The White Dragon searched the ground below for the spreading pool of his blood, the half-breed mortal, and the ancient lance. Malys had assured him that men could not stand up to dragons any longer, promised him that they posed no significant threat and could not challenge the overlords. But Malys was not here, facing gold and silver dragons who had allied themselves with a little man who wielded a weapon of power.
The dragons had hurt him, but the man had drawn blood. Gellidus had not felt such pain since the Dragon Purge, when he battled the good dragons who once lived in Southern Ergoth. He sensed the magical energy in the lance, felt the pain in his belly where it had pricked him, and he roared in anger. His ice-blue eyes glared at the small form of the half-ogre, and his mind reached out to the wind. Colder, quicker, harder, he urged it. The snow came in a driving, icy sheet now, nearly obliterating the sky. The White beat his wings fester, aiding the frigid wind and knocking the little man to his knees.
The hateful half-breed was now an easy target, Gellidus decided, as he opened his maw and breathed. But a streak of silver cut in front of him. Silvara had returned and took the brunt of his frosty attack. The extreme cold wracked her massive form, but she mastered the pain and managed to keep herself aloft. She flew past him, then banked around and dove toward him, claws outstretched.
“Sorcerer!” Sunrise hissed. “To me! We can work together.” The gold dragon pulled himself from the deep bank as Ulin slogged through the snow toward him. With considerable effort the sorcerer climbed onto the dragon’s back, sitting at the base of his neck and clasping Rig’s lance.
“I’ve never used this before!” Ulin shouted over the wind. “And I’m crazy to be doing this * he added so softly the gold couldn’t hear him. “Riding a dragon.”
“The lance is for warriors, not wizards,” Sunrise said as he pushed off from the ground. “But you’ll not need it, Ulin Majere.” His small wings beat furiously, propelling him toward the overlord as he opened his mouth and let loose another roar. Ulin flung his hands about, trying to find purchase, and he watched in horror as Rig’s dragonlance fell from his grasp. His gloved fingers grabbed onto a scale, and he felt the sharp edge cut through the material and his skin beneath. He winced and tried to hold on.
Below, Gilthanas rushed for the falling lance. Fury raced at his side, nipping at the White Dragon’s shadow along the ground.
Frost steeled himself against the sonic pain, and plunged toward the younger dragon, a malevolent grin splayed across his massive visage.
“Draw from me!” Sunrise called to Ulin. “Feel the magic in me. Use it! Hurry!”
The sorcerer began an incantation. The words tumbled from his lips, then were interrupted as Frost struck, and Gellidus’s claws dug into Sunrise’s side. Blood and gold scales fell to the snow and were lost in the blinding blizzard.
“Hurry!” Sunrise hissed, as he banked away from the white monster and closed again.
Ulin forced the words, feeling an energy grow beneath his fingers. The energy flowed into him, invigorating him. As the last word of the enchantment fell from his tongue, the wind gusted wildly outward and curled about the White’s wings, folding them at odd angles. The overlord was tossed off balance. That was all the distraction Sunrise needed. The young gold closed, raking his claws against the White’s belly. Then he bit down on the white overlord’s neck. More blood spattered the ground, coloring the snow crimson.
Frost screamed, the mournful wail sounding like the howling wind. He unleashed another blast of his icy breath that struck Ulin. A wave of numbness spread from his heart to his limbs. He couldn’t feel his legs or his fingers, couldn’t feel the dragon’s scale he’d been clinging to. Instead he felt himself falling, the wind rushing around his body as he toppled from the gold dragon’s back.
Ulin plummeted, flailing and screaming as he fell nearly one hundred feet to the ground.
Above, the White Dragon pushed his front legs against the younger dragon, propelling the gold away.
At that instant, Silvara slammed into Frost’s back, throwing Frost off balance and knocking him toward the ground, where Gilthanas and Groller waited with their lances.
Gilthanas hoisted his lance and stared up, squinting his eyes so he could see through the blowing snow. “Silvara!” he shouted.
Gellidus spun about in midair and unleashed his icy breath once more. It struck the charging silver dragon in the snout, icicles finding their way into her nostrils and mouth, and temporarily choking her.
“I give you this battle, Silvara!” Gellidus cried. “But only because you caught me off guard. I will return—rested and ready. Enjoy your sweet, brief victory. You’ll not have another.”
“You will not win!” Sunrise called, streaking toward the White. “We will find more of our kind, band together and fight you!”
“Foolish youth!” Frost threw back his head and laughed. He rose higher into the sky and beat his wings faster, stirring the wind into a frenzy. “It matters not how many of your kind you find!” he called above the noise. “You will lose in the end. Takhisis is returning!” He banked away, his laughter trailing after him and echoing off the nearby mountains. “Malystryx is bringing back the Dark Queen. And she will rule Krynn!”
The wind howled and the mountains shook, threatening to cause an avalanche.
“Takhisis!” Ulin breathed, as he clawed his way out of the snow. He was alive, miraculously, and sensation was already returning to his tortured limbs.
The gold dragon landed near him.
“I must hurry back to the ship, and tell my father,” Ulin said. He stumbled toward Sunrise. “Takhisis. I heard the White say the Dark Queen will return.”
“Back inside!” Silvara shouted. As she lowered to the ground, her form shifted again, and within a heartbeat she had resumed the appearance of the female Solamnic. “Hurry!”
Sunrise glided toward the tomb, his form shimmering and changing as he went. In a moment, he too was back in the form of the young man with shiny blond hair and bright green eyes.
Ulin took one last look into the sky, then motioned to Groller and Gilthanas, who were quick to enter the tomb. The Knights of Solamnia, herding their prisoners, followed. The rest of the group rushed inside the tomb, the brass doors swinging shut behind them.
“To reveal ourselves is to risk destruction by the overlords,” Silvara said, gasping for breath. “And now that Gellidus knows I am in his land as well, he will try to take action. Maybe he didn’t consider Sunrise much of a threat. But two dragons…” She turned and looked at Sunrise. “Fortunately, he cannot enter here, nor can he damage the powerful exterior of Huma’s Tomb.”
“Though he can choose to bury it with snow,” Sunrise explained. “He does that often enough”
Silvara nodded. “There is something about the magic that was used to construct this place that keeps evil at bay. The tomb is stronger than even the White.”
“But the Knights of Takhisis?” Gilthanas pointed to their bound prisoners. “They came in here, and they are evil.”
“You brought them in here. They didn’t enter of their own volition. Too, their evil is not so great as the White’s. There must be a spark of good within their hearts.”
Ulin tried to collect his thoughts; this news about Takhisis returning was amazing.
“Goldmoon believes the gods are merely away, watching mortals,” he said. “She believes they will someday return. But Takhisis…” He sagged against the smooth wall, sliding to the floor. “If the Dark Queen comes back, all is lost.”
“She will come back. It has been prophesied,” said one of the Dark Knights, standing up a bit taller.
Sunrise shot a glare at the prisoner. “Palin Majere must be told of Frost’s words,” Sunrise said. “He can warn others, including the other sorcerers he knows. But it is not Ulin who must do the telling.” The dragon-youth’s eyes sparkled.