the dragon?” Suddenly he felt something brush against his leg. He dropped his gaze to see what appeared to be his own corpse floating on its back in the shallow water. There were gaping wounds on his abdomen and thigh. He stared at it incredulously, then quickly realized what it was—the sivak he’d killed. There were corpses of Maldred and Varek, too—the draconians in death imitating the forms of their slayers.
“Dhamon! By my breath, look! Look!”
Dhamon twisted, spotting Varek. The young man’s mouth was open wide and his face was the color of bleached parchment. His trembling fingers released his quarterstaff. “By the blessed memory of Steel Brightblade, look at that!”
Dhamon had been expecting the black dragon to fly over the clearing, waiting for its shadow to block out the sun, perhaps accompanied by a flurry of sivaks. Instead, the creature rose slowly, ponderously, magnificently, from the deep part of the marsh.
The dragon was hideous and beautiful. Its wet scales glimmered like a star-filled sky, and its bright yellow eyes glowed like twin suns. Its head was horse-shaped, with a combination of sharp and smooth angles everywhere and a jagged ridge that ran from between its eyes to the tip of its wide nostrils. Its mouth opened, revealing stark white teeth that were so straight and perfect they looked sculpted. An incredible wash of fetid air escaped.
The three humans stood mesmerized, terrified.
A long black tongue snaked out to tease the barbels that hung from the bottom of the dragon’s jaw, then retreated into the recesses of its cavelike mouth. Its serpentine neck cleared the surface of the marsh. It shook its head, spraying water everywhere. Its wings cleared the water, batlike and massive, beating against the marsh and then the air as it rose until it hovered just above the surface. Its body looked thin compared to the rest of it, its legs oddly long and thick for its form. Its dangling claws brushed the water. Its tail swished back and forth, stirring waves, then it inhaled sharply.
“Sable!” Varek shouted. “We’re dead. All of us.”
“Duck!” Dhamon and Maldred shouted practically in unison. All three dropped beneath the water’s surface, just as the beast breathed, a fan-shaped gout of crystal-clear acid racing toward them. With the acid came the strong stench of sulfur belched by the beast’s furnace stomach.
“It’s not Sable,” Dhamon gasped, as, after long moments, he surfaced and started running toward the plant wall. “It’s a big one, but it’s not anywhere near big enough to be a dragon overlord. Move, Mal! Varek!”
The creature was a hundred feet from nose to tail tip. A fairly young dragon, but one nonetheless formidable in size. Her jet-black claws clacked together menacingly, as her head swiveled and she caught Dhamon’s eyes. He watched the dragon’s eyes narrow to needlelike slits.
“Spread out!” he called. “Spread out!”
They were the same words spoken months ago by his friend and second-in-command Gauderic. He and Gauderic had led a force of elves and humans deep into the Qualinesti forest in search of a hateful young green dragon. They found a green dragon—though quite a bit larger than the one they’d been searching for. Dhamon recalled the incident too clearly. The men had panicked. Gauderic had shouted for them to run. “Spread out!” Gauderic had cried. Dhamon had countermanded the order. As the ranking officer, he ordered them instead to plow forward and face the creature together, as a combined force. Yet when he felt the dragon-fear, Dhamon ran from that battle, feeling the scale on his leg burning, his mind filled with frightening images of the green dragon, all the sensations overwhelming him and rendering him useless. He and Gauderic were the only two to survive that day. He had fled, and the dragon had left Gauderic alive to tell the day’s deeds—until Dhamon killed Gauderic in a drunken tavern brawl.
“Spread out!” Dhamon shouted again, as the dragon suddenly switched its attention to Varek. Dhamon angled away from the wall of plants and backed toward the tower of dragon skulls. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Varek reach the treeline, pausing and glancing Dhamon’s way.
“Run! Varek, run!”
Terror was etched deep on the young man’s face, as he was caught by the powerful aura of fear exuded by the dragon. His feet were rooted to the spot.
Maldred was nowhere to be seen.
The dragon turned and buffeted Dhamon with its wings, sending a gust of water and wind his way. He wove and stumbled, fighting to stay on his feet, scrambling all the way to the tower of bones and leaning against it for support. He heard the dragon inhale again, and in that moment he stabbed his knife into one of the skull’s eyesockets, puncturing the brain inside. The dragon roared defiantly, a noise so loud it was agonizing to human ears. As the sound died the dragon roared louder still.