“Aaaah!” The shriek was Argaen’s, and it was not one of triumph.
The intensity of the emerald glow was like a physical force, buffeting the members of the party. The Grand Master fell back, his body too weak, his mind too worn. No one could have done more.
Kaz stumbled to one knee. Two hands helped him up and Tesela, her face aglow with the strength of Mishakal, smiled bravely at him. She, too, was under a great strain.
“I’m not a warrior, Kazl Let Mishakal watch over you, give you strength! It’s the only help I can give!” Though there was no other sound, it was difficult to make out her voice, almost as if she were speaking from a distance.
The minotaur nodded. He thought about turning around and retrieving his battle-axe, only to discover, as before, that it was already in his hands. A grim smile played over his animal features. This was the sort of magic he could learn to like.
“See to Darius and the others!” he shouted, then stalked defiantly toward the open vault.
Even before he reached the doorway, Kaz had a good idea what it was he faced. It was the same tremendous power he had felt from a distance when the surviving dragonriders had swooped down on the citadel of the mad mage…
He stepped in front of the open vault and confirmed his own fears. With the sorcerous staff of his childhood friend, the slain wizard, Magius, Huma had attacked Galan Dracos. Dracos’s power had been shattered, so had Huma said, and this thing that radiated it should have been nothing more than a thousand glass fragments. Yet this evil thing had evidently reformed itself, albeit incompletely, judging by the cracks and gaps, and now it rested solidly on a pile of broken artifacts gathered from the ruins of the magic-user’s citadel.
Like a dragon atop its horde, the great emerald sphere of Galan Dracos, the same sphere that had almost made the renegade sorcerer victorious, glistened malevolently at the minotaur.
Chapter Fifteen
Fragments. That was all that remained of the emerald sphere, according to Huma. The sphere had been the channel for the power Galan Dracos had craved… power he had drawn from beyond even the Abyss, power that would have allowed his mistress her full dark glory in the mortal realm of Krynn. Without the sphere, the Dark Queen would have been weakened, as are all gods who enter this plane of existence. Dracos had found a way, though, through his unorthodox manner of experimentation, to cheat this basic law. He had also planned to cheat Takhisis as well and to add her power to his own. However, in a moment of desperation, Huma had thrown the Staff of Magius like a well-aimed lance at the emerald sphere. Where the finest steel could not even scratch the artifact’s surface, the magical staff had driven through virtually unimpeded, shattering both the emerald sphere and its creator’s dream.
Somehow the sphere, over a period of time, had drawn itself back together. It was imperfect, though, and even from where he stood, half-blinded by its evil glory, Kaz could see the many cracks and gaps. Not all of the sphere had been gathered back together; some pieces had no doubt been buried or thrown far from the wreckage of the citadel. It was amazing that the knights had located so many.
Half-draped over the flickering artifact, blood staining his right side, was Argaen Ravenshadow. More and more, it appeared that the true Argaen Ravenshadow was a mad thief of sorcery. The dark elf smiled as he looked up and noticed the minotaur, as if for the first time.
“I never imagined it could be so… wonderful,” he whispered. The glow made him look positively ghoulish. “This is what comes from being unfettered by the Conclave’s stodgy rules! This is true magic!”
“It’s death, elf. Likely yours.” Kaz hefted the axe.
Argaen rose from the sphere, strain evident in every move. Blood was still dripping from a massive wound below his left shoulder. Had it been a little farther to the right, the elf would have been a walking corpse. “The knighthood… is very thorough. I did not expect a… a further safety measure within the vault itself. It… it almost succeeded in its task.”
“It may still succeed. You look about done, thief.”
The elf’s smile grew broader. “A small matter now. I have access to more power than any other mage alive. Not only can I heal myself, but in time, I can become nearly a god!”
Kaz laughed mockingly. “Galan Dracos thought the same thing.”
“He was in the midst of a war.”
“And you have only me. I think I might be enough for you, though.” Kaz took a step toward the elf and his prize.
“Are you?”
This time it was not as if the minotaur had hit a stone wall. Rather, it was more like walking into soft cheese. Kaz struggled forward, feeling each step more and more of an effort.
The distance that separated the two was diminishing slowly, when Kaz saw the elf reach into a pocket in his robes and pull out a tiny figurine. It was, Kaz noted, the same figurine that Delbin had “accidentally” picked up once before. With that realization, the minotaur was abruptly released by whatever spell held him in thrall. His advantage was short-lived, however, because even as he ran, he saw the tiny figurine in Ravenshadow’s outstretched hand swell in size and fly off. The figurine landed in front of him, effectively cutting him off from the elf. It continued to grow and grow.
The nightflyer! Darius had been slightly amiss in his assumption that he had been attacked by a dragon, for, though the thing that Kaz was now desperately backing away from had the wings, body, and jaws of a dragon, it was not that legendary beast. It was not even alive, at least by normal standards.
It was a stone dragon, perfect in every detail-a statue, a figurine, animated by some sorcery. Still it continued to grow. Already its head nearly brushed the ceiling of the vault. Kaz watched in horrified wonder as seemingly immobile wings flapped lightly. He wondered how the thing, so much heavier than a true dragon, could fly.
The stone behemoth opened its great maw wide and roared a silent challenge. Whereas it had been given a mouth with huge, sharp-chiseled teeth, fangs, and a forked tongue longer than the minotaur’s arm, the creator could not endow the strange creature with a throat. The back of the mouth ended in solid rock. It could not make a sound.
Still the creature continued to grow, and Kaz wondered whether it would keep swelling until it filled all the space in the huge vault.
The dragon lashed its long, wicked tail at the nearest wall of the vault. The wall failed to shatter, but cracks ran all along it.
“Cease!” The elf glared up at the creature. “You will bring everything down upon us!”
In reply, the unliving creature glanced down at its master and gave a silent hiss. It began to shift around, as if seeking some escape from the confinement of the vault. A wing struck the weakened wall, spreading the vein of cracks farther and loosening bits of the ceiling. The dragon moved forward.
“Stop!” Argaen stumbled a short distance from the sphere, which was glowing more intensely than ever. “I command you!”
“Your toy doesn’t seem to be listening!” Kaz shouted, and regretted it a moment later when the dragon suddenly swiveled its head and studied him thoughtfully with its blank eyes. It began to change direction. The tail struck the base of the wall. There was an ominous rumbling from above.
Argaen Ravenshadow was down on one knee, every movement requiring a greater and greater effort on his part. “Minotaur!”
Kaz paid him no mind at first, intent on saving his own skin. He swung the dwarven battle-axe in his left hand, cutting an arc of death that he was certain would not impress a creature that had already proven itself impervious to such weaponry. To his surprise, however, the stone beast actually backed up a step or two. It leaned forward and opened its mouth wide, eerily remaining in that stance for several seconds. The action seemed peculiar until Kaz recognized the pose as that of a true dragon unleashing a deadly stream of flame. The animated dragon obviously thought itself every bit as real as the vast leviathan it had been carved to resemble.