At the same time, the naga moved closer.
The odd, heady smell of her perfumed oil mingled with the foul scent of the swamp. Dhamon felt weak, dizzy, ready to quit. I should’ve let the sea take me in that storm, he thought. This dragon wouldn’t get the satisfaction of killing me now. I’ll never see my child.
“Fight the dragonfear,” he hissed, as much to himself as to Ragh and Fiona, “and the naga’s magic.
Don’t give in. Put up a fight!”
He focused on his anger, a technique he employed when he used to ride a blue dragon and had to deal with its suppressed aura. He focused on the dragonfear. In a blind rage he lurched away from Ragh and Fiona, rushing toward Maldred.
“Ragh,” he called over his shoulder. “It was Nura Bint-Drax who took your wings!”
Dhamon hoped that revelation might arouse the draconian, but he didn’t wait to see what happened.
He grabbed the surprised Maldred, swiftly reached behind the ogre’s back and tugged free the great two-handed sword that was always sheathed there.
“Dhamon, no!” Maldred made a grab for the sword, but Dhamon was on fire with anger. In a few strides Dhamon had put space between him and Maldred and the dragon, steeling himself against the ceaseless aura of fear and readying the sword for action.
The glowing dragon eyes didn’t so much as flicker. The dragon neither spoke nor moved, except for the continual hissing of its scales.
“Dhamon, stop!”
Focusing on the dragon, Dhamon was taken aback by Maldred’s lunge. The ogre struck and knocked him aside. The sword clattered away.
“Dhamon!” The ogre, his voice defiant, held up his arm in a warning gesture. “You must listen to me, Dhamon!”
Dhamon kicked at him, tripping Maldred, and scrambled to regain the sword. “No, you listen to me, Mal! The dragon’s got you under its control! This dragon—”
“This isn’t Sable!” Maldred cried. “This dragon isn’t interested in hurting you!”
Yes, Ragh said the dragon wasn’t Sable.
It wasn’t Sable, but the fetidness still heavy in his mouth, the sounds of the swamp that crept into the cave——all of that told him he was in the Black’s realm. So if it wasn’t Sable, what other dragon was in the overlord’s swamp? Why was Maldred in its thrall?
He lowered the sword a little. “All right. I’m listening,” he told Maldred. “Talk fast.”
From behind him, he heard Nura Bint-Drax hiss as Ragh and Fiona shuffled deeper into the cave, resigned to their fate. So, his words hadn’t aroused the draconian after all.
“I said I was listening, Mal.”
“Dhamon,” Maldred began. “I know I owe you the truth. The dragon isn’t controlling me now—or ever for that matter. But I am… in league… with him. I brought you here at his request. I have my family to consider, my nation, and I…”
Dhamon’s unblinking eyes narrowed and met the film-covered ones of the dragon. There was something familiar about the creature, especially its eyes, those odd-shaped slits. For an instant Dhamon saw himself reflected in them, but a different self—one who was a few years younger, one with wheat-blond hair, one who was righteous and undaunted, one who almost died, a red dragon scale embedded firmly in his thigh.
“The shadow dragon,” he said.
Yes. It was the shadow dragon who once had healed him with his blood—and with the help of a silver dragon. The dragon’s blood and magic broke Malys’ mastery over him, but turned the large scale on his leg black, his hair black, colored his soul.
He felt a coldness in his heart. He peered closer at the shadow dragon.
Dhamon had changed since that fateful day, but what about this dragon? He was obviously older too, but that was strange. In the span of those few years the dragon shouldn’t have aged much at all. Dragons lived for centuries upon centuries.
A rumble shook the stone and earth, and it took Dhamon a moment to understand that it was the dragon speaking for the first time.
“You remember…?” the dragon said. “In the mountains far from here.”
“Aye, dragon. Long miles away and short years ago.” Dhamon would never forget. Not even the great sorcerer Palin Majere could cure the scale, but the shadow dragon had saved him that day on which Dhamon accidentally stumbled into his cave. The dragon could have killed him then, as he could certainly kill him now, but it had saved his life.
The shadow dragon was not only unaccountably older but larger now, considerably so. Dhamon could tell he must be nearly two hundred feet long. Why had he grown so large? And why did he look so old?
What could have aged it? Magic?
“Aye, dragon. I remember,” was all he said.
The stone floor vibrated again from the strength of the dragon’s voice.
“Aye, you saved my life, dragon, and I admit that I owe you for that.”
“You know this dragon?” Ragh said to Dhamon, as he furtively glanced over his shoulder at Nura Bint-Drax. “You know the dragon and the snake-woman? How can you…?”
Dhamon silenced the draconian and concentrated on the rumbling sounds to make out the dragon’s deep and drawn-out words. Not only older and bigger, the dragon looked weary, Dhamon thought. Old and worn-out, though he should be neither.
“You wish to collect on my debt to you?” Did Dhamon understand the shadow dragon correctly? Had he manipulated Maldred to bring Dhamon here? Debt or no debt, he didn’t have time to help the dragon.
The scales were burning him out. He had to aid Fiona, find Rikali and his child.
“What do you want?” What could a dragon possibly want from a man?
Once more he made an effort to sort through the rumble for the words.
“Kill Sable,” the shadow dragon said. “I want you to kill the Black who rules this swamp.”
“No!” Dhamon felt the color drain from his face. “That isn’t possible!” In fact, this was all impossible—being brought here by his friend Maldred, standing before an old, decrepit dragon who was young and vibrant just a few years ago, having Nura Bint-Drax lurking behind him as a giant snake, being urged to slay an overlord. “One man cannot stand against a dragon,” Dhamon said, “let alone stand against an overlord. No. Dragon, I honor the fact that you saved my life, but I won’t even attempt such a foolish thing.”
“I saved you from the Red only so you would serve me now.” The dragon dug a claw into the cave floor, making an excruciating noise. “I saved others, too, tried to mold them to my purpose, but you are the most promising. You are the one.”
Nura hissed, as Maldred tugged his sword out of the distracted Dhamon’s grip.
“I don’t understand your part in this,” Dhamon said to Maldred bitterly. “You can damn well try to explain it to me later, after we get out of here. Which I intend to do now.” He made a move to leave, but Maldred’s hand closed firmly on his arm.
“You can’t go, Dhamon,” Maldred said. “Not yet. You must agree to kill Sable first.”
“You’re as mad as Fiona!” Dhamon shook off the big man. “Kill an overlord? No man—no army—can kill an overlord. Why does this shadow dragon even want Sable dead?”
“To claim Sable’s realm,” the shadow dragon said in a low rumble. The cave darkened for an instant, as the shadow dragon closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the yellow glow seemed to be aimed directly at Dhamon. A lip curled upward, revealing shadow-gray teeth. The dragon’s tongue snaked out teasingly.
“You can kill Sable. You are the one.” This was spoken by Nura Bint-Drax, who had slithered up behind Dhamon. “I have tested you, Dhamon, and I know the deeds you are capable of performing.”