“Know this, my precious ones: These children, the metal wyrms of Paladine, are your enemies. Much time will pass before you journey to Krynn, but when you go there, you will do my bidding, seeking and slaying your enemies.” Another blast of fire exploded from the gaping jaws, a beautiful inferno raging, crackling in the air, slowly melting away.
“Remember,” growled the queen, “mercy is weakness!”
“And weakness,” Crematia echoed, her voice mimicking the Dark Queen’s menacing tone, “is death.”
PART I
Chapter 1
Circa 8000 PC
In a place unimaginably far from the Abyssal home of the Dark Queen’s brood, a different world took shape, gradually emerging from the chaos of godly dreams. This was a realm of sunlight and water, of jagged mountain ranges, vast oceans, and verdant forests. Beneath one of the mightiest summits, within the bedrock of a stony massif, was hidden another, quite different nest. The eggs sheltered here gleamed in the colors of precious metals, remaining undisturbed for a timeless expanse.
Finally movement stirred, metallic shells rupturing to allow scaly wyrmlings to emerge. Every bit as hungry, as keenly intelligent as Crematia and her kin-dragons, these creatures were also as different from the chromatic dragons as were the icebound mountains from the placid sea.
From the beginning, there were thirteen in all, bright serpentine creatures of glistening metallic colors, pushing through the minor encumbrances of filmy metallic shells. Lazily stretching, uncoiling, curling gracefully, the wyrmlings clustered in the comfort and warmth and security of the nest. An aura of peace sheltered them, a soothing essence lingering from the great females, the five metallic matriarchs who had been dead for centuries.
Here brass jaws gaped in a long, unconscious yawn, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth. There a copper body stretched with lean, instinctive grace, perching with precise balance on the edge of the nest even as it continued to slumber. A wyrmling of bright bronze scales, squat and muscular, slowly pulled itself through the mass of the others, rising to curl in the midst of the mound of metal-colored scales and shimmering, folded wings.
The thirteen included serpents both male and female, examples of copper and brass, silver, bronze, and gold. All were vigorous, active and strong, and with growing animation, each carved out a space for itself within the confines of the sheltering bowl that was their birthplace.
Still, there was never any question but that Darlantan and Aurican would vie for mastery within the nest. Silver Darlantan’s lightning pounce killed the bat that was the hatchlings’ first prey, but it was Aurican’s audacious grasp that stole that morsel, allowing the golden serpent to enjoy the first feast. Then together the two quick, graceful serpents showed their nestmates how to snatch the elusive mammals from the air. It was a splendid game-a leap and grab as a great cloud of the fliers swept into or out of the grotto brought down a squirming, squeaking bundle of meat and blood. The hunting was easy and nearly always successful. Copper Blayze, with his lightning speed, soon became even more adept than Darlantan and Aurican, though poor, bronze Aysa never quite got the hang of it at all.
Later it was Aurican who discovered that the water trickling onto the shelves of the grotto walls was the purest and sweetest to drink. But it was Darlantan who learned that a sharp tug on the tail would bring the precariously perched drinker tumbling down in a hissing bundle of scales, fangs, and claws. Thus was the first game created.
Aurican was also the one who learned that they could pry gems loose from the nest. All the wyrmlings were fascinated by the bright, multicolored baubles that had been embedded into the finespun metal wire. Most of the nestmates played games, throwing the stones back and forth, but the golden male preferred simply to hold a single large gemstone, caressing and admiring it for a long period of reflection.
These awakenings, gradual discoveries of sustenance and fellowship and competition in the grotto, were gradual things, occurrences that would be measured over many lifetimes by human standards. But to Darlantan, the wyrmlings were just here, within this grotto surrounding the deep nest of gemstones and finespun wire. Eating when they needed to, sleeping often and for long intervals, the nestmates passed the time and slowly grew.
But as their size expanded, they also became more powerful, faster and keener of understanding. Curiosity grew as alert minds began to consider the possibilities of things other than bats, water, and the nest. The brass male, Smelt, was the first to voice these questions.
“What’s there?” he wondered, straining to study the stalactites dangling from the ceiling. “Or down here?” when he scratched at the floor. Sometimes he scrutinized the shadowy tunnel leading away from the grotto. “And what about in there? Is it just the Darkness Beyond? Does somebody live in there? And where do the bats go when they fly out of here?”
Of course, since Smelt persisted in asking questions for which his nestmates had no answers, they tended to regard him as a rather chatty pest. Still, chirping incessantly at any of the wyrmlings who would listen, the brass was always ready for a conversation.
Together the thirteen nestmates explored over a timeless, sunless era, working their way through the wondrous springs, rivulets, rocks, and holes of the grotto. To the newtlings, the cave was a universe, a world of unparalleled adventure and timeless wonder. A soft glow permeated the air, arising in pale incandescence from the nest. The grotto was pleasantly warm, and the stony floor was lined in many places with beds of plush moss. No fewer than a dozen springs trilled splashing water down the walls, and this steady flowage filled numerous pools before the overflow drained away through niches and cracks in the floor.
A lone passageway connected the grotto to a place the wyrmlings knew only as the Darkness Beyond. The corridor was wide and lofty, but cloaked in sinister shadows. Compared to the moist, airy grotto, the place seemed forlorn and frightening, and for a long time, neither Auri nor Dar dared to venture there.
Naturally none of the other eleven had any inclination at all toward blazing such a new trail. For one thing, there was no water in this winding tunnel, and the entire brood delighted to play in and drink from the pools and trickles of clear liquid that sparkled throughout the grotto. But even more than this, the Darkness Beyond seemed a peculiarly uninviting place, and for the first span of their lives, the wyrmlings were content to remain in their cave.
Of course, this span would be measured in centuries by human standards, but the serpentine neophytes had no such form of reckoning. To them, life was the unchanging, eternal grotto, and it was good. There was plenty to eat, for the bats dwelt all along the roof of the cave, and the serpents quickly became adept at upward pounces and deliberate, crawling stalks. Lightning-fast Blayze, the copper male, could even flip onto his back and snatch two bats with his forepaws-and, with luck, one or two more with the rear!
Frequently Burll, an ever-hungry bronze male with more brawn than brains, waited for Blayze to perform his trick. Burll then jumped upon his copper nestmate, snatching as many bats as he could, fending off the enraged Blayze until the bronze wyrmling could gulp down his stolen morsels.
Often Darlantan and the others killed bats for the sheer joy of the hunt, for the thrill of the fatal, spine-cracking bite. The silver male sometimes took more than he could eat, though hapless Aysa was generally ready to help finish off any surplus. Aurican, unlike his silver brother, was always more precise. He killed a bat and ate it, then killed and ate another, inevitably completing his repast without waste.
Frequently the bats departed, swirling through the tunnel into the Darkness Beyond, their keening cries fading only slowly into the distance. Sometimes when their prey was gone, one or more of the dragons would suffer from gnawing hunger, going to the cavern entrance and waiting anxiously for the return of the bats. Inevitably the flying pack returned sooner or later, in a great, shrieking cloud of wings and fur.