“Stop it!” Riverwind cried. He tried to snag her wrists, but she punched him and wriggled away from his grasp. “Stop it! You're behaving like a madwoman!”
A shadow fell across the struggling figures. Riverwind paid no attention to it at first, marking it in the back of his mind as a passing cloud. But the shadow stayed over them, and he heard a steady whuff-whuff, which coincided with the gusts of wind that were sweeping over him.
Di An turned over on her back. She screamed and pointed a trembling finger over his shoulder. Riverwind turned, his mouth open as he continued his attempts to dissuade Di An of her fear, but all his talk evaporated. It wasn't merely the sky that the elf girl pointed at.
Poised a hundred feet above them, wings beating slowly to keep her aloft, was a dragon. The sunlight made iridescent patterns on her black scales. Her wing claws were purest white. The head at the end of her long, serpentine neck was fringed with wicked-looking horns. Khisanth, mistress of Xak Tsaroth, watched the two of them idly, as a human might watch the progress of an ant.
Riverwind was paralyzed with dragonfear. He stared at the creature above him. A monster of myth and legend. A creature he hadn't quite believed existed.
Khisanth's head tilted quizzically. Her mouth opened and a long tongue flickered out once, twice. Her horned head began to snake down toward them.
Di An gave a strangled cry and scrambled to her feet. Her fear of the dragon had overcome her terror of the outdoors. She reeled about and stumbled inside the temple.
The elf girl's actions penetrated the numbing shock that had frozen Riverwind. He forced himself to move and ran after Di An. Seek shelter, his brain pounded. Seek shelter with the goddess.
Khisanth followed his progress with her bright eyes. Idly, almost casually, she spewed a short stream of acid at the running man. Riverwind ducked into the temple just as the caustic droplets hit the front steps. The acid hissed and bubbled as it ate into the old marble.
Once inside the temple, he stood pressed against the far wall. Di An huddled on the floor at his feet. Both of them trembled and shook. Out of sight of the dragon some semblance of coherent thought returned. What were they going to do now? Khisanth had returned, and they were doomed. Riverwind knew that he could not fight a black dragon. The mere sight of the creature froze the blood in his veins.
The plainsman's despairing gaze fell on the Staff of Mis-hakal, which leaned against the wall. The words of the goddess sounded once more in his mind: “Only one whose heart is inherently good can touch the staff and remain unharmed.” Steel would not prevail against Khisanth's acid and magic. But perhaps a simple staff, blessed by a goddess, was the answer.
Riverwind prayed to Mishakal for strength and picked up the staff. When he touched it, the staff glowed with a cold blue brilliance. He nearly dropped it in shock. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip. The goddess was with him. Her beneficent presence pervaded the staff. He could face the dragon with her help. Riverwind strode forth from the temple, holding the staff before him.
The dragon had settled on the paved stone plaza south of the temple, near the well opening. When Riverwind appeared on the steps, the dragon hissed, “What do you have there, little one?”
The staff was sky-blue sapphire. Its glow outshone the bright sun. “Keep back!” Riverwind commanded.
“I shall keep where I like,” Khisanth answered idly. Her teeth were long and white. “Who are you, and why do you dare invade my realm?”
“Keep back, I say!”
“I've no patience for bandying words with humans. That's a pretty blue stick. Give it to me and I'll give you your life.”
“Very generous to give me what I already have,” the plainsman said shakily.
“You live only as long as I allow,” the dragon snapped, her calm thinning. She uncoiled a foreleg, her foot-long talons sinking into the marble paving as if it were pudding. “Lay down the staff and run for your life, puny mortal.”
Riverwind grasped the crystal staff with both hands. “No,” he replied.
The dragon's mouth flew open, and poisonous, acid steam bellowed forth. Riverwind shut his eyes and clutched the staff. He had no time to move. Khisanth poured forth a cloud dense enough to dissolve a troop of cavalry. Riverwind braced himself for disaster.
But he was astonished when the deadly fog flowed around and did not touch him. The plainsman swallowed hard. His knees were weak. The staff-the goddess-had saved his life once more. The artifact's glow had increased, burning into his brain. Riverwind advanced, holding the Staff of Mishakal out like a two-handed sword.
“What are you doing?” hissed the dragon. “Stand where you are!”
“I thought you wanted the staff,” he said evenly. “I'm bringing it to you.”
“Foolish mortal,” the dragon sneered. “Do you believe that you can defeat me with that?” In spite of her words, Khisanth backed a step, her powerful legs bunched to spring, her wings unfurled. She was enormous. “I will take you apart bone by bone, you and all you care for!” Khisanth threatened malignly.
Riverwind continued his advance, his faith in the staff as unwavering as its blue glow. Khisanth said one word in the language of magic, and the bright light of the sun vanished. A blackness shrouded Riverwind. The dragon had cast a spell of darkness.
Though the blackness was very disorienting, Riverwind's grip on the Staff of Mishakal was a steely one. He thrust it forward and the end connected with Khisanth's leg. A bright spark lanced out and crackled with a thunderous sound against the black scales. Riverwind felt the shock tingle through his body. Khisanth laughed out loud.
“You think that silly stick could hurt me?” the dragon cried. “I'll not waste any more time on you, mortal filth. But I shall remember you!” Riverwind held his breath. He heard the dragon's claws scraping the edge of the well wall and then heard the sounds of her descent, growing fainter.
The darkness lifted, and Riverwind staggered in the suddenly bright day. He had to lean on the staff as his body began to shake with long-suppressed terror. Still, he marveled that the staff had saved him and diverted the dragon from Di An.
The blue crystal staff lost its aura and assumed its guise of wood. Riverwind braced it on his shoulder and ran for the temple. Once the dragon reached Xak Tsaroth, Shanz would tell her the whole story, and then her wrath would go far beyond mere pique. With sheer cliffs behind him and a vast swamp before him, Riverwind worried if there was any place in the world he could go to escape Khisanth's fury.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Di An still lay on the temple floor, staning upward with wide, white eyes. Riverwind spoke to her gently.
“It's all right,” he said. “The dragon is gone for now.”
“I found nothing in the tunnel, master.”
Riverwind started. “What? What did you say?”
“The tunnel is empty, Mors. What shall I do now?” Di An asked. She turned her face toward him. No fear showed, only an unnatural calmness and a strange light in her eyes.
Riverwind's puzzlement fell away. Di An's mind was broken. Too much fear had sent her away to a more familiar and safer time and place, when she was a lowly scout for Mors.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
“Yes. May I carry my lord's spear?”
“No,” Riverwind said. “Follow me. The dragon could return at any time.”
They left the temple and crossed the plaza by the well. The trees ended on the water, and Riverwind told Di An to climb upon his back. She complied meekly. He waded into the black water, flies and mosquitoes buzzing around his face. He went in up to his chin, then the bottom rose and he was able to walk onto a bare, dry island. The Cursed Lands seemed to stretch out around them forever, an endless vista of dark green foliage, black stagnant water, and dry sandy spits rising from quiet lagoons. Behind the companions, the temple of Mishakal was lost in the trees.