The blue dragon had spent a comfortable evening. He’d gone out hunting that morning and brought down a fat deer. After dining, he’d found a patch of autumn sunlight, and lying down, he extended his blue wings. Resting his head on the warm rocks, he basked in the warmth. When Kitiara arrived, he roused himself, shaking his head with its blue mane and flicking his long scaly tail.
The greeting between Highlord and dragon was warm. Skie was the only being Kitiara truly trusted and the dragon was devoted to his rider, something rare for dragons, who generally disdained all lower forms of life. Skie admired Kitiara’s courage and her cool-headed skill in battle, and thus he was willing to overlook her defects, putting them down to the fact that she had been born, lamentably, a human.
“What a dragon she would have made!” Skie often commented regretfully.
Kitiara patted the blue’s long scaled neck with her hand and asked if he had eaten. Skie indicated the remains of a deer carcass nearby. Few other human riders ever bothered to check on the welfare of their dragons, but Kitiara never forgot. She nodded and then, instead of mounting, as he expected, she stood by his side, her hand resting on his neck, staring at her boots.
Skie saw at once that something was wrong.
“What did the emperor think of your plan to attack the High Clerist’s Tower?” Skie asked.
Kitiara sighed. “He thinks it is too reckless, too risky, so he did not approve it. That is true, I suppose, but to my mind we risk far more by curling up all snug and complacent in our dens.”
“The man is a fool,” Skie remarked.
“No, if Ariakas were a fool, I would not mind so much,” said Kitiara somberly. “He is a brilliant commander. Witness the fact that his armies control almost all of Ansalon. But those very victories will be his downfall. Back at the start of the war, when he had nothing to lose, he would have taken my advice and attacked the High Clerist’s Tower. Since then, he has grown too fond of victory. He is afraid of defeat so he bets only on the sure thing. Hazarding little, he wonders why his winnings decrease.”
Skie shook his head. His belly rumbled. He’d eaten too fast and the deer wasn’t sitting well.
“Did you visit the dragon mews?” Kitiara asked. “What news did you hear?”
“As you say, the emperor’s war is going well,” Skie returned in grudging tones. “The Black Dragon Highlord, Lucien of Takar, has strengthened his hold on the eastern lands, putting down minor uprisings and rebellions, though his greatest achievement appears to have been forcing those lay-about slugs of black dragons to crawl out of their swamps and fight. Lucien has joined with the Highlord of Icereach, Feal-Thas, and his white dragons to conquer the Goodland Peninsula. Feal-Thas is putting it about that he was the one responsible for the victory, but all know the pointy-eared elf was merely following Lucien’s order.”
“Of course, no human thinks an elf has a brain in his head, so they discount Feal-Thas,” Kitiara remarked, “probably at their peril. We will see for ourselves. We are to pay this elf Highlord a visit. I should learn more about him.”
“What, travel to Icereach!” Skie snorted. Sparks of lightning sizzled from between his teeth. “If you go there, you go without me. Nothing but snow and ice. Why anyone would want to travel to such a dreadful place is a mystery to me!”
He didn’t mean it, of course. Skie would never think of entrusting Kit’s welfare to another mount. Still, let her worry a little.
Kitiara dragged the heavy leather harness out of the brush where she had stashed it for safekeeping. Skie detested the harness, as did all self-respecting dragons. “Harness” equated to “horse” in Skie’s mind, and he wore one only because it ensured the safety of the rider. Some riders mounted their dragons with the mistaken idea that they could use the harness to guide and control the dragon. Every dragon soon disabused his rider of that notion.
Dragon and rider worked best as a team. Dragon and rider had to trust each other implicitly, for their lives depended on each other. Such trust was difficult for most dragons and riders to acquire, especially the chromatic dragons who were not given to trusting anyone, not even each other. The blue dragons had turned out to be the best mounts thus far. Blue dragons tended to be more gregarious and outgoing than their fellows and worked better with humans. That said, there always came a time in the relationship of every dragon and his rider when the dragon would have to teach the rider who was really in control. This was often done by the dragon flipping over in midair and dumping his offending rider in a lake.
Skie still recalled with an inward chuckle the time he had done that to Kit. She’d been wearing full plate armor and she’d sunk like a boulder. Skie had been forced to plunge in after her and drag her out, half-drowned. He had thought she would be furious, but once she’d quit spewing up water, she had started to laugh. She had admitted that he’d been right and she’d been wrong and she never again sought to impose her will on him.
The first thing Kitiara had learned from Skie was that aerial combat was far different from battles fought on land. In the air, a human had to learn to think and fight like a dragon. Thinking of this made Skie recall the rest of his news.
“The rumor is that soon the metallic dragons will enter the war,” the blue dragon said. “If that happens, Ariakas’s victories may dry up. These metallics are our equals, armed with deadly breath weapons and powerful magicks.”
“Bah! I don’t believe it,” said Kit, shaking her head. “The metallics have sworn an oath promising not to enter the war. They don’t dare, not while we are holding their precious eggs hostage.”
“You and I both know what’s happening to those eggs, and someday the metallics will figure it out. Some are already starting to grow suspicious. Word is that one named Evenstar is going about asking questions about the draconians. When the golds and silvers discover the truth, they will enter this war—with a vengeance!
“Which reminds me, I suppose you heard Verminaard is dead,” Skie added offhandedly.
“Yes, I heard,” said Kitiara.
Skie assisted her in putting on the harness, which fit around his neck and chest and forelegs. At least Kitiara did not insist on using one of the awkward and uncomfortable dragon saddles. She rode bareback, settling herself in front of his wings.
“Did you hear the truth of how he died?” Skie asked chattily. “Not battling dwarves in the dwarven kingdom, as we were led to believe, but ignominiously, at the hands of slaves!”
“The draconian commander said he was killed by assassins,” said Kit, adding with a chuckle, “At his death, an aurak masqueraded as Verminaard. Quite clever of him.”
“The dragons who served under the scaly little bastard were not fooled,” said Skie disparagingly.
“You don’t like draconians,” Kit observed, climbing up on Skie’s back.
“No dragon does,” said Skie, glowering. “They are a perversion, an abomination. I cannot believe Her Dark Majesty sanctioned such a heinous act.”
“Then you do not know Her Dark Majesty,” said Kitiara. She glanced about then said quietly, “I suggest we change the subject. You never know who might be listening.”
Skie grunted in agreement. “Where are we bound? Back to our camp?”
“Why?” Kitiara asked bitterly. “We have nothing to do there but drink and belch and scratch ourselves. We’re not going to be allowed to fight.”
She sighed again then said, “Besides, Lord Ariakas has other assignments for me. First, we go to Palanthas…”
“Palanthas?” Skie repeated, amazed. “That’s in enemy territory. What business do you have in Palanthas?”
“I’m going shopping,” said Kitiara with a laugh.
Skie craned his neck to stare at her. “Shopping? What for?”
“A man’s soul,” Kit replied.
5
The Oath and the Measure. An assignation
Sir Derek Crownguard did not like being a guest at Castle Wistan, but the knight did not have much choice in the matter. His own holdings—a border castle north of Solanthus—had been overrun by the forces of the Dark Queen and was, so he heard, being occupied and rebuilt by enemy troops, now in control of all of eastern Solamnia. Derek’s younger brother had died in the assault. When it became apparent that the castle would fall, Derek had faced the choice of dying in a hopeless cause or staying alive to one day return and reclaim his family’s holdings and their honor. He had fled, along with those of his friends and troops who had survived. He sent his wife and children to Palanthas to live with her relatives, while he had traveled to Sancrist Isle, there to spend weeks discussing with his fellow knights how best to recruit and organize the forces that would drive the enemy from his homeland.