Suddenly more than a dozen draconians surrounded the trio, stepping away from the wall and revealing themselves as Kapaks, cunning creatures who were typically employed as assassins. Copper-hued muscles bulged and rippled, shimmering like polished coins in the torchlight. Their wings flapped slowly, and their green eyes were riveted on Palin.
The sorcerer took a step toward the Aurak and opened his mouth to speak, but the draconian, who sparkled darkly in the torchlight, held up a clawed hand to silence him.
“You are not allies of the Green Dragon, elssse the elves would have ssslain you.” The Aurak had a deep, resonant voice, and sounded like a giant, hissing snake. “But you are not friends of the elves either, elssse they would not have captured you, and they would not be keeping one of your allies for insurance.”
“These people are not our friends!” one of the Kapaks shouted. His scratchy voice echoed eerily off the damp walls. The Kapak clenched and released his fists. “Humans and elves are not our friends. We should eat them.”
Jasper bristled at being overlooked, but decided to stay silent He glanced around the spacious room. Three against thirteen, he thought. With Palin’s and Feril’s magic, that shouldn’t be too unfair. Killing these foul things would be the only way to get the Fist of E’li, and would probably benefit Ansalon. Thirteen fewer draconians would be a good start.
He felt a pang of guilt at having such bloodthirsty thoughts. Goldmoon had taught him to love peace. His grip loosened around the hammer haft, then he heard footfalls from above. The dwarf glanced at the Kagonesti. She had heard them also. Her gaze drifted to the stairs, and Jasper looked up, then swallowed hard.
Scaly legs descended from the darkness. Copper-hued, they were Kapaks. Another dozen of them. The dwarf sucked in his lower lip. The Kapaks were followed by a trio of immense Baaz — draconians made from the eggs of bronze dragons. Their snouts were shorter, and their skin was smoother, looking more like bronze leather than scales. But patches of scales glimmered in the torchlight here and there, around their broad shoulders and at the tips of their tails. Their legs were thick and powerful, corded muscles standing out.
“This is getting worse,” the dwarf whispered. He heard more footfalls above, hinting that there were at least several more draconians somewhere. “Great idea coming here. Abandoned tower,” Jasper said. “Abandoned, my Uncle Flint’s beard. Why — “
“Sssilence!” the Aurak snapped. The draconian turned toward the staircase, watching a lone draconian come into the room. This draconian was slower than the others, taking shaky steps and holding a clawed hand against the wall for support. His gold scales gleamed as if each one were carefully polished. His breastplate of silver was equally shiny and was bound by strips of leather. It had obviously not been made for him, so it did not fit him well. The breastplate bore an etched rose, a symbol of the Knights of Solamnia. A dark red skirt hung below the armor, and a worn and threadbare cloak hung from the creature’s shoulders. A formidable-looking axe hung from a belt about the Aurak’s waist.
As the creature reached the bottom of the steps, all the draconians bowed to him. He was smaller than the others. The leathery flesh about his jowls sagged, and his muscles were ill-defined. But there was an aura of power surrounding him, and it was clear he had the respect of all of the draconians in the room.
“General Urek,” the Kapak at the base of the stairs announced. He waved a coppery arm toward the trio, “Our prisoners.”
“Prisoners!” Jasper sputtered.
The draconians closest to the dwarf raised their claws and stepped forward. Jasper took his hand away from his hammer, held his outstretched fingers to his side. The Kapaks paused. Feril’s fingers slipped into her pouch, and she tugged free an arrowhead, which she quickly hid in her palm. She glanced at the general. If need be, she’d call on her magic and send it his way. She would not be taken prisoner by these hideous creatures, even if defying them meant her death.
“Prisoners?” General Urek said. His voice was soft, yet intense. “I would not consider holding Palin Majere prisoner.”
The sorcerer was visibly surprised that the old Aurak knew who he was. Palin nodded to the Aurak, showing a semblance of respect. Feril seemed to relax just a bit, but Jasper grew even more nervous. A few more draconians filed into the room.
“And perhaps I will not hold his associates captive either,” the old draconian continued, “if I hear in good faith that he intends to keep our presence secret.”
“You would trussst the word of a human?” the other Aurak asked. He strode toward the general, towering above the older draconian. “Trussst a sssorcerer?”
“This human, I would trust,” General Urek returned. “Besides, there has been enough killing this day.” The general waved a thin arm, and several of the Kapaks stepped away from the far wall. Cloaked by the shadows, in a section of the room where the torchlight barely reached, was a mound of bodies. More than two dozen reasonably fresh corpses. Their blood had congealed about them on the stone floor, looking black as oil. Their weapons were piled near them.
“Knights of Takhisis,” Palin said. If the draconians killed that many of them, they could well overpower he, Feril, and Jasper. The sorcerer knew he had the strength to cast a spell or two that would bring down the tower and most of the draconians in it. But that would make recovering the scepter impossible, which would mean Usha would die. And they themselves might not escape the disaster.
“The knights came upon us only a few hours ago,” the general explained. “We could make no peace with them. They were agents of Governor-General Mirielle Abrena.”
Jasper risked a question. “How would you know that?”
“A few… talked … before they died,” the old Aurak answered. “We could not risk their returning to their vile master—the woman who holds some of our brothers as slaves in Neraka.”
“She ssserves the Red, the overlord, Malyssstryx,” the large Aurak added.
“So you’re hiding” Feril said. “You don’t want the dragons to know where you are.”
General Urek nodded. “We are a dying race,” he said, his voice growing sorter. “There are few females among our kind, and none here. They are rarer than Auraks. A few of us die when the dragons create spawn but most feel it is our chance to reproduce. We have only a few opportunities to procreate, and many draconians welcome the spawning process. I am not one of them.”
“Did you say ‘dragons’?” Palin asked, “You mean dragons other than Khellendros.”
“The Red knows how to fashion spawn, too. And she is teaching her allies as well. Though the Green is not one of her cohorts, we suspect she has learned the secret, too.”
The sorcerer let out a deep breath. Multiple dragon armies could be being birthed while they stood here talking. Perhaps the Shadow Sorcerer was right, the Red was much more of a threat than Khellendros.
“So we hide from Beryl and the other overlords, and we watch. Perhaps one day we will learn how to procreate on our own using this spawn process. Perhaps we will not die out.”
“My friends and I are working against the dragons,” Palin said. “We’re here looking for a scepter—the Fist of Eli.”
“What they were looking for,” the general said, again indicating the fallen knights.
Palin stared into the old Aurak’s rheumy eyes. “We need the scepter. It’s powerful, and no doubt you could benefit by keeping it for yourselves. But we intend to use it to raise the level of magic Krynn already has, and in turn to defeat the overlords, if possible. If you would give it to us, we could—”