The Black Wing (22 page)

Not sure what to expect, Khisanth quickly cast a general defensive spell. Instantly, her
enormous black body was engulfed in a faintly shimmering sphere that looked vaguely like a
bubble. Khisanth hoped Khoal wasn't going to cast anything too powerful, or her protective
globe would prove useless.

If Khoal had not been concentrating on his own incantation, he might have noticed her
shield in time to alter his spell. The six bolts of lightning that flashed from the tips
of Khoal's long, pearly talons bounced off her shield, zagged around wildly, then fizzled
out. Khisanth's globe twinkled and winked away.

“Tell me, Khoal, when you awoke this day, did you sense it would be your last?” The taunt,
in addition to his thwarted spell, only served to further enrage Khoal. The ancient dragon
charged like a bull directly at Khisanth, the ground shaking in his wake. He turned,
preparing for a wing buffet. Reacting quickly, Khisanth focused her thoughts on the first
image that came to mind; the female dragon abruptly became a seven-foot-tall owlbear.
Aiming his buffet to connect with Khisanth's head at dragon height, Khoal's wing swept
harmlessly over the owl-headed bear. While the ancient dragon's back was turned, Khisanth
reverted to dragon form. Springing high into the air, she delivered a stunning, one-footed
kick to Khoal's right flank, a blow that sent him reeling, snout-first, into the dusty
field. Khoal scrambled onto all fours and spun around. Humiliation had turned the dragon's
yellow eyes fiery and streaked them with blood. “I'll pull your entrails out and eat them
while you still live!” Khoal snarled, rabid slather spraying from his jaws. “Shouldn't you
be winning, to make such a vow?” Khi-santh asked artlessly, stepping backward to
contemplate her next move. The dragon knew she wouldn't be able to shape-change
indefinitely; her energy was already flagging. Khoal's rage was making him careless.
That's good, she thought, let his own anger defeat him. Squealing in panic and pain, an
ogre whose rags and fur had caught fire ran at full speed into Khisanth's flank. The
hysterical brute flailed at her scales, trying to climb across the obstacle, too blinded
by fear to turn aside. Glancing back, the dragon swept her wing outward, shoving the
doomed creature away. Khisanth's head jerked up in time to see that Khoal had closed the
gap between them. The black dragon's neck shot forward, and sagging old lips pulled back
to expose his long, jagged teeth. He was heartbeats from severing Khisanth's head from her
neck. Again, the spry young dragon did the first thing that came to mindshe changed into
the familiar form of the brown field mouse, far, far below the slathering jaws of the
enraged dragon. She hadn't time to be smug about the close call, because Khoal was

thinking fast as well. He raised his hind foot and, creating a cage of sorts with his
spread wings, prepared to stomp the little mouse. Khisanth knew she was trapped. She
couldn't revert to dragon form easily in the small area; even if she could, Khoal's foot
would crash into her skull before she could topple him. Or would it?

Taking a chance, Khisanth summoned her dragon form. The instant she felt the change begin,
the dragon reached out, snagged Khoal's hind foot, and struggled to tip him off balance
before he could squash her. Khoal was a much heavier dragon than Khisanth, thick-muscled
and dense. Just as Khisanth was beginning to despair of toppling the ancient dragon, her
form expanded beneath him. She felt the crush of his incredible weight for only a moment,
before the stunned

dragon tumbled from her back and crashed unceremoniously to the ground from a height of at
least twenty feet. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs. Khoal lay in a heap,
gasping raggedly for air. Khisanth launched herself at the other dragon. Before he could
raise a claw to defend himself, Khisanth sank her teeth into Khoal's fleshy chest, tearing
away large, bloody bites, scratched at his eyes and face with her claws until Khoal
couldn't see through his own gore. But the killing blow came when Khisanth simply leaned
in, clamped her jaws around his neck, and twisted until she heard a loud snap. What was
left of his eyes rolled back into his enormous skull. Khisanth unclenched her claws and
let Khoal's head drop to the dirt with a loud, flat thud that raised an enormous cloud of
dust. Khoal's death gave Khisanth great satisfaction. The black dragon turned her sights
to the knights who'd penetrated Shalimsha's north wall and were engaged in battle with the
wing inside the courtyard. Khisanth would need to hear the death cries of a great many
humans to still the hatred throbbing at her temples.

“Look, sir, they're fleeing.” Tate followed the finger of the young knight who pointed
skyward. There he saw two black shapes, winging upward like monstrous bats. A general cry
of amazement burst from the knights as they watched the creatures take flight and streak
straight away over the mountains.

A hint of hope crept into Tate's heart. Two dragons ... That left three unaccounted for.
Still, three was better than five. Tate studied the shapes a few moments longer, until
they dropped from view behind the distant range. Satisfied that they wouldn't return, he
intended to plunge into the melee seething just inside the breach. A battle still raged
beyond the walls, though Tate believed the odds of victory had increased tremendously with
the dragons' departure.

But again Tate was stopped when Sir Albrecht emerged from the rolling dust at a gallop and
reined up before him. He was covered in brown filth so thick that his sweated horse looked
as if it had rolled in mud. When the knight flipped open his visor, even his eyes were
circled with grime where it had filtered through the eye slits.

Tate gripped Albrecht's arm to steady the panting knight in his saddle. “What is it,
Albrecht?” Tate shouted. “What have you seen?” “I bring an ill report, I fear.” Albrecht
drew a long breath and licked his lips with a dry tongue. “The battle was well in hand.
Then the dragons appeared.” Tate's grip tightened on the knight's arm. “We saw two leave.
Are others attacking us? Or them?” “Neither, at first,” panted Albrecht. “Two took wing,
then two others battled between themselves. Both fought like creatures possessed. Finally,
one managed to knock the other down, then nearly devoured it.” Albrecht shuddered. “It was
incredibleand gruesome.” Tate pulled a heavy glove from his left hand and slapped it
angrily against his tunic where it draped across his thigh, raising puffs of dust. By now
the din from the courtyard was impossible to ignore, dramatically shifting from the sounds
of active battle to the chaos of a rout. Vague clumps of shapes could be seen through the
obscuring dust, running through the breach toward Tate. Men-at- arms, he concluded. No
Knight of Solamnia would run in so cowardly a fashion. “Follow me,” the lord knight
commanded, spurring his horse toward the commotion. Soon the knights were surrounded by
men-at-arms falling back to higher ground. Tate noted that at least they still carried
their weapons, so the position had not crumbled completely. He and his retinue immediately
set about driving the reluctant soldiers back toward the breach and the courtyard beyond.
First they tried bold words of encouragement. When that failed, they turned in their
desperation to leveling threats of punishment if the soldiers didn't resume their
fighting. Tate had never seen men so fearful in his life. He managed to collar a sergeant
who was himself dragging a trooper forward. “Sergeant, these men have fought battles
before. Tell me whaf s happened to cause such panic?” The sergeant sent his charge reeling
forward with a kick in the seat. “There's a dragon loose amongst the men, sir. It's only
this damnable dust concealing the creature from general view that prevents every last one
of our soldiers inside from scattering like mice.” Tate scanned toward the line, but saw
only outlines and shadows. “Where is it?” “Damned if I know,” replied the sergeant.
Pointing forward, he added, “Somewhere in there.” “Is there only one? Can you account for
a second one, still alive?” “No, and I hope I never do,” shouted the sergeant. Then he
turned and plunged forward again into the throng, shoving men ahead of him and yanking
those who stumbled to their feet. Soon he disappeared from Tate's view. The commander
turned to Albrecht. “I've got to ride forward and see what the situation is for myself.”
“You can't,” objected Albrecht. “If s too dangerous.” “The real danger is in not doing
it,” Tate shouted back. “Ride down the line and assemble as many knights as you can, then
bring them back. Go and be swift.” Albrecht wheeled without a sign and rode away. Tate
guided his horse forward, threading into the mass of armed men who seemed to be milling
but fighting no one. His horse scrambled through the tumbled rocks and bodies piled in the
breach and emerged into the din and dust of the inner courtyard. Even through his
dust-caked nostrils Tate detected the stench of blood and burned flesh. He expected the
first and had smelled it many times before on battlefields, but the second surprised him.
Through the noise of the battle, Tate heard Wolter's booming voice shouting encouragement
to his soldiers across the yard, at the second breach. With the knights

inside the walls at two places, Tate knew the defenders couldn't hold in the open for
long. If they could be cut off from retreating to the inner buildings, the battle would be
won. Except for the dragons... An inhuman bellow shook the air. Tate's horse was spooked
and reared up, nearly throwing the knight to the ground. Only with great urging could he
get it to move forward again. The terrified horse's nostrils flared, its eyes bulged
white. Suddenly an enormous dark shape loomed before them. The awful stench of blood and
burned flesh mixed with something even more monstrous, and it made Tate gag. His horse
reared again and backed away in terror. The ground was littered with bodies and weapons.
Bubbling pools of some atrocious, noxious liquid seeped into the darkened soil, surrounded
like the spokes of a ghastly wagon wheel by the scorched limbs and other portions of
bodies that the acid had not devoured. At the center of the devastation was the towering
shape, growing ever more distinct as Tate approached over the dead bodies. It was clearly
a dragon, spattered with gore and devouring a path through the remains of Tate's slain
men. His stomach nearly turned again when he heard the sickening crunch of metal and bone
being ground together. Twenty paces from the beast, Tate's horse would go no farther.
Reluctantly, Tate dismounted. No sooner had he touched the ground than a huge black claw
crashed down next to him, ripping open the horse. The noble animal screamed for less than
a heartbeat, then was silent. Tate could hardly believe how quickly the dragon had lunged.
He found himself staring into its glowing orange eyes. Brandishing his sword, Sir Tate
Sekforde welcomed his fate as he imagined Huma might have.

*****

Khisanth felt the warmth of the horse squeezing between her talons. It was another death,
only one of so many that day. Each one brought the sense of power and satisfaction that
only came with killing. The veneer of civility and reason that surrounded her at most
times was easily stripped away by violence, replaced by bestial instinct and fury.
Sensation devoid of thought. Khisanth saw only life and wanted to make it death. She
wanted to feel life flowing out from her victims, to squeeze it or burn it or tear it out
until only something repulsive remained.

Now this man stood before her, holding a long sword and a shield thrust bravely toward
her. She had seen others with this courage today, and killed many. For some, the courage
failed. They were especially delicious; Khisanth could actually taste the fear and panic
let loose in their bodies by her presence. Khisanth peered more closely at this knight.
There was something curious about him, his stance perhaps. She couldn't see his face
behind the visor of his helmet, but the dust-caked emblem on his tunic tugged at her
memory. The dragon ground her claws into the corpse of the horse to feel the satisfying
crunch of its bones. The sensation sparked a recollection. There were horses nearby the
last time Khisanth had seen this man. She had eaten a horse not long before. He was a
knight, a man of Solamnia. Her eyes widened in understanding. The ambush. The event from
years ago leaped into her mind. Once again she saw the knights crashing to the ground from
their horses and the murderous ogres swarming over them. She saw the young knight who, on
fire, had fled, rising from the ground and tearing on foot into the woods. She felt the
pain of her broken human nose, the humiliation of having let him slip away. The anger at
Led's betrayal. Her claw unconsciously squeezed the horse into unrecognizable pulp. As the
light of recognition flashed in her eyes, the knight recoiled visibly, almost as if

he shared Khisanth's memory. Could he recognize her as a dragon, having only seen her as a
human? She doubted it. Led had not. All of these thoughts raced through Khisanth's mind in
the span of moments. She wanted badly to kill this man, to have revenge. Suddenly the rest
of the battle didn't matter, the other humans and knights and horses barely registered on
her senses. This Knight of Solamnia grew large in her vision, and his taunts from years
before rang in her ears.

*****

The dragon's claw slashed the air and raked Tate's shield. The Knight of the Crown reeled
backward and stumbled in the litter. His hand splashed into a pool of acid. The knight
rolled away from the cursed spittle and uttered a strangled cry as he clawed at the glove
with his right hand. It came off in tatters, revealing patches of smoking skin underneath.

The dragon aimed another blow at Tate. The knight ducked aside and snatched up his dropped
sword. Having missed with the first swipe, Khisanth swept her claw back again. The knight
was learning quickly and expected the attack. Instead of slamming into his body, the
dragon's claw collided with a slashing sword. Steel bit into dragon scales and cut the
flesh underneathnot deeply, but enough to cause the dragon to bellow with rage. Tate
stepped backward, crouching, as if making himself smaller would lessen the thundering in
his ears.

The dragon didn't react to pain like a human. She neither withdrew to examine her wound
nor debated whether she was fit to continue the fight. The enormous black creature lunged
forward with the unbelievable speed of her kind, striking again with the injured claw.

This time the blow caught Tate's shield on the edge. One talon pierced the thick wooden
target just above his forearm. The knight was jerked off his feet as the shield was
wrenched from his arm. He felt as if his arm would be pulled from his shoulder, but the
shield's leather straps snapped like bull-whips cracking. Tate tumbled to the ground yards
from where he had been standing. Miraculously, he still held his sword, but he knew his
shield arm was dislocated at the shoulder and broken at the wrist. Already his hand was
turning black and blue around the burns. More splattered acid seeped through the armor on
his legs, devouring leather straps and cotton padding and eating into the flesh of his
calf. The dragon loomed over him, leering with orange eyes that bespoke evil beyond the
human's understanding. Yet they were hauntingly familiar. An unusually barbaric necklace,
made of swords and animal skulls, hung around her thickly muscled neck. The rancid mouth
opened to reveal teeth like spear points fouled with human flesh. Tate waved his sword
feebly at the dragon. Instead of the painful oblivion he expected, the knight heard the
dragon's inhuman bellow and felt the ground shudder as the beast thrashed away. Tate
opened his eyes and saw the monster scraping its injured claw down its flank, snapping off
more than a dozen arrow shafts that protruded there. Tate felt hands slipping under his
shoulders and lifting him up. He gazed into a human face again, the face of a soldier
whose name he didn't know. Then he heard the strong voice of Wolter shouting commands to
archers, followed by the solid twang of bowstrings and thunk of arrows hitting their
target. Tate stood with the help of the archer. “Bring my sword,” he breathed. Before
anyone could comply, Wolter loomed above Tate, his fatherly eyes shining out from a grimy
face. Blood and dirt darkened his tattered tunic and caked his charger.

Tate reached up to the knight. “We've got to kill the dragon. Give me your sword, Wolter.”
Wolter gripped the extended hand instead. “I know that, lad. You've fought valiantly, but
you haven't the strength. Lead the surviving men back through the breach and to a safe
distance, where we can regroup. I'll join you there.” Wolter turned and muttered to
Albrecht, “Get him safely away.”

Tate didn't like the tone of voice, or the look in the tired old knight's eyes. “Wolter,”
he called, “don't risk it,” but his voice was so weak Wolter seemed not to hear him. The
elder Knight of the Rose swung down from his skittish horse and addressed the archers.
“Loose one last volley on my command and then retirenow!”

Dozens of bowstrings thunked as one. The dragon screeched at every impact, more in anger
than pain. The missiles were little more than pinpricks against the thick hide and scales
on her flanks, but she had been robbed of her prize knight.

Sword raised above his helm, Wolter plunged forward toward the waiting monster. Once again
she forced the acid up her throat and blew it in a steaming haze toward the rushing knight
with the gleaming long sword, and toward the line of men with bows. Many fell screaming as
it burned or seeped through the openings in their light armor. Those who were able fled in
pain and panic. Stumbling and swearing, Wolter ripped away the acid-drenched tunic and
pulled off his pitted, hissing great helm. Melted holes showed in the chain mail beneath.
His face was burned and blackened. He shook the rapidly dissolving shield from his left
arm. Clutching the long sword in both hands now, and with the name of Kiri-Jolith on his
lips, he charged ahead. The sweeping claw of the dragon met the knight's stabbing blade.
The sword pierced the bony scales and impaled itself completely through the flesh.
Bloodied talons ripped through layers of metal. Wolter's body tumbled across the ground to
land in a sprawl. Feebly he reached for the dagger at his belt, but the dragon pounced
with her jaws open. Dust surged up around them, obscuring the scene but not the sound.
“Wolter!” cried Tate, helplessly watching his friend's fatal fall. Bending down in his
stirrups, Albrecht grabbed his horrified superior by the belt and dragged Tate's
struggling weight across his saddle. Albrecht spurred his horse into a gallop and waved
the survivors from Lamesh to follow him through the breech. Leaving the horrid scene of
monsters and destruction, the two Knights of the Crown, one unconscious, the other in
shock, sped off toward the foothills. In the Black Wing's camp, Khisanth licked at the
lacerated claw. Around her, ogres and mercenaries gleefully set about the business of
killing the injured and looting the dead. Minutes later, Jahet swooped overhead and then
landed nearby, Maldeev on her back, holding a bloody mace. “We've survived, if not emerged
victorious,” Jahet said, trying to raise spirits. “Your brilliance in battle will be
legend,” she added to the other dragon, casting a glance at the destruction surrounding
them. Khisanth eyed both Maldeev and Jahet sardonically. She made no reply to Jahef s
comments. Instead, she asked, “You have dealt with Dnestr and Neetra?” The other dragon
nodded. “It is done.” She could see the anger in Khisanth's eyes. “What's wrong? We were
losing, but look around us now. Hundreds lie dead. Solamnic knights litter the field.” “We
made the best of a bad situation brought on by treachery. Three of our own kind turned
against us. What hope is there for the Dark Queen's cause if her agents so readily turn on
each other?” Khisanth rose to her feet. "I've spoken many times of my amazement that
humans rule the world while dragons live in the shadows. I couldn't understand how such a
thing