Pteros rushed forward from where he'd been cowering, favoring his injured wing. "Send me, Fraz. Her injury is worse than mine. She won't be able to fly anyway."
The old dragon's pleas hardly surprised Khisanth. The whole scene seemed unreal, even less tangible than her dreams of flying with Led. Why had the storm giant just stopped moving? The more she thought about that, the more she thought there was something odd about all of this.
Then Khisanth remembered another of her discussions with Kadagan. The nyphid had been explaining the difference between illusion and reality. Khisanth's ability to change shape, he said, was reality. And because of that, it was more powerful than any illusion; in fact, it was more powerful than magic of most types. With that thought foremost in her mind, Khisanth closed her eyes and projected herself back into her own body.
She felt immediately, and knew even before opening her eyes again, that Fraz's spell was shattered. When she did look, the dragon saw her body returned to normal, her wing whole and unharmed. The same happened to Pteros. Comenus and his throne and his weapons were gone.
Only Fraz remained. "Ah," he exclaimed, "so you've pene shy;trated my little game at last."
In amazement, Pteros stared at his restored body and health. When he looked up, his eyes were dull and pitiful.
Khisanth wanted to rip Fraz's smug, sneering face right off his head. But by anyone's reckoning the creature had dis shy;played an impressive amount of power. "All right, Fraz," she said as calmly as she could, "we passed your little test. Now send us home."
Suddenly, Fraz's head cocked to the side, and his expression changed from smug superiority to alarm. He spoke, seemingly to someone, but the dragons heard only Fraz's voice. "Yes, mistress … I understand … It was a harmless game, mistress, no disrespect was intended … Of course, as you wish."
Giving both dragons a malicious grin, he said. "You owe your return to the Prime Material plane to that which we all serve." Fraz's eyes seemed to penetrate Pteros for a moment. His voice was full of rancor when at last he said, "I just hope you like the destination I've chosen for you."
Before the Cataclysm, the area of the Great Moors had been a sea. Mem Citadel was an island stronghold, a fortified base for the sleek ships that plied those waters. But the Cataclysm made islands sink and the sea bottom rise. The citadel now stood on a slight rise in an otherwise bleak and featureless expanse of bog.
In its heyday, Mem Citadel had been an impressive castle. Following the Cataclysm and centuries of disuse, its inner walls were crumbled, but the outer battlements were still largely intact.
On this steamy morning, it rose out of the swampland like a foggy apparition. The eastern length of the crumbling, lime shy;stone wall had sunk a noticeable depth into the marsh. As a result, the northern and southern edges sloped sharply down shy;hill. The eastern wall's crenels and merlons, the low and high segments of its battlements, were in the greatest state of decay, likely the result of the stress caused by the citadel's sinking foundation. The gate in the center of what must have been the
front wall had crumbled away, and only two towers remained, on the southwest and northwest corners. Much of the rubble from the inner wall had fallen outward, making passage diffi shy;cult between the walls. The lower stories of the main keep still stood, tilted slightly and surrounded by the tumbled stones of its upper floors. All of the wooden buildings were long gone.
Inside the four thick walls were the same low shrubs and scrub pines that dotted the Great Moors, only these were tram shy;pled down from some great weight.
The croaking and chirping of frogs filled the air, punctuated by the buzzing of insects. But these natural denizens of the bog were very sensitive to intrusion. On this morning, when the glaring light and crackling noise erupted in the center of the bog, the insect sounds dropped away to silence. A shimmering circle appeared in the air. Its outlines were vague and shifting, and filled with flashing lightning. A jagged bolt of electricity shot out of the form to scorch the ground. Smaller lines of cur shy;rent danced between the ring and the ground, twitching in a constant dance.
With a crack that echoed off the fortress walls, a portal opened in the shimmering field, and two enormous shapes tumbled out of it to sprawl on the soft ground. Before they could disentangle themselves, the portal and its swirling frame disappeared. In moments a pair of black dragons stood shak shy;ing their wings and surveying the area.
When his eyes fell on the decaying fortress, Pteros froze. Khisanth noticed the other dragon's alarm, and her eyes fol shy;lowed his to trace out the castle. She had never seen it before.
'This is Talon's lair," Pteros whispered. "He lives here, in a tunnel beneath the courtyard, in what remains of the citadel's dungeon. If s no accident that we're here. Fraz must have read in my mind where I'd least like to be. After the elemental light shy;ning place, of course."
Khisanth was surprised at how well Pteros seemed to know the other dragon's lair. "Thanks to Fraz," she said, "you'll have to confront Talon whether you want to or not." She rubbed her claws in eager resignation. "He must surely detect our presence in his lair."
Khisanth could see the fear on Pteros's lined face. "I've a plan. Quickly, fly around behind the citadel, with good alti shy;tude. When Talon emerges to sniff me out, he'll spot me. Right then, you dive into his back and hit him before he knows what's going on. Even if he hears your dive, he'll be staring into the sun when he turns toward you. That moment of con shy;fusion is all you'll need to split him open."
Pteros was scared. "Do it," Khisanth hissed. "You've wal shy;lowed in your fear long enough. Be a worthy member of your race again, Pteros. Write new tales of valor for yourself." Pteros nodded once at her call-to-arms and flew off shakily. She watched until he disappeared from sight.
Many minutes passed before Khisanth detected the sound of movement inside the fortress. The noise grew steadily louder until suddenly, two dragons in flight burst over the top of the fortress wall.
Where had the second dragon come from? Pteros never mentioned any other besides Talon. The dragons swooped low past Khisanth, taking care not to get too close. They were obvi shy;ously hoping to intimidate her, so she stood her ground res shy;olutely. Soon they landed between her and the castle, just as Khisanth had hoped they would, where they stood momentar shy;ily eyeing her.
Khisanth took the opportunity to study them, as well. The larger of the two appeared also to be the older. His scales were sleek and shiny except over his left eye, where a nasty scar made the eyelid droop. The second dragon, who seemed ner shy;vous, bore no visible scars, but her claws looked particularly long and sharp to Khisanth. From Pteros's descriptions and her own brief encounter, she knew the older to be Talon, but who was the younger? A sibling, or even offspring, perhaps?
Talon approached Khisanth slowly, cautiously looking behind her. "Who are you, and why have you disturbed our sleep?" he asked. The second dragon glanced nervously around the sky.
"Don't you recognize me?" Khisanth snorted. "Of course, you did strike my tree and flee like a coward without facing me." Where was Pteros? Khisanth screamed inwardly, glancing to the skies yet again. The best moment to strike was fleeting away.
The bigger dragon's eyes narrowed suspiciously as memory dawned. His comrade, who had been watching the area behind Khisanth, stepped back toward the ruins without a word and suddenly stiffened. She tapped Talon's shoulder and pointed somewhere beyond Khisanth.