"I want the three of you to stay back while I attempt to rouse the dragon's spirit," Nathifa said. "Such spells require a great deal of power and concentration, and there are… dangers. A dragon's spirit is powerful, even in death, so do not interfere or draw attention to yourselves in any way."
Makala hated the way the lich spoke to them as if they were dull-witted children, but she resisted making a snide comment. She wanted to hear what the dragon's spirit had to say-assuming Nathifa succeeded in summoning it.
The lich began simply, lowering her head and whispering arcane words in a language unfamiliar to Makala-words formed of harsh consonants and guttural vowels, words that resonated with blasphemy, as if the sound of them alone was an affront to creation. Nathifa began gesturing with her hands, bone-white fingers contorting into intricate shapes and patterns. Her whispering rose in volume to become a chant, and tendrils of darkness slowly extruded from the hem of her shadowy robe. The tendrils lengthened as they snaked their way across the cavern floor, slithered up the sides of Paganus's skull, and slid into the opening where the dragon's ears had once been. For a long moment nothing happened, and then the tips of the tendrils emerged from the eye sockets and burst upward in sudden growth. The tendrils merged into a single black shape that stretched nearly all the way to the cavern's ceiling. The shadowy substance rippled and pulsated, as if it was trying to assume some manner of form. And then Nathifa raised her arms and gave a last shout that echoed throughout the cavern and resonated within the deepest recesses of her servants' black souls.
The mass of shadow took on the shape of a large dragon with glowing green eyes and wisps of vapor coiling forth from the nostrils. The acrid stench of poisonous gas filled the air, and Makala thought it fortunate that none of them was human, otherwise the dragon's toxic breath might well kill them.
Who summons me?
The dragon's voice wasn't heard so much as felt, as if his spirit was speaking directly to theirs.
Nathifa lowered her arms and spoke with a confident, commanding tone. "I did. I am the sorceress Nathifa, servant of her most great and terrible majesty Vol."
The dragon's gaze fixed on Nathifa, and his eyes glowed a brighter green, as if he were examining her closely. After a moment, Paganus chuckled.
You're nothing but a lich, one of the bitch-goddess's undead puppets. I am insulted that your mistress would send such a lowly creature to speak with me.
Nathifa's voice with tight with barely restrained anger as she replied. "Do not put on airs with me, dragon! You are no mighty lord of your kind. You are nothing but a common thief! You stole the Amahau from my Dark Lady, and though it took almost three thousand years, you paid for your transgression with your life!"
I was happy to give up my life after enduring three millennia of pain. Death was no punishment for me, but rather a release from the prison of perpetual agony in which I was trapped. But enough talk. You have summoned me for a purpose, and the sooner I fulfill it, the sooner I can return to blessed Oblivion. So tell me what you want, lich. But be warned. If you have come for the Amahau you are too late. It was taken by those who granted me my deliverance.
"I have no need to ask for what I already possess." Nathifa reached a hand into her own darkness and withdrew the dragonwand. She held it forth for Paganus to inspect.
The dragon's shadowy form quivered and for an instant seemed as if it might lose definition, but then it solidified once more.
The Amahau… even as a shade I can still sense its power.
The dragon lowered his head toward Nathifa, and Makala wondered if it was possible for a spirit to wrest a physical object from its holder. But Nathifa held her ground.
"If you know the Gatherer's power, then you know that it can absorb any mystical energy. Including a spirit. If you attempt to do anything save answer the questions I put to you, the Amahau shall become your new prison."
Paganus hesitated. My present form is due at least in part to a contribution of your own power. If you absorb me into the Amahau, you will sacrifice that portion of your own strength.
"Perhaps," Nathifa allowed. "But I am willing to make such a sacrifice for the glory of my dread mistress."
Paganus considered for a moment before withdrawing his head to its original position. Ask what you will, lich.
From where she stood, Makala couldn't see Nathifa's face, but she could well imagine the sorceress's triumphant smile.
"The Amahau wasn't the first artifact of power that you stole, merely the last. Where are the others?"
The dragon's glowing green eyes narrowed. It has been three thousand years since last I gazed upon my treasures, for I was too wounded to move from the spot where my bones now lie. Who knows what fate might have befallen my pretties in all that time?
"Do not dissemble with me, Paganus! You might have been weakened and in pain, but I refuse to believe that you have no idea what happened to your hoard. Despite how badly you were wounded when you escaped Vol's palace, you managed to fly all the way from the Fingerbone Mountains to Trebaz Sinara. Such a long journey would've been an ordeal given your injuries, yet you forced yourself to continue on until you reached home. Why? Surely it was more than a longing for the comforts of your lair"-she gestured to take in the cavern around them-"meager as they are. You must have had another reason for making the difficult journey, and I submit that it was because you wished to be near your precious treasures. Perhaps you even hoped that one of them, its magic added to that of the Amahau, might heal you."
Paganus regarded Nathifa for some time before finally sighing in defeat.
It is as you say. Over the long centuries, when I could find the strength to move and the will to endure the resulting agony, I made my way to the chamber where my hoard is hidden and attempted to heal myself using one of my pretties. Obviously, I was unsuccessful.
"Then your hoard must be nearby, or else you never would have been able to reach it in your wounded condition."
Paganus said nothing.
"It's not in this cavern, but perhaps it's located in another close by, one easily reachable from here by a creature barely able to move."
Again, the dragon remained silent.
"Tell me, Paganus. Tell me where your hoard is, and I'll release your spirit. Refuse, and I will consign you to the Amahau until such time as I can find a use for your energy."
For three millennia I lay here in agony, protecting my treasures despite my wounds. Even now that I have no more use for my pretties, cannot touch them no matter how much I might wish to, I find it nearly impossible to give them up. Still, I suppose I have little choice.
And so Paganus told them.
When the dragon finished, Nathifa replaced the dragonwand inside herself. "I should absorb your spirit anyway. Three millennia of pain do not begin to redress the wrong you did my mistress. But I'm feeling in a generous mood, so… begone, spirit."
Nathifa made a casual wave of her hand and, as if a strong breeze blew through the cavern, the shadowy form of Paganus's spirit dispersed and was soon gone, leaving behind only the harsh smell of poison gas.
The ebon tendrils that had helped give the dragon's spirit shape withdrew, pulling out of the skull's eye sockets, slithering back through the ear holes, and sliding across the cavern floor to rejoin the lich's robe of living darkness.
Despite herself, Makala was impressed by the sorceress's accomplishment, though she would submit to eternal damnation before ever letting on.