“Finish him,” The Storm hissed. “Finish Palin Majere for Kitiara.”
“Palin...”
“I see them, Usha.” The sorcerer lifted Dalamar’s ring.
Khellendros cast a last glance at Palin and moved toward the treasure and the altar. The blue overlord had little interest in what the men who trespassed here were attempting. He was thinking now only of Kitiara, the queen of his heart.
“Rig!” Blister had her daggers out and hammered with them against Onysablet’s rear claw.
The mariner grimaced. The kender was doing her best, but the daggers were doing nothing to the black dragon. At the kender’s side, Veylona was faring little better. It was clear the sea elf’s blade was enchanted, for it chipped away at some of the black scales and had drawn a thin line of black blood. But it was doubtful the beast was very much hampered.
Fiona and Rig hurried to join the kender and sea elf. Rig glanced toward the front of the dragon, where Jasper was barely holding his own.
The dwarf had struck the black dragon’s front claw with the Fist of E’li. Chilling energy tingled up from the polished wooden haft, rushing into the dwarf’s chest, and sped outward from the scepter into Onysablet.
The Black snarled so loudly the ground shook beneath Jasper’s feet. Acid dripped from her jaws, spattering over the ground and the dwarf. The liquid ate through the dwarf’s clothes, burning his skin, dissolving parts of his short beard and making him gasp.
“Die!” Jasper swung the scepter again, then screamed as acid rained down on him. This time he caught the full brunt of her horrible acidic onslaught.
“I should be dead,” he coughed. “Should be... why?” The Fist, the dwarf suspected. Somehow, god-made, it was keeping him alive. The Fist and... Goldmoon? He sensed her presence near him, as he had felt her when he almost died in the cave. She had helped him regain his faith. Was her spirit helping him now?
Jasper heard his skin sizzle, saw it bubble up, and felt intense pain.
“Jasper!” Rig was coming closer. “Jasper, get out of there. Get—”
A wail divided Rig’s attention. At the same time Onysablet breathed on Jasper, she had kicked backward with her rear leg. Blister and Veylona somersaulted through the air, heading toward the edge of the plateau. Fiona reached out to them, though she was in danger of tumbling over the side herself.
The mariner lunged after her, his arm outstretching, fingers finding the sea elf’s tunic and pulling even as Fiona’s hand locked onto Blister’s wrist. Fiona struggled to keep herself from falling over the side and quickly pulled the kender up.
Rig tugged Veylona over, frowning when he noticed she was unconscious. A trickle of dark blue blood ran over her lips. More blood stained the front of her tunic where the dragon’s rear claw had dug into her flesh. The stain was growing. He laid her down and turned back toward the black dragon. Tending to the sea elf would have to wait—if there was time. If they survived.
“Beast!” Jasper screamed at Onysablet. The dwarf’s eyes were slits, the lids hurt so badly from the acid he couldn’t open them farther. The Black lowered her head, still keeping her eyes on Malystryx and Khellendros. The latter was not bothered by the little men and inched forward, nearer to the magical treasure.
The massive black grinned, more acid spilling from her midnight lips. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the man with the glaive approaching her, and she sensed the magic in the weapon he held, knowing it had wounded Gellidus. Onysablet lashed out with a wing, catching the dark man unawares, sending him away from her and nearly into the path of a lightning bolt breathed by the blind blue dragon.
Rig felt himself flying from the impact. For an instant he feared he would be catapulted into Palin and Usha. A lightning bolt cut through the air near him, ending his musings and sending a searing jolt through him. He saw miniature bolts of lighting dance across the blade of the glaive, but he refused to drop the weapon. A wave of dizziness washed over him.
Can’t lose consciousness! he thought. I must stay awake! He slammed into the ground, the air rushing from his lungs, and the blackness overwhelmed him.
“Beast!” Jasper repeated. The dwarf had realized within moments of coming upon Onysablet that she was more formidable than Brine, the sea dragon he had helped slay. “Foul dragon!” Somehow a little of the acid had found its way inside his mouth. It was burning his tongue and making it difficult for him to speak. He swallowed, and his throat felt on fire.
The Black snaked a claw up, then brought it down, intending to slash at the tiny dwarf, to rip him in two so she could devote her full attention to the red overlord’s ceremony. Instead, the dwarf darted out of the way, and she caught only a piece of him.
Jasper howled and felt his left arm go limp. The pain was ghastly, as the acid ate away at his skin. “I have faith,” he said through clenched teeth. “I have faith!”
He felt about for the presence of Goldmoon’s spirit. It was there, stronger than before, reassuring and comforting. “Faith!” The dwarf stepped closer, trying to find the strength to stay on his feet and to raise the scepter with his still-serviceable right arm. “Die, dragon!” he spat. “Die!” But his arm burned from the acid.
“Your faith is strong,” Goldmoon whispered. “Rely on your faith, my friend.”
The air shimmered next to the dwarf, and suddenly there was the ghostlike image of the healer. Her Medallion of Faith glistened around her neck, sparkling brighter as her form took on substance.
“Goldmoon?” Jasper could barely manage the word.
She nodded, brushing against him, her flesh warm and solid. No ghost. Not any longer. She was dressed in leather leggings and a tunic. Her hair was sprinkled with beads and feathers. She was as his Uncle Flint had described her: young and full of fire. She looked as she had during the War of the Lance.
“I’m here, Jasper,” she said softly, a hint of sadness to her voice. “And I am truly alive. It wasn’t my time to die. River-wind convinced me to return.”
How? He wanted to ask her. How is it possible you’re here? The gods? Did they have a hand in this? Are they not truly gone? I watched Dhamon Grimwulf kill you, he thought. I tried to save you, but I didn’t have the faith to sustain you and keep you alive. I failed you. Forgive me.
She smiled, as if she had heard his thoughts. “There is nothing to forgive, my friend,” she said. “Trust your faith, Jasper. Use your faith.”
He did trust his faith. He saw the spark inside of him and somehow found the strength to lift the scepter. He held it high above and behind him even as Goldmoon leapt forward with a thick quarterstaff.
“Goldmoon’s alive!” Jasper shouted as he slammed the scepter against the black dragon’s leg. “Goldmoon’s alive!” He was practically beaming as the dragon roared. Black scales fell on Jasper, black blood spattered his head. He shut out the pain and thought only of the joy. Goldmoon lived!
The dwarf pulled back on the Fist of E’li, thinking now only of the dragon’s death, and swung it even harder. “My faith will protect me!”
The dragon roared again, lashing out with her other claw. This time she aimed not for the dwarf, but for the silver-and gold-haired woman who had also struck her. The woman’s goodness sickened Onysablet; it was a purity that threatened the black dragon’s perfect foulness and corruption.
The claw barely connected with Goldmoon; only a talon ripped at her tunic. Onysablet howled again, anticipating victory. The black dragon gave all her attention to the healer.
The dwarf would come second. One more thrust and the woman of goodness would be gone.
Behind her, the ceremony in the center of the plateau continued. Onysablet could feel the energy pulsing from the magic items, could sense the electricity in the air. Her black heart pounded in rhythm with the thunder Khellendros was summoning in the skies overhead. It would take her but a moment to kill this woman, then the dwarf would follow. Then she would watch Malystryx as a dragon goddess was reborn.