“Against that wall.” Dracos pointed.
Huma was whirled around and lifted up. Something cold and rocky caught hold of each wrist and then his ankles. The knight was trapped.
The rapid, precise movements had given Huma no opportunity to glimpse the mage’s servant. Suddenly, Huma could see with dismay that his captor had actually been one of the gargoyles lining the room. As Huma watched, the gargoyle slowly returned to its niche. Over his shoulder, Huma could see that another gargoyle, little more than arms, held him tight against the wall.
“I see you admire my handiwork.” Dracos stepped closer, and the captive knight saw that a thin layer of scales covered much of his face. The renegade was almost reptilian in appearance, and Huma found himself wondering just how much of his humanity the mage surrendered for his power.
“To be fair, I underestimated you in the beginning. I thought you only a pawn of Magius, a former friend he once more found useful. Imagine my surprise to discover that not only weren’t you a pawn, but our mutual friend actually trusted you.”
Talk of Magius made Huma struggle, but the paws of the gargoyle permitted him no slack. He glared helplessly at the renegade, who only beamed in greater satisfaction.
“He renounced everything he had done, you know. I doubt there was a whiter robe in all of Krynn in those last few days. Pity. You should have heard the screams. My—assistants—can be imaginative. I had to punish one for overenthusiasm. He would have killed our friend.” The renegade chuckled. “I do so hate to discourage imagination, though. Not that it mattered by then. I fear that Magius was not really with us after that. He began to talk to himself—childhood things, I gather. It annoyed my servants to no end. He paid no attention to their fine work. In fact, he didn’t speak again until you and I met. You must have meant a great deal to him for him to come back from whatever safe haven he had thrust his mind into.” Dracos shrugged. “Enough talk of the past. Let us deal now with the future—for those of us who still have one.”
Huma smiled back at the mage, though his mind raced with worry. “The dragons are defeated; your renegades are defeated; Crynus and most of his Black Guard are dead. Before the day is through, the ogres will be retreating. You’ve lost. Within a few weeks, the war will be only a memory.”
The eyes of Dracos flared, and Huma saw he had struck a nerve. When the spellcaster spoke again, his voice was rough, angry.
“Correct on all counts save one. The ogres will retreat; they are bullies at heart, and bullies are cowards. They are fodder, nothing more, and they would be quite surprised to know what little importance they would have in my world.”
“Your world?”
“My world—as voice of my mistress, Takhisis, of course.” Dracos executed a flawless, courtly bow.
“You have no army.”
“That was the trouble with Crynus. He saw everything as a battle. Even when he conceded the benefits of my powers, he saw them only as the means to his own ends.”
Galan Dracos had crossed over to the dark crystalline platform and was now at the top, practically caressing the sphere. The emerald glow from it lit his face, making him look like a long-dead corpse. Huma shuddered involuntarily.
“The intensity of my power comes from my followers, both willing and unwilling. When the Black Robe, Sagathanus, found me, this was what interested him at first. I was a fool at that time, keeping no more than a few of the locals under my control—I actually had some sentiment for the foul place because it had been my place of birth.” He looked up at Huma. “Have you ever heard of Culthairai? No? I am not surprised. It’s a tiny farm province in the midst of Istar. Other than oats, the only thing of value they can sell are a few strong backs for mercenary troops. Imagine! The greatest mage who will ever exist—born in a worthless province!”
“It must have been terrible for you.” Huma surprised himself with the comment.
The reptilian features twisted into a harsh smile. “How true. No one else has been able to appreciate that. I imagine it is because you found yourself growing up under similar circumstances.”
Dracos, it seemed, had learned much about him.
It was left for you. The sudden clarity of that thought overwhelmed Huma. It was not his own. Rather, it almost sounded like Magius . . . What had been left for him?
Sensing something, one of the dreadwolves trotted over to him and sniffed. Its smell of decay sickened Huma.
For his part, Dracos stared at something within the sphere, something that perhaps only he could see.
The sound of long, leathery wings caused both to look up. Cyan Bloodbane had returned without his master’s permission. The look in the young green dragon’s eyes spoke of fear.
“Master Galan! The ogres begin to break! My brethren flee in panic—the cowards! What shall we do?”
Dracos was actually jubilant. “The time has come. The level of chaos is at a peak unprecendented since before the Age of Dreams.” To the anxious dragon he replied, “Leave us! I will not have your stench fouling this room at such a time!”
The young dragon departed in haste. Dracos summoned the two dreadwolves, who began to shiver uncontrollably.
Huma watched with disgust and amazement. He could actually see the life essence—if that was what one called it—depart from the two ghoulish abominations. They did not even struggle. Galan Dracos removed his hands from the two gaunt, motionless forms. The dreadwolves crumbled to ash.
“Fear is Chaos. War is Chaos. Chaos is unlimited power. It is a power that even the gods respect. Do you understand?”
Huma blinked. In his morbid fascination over the destruction of the two dreadwolves, he had not been listening. “What are you going to do?”
“This.” The mage stroked the globe. “This is the key to creating a conduit between our plane and the Abyss. A portal or gateway to the Dragonqueen’s domain beyond. Understand this: When gods come to the mortal plane—I mean truly come to the mortal plane—they are but shadows of their true selves. Which is not to say that they are weak. Far from it. However, their counterparts have them at a disadvantage.”
The knight’s eyes brightened with understanding. “Which is why the Dragonqueen has never been far from the gateway she has created. She fears that Paladine will strike at her during some moment of crisis. Now, though, you have created a way that she can draw upon her full strength even while on our world.”
Galan Dracos tensed, then smiled coldly. A tremor seemed to shake the citadel, but the mage paid it no mind. “You are more astute than I thought. Still, the small matter of your interference will be history before long.”
Almost! A vague image flickered into and out of Huma’s memory.
“Consider yourself honored. You are about to witness an event that will change all of Krynn!”
With that remark, the great emerald sphere flared with stronger intensity. Galan Dracos pulled his hood forward again and summoned a pale, bone-colored staff from thin air.
Huma’s eyes focused completely on the renegade’s staff. That was the key! The staff of Magius. Dropped by his companion after his capture by the Black Guard. Dropped? Left behind by its owner, more likely. Magius easily could have summoned it at any time just the way Galan Dracos had summoned his own.
What was he supposed to do though? Where was it now?
The torches flickered as the renegade raised high his own staff. He seemed to be drawing the flames to him. The chamber grew darker.
‘Takhisis, great queen, mistress of the dark, the time has come to fully open the portal! The time has come to let your full power flow from your domain into this one!’
The staff of Magius was temporarily forgotten. Huma watched in horror as the wall behind the sphere began to warp and twist, as some mad dreamscape. Then, slowly, that part of the building seemed to completely fall away.