Farther on, the mage noted two of the ferocious beastmen known as wendigos. They, too, had been frozen in death, but where the trolls had revealed their terror at their horrible deaths, the wendigos wore masks of outrage, as if neither could believe they had come to such straits.
Krasus walked through the icy chamber, peering at others in the macabre collection. He discovered an elf and two orcs that had been added since his last sojourn here, signs that the war had spread even to this lonely abode. One of the orcs looked as if he had been frozen without ever having realized what fate had befallen him.
Beyond the orcs Krasus discovered one corpse that startled even him. Upon first glance, it seemed but a giant serpent, a peculiar enough monster to find in such a frozen hell, but the coiled body suddenly altered at the top, shifting from a cylindrical form to a nearly human torso—albeit a human torso covered with a smattering of scales. Two broad arms reached out as if trying to invite the wizard to join the creature’s grisly doom.
A face seemingly elven but with a flatter nose, a slit of a mouth, and teeth as sharp as a dragon greeted the newcomer. Shadowy eyes with no pupils glared in outrage. In the dark and with the bottom half of his form hidden, this being would have passed for either elf or man, but Krasus knew him for what he was—or rather, had been. The name began to form on the wizard’s tongue unbidden, as if the sinister, icy victim before him somehow drew it forth.
“Na—” Krasus started.
“You are nothing, nothing, nothing, if not audaciousss,” interjected a whispering voice that seemed to trail on the very wind.
The faceless wizard turned to see a bit of the ice on one wall pull away—and transform into something nearly akin to a man. Yet the legs were too thin, bent at too awkward an angle, and the body resembled more that of an insect. The head, too, had only a cursory resemblance to that of a human, for although there were eyes, nose, and mouth, they looked as if some artisan had started on a snow sculpture, then abandoned the idea as fruitless once the first marks for the features had been traced.
A shimmering cloak encircled the bizarre figure, one that had no hood, but a collar that rose into great spikes at the back.
“Malygos . . .” Krasus murmured. “How fare you?”
“I am comfortable, comfortable, comfortable—when my privacy isss left to me.”
“I would not be here if I had any other choice.”
“There isss always one other choice—you can leave, leave, leave! I would be alone!”
The wizard, though, would not be daunted by the cavern’s master. “And have you forgotten why you dwell so silently, so alone, in this place, Malygos? Have you forgotten so soon? It is, after all, only a few centuries since—”
The icy creature stalked around the perimeter of the cavern, ever keeping what passed for his eyes locked on the newcomer. “I forget nothing, nothing, nothing!” came the harsh wind. “I forget the days of darkness least of all. . . .”
Krasus rotated slowly so as to keep Malygos in front of him at all times. He knew no reason why the other should attack, but at least one of the others had hinted that perhaps Malygos, being eldest of those who still lived, might be more than a bit mad.
The stick-thin legs worked well on the snow and ice, the claws at the ends digging deep. Krasus was reminded of the poles men in the cold climes used to push themselves along on their skis.
Malygos had not always looked so, nor did he even now have to retain such a shape. Malygos wore what he wore because in some deep recess of his mind he preferred this over even the shape to which he had been born.
“Then you remember what he who calls himself Deathwing did to you and yours.”
The outlandish face twisted, the claws flexed. Something akin to a hiss escaped Malygos.
“I remember. . . .” The cavern suddenly felt much more cramped. Krasus held his ground, knowing that to give in to Malygos’s tortured world might very well condemn him.
“I remember!”
The ice spires shivered, creating a sound at first like a tiny bell, then quickly rising to a near ear-piercing cry. Malygos poked his way toward the wizard, scratch of a mouth wide and bitter. Pits deepened beneath the pale imitation of a brow.
Snow and ice spread, grew, filling the chamber more and more. Around Krasus, some of the snow swirled, rose, became a spectral giant of mythic proportions, a dragon of winter, a dragon of ghosts.
“I remember the promise,” the macabre figure hissed. “I recall the covenant we made! Never death to another! The world guarded forever!”
The wizard nodded, even though not even Malygos could see within the confines of his hood. “Until the betrayal.”
The snow dragon now stretched wings. Less than real, more than a phantasm, it moved in reaction to the emotions of the cavern’s lord. Even the mighty jaws opened and closed, as if the spectral puppet spoke instead.
“Until the betrayal, the betrayal, the betrayal . . .”A blast of ice burst forth from the snow dragon, ice so harsh and deadly that it tore into the rocky walls.“Until Deathwing!”
Krasus kept one hand from Malygos’s sight, knowing that at any moment he might have to use it for swift spellcasting.
Yet, the monstrous creature held himself in check. He shook his head—the snow dragon repeating his gesture—and added, in a more reasonable voice, “But the day of the dragon had already passed, and none of us, none of us, none of us, saw anything to fear from him! He was but one aspect of the world, its most base and chaotic reflection! Of all, his day had come and gone with the most permanence!”
Krasus leapt back as the ground before him shuddered. He thought at first that Malygos had tried to catch him unaware, but instead of an attack, the ground simply rose up and formed yet another dragon, this one of earth and rock.
“For the future, he said,” Malygos went on. “For when the world would have only humans, elves, and dwarves to watch over its life, he said! Let all the factions, all the flights, all the great dragons—the aspects —come together and re-create, reshape the foul piece, and we would have the key to forever protecting the world even after the last of us had faded away!” He looked up at the two phantasms he had created. “And I, I, I . . . I, Malygos, stood with him and convinced the rest!”
The two dragons swirled around one another, became one another, intertwining over and over. Krasus tore his eyes from them, reminding himself that although the one before him clearly despised Deathwing over all other creatures, it did not mean that Malygos would aid him . . . or even let him leave the chill cavern.
“And so,” interjected the faceless wizard. “Each dragon, especially the aspects, imbued it with a bit of themselves, bound themselves, in a sense, to it—”
“Forever put themselves at its mercy!”
Krasus nodded. “Forever ensured that it would be the one thing that could have power over them, although they did not know it then.” He held up one gloved hand and created an illusion of his own, an illusion of the object of which they spoke. “You remember how deceiving it looked? You remember what a simple-looking object it was?”
And at the summoning of the image, Malygos gasped and cringed. The twin dragons collapsed, snow and rock spilling everywhere but not at all touching either the wizard or his host. The rumble echoed through the empty passages, no doubt even out into the vast, empty wilderness above.
“Take it away, take it away, take it away!” Malygos demanded, nearly whimpered. Clawed hands tried to cover the indistinct eyes. “Show it to me no more!”
But Krasus would not be stopped. “Look at it, my friend! Look at the downfall of the eldest of races! Look at what has become known to all as the Demon Soul!”
The simple, shining disk spun over the mage’s gloved palm. A golden prize so unassuming that it had passed into and out of the possession of many without any of them ever realizing its potential. Only an illusion appeared here now, yet it still put such fear in the heart of Malygos that it took him more than a minute to force his gaze upon it.