Dhamon turned to stare up into her cold snake-child face.
“Maldred was testing you, too. He pulled your strings more cleverly than me.”
“I had no choice,” Maldred cut in, as Dhamon furiously wheeled to face the ogre-mage.
“Tested me?”
“Sable… the Black… everyday the swamp grows larger. You know what is happening. You’ve seen it happening. Eventually the swamp is going to swallow all of the ogre lands, my homeland, Dhamon—unless something is done to stop the overlord.”
“This is all about Blöde? This is about the stinking mountains and your father’s damnable kingdom? I thought you despised your father.”
“My people’s land. And… I fear for my father’s safety, if the overlord succeeds.”
“This is all about this swamp?”
A nod.
“What in the world do you expect of me? Me! If you and your ugly relatives want the Black dead, you can damn well go to war against the dragon yourself. I want no part of it.”
Maldred shook his head sadly. “My people are not the greatest of warriors. Not anymore. We need someone who is fearless, someone who has extraordinary reserves of strength and resolve—”
“You’ve been testing me?”
“To make sure you are the one,” Nura interjected.
“And these tests…”
“My sisters and I,” she said amusedly. The naga was referring to a group of cutthroat women who tried to kill Dhamon and Maldred in the Blöde foothills. “Giant spiders. The Legion of Steel who tried to hang you. All of that and more. It was all our doing, all part of the test. You should be proud, human. You passed every test… so far.”
The veins stood out like cords on Dhamon’s neck.
Hands clenched, he seethed with rage, staring bitterly at Maldred. “Friend.” Dhamon spat the word.
“I called you friend, Maldred! I considered you as close as a brother. As much as one man can love another, Mal, I loved you. I risked my life for yours a dozen times over, and…”
“Dhamon….”
“You manipulated me? Deceived me! For your damnable ogre race?” The words were hard and fast, daggers hurled at the big man.
Maldred tried to say something, but Dhamon didn’t give him a chance. “I’m done with the dragons, ogre. And I’m done with you. I never want to see you or your friends again.” Dhamon’s throat grew dry, as the air constricted around him. He fought for breath.
“Nura,” Maldred cautioned. “Let him alone.”
The naga slid forward and twisted her tail around Dhamon’s legs, coiling herself as she squeezed his throat. Her eyes glowed faintly green. The glow spread down her body, melting into Dhamon and fixing him to the spot. The glow spread to Ragh and Fiona.
The naga, wrapped completely around Dhamon, turned to face the shadow dragon. The eyes of the dragon closed momentarily After another suffocating squeeze, the naga uncoiled and retreated. “He is the one, master,” she said silkily, “but he seems unwilling to participate.”
The shadow dragon lowered his head, barbels spreading on the floor as he stretched his neck forward.
His dry breath struck Dhamon like a strong desert wind, but it carried no scent.
“I am the one to make him willing.” The dragon extended a charcoal gray talon, drawing it down Dhamon’s pant leg and parting the material as though it was thin parchment. The large black scale—and all of the lesser scales—gleamed darkly in the light reflected by the dragon’s eyes. “The scales grow because of my magic, human. The scales pain you because of my magic. They’re killing you.”
The dragon glanced at Nura, and the naga retreated farther so that Dhamon could now breathe easier.
“I promise to stop the scales and the pain,” the dragon continued, “if you slay Sable. I will provide the cure you so desperately seek. I will let you live, and I will make you wholly human again, without any further interference from me.”
Dhamon felt his limbs tingle as he regained control of them. Over his shoulder he saw that Ragh and Fiona also had been restored to normality.
Dhamon stayed silent for several minutes. A cure? While the shadow dragon probably told the truth, Dhamon wondered if there was any cure for the accursed scale. He would die soon enough, for the scales were multiplying like an unchecked rash. But he couldn’t agree to try to kill Sable. That would be a suicide faster than any death from the scales.
He glanced at the Solamnic. She was staring wide-eyed at the dragon, but her thoughts couldn’t be fathomed. He looked at Ragh, who characteristically shrugged. It was up to him, Ragh was saying. The damn draconian couldn’t even remember his vendetta against the naga. Wights! What else had they stolen from Ragh?
Dhamon glared at Maldred. “You know that it is not within one man’s power to slay a dragon.”
The shadow dragon’s voice vibrated. “You will have help. My servants Maldred and Nura are both magically powerful. Your friends called Fiona and…”
“Ragh,” Nura supplied. She seemed puzzled and offended the draconian had not recognized her.
“Wingless Ragh and the Solamnic Knight Fiona.”
“And you, human,” rumbled the dragon. “You have powers you have yet to discover.”
Rot! But Dhamon felt he had no choice but to agree. Later, away from the shadow dragon’s cave, he could hope for an opportunity to escape from Maldred and the naga—or kill them both. Later, he, Fiona, and Ragh might have a chance. But now…
“All right,” Dhamon said solemnly. “I’ll go after Sable for you. And if by some twist of fate I win, you’ll grant me this cure.”
The dragon raised his lip in approximation of a smile. “Of course,” he rumbled. “I will cure you, and I will grant you more than a cure.” The creature lifted his head, staring toward the entrance of the cave, where a wall of mist was forming. “I will grant you the safety and well-being of your family.”
An image appeared on the mist, of a torchlit village in a dry land. Scrub grass and stunted trees grew along a road. A snort from the dragon, and the scene shifted to the interior of a small building. A silvery-haired half-elf was propped up on a weathered bed.
“Riki,” Dhamon said with emotion that surprised him, falling to his knees.
Riki was covered in furs and attended by three human women, one of them wiping the sweat from her forehead and trying to calm her.
“Pigs, but this hurts!” Dhamon heard the half-elf’s familiar curse. “Where’s Varek?”
“Outside,” one of them answered. “We’ll call him in soon. After the child comes.”
Riki tossed her head back and moaned.
The image shifted again, pulling away from the village. Beyond the meager treeline was a crude military encampment that circled a large bonfire. Dozens of hobgoblins milled around. A particularly large one sat on a wooden crate, sharpening his spear.
The cry of a baby cut across the encampment, and the magical image wavered. The mist in the cave disappeared.
“The hobgoblins are my pawns,” the dragon said in his rumbling voice. “They’ll leave the newborn baby—and the half-elf and her husband—alive, if you do my bidding.”
Dhamon stared the dragon. “I said I’d go after Sable,” he said through clenched teeth. “I keep my word.”
“I know you will,” the shadow dragon returned. “Nura, will you give them some special weapons with which to slay Sable?”
The naga slithered away, reappearing minutes later no longer as a snake but in her Ergothian guise. Dhamon’s old tunic was belted around her. In one hand she carried an elegant long sword, one Dhamon once had turned over a fortune in gems to obtain. He had bought it from the ogre chieftain, Maldred’s father, who claimed it once had belonged to Tanis Half-Elven. The naga stole it from Dhamon during one of her tests. It was supposed to have hidden magical powers. Rather than handing the sword to Dhamon, Nura gave it to Fiona, who stared at her reflection in the polished blade.