The Black Wing (18 page)

famous by its constantly erupting volcanoes. Maldeev had been in the tent-city of Neraka,
near Sanction, on a clandestine intelligence mission to the combined evil forces. Neraka
had sprung up at the base of Takhisis's Temple of Darkness. A discussion of troop numbers
was heating up among some midlevel commanders of the White Dragon Wing when a messenger
stepped into the unadorned tent and informed Maldeev that he was hereby summoned to the
temple. Maldeev was stunned. Who but the very lowest of commanders knew he was in Neraka,
let alone this tent? Thinking he might very well be walking to his death, Maldeev had
little choice but to follow the messenger into the city. The young brigade commander had
seen the twisted temple from the distancewho could miss it? He'd once read that “it clawed
its way into the sky like a bird of prey, overshadowing the city below into perpetual
night.” That was certainly true, he'd thought as he walked behind the messenger through
the northwest gate and into the crowded market square. Maldeev bumped elbows with
black-robed mages, as well as the dark clerics who were numerous among the Dark Queen's
personal troops. He distrusted mages. They reminded Maldeev how easily his location could
be known by anyone in authority. What he couldn't understand was why anyone important
cared. Had he somehow been set up by soldiers in the Blue Wing whom he'd deliberately
stepped on or otherwise betrayed to achieve his current rank? Maldeev could well remember
walking the twisting and tilting halls of the black tower. Though a skilled tracker, he
quickly became confused by the route through countless anterooms and seemingly pointless
chambers. Maldeev followed the messenger up a narrow, endlessly spiraling staircase that
eventually led to a door. The door opened onto a large, spoon-shaped platform of cold red
marble. The messenger pushed him through the door and disappeared. Maldeev stumbled
forward into the darkness. There was no light at all. It took long seconds for Maldeev's
eyes to adjust. Still he could see nothing beyond the slightly glowing marble at his feet.
The air didn't move, as if Maldeev stood in the eye of a storm. The still atmosphere was
oppressive. “Step forward, Maldeev,” a dark, muffled voice hissed suddenly, as if from
behind a mask. Maldeev shuffled toward the voice mechanically, seeing nothing beyond the
vision of his feet at the ends of his legs. “Stop.” Maldeev did as he was told,
desperately squinting into the absolute darkness. He thought he spotted a shadowy hint of
a horned mask, but then the image was gone. “Why have I been summoned?” he managed to ask.
“Silence, or I will reconsider the choice!” Maldeev could feel eyes studying him for many
long minutes. Finally, the muted voice said, “We have an empty platform in this hall,
waiting for the highlord of her majesty's black dragons. You have been chosen to assemble
that new wing in the name of Takhisis.” “Who are you to have chosen me?” Maldeev hadn't
meant to sound impertinent. He simply wished to know the identity of the speaker. A cold
hush suddenly descended over the area, which was already unnaturally still. Maldeev felt
as if the breath were being choked from his body by an unseen force. Then the surrounding
air seemed sucked away. Maldeev's knees failed him. He tumbled to the cold marble, gasping
for breath. Just as suddenly, cool, sweet air rushed almost too quickly into his lungs.
Maldeev stood again, coughing. He now knew who had chosen him. This was the Queen of
Darkness's temple, after all.

Maldeev asked no more questions after that, content to receive detailed directions from
the disembodied voice. They included the location of Shalimsha Tower as the headquarters
for the Black Wing. He was also advised to tax the locals to amass a war chest and to
recruit ogres and other mercenary troops. There was a final command to immediately perform
the union ceremony with a worthy dragon under Takhisis's watchful eye, for no one could be
highlord without a dragon.

Maldeev was offered two black dragons, who had already traveled to Neraka and volunteered
their services to form the core of the wing. One was Khoal, an ancient male with great
power. But he was also excessively vain and independent. The other was Jahet, a younger
female. While she could not match Khoal for sheer power, her intelligence appealed to
Maldeev. They worked well together from the start. Maldeev had never regretted his choice.

The way Maldeev had been recruited to start the wing also heavily influenced the way he
ran it. Secretive, doling out information on a need-to-know basis, he sometimes called
soldiers in just to keep fear of him uppermost in their minds. He had a mercurial
temperament that caused even his most trusted advisors to tiptoe around him at all times.
All but Jahet, that is.

Maldeev's infamous temper was in full bloom by the time Jahef s horned hind feet touched
down beyond the enormous doorway. The highlord didn't greet her. Sullenly slumped in his
oversized chair, Maldeev craned his neck back to stare her in the eyes. The human raised
an eyebrow and directed her gaze to his softly humming water clock.

In retort, Jahet looked calmly to the sun behind her and back to his stormy face. “My
timepiece is not as accurate as yours,” she said with a disdainful glance at the
cumbersome water clock. “We dragons aren't obsessed with time as are you short-lived
humans. I've broken no vow to you, Maldeev. Besides,” she added, her look almost
coquettish as she shuffled forward, heavy tail dragging the loose rushes noisily behind
her. “I was on a mission for you.”

The sound of rustling made Maldeev wonder if he hadn't been imprudent to order new reeds
and herbs for the floor today. Jahet detested any pleasant odor and would do whatever she
could to soil and mark the room with her own scent. Maldeev knew better than to consider
breaking the enormous dragon of such an odious compulsion.

“I was delivering your message to Khisanth.” Maldeev nodded, remembering the request.
Spinning the claw-footed chair away from the fire to show Jahet his profile, he slowly
lowered his bulk into it again. His arms settled lazily on the rests, and he asked, “She
doesn't see it as an ultimatum yet, does she? You let her think you were giving her a
piece of friendly advice, yes?” “Isn't that what we agreed I should do?” “Yes.” Maldeev
knew Jahet well enough to sense when she was hedging. “And?” Jahet could see no valid
reason for not telling Maldeev that the conversation hadn't gone exactly as scripted. “It
was necessary to tell Khisanth you were considering soul mates for her.” “What?” exploded
Maldeev, leaping from the chair. 'That will drive her away! Why didn't you just suggest in
the strongest terms that she take a rider?“ ”You think like a human, Maldeev,“ said Jahet.
”I've made that suggestion for years, with no result. Khisanth would continue riderless as
long as we allowed it because she believes it's in her best interest to do so. Always
remember, Maldeev, self-interest is a black dragon's only motivation.“ Jahet looked
pointedly into the highlord's steel- colored eyes. ”No matter what they may claim.“ Jahet
flicked her long red tongue unconsciously. ”Also remember, no one but Takhisis can truly
force a black dragon to do anything. Khisanth will do our bidding only when

she realizes that the best course for her futureher only future, considering the upcoming
waris with the Black Wing. She wants nothing more than to stay, but she's got to believe
that the only way she can is to take a rider.“ The black dragon blinked slowly in the face
of the flush-cheeked highlord and lowered herself to rest comfortably on the floor. An
irritating, cloying, fresh scent wafted to her large nostrils, threatening to make her
sneeze. She would have to do something about that smell before leaving. ”I know Khisanth,“
continued Jahet, ignoring her itchy nostrils for the moment. ”If I were her, I'd be
furiously tearing apart my lair in rage, making Dimitras's pitiful life even more
unbearable.“ Jahet let her tongue dart between two talons to retrieve an overlooked shred
of raw meat. ”Khisanth doesn't indulge in shows of rage like other black dragons, but I
know her passions run as hot. She has an obsession for the wing. I'm confident that her
decision will be to our liking.“ Maldeev seemed somewhat mollified, the flush having left
his cheeks. Still he paced, slapping a fist to his hand. ”She must take a rider! We will
not be allowed the luxury of reducing our forces by even one cavalryman, sending a
barebacked dragon into battle in the upcoming war!“ He glowered up at Jahet. ”Why does she
refuse to see that?“ Jahet drew up her wings in an odd shrug. ”She sees only that her solo
performance during drills far exceeds that of the other dragons who bear riders. She's
right“ Jahet nodded her head slightly to the side ”with the obvious exception of me.“ She
waited for the highlord's inevitable compliment to her superior skills. ”I don't ride you
during daily drills,“ muttered the high-lord. Jahet's glower went unnoticed by Maldeev.
”Just think how Khisanth would be with a rider between her wings,“ he said almost
wistfully. His mood abruptly turned dark again. ”I don't need this frustration now,
Jahet,“ Maldeev said. He was already made painfully aware of his low ranking among wing
commanders. The commander of the Black Wing was still awaiting his first shipment of
draconians. Highlord Ariakas had begun to fill his ranks at least three years before with
the creatures, who were reputedly so evil and indestructible they made ogres seem weak.
Maldeev knew he was the last of the highlords to be issued the vicious creatures, the
result of corrupted good dragon eggs. Even behind Toede, that contemptible hobgoblin
excuse for a highlord.... And then there were the rumors new recruits brought of knights
amassing numbers in a stronghold not far to the north. Maldeev's dragons ran routine
scouting flights. They reported seeing a refurbished castle near the town of Lamesh, but
Khoal, Dnestr, and Neetra had said the troop numbers were too small to consider a threat.
Still, the very presence of stiff-necked knights in the region was yet another burr in
Maldeev's side. The highlord's eyes narrowed to slits as he angrily spun the chair back to
face the fire and plopped into it sulkily. ”Tell Khisanth“ he spat over his shoulder, then
amended in a sarcastic tone, remembering Jahef s advice about dragons ”suggest to her
highness that she's got one day to decide that taking a rider is 'in her best interests.'
“ ”Or what?“ Maldeev's voice took on a razor-sharp edge as he stared into the fire. ”I'm
relying on you to see that it doesn't come to that, because that would be in your best
interests. See that you don't disappoint either of us, dear Jahet." Nodding calmly at the
implied threat in the highlord's dismissal, Jahet said nothing. She stood and waddled
toward the open wall. Though silent, the dragon would have the last word before departing
for her lair. Turning to stare right into Maldeev's eyes, Jahet relieved herself on the
highlord's beloved fresh rushes.

Khisanth popped through her side of the crevasse and reverted to dragon form just in time
to see the other dragons returning from the drill field. Khoal, Dnestr, and Neetra all
stopped first at the livestock pens to fill their bellies. Khisanth sighed. Another chance
to snoop and pry was gone.

“We're gathering in the conference chamber shortly to discuss important business,
Khisanth,” Khoal called over his wing. Though he couldn't see inside her lair because of
the spell she had placed on the archway, Khoal's dragon senses obviously told him she was
present. “But we aren't scheduled for” “Be there!” he barked. Never patient, and now
famished, the ancient dragon didn't allow further conversation. Swinging his tail around,
Khoal snatched several bawling calves from the holding pen, dragged them into his lair,
and magically darkened his doorway. Khisanth's talk with Jahet had left her in no mood for
confrontation with the other dragons, but the lowest ranking dragon could ill afford to be
openly insubordinate now. At least until she decided whether she would comply with the
highlord's ultimatum or leave the wing. Khisanth hated everything about these pointless
meetings of Khoal's. She corrected her thought inwardly; the point was to give the ancient
dragon the opportunity to lord his rank, since Jahet did not attend. Ostensibly Khoal
called them to make plans for the improvement of the wing, which would then be submitted
to the lead dragon for her review and approval. However, the sessions always dissolved
into petty squabbles over perceived slights during drill, violations of protocol, or
complaints about the quality of livestock Dimi-tras brought them. In Khisanth's memory,
nothing constructive had ever evolved from one of Khoal's power sessions. Jahet had never
received one suggestion. Khisanth had ways of making the meetings more tolerable.
According to protocol established by Khoal, the dragons were to enter the chamber for a
meeting in reverse order of rank, to signify each dragon's value to the wing. As lowest
ranking dragon, Khisanth's time was not considered as valuable as the others, thus she
could be kept waiting. However, Khisanth always made it a point to linger in her lair
until the assigned time passed. Unable to enter until she did, either Neetra or Dnestr,
impatient young toadies both, would inevitably lose control and shriek for Khisanth to
hurry up, shattering the air of pomp and circumstance Khoal strove to impart on his
tedious meetings. Neetra had the honors this day. “Damn your wings, Khisanth, for holding
up the meeting again!” the young male snarled from the archway into his lair. “I wager
you'll be late for the war.” Khisanth stepped at last into the enormous central chamber.
“I'm sorry if I kept you waiting, Neetra,” she said in a sugared voice. “I was feasting
and must have lost track of time.” The black dragon settled her bulk into a lazy circle at
her assigned place, opposite from where Khoal would sit. “And I've so been looking forward
to today's meeting.” Hastily filing into the room, Neetra and Dnestr could detect no
expression of

sarcasm in Khisanth's placid face. Deliberately ignoring her, they took their places in
the circle, each on a side of Khoal. They sat as straight as eager dogs, watching for
their second-in-command to arrive. As usual, Khoal did not disappoint. Head held regally,
his gaze directed to some mystical point above theirs, the ancient dragon took long,
exaggerated strides into the chamber. He wore his usual embroidered ceremonial cape, which
softly scraped the floor. In his claw he carried a gem-encrusted staff from his own
personal hoard. Reaching his appointed spot, Khoal tossed the cape back over his wings and
settled onto a large, straw-stuffed mat reserved for his use. He set the staff on the
floor before him, careful to ensure that the largest gem, a ruby with no less than thirty
distinct facets, faced up to catch the light.

Using a simple cantrip, Khoal produced a flame from his pointer talon and held it to an
incense burner that had been placed by his mat before the meeting. Smoke rose from the
brazier and quickly filled the room with the musty scent of stagnant water, an odor
favored by black dragons.

“The one hundred twenty-seventh meeting of the dragons of the Black Wing will now
commence,” he intoned. “In the interest of time,” continued Khoal in his best formal
voice, “we will proceed straight to the day's business: scouting assignments.” Khisanth
was happy to hear him shorten the meeting, but more than a little surprised that they were
skipping the usual prayer to Takhisis. “Why the emergency meeting, Khoal?”

“Silence, Khisanth!” he barked. “You have spoken out of turn.” Khisanth could hardly keep
from rolling her eyes. She settled for slumped posture and an indolent expression.
According to Khoal's rigid protocol, dragons had to wait until those ranked above them had
spoken at least once, unless directed with a question. Khoal took note of her sloppy pose
with a disapproving eye. “To answer your insolent question, this isn't an emergency
meeting, just an unscheduled one. It's my opinion, as second-in-command, that we must
reevaluate tonight's reconnaissance schedule. There'll be a full moon that will aid anyone
observing us from the ground.” The ancient dragon's eyes took on a more than usually
malicious glint. “You'd know all of that, if you hadn't left drill early.” Khisanth
suffered Khoal's jab in silence, mainly because she knew her indifference would infuriate
him. She also knew that his bad temper had started long before she'd joined the wing. Like
Pteros, Khoal had fought very briefly as a young dragon in the Third Dragon War before the
Sleep. To hear Khoal talk about his role in the war, which he did constantly, the ancient
dragon had once single-handedly fought Huma to a standstill for days until reinforcements
arrived. Jahet had told her that, from the moment Maldeev had selected the young female as
his soul mate over Khoal, the elder male made it no secret that he felt the position was
rightly his due to age and experience. Before Khisanth had arrived, when Jahet and Khoal
had been the only two dragons in the wing, Highlord Maldeev had suggested that Khoal spend
his time in the search for a rider worthy of his talents. Otherwise, Maldeev had implied,
the riderless Khoal would find the number two position similarly filled. Khoal had
secretly sneered at the suggestion, and particularly at the threat. Though he was never
overtly contentious to Jahet, he'd subtly continued his campaign to outshine and
ultimately oust the other dragon. Until the sunny day Khisanth landed in the courtyard.
The young female dragon with the strange necklace, an impressive number of battle scars,
and an impenetrable aura had been undeniably threatening to Khoal from the start. Khoal
had always considered his enormous bulk a significant advantage. In

addition to intimidating opponents, even other dragons, his size allowed him to crush foes
quickly. But from the first time Khoal saw Khisanth's dexterity, on ground and in flight,
the elder dragon knew his cumbersome weight might actually be a disadvantage against her.

That very night, Khisanth's first in the wing, Khoal had made major steps toward a union
with a rider to secure his position. Conventional wisdom said that the best dragon and
rider union existed between opposing sexes, but there were no female officers to choose
from in the Black Wing. Khoal knew that he could not wait, or hope to influence Maldeev to
dispense with Jahet. He chose Maldeev's second-in-command, the human general named Wakar,
as much in need of a mount to maintain his ranking as Khoal needed a rider. Theirs became
a merger of convenience more than comple- menting skills, as was Maldeev's and Jahet's.
Khoal felt to this day that his union with Wakar was the best he could hope for, as long
as Jahet was alive.

“The new flight schedule is as follows,” Khoal said now, his tone imperious. “I will fly
north and personally monitor the Solamnic outpost that interests our highlord. Dnestr will
fly west, in a sweep from Alek-Khan to Ak-Baral. Neetra will cover the east by air, from
Ogreshield to Sprawl.” He looked at the fifth-ranked dragon under knobby brow bones.
“Khi-santh, you will fly south, to Delphon.”

“Why south?” Khisanth demanded. “I usually fly east by northeastI know the route by
heart.” “Perhaps you know it too well,” remarked Khoal with raised brows. Khisanth
compressed her lips tightly. “However, that isn't the reason I want you to fly south. It
has come to my ears that the forces of Good are gathering in or near Delphon. Even you
must realize that's far too close to Shal-imsha for the security of the wing.” “Besides,”
Neetra cut in eagerly, “your eyes are”

Khoal waved a claw, and Neetra's words were cut off by a silence spell. Khisanth was
stunned by the display. The dragons protected their belongings magically, but they
refrained from casting spells on each other, since the potential for disaster was profound.

“I'll suffer no more lapses in protocol!” snapped Khoal, his red eyes boring into the
obviously embarrassed young male. “You'll endure the same, Khisanth, if you speak out of
turn again.” Khoal clenched and unclenched his claws. “I'm sure what Neetra was trying to
say is that your eyes are keener than all of ours and would be able to determine the
nature of the activity from a greater, safer distance.” Khisanth was struggling to believe
Khoal had complimented her, when his veined eyelids raised and he spitefully added,
“Unless you don't think you're capable of completing such an important mission.”

Dnestr and Neetra snickered. They always did whenever Khoal put Khisanth in her place. She
gave the obsequious pair a glare that wiped the sneers from their scaly black faces.
Khisanth's evaluating eye settled on the other female. Dnestr was ranked third because she
was slightly smarter and more even tempered than Neetra. Her greed certainly rivaled his,
frequently overriding her common sense, particularly when it came to Khoal. Dnestr seemed
genuinely to look up to the elder dragon, which confounded Khisanth. “You should be glad
for the assignment, Khisanth,” purred the third-ranked dragon now. “Delphon is so near,
you'll be asleep in your lair before midnight.” “That will be all, Dnestr!” the ancient
black snapped. Returning his haughty gaze to the dragon across from him, Khoal said,
“Well?” Caught in the midst of a yawn, Khisanth touched a claw to her chest and feigned an
innocent look. "Oh, is it my turn to speak? I can never keep the rules straightthat's your
strength, isn't it Khoal? Since mine is flying faster than any other dragon, I'm sure

that, as Neetra so graciously suggested, I'll have no trouble completing the assignment to
Delphon." The angry bile Khisanth saw catch in Khoal's throat made suffering the dragon's
insults worthwhile. Eyes narrowed to furious red slits, Khoal extinguished the brazier and
snatched up his ruby staff. Stomping into his lair, he sealed off the archway with a
spell. Awarding Khisanth petty glares of their own, Dnestr, then Neetra, scurried after.
Khisanth's eyes followed their departure, but her mind was elsewhere. There was something
very odd about this meeting. First, no prayer to their patron god; that had never happened
before. Khisanth was also at a loss to explain Khoal's wordless retreat. It was very
unlike him to miss the opportunity to put her in her place. In a strange sort of way, her
comeuppance was conspicuous by its absence.

Did Khoal know that Maldeev was trying to force her into a union that would jeopardize his
own ranking? Was he being nice to her, in his own backhanded manner, as insurance against
the time when she would outrank him? Suspicion grew in Khisanth's gut, but she had no real
clue to the motive behind Khoal's behavior. Khisanth was only further confused after she
returned to the lair late in the night from her flight to Delphon. She'd seen few signs of
life in the ruins of the fortress there. In fact, there had been so little to see that
she'd spent more time devising ways to dodge Maldeev's ultimatum than actually spying. The
dragon intended to report her lack of findings directly to Khoal, but he didn't appear to
have returned from his own recon flight to the north. Dnestr and Neetra's lairs were
similarly dark. A negative report could certainly wait until the morning. With a shrug of
her shoulders, the black dragon retired early for the night. A river? The young,
freckle-faced sentry peered closely at the dark ribbon snaking toward him from the north.
Unlike a river, this thing had two distinct ends and was a bit spotty in the middle. It
was no river of cold mountain water. This was a stream of humanity. An army on the march.
The flashes of silver he'd thought were moonlight on rushing water came from polished
weapons of steel. The sentry's pulse quickened. Perhaps it was a newly raised company of
mercenaries coming to join the Black Wing. But that made little sensewhy would they march
at night? Could they be the draconians everyone knew the highlord was expecting? They
would be coming on foot from Neraka to the north. So why hadn't he been told to look for
them? The boy scowled. With no instructions, Sergeant Bild had thrown him up into the
north guard tower tonight for the first time. How could he be expected to do his job if no
one told him anything? The young sentry glanced over his shoulder at the alarm bell
suspended from a wooden tower in the courtyard. That bell was to alert the garrison in the
event of an emergency. Was this an emergency? How could he be sure? The sentry looked back
out onto the plain. That black, snaky shape sure looked like an army. The whole garrison
was asleep. Waking everyone now, if his sergeant had simply forgotten to tell him to
expect an army, could be the worst mistake of the young soldier's life. It could be the
last one, too, he realized. It would be his word against Bild's. Fat chance of anyone
believing him. The boy rubbed his face. Sounding the alarm seemed more and more like a
very bad idea. What if it was an attacking army? The Black Wing wasn't at war yet. No one
had told him to expect an attack. He could ask the soldier in the south guard tower to
take a look, but they would both have left their posts; there was a stiff penalty for
that. After a moment's reflection, the soldier decided to alert his sergeant and let the
more experienced man have a look. Then the mistake, whosesoever it was, would be kept
between them. Yes, thaf s it, he thought as he scrambled down the lashed ladder from the
guard tower, clutching his spear. It was a short jog to Bild's quarters. Facing the heavy
wooden door, the sentry paused