The Black Wing (16 page)

In its heyday, Mem Citadel had been an impressive castle. Following the Cataclysm and
centuries of disuse, its inner walls were crumbled, but the outer battlements were still
largely intact. On this steamy morning, it rose out of the swampland like a foggy
apparition. The eastern length of the crumbling, limestone wall had sunk a noticeable
depth into the marsh. As a result, the northern and southern edges sloped sharply
downhill. The eastern wall's crenels and merlons, the low and high segments of its
battlements, were in the greatest state of decay, likely the result of the stress caused
by the citadel's sinking foundation. The gate in the center of what must have been the

front wall had crumbled away, and only two towers remained, on the southwest and northwest
corners. Much of the rubble from the inner wall had fallen outward, making passage
difficult between the walls. The lower stories of the main keep still stood, tilted
slightly and surrounded by the tumbled stones of its upper floors. All of the wooden
buildings were long gone.

Inside the four thick walls were the same low shrubs and scrub pines that dotted the Great
Moors, only these were trampled down from some great weight. The croaking and chirping of
frogs filled the air, punctuated by the buzzing of insects. But these natural denizens of
the bog were very sensitive to intrusion. On this morning, when the glaring light and
crackling noise erupted in the center of the bog, the insect sounds dropped away to
silence. A shimmering circle appeared in the air. Its outlines were vague and shifting,
and filled with flashing lightning. A jagged bolt of electricity shot out of the form to
scorch the ground. Smaller lines of current danced between the ring and the ground,
twitching in a constant dance.

With a crack that echoed off the fortress walls, a portal opened in the shimmering field,
and two enormous shapes tumbled out of it to sprawl on the soft ground. Before they could
disentangle themselves, the portal and its swirling frame disappeared. In moments a pair
of black dragons stood shaking their wings and surveying the area. When his eyes fell on
the decaying fortress, Pteros froze. Khisanth noticed the other dragon's alarm, and her
eyes followed his to trace out the castle. She had never seen it before.

'This is Talon's lair,“ Pteros whispered. ”He lives here, in a tunnel beneath the
courtyard, in what remains of the citadel's dungeon. If s no accident that we're here.
Fraz must have read in my mind where I'd least like to be. After the elemental light- ning
place, of course.“ Khisanth was surprised at how well Pteros seemed to know the other
dragon's lair. ”Thanks to Fraz,“ she said, ”you'll have to confront Talon whether you want
to or not.“ She rubbed her claws in eager resignation. ”He must surely detect our presence
in his lair.“ Khisanth could see the fear on Pteros's lined face. ”I've a plan. Quickly,
fly around behind the citadel, with good altitude. When Talon emerges to sniff me out,
he'll spot me. Right then, you dive into his back and hit him before he knows what's going
on. Even if he hears your dive, he'll be staring into the sun when he turns toward you.
That moment of confusion is all you'll need to split him open.“ Pteros was scared. ”Do
it,“ Khisanth hissed. ”You've wallowed in your fear long enough. Be a worthy member of
your race again, Pteros. Write new tales of valor for yourself." Pteros nodded once at her
call-to-arms and flew off shakily. She watched until he disappeared from sight. Many
minutes passed before Khisanth detected the sound of movement inside the fortress. The
noise grew steadily louder until suddenly, two dragons in flight burst over the top of the
fortress wall. Where had the second dragon come from? Pteros never mentioned any other
besides Talon. The dragons swooped low past Khisanth, taking care not to get too close.
They

were obviously hoping to intimidate her, so she stood her ground resolutely. Soon they
landed between her and the castle, just as Khisanth had hoped they would, where they stood
momentarily eyeing her. Khisanth took the opportunity to study them, as well. The larger
of the two appeared also to be the older. His scales were sleek and shiny except over his
left eye, where a nasty scar made the eyelid droop. The second dragon, who seemed nervous,
bore no visible scars, but her claws looked particularly long and sharp to Khisanth. From
Pteros's descriptions and her own brief encounter, she knew the older to be Talon, but who
was the younger? A sibling, or even offspring, perhaps?

Talon approached Khisanth slowly, cautiously looking behind her. “Who are you, and why
have you disturbed our sleep?” he asked. The second dragon glanced nervously around the
sky. “Don't you recognize me?” Khisanth snorted. “Of course, you did strike my tree and
flee like a coward without facing me.” Where was Pteros? Khisanth screamed inwardly,
glancing to the skies yet again. The best moment to strike was fleeting away. The bigger
dragon's eyes narrowed suspiciously as memory dawned. His comrade, who had been watching
the area behind Khisanth, stepped back toward the ruins without a word and suddenly
stiffened. She tapped Talon's shoulder and pointed somewhere beyond Khisanth.

Khisanth twisted her neck and was angered to see Pteros circling high above, clearly
visible. Already the younger dragon was working her way around to the left of Khisanth.
The smooth tone of Talon's voice was soothing and appealing to Khisanth, but she
remembered Pteros once mentioning the dragon's magic, and she steeled herself against the
voice.

What was Pteros doing? Why had he shown himself, and why wasn't he attacking? Khisanth had
no time left for wondering. The young dragon was nearly behind her, and Talon continued
talking in those flat, steady tones that probed into Khisanth's mind, dulling her wits. He
was weaving a spell of some sort.

I must get above them, Khisanth realized dimly. Focusing her strength into one mighty
leap, she took to the sky. Her head was clouded as if filled with fog, but the sheer
physical effort of the standing take off and steady climb rapidly cleared her judgment. As
soon as Khisanth was airborne, both dragons were after her. She had a small advantage from
being the first into the air, but she would lose altitude if she turned to fight. She
continued climbing, pushing her wings as hard as possible, but Talon and his partner were
keeping pace.

Khisanth glanced skyward. Pteros was still circling! “Is he insane?” she growled. Then she
heard a deafening roar from below, and a blast of hot bile splashed against her hind legs
and tail. The pain was unbelievable. It burned like nothing she had ever felt before.
Khisanth thought she knew what an acid burn felt like from those few times when she had
contacted some of her own spew. But those experiences were nothing compared to this. She
felt as if her lower half was being scraped away by hot needles. Anger consumed her, at
these two dragons for attacking her, but also at Pteros for what she could only consider
betrayal. Was he planning to watch her die, or was he simply too scared to intervene?

Desperate now, reeling from the pain and hardly able to continue flying, Khisanth wheeled
in the air and pointed herself at Talon. She did not just dive, but drove herself
earthward with all the force of her wings. She could see the green spittle still dripping
from Talon's pulled-back lips. The dragon's eyes were filled with hateful glee, but the
look turned to shock at the sight of Khisanth's sudden plunge. Talon tried to swerve away,
but Khisanth was moving too fast. The two massive dragons smashed together, and Khisanth
locked her limbs around her foe. Her claws raked across Talon's back and belly. Her jaws
closed on the twisting, serpentine neck,

fangs stabbing through leathery scales and veins and threatening to crush her foe's
windpipe. Both dragons plummeted, locked in their death embrace. They flailed and flayed
each other with enormous claws. Black scales and gobs of blood and gore sprayed behind
them like a grisly wake as they rushed ever faster toward the ground.

With her jaws securely clamped around Talon's throat, Khisanth disgorged a blast of acid.
The other dragon shrieked and exploded into a fury of writhing and twisting limbs. The
acid streamed into the wounds in Talon's neck, flooding his throat, drawing into his
lungs. He was drowning in thick, oozing heat that devoured him from the inside. A grating
bellow blasted a cloud of greenish steam from Talon's maw. The acid sprayed frantically in
every direction, but still the dragon writhed and convulsed in Khisanth's iron grip.

Unable to feel her own hindquarters through the searing pain, Khisanth was about to pump
another blast into Talon. They smashed into the ground, Khisanth atop Talon. Khisanth was
stunned for several moments, but reflexively maintained her bite on her enemy's throat. As
she regained her senses, her front claws pinned the beast's neck, and she tore upward,
nearly ripping Talon's head free of his body.

The black dragon was already dead, suffocated, consumed by the ravenous acid. Clouds of
steam billowed upward from the hissing, bubbling wound. Acid from Talon's stomach seeped
out through the horrid slashes and punctures in his abdomen and sputtered on the ground.

Khisanth raised her head in a thunderous bellow of victory. Her head swam and her body
throbbed. She tasted Talon's bitter blood on her fangs, and her own blood raced. Then she
saw Pteros and the other dragon circling and swooping high overhead. Both dragons bled
from numerous wounds. Pteros's wings were tattered. Still he managed to stay in the air.
For all his fear and worry, Pteros's age and experience still showed in the contest with
the much younger beast. Everything Pteros lacked in speed and reflexes he made up in

cunning. Time after time they raced past each other, claws raking and acid erupting. On
their eighth or ninth passKhisanth had lost countPteros suddenly rolled, exposing his
belly but also bringing his powerful rear claws into the attack. One of the enormous,
hooked talons sliced through the other dragon's hide and snagged a rib. The younger beast
snapped as if a leash had been pulled, then spun out of control through the sky. Khisanth
could see that her flank was torn apart, the rib pulled outward. From the flailing of the
body she guessed she was still alive, but barely. For many long seconds the body plunged,
finally crashing into the stones of the ruined castle. The impact shook apart a nearby
portion of wall, and its collapse added to the din and debris. Khisanth could see the body
as the dust cleared, bent unnaturally around its broken spine. Khisanth struggled to her
feet. The fire in her back legs and tail was gone, replaced by a throbbing ache. She could
see that many of her scales were gone, revealing raw patches of burned flesh. But though
these wounds hurt, she could walk and believed she could fly. With her anger once again
building, she watched Pteros's descent. She was tempted to take wing and attack him in the
air, but something in his manner held her back. He was still high above the ground and
dropping fast when he suddenly crumpled, then crashed into the mossy bog like a stone.
Khisanth approached him, ready to exhale a deadly cloud at the first sign of attack.
Pteros lay on his side, watching through heavy eyes as she approached. When she neared, he
raised his head, struggling to get to his feet. He couldn't. Pteros's left wing was broken
and nearly amputated; Khisanth marveled that he had

flown at all. But the real wound was in his abdomen. In turning to attack the young
dragon, he had exposed his belly, and the monster had slit Pteros open. The claws of his
right rear foot were embedded in his own flesh, trying to keep the wound from opening.
Even so, Khisanth could see his organs pressing out as Pteros's own bulk sought to burst
him open.

“You meant to abandon me to your enemies. Did our blood-mingling mean nothing?” “I didn't
mean to betray you.” The strength of his voice surprised Khisanth, who expected to hear a
dying rasp. “I was just so frightened. Long ago, Talon drove me from my lair in this
stronghold and stole my hoard.”

“You must have known there were two. Why did you never tell me about the other dragon?”
she demanded. Pteros gulped stiffly as a spasm rocked his body. “I didn't know, I swear
it. Thaf s why I was so scared.”

Khisanth felt nothing but pity for the dragon she'd once revered for his venerable age. He
was now as terrified of dying as he had been of living. Half in anger, have in mercy,
Khisanth stepped forward and placed her left foot on Pteros's neck, pressing it to the
ground. The ancient dragon looked up at her helplessly as the talons of her right claw
sliced across his throat.

“The Dark Queen calls you, Pteros. Go to her bravely in death as you would not in life.”
She knew the dying dragon heard her, but could not reply. Slowly, the life disappeared
from his eyes. Pteros's wrinkled lids closed one last time. Once again, Khisanth stood
alone in her realm.

Highlord Maldeev's admiration for his black dragons was undisguised as he studied his two
best wyrms engaged in mock battle above Shalimsha Tower's drill field. Directly behind him
to the north were the makeshift tents of the bulk of his troops. Past the encampment was
the tower itself.

The highlord's appearance on the reviewing stand this day was as much ceremonial as
official. As a consequence, he was wearing his battle regalia of crimson enameled plate
armor with the dragon highlord helmet that completely enclosed his head and face. The mask
was a simple affair, smooth at the sides and top, save for the two horns, with generous
eye, nose, and mouth holes. The suit was well-insulated for comfort at flying altitude,
which made it quite warm for sitting on a reviewing stand.

The dragon highlord was reminded of a sunny, late autumn day several years before. It was
the day the dragon who called herself Khisanth flew brazenly into the stronghold of the
Black Wing and made clear her intent to join their ranks. Maldeev had a keen eye for
dragon flesh and had instantly recognized that this one dragon was worth three or four
others and would be a tremendous addition to his newly formed branch of the Dark Queen's
army. It pleased him to recall that he'd been so very right about Khisanth

those years ago. In a roundabout way, the ruined state of Shalimsha Tower had helped to
bring Khisanth to the wing. Maldeev had found the tower in total ruin, a tower the higher-
ups in Ner-aka had directed him to occupy. More roots and weeds stood than walls. Most had
obviously tumbled centuries before during the Cataclysm. Maldeev had ordered his humans
and ogres to repair first those places that affected his personal comfort. The workmen had
not yet completed the renovations to his apartment when Maldeev heard Khisanth's
ear-splitting screech in the courtyard. The highlord bade the workmen silence their
chisels and mallets. He poked his head out to find a strange and beautiful dragon in the
courtyard below, preening for the benefit of the gathering throng. Without stopping to
dress, Maldeev stepped out onto a balcony over the courtyard in his dressing gown. No one
could call a dragon slim, but the one in the courtyard was unusually well- muscled and
lithe, with nary a trace of fat beneath her glistening scales. She wore an odd chain of
swords splayed around her neck. Head held proudly, the female dragon had only to tilt her
massive head slightly to level her fiery eyes with Maldeev's, even though he stood on the
second level of the tower. Highlord and dragon locked gazes, sizing each other up. Neither
spoke. The dragon did not look away in deference to the highlord's authority. There could
be only one reason the dragon had come to Shalimsha Tower. “Fly,” Maldeev said, his tone
more suggestion than command. Without benefit of a ledge, the dragon leaped into the air.
She gave a short demonstration of her skills, including aerial i somersaults, wing- overs,
and especially impressive midair stops and starts. The dragon seemed to all who watched
her to defy the laws of nature. “How does a rider affect your dexterity?” Highlord Mai- ,
deev asked when she again landed gracefully, soundlessly, in | the hushed courtyard. “Not
at all, since I'll take no rider,” the newcomer responded in the highlord's own Common
tongue. Though a female, her voice was moderately deep. “Then what use are you to me? To
the forces of the Dark Queen?” Maldeev asked, eyes narrowed, calloused hands on his
silk-covered hips. Prancing only slightly to cool herself after her demonstration, the
dragon said, “Try me for a span of time at your discretion and find out.” The highlord
hesitated, considering how to handle such a spirited dragon. There was no question he
wanted her in his army, but he couldn't let her think she had the upper hand. “Can you
afford to turn away anyone who would serve the Dark Queen?” the dragon pressed while he
pondered. At that, Maldeev made his decision. Clasping his arms behind him, the highlord
turned on his heels and strode out of sight without another word to the dragon. Moments
later, a lesser commander emerged into the courtyard and instructed some soldiers milling
about to secure a spot for the new dragon next to Jahef s, temporarily quartered in the
northern length of the tower's open-air outer ward. Two years had passed since. The
carving of dragon stables in the nearby mountains was almost complete. The number of
dragons had risen to five since Khisanth had joined. Maldeev had not spoken to Khisanth
once in that time. He couldn't address her directlyfor a highlord to speak with any dragon
but his own was unseemly, even insulting to his own mount, and an implied elevation of
rank. Maldeev monitored Khisanth's progress by watching the drills and asking for reports
from Jahet, his dragon soul mate. Maldeev had begun to notice of late that Khisanth made
all the other dragonseven Jahet, the highlord confessed with a measure of

disloyaltylook a bit sluggish. Seeing Khisanth and his lead dragon flying together, it was
difficult to believe that Jahet's reaction to Khisanth had been lukewarm at first. The two
seemed inseparable now. Maldeev frowned at Jahet's obvious lack of judgmentit was most
unwise for the number one dragon to so obviously prefer the number five dragon over all
the others. Therein was the problem. Maldeev could not promote Khisanth to the level of
her ability, because she was still unwilling to take a rider. She'd lost none of her
arrogance. Khisanth's resistance bordered on insubordination. That made Maldeev look bad.
Word would spread to the other wings that the highlord of the Black Wing couldn't control
his dragons. Thinking of the recent problems he'd had with Neraka, High-lord Maldeev
wondered if it hadn't already___ Damn, but sometimes these dragons were more trouble than
they were worth, thought the old cavalryman. Horses did as they were directed, or were
killed on the spot. Maldeev resolved to deliver an ultimatum at his afternoon meeting with
Jahet.

*****

Khisanth's horned hind feet touched down on the dusty plain that served as the Black
Wing's drill field. Her massive sides heaved, ribs rising and falling beneath her black
scales, glistening with sweat. Khisanth leaned heavily against a lone oak in the otherwise
barren field as she struggled to draw huge gulps of air into her aching lungs. Jahet
landed heartbeats after Khisanth. The other black dragon's joyous laughter sent the froth
of exertion spraying from her maw. Kicking up dust, Jahet pranced about to keep her legs
from cramping. Sunlight glinted off the uncut, apple-sized diamond that she wore like an
earring through her left nostril.

“You won again, Khisanth,” she conceded through her panting, “but only because you
decided, midway to the goal, to turn the flight into a race!” Khisanth drew long, deep
breaths to slow her breathing enough to speak without panting. “I'll wager the enemy won't
give us advance warning, either,” she managed at last, making a show of licking a sore
muscle so that she could avert her gaze.

Jahet had the grace to smirk at Khisanth's impertinent, though accurate, observation. She
gave the other dragon a glance of unabashed awe. “By the queen's ten eyes, you're fast,
Khisanth.” Khisanth stifled the urge to gloat. Instead, the dragon said, “Your performance
was impressive as well, Jahet.” The Black Wing's ranking dragon gave an ironic snort of
laughter. “Highlord Maldeev's mount had better be!” She swung her heavy head around to
glance at the Black Wing's highlord and commander, who stood some distance away, watching
the drills from the reviewing stand. “If I were a more suspicious dragon, I might think
you were angling for my job,” Jahet concluded, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Khisanth's
own tawny eyes widened in genuine alarm. “You know I would never” “Never take a rider, is
what you mean,” concluded Jahet for her. Her expression turned serious. Jahet thought
about starting in on a familiar lecture, then changed her mind. “I have something
important to tell you, Khisanth,” she confided, “but not here. We've risked too much,
speaking in the open, already.” Jahet looked at the three mounted dragons still in flight
formation in the cloudless blue sky above. Her gaze abruptly shifted to the long, northern
leg of the drill field, to the troop tents and Shalimsha Tower directly behind it. Between
them and the tower stood Maldeev in his reviewing box, arms clasped behind his back. The
highlord liked to come to the field at least once a week and personally monitor the
progress of his

generals and their troops. As an old horse cavalry commander, he derived a special thrill
from watching the dragons' flight drills. Jahet looked back to the younger dragon at her
side. “Meet me in my antechamber as soon as possible” she looked to the dragons in flight
again “and let no one see you.” Jahef s left eye shifted away to look to the sun for the
hour. “I need to feed, and I haven't much time before a strategy session with Maldeev.”

With that, Jahet turned toward the dragon barracks. She'd intended to walk, but decided to
step up the pace toward the newly mined dragon lairs in the deforested foothills to the
west. Taking a short two-step hop, she extended her wings and glided just above the grassy
slope, dropping to the ground again when the land leveled into the glade before her lair.

Alone on the dry, barren field, Khisanth watched with a sigh from her soul as Jahet went.
The fatigued black dragon was in no mood for the lectures Jahet delivered with greater
frequency these days, but Khisanth didn't wish to offend the ranking dragon by ignoring a
summons to her antechamber. Khisanth couldn't remember Janet's asking any of the higher
ranking dragons to her lair. Perhaps Khisanth was headed for a dressing down. She thought
it more likely that Jahet had invited her because, unlike the other dragons, she and Jahet
were friends. More than friends, for they had secretly blood-mingled in the way of those
who had come before.

Strangely, she and Jahet had become friendly despite Khisanth's determination not to.
Trust no one but yourself Led's betrayal had taught her that. Pteros had so much as told
her. Even before she'd made the decision to join the army forming in the south, she'd
resolved to keep her own counsel among humans and dragons because of them. Her ego would
never allow her to tell anyone about Led or Pteros.

First Led, whom she'd briefly but utterly trusted, had considered her sole value a nighf s
pleasure. Khisanth had difficulty deciding who was the greater fool in that fiasco, though
she ultimately concluded it was Led, since he was not alive to learn from his folly.

Then Pteros. He'd disappointed her as much as betrayed her. All she'd asked for was a
small part of his vast knowledge and experience. She couldn't forgive him his weak spirit.
In her reflective estimation, worse than leaving her to die was the fact that he left
behind none of the treasure of which he had bragged, except the gemless diadem she'd
removed from his broad, bloodied forehead.

There was much Khisanth respected about Jahet. She was more concerned with advancing her
own considerable skills than comparing herself to the other dragons. Jahet had every black
dragon's exceptional greed. While Khisanth admired that, it prevented her from telling
Jahet some things, including the range of her magical skills. She was especially careful
to conceal her shapechanging ability, thinking the other dragons would feel threatened by
the unusual power.

Jahet had disappeared beyond the trees now, and Khisanth realized she would have to hurry
if she was to meet with Jahet before the other dragon began her feed. Covering the
distance quickly on foot, she plowed through the thick row of ponderosa pines left
standing to disguise the entrances to the dragon warrens. Khisanth unconsciously ducked
her head as she stepped into the tall cavern that served as the central meeting hall. She
needn't have, since the cavern had been carved to twice her own height to accommodate even
the tallest of dragons who might eventually join the wing. It was pleasantly dark inside
after the annoyingly bright sunshine she had never grown to like. Water dripped steadily
in the far recesses of the cavern.

Jahet's rank demanded the privilege of quarters separate from the other four dragons. To
the right and left of the meeting hall, like the legs of an enormous spider, three large
dens, or lairs, had been carved, each at half the height of the central hall. That made six

chambers, with room to excavate more if necessary, though two were currently empty and
awaiting dragons. Lairs that fed into the main chamber were assigned in descending order
of rank from the first lair on the left. Khi-santh's was the last one, located at the
right rear of the meeting chamber. As a result, and to the great irritation of the others,
her lair was the most secluded and private.

Her long tail softly brushing the dirt floor, Khisanth walked clockwise around the chamber
to steal a quick glance into the other dragons' lairs. It was forbidden to physically wall
off the entrance to one's lair, for “security reasons.” The rule was Dimitras's, adjutant
to Brigade Commander Wakar. He was the human officer responsible for maintaining the
dragon wing's morale, which Khisanth always interpreted to mean keeping them under
control. He enforced the no-walls rule as strictly as any human among dragons could,
preventing physical impediments, such as rocks or vines.

Dimitras had no control over the dragons' magical defenses, however. Like most humans, he
was terrified by what he didn't understand, a long list topped off by dragon magic. All of
the dragons had devised some sort of magical screen that limited or altered the view into
their lairs. The second-ranked dragon's defenses were the most impressive and
long-lasting. Khoal was a well-scarred, battle-hardened, ancient male with tremendous
greed and an extensive knowledge of magic. He was like Pteros with too much conceit,
thought Khisanth. For his own amusement, the confusion of others, or simply to prove his
superior magical skills, Khoal varied his spells daily. Some favorites included a wall of
force, which created an invisible barrier that allowed others to see into but not enter
his lair, and an illu-sionary door that couldn't be moved even by touch or disbelieving
the illusion. The most impressive and offensive of Khoal's protective spells was
discovered by the fourth-ranked dragon. Neetra, young and even more rash than most black
dragons, had refused to attend flight drills one day, alleging that he had a stiff wing.
Khisanth had raised an eyebrow at that, since Neetra prided himself on his strength over
Khoal's bulk or Khi-santh's agility. It was also widely known that Neetra felt the
competition between Khoal and himself more keenly, since Khoal was the only other male in
the stable. No one above or below Neetra in rank chose to order him to the field, since
his absence would only make the others look better. Dimitras knew better than to try to
force a dragon to do anything. So Neetra stayed in his warren, while the others filed out
and onto the drill field. Khisanth remembered thinking as she passed it that morning that
the opening to Khoal's lair didn't show its usual signs of a protective spell, as if he'd
left and forgotten to cast one. Engrossed in drilling, everyone in the camp heard shrill
howls and saw flashes of ghostly blue light cut through the row of trees that hid the
entrance to the lairs. Rushing inside, they'd found Neetra in his cave, missing a fang,
his eyes red orbs in his soot-covered face. He nursed a claw that was blistered and
cracked open. The cave wall opposite Khoal's den was blackened except for a vague outline
at the center. Khisanth and the others could only speculate on the exact nature of the
spell Neetra suffered that morning. Neetra's hate-filled look and Khoal's smug expression
left no question that they shared some bitter secret. Hurrying now past the other lairs,
Khisanth removed the protective wards from the archway that led to her own lair. She was
momentarily annoyed that Dimitras had not yet delivered the live, large mammals for the
dragons' usual feeding after the day's drill. Highlord Maldeev forbade the dragons to hunt
for themselves, saying it drew too much attention to them. Even so, Khisanth had slipped
away several times as a vulture. Flying far from Shalimsha, she'd changed back into a
dragon and fed heartily, just for