The Black Wing (24 page)

Thougb the late summer day was gray and rainy outside the great hall, only one candle was
lit inside. The shadows it cast mirrored Maldeev's mood. The dragon highlord sat, slumped
in his ornate, claw-footed chair, hands curled tightly around the miniature dragon heads
at the ends of the armrests. He heard his water clock whirring behind him. Maldeev didn't
care to look at it. He wanted no joy to intrude on his dark humor. “We've got to rebuild,
and quickly,” Jahet was saying, her words drumming an annoying rhythm in his brain.

"What do you think I've been doing since those damned knights attacked me? The remaining
troops are in the process of rebuilding the toweragain. Salah Khan has spent time
recruiting humans to the north to replace those lost in the slaughter. Any minute now I'm
expecting two regiments of these new draconians Neraka keeps yammering about. If

they're any good, I'll call in the promise of more soon after.“ ”But we need more dragons
now,“ said Jahet. 'That's your job,” snarled Maldeev, folding his arms. He sank deeper
into his big chair. “I've done mine.” Jahet closed her eyes to silence an equally angry
retort. The tension between Jahet and Maldeev had become palpable since the battle, almost
a living, breathing thing. But, out of respect, they had stopped just short of
accusations, not asked the obvious questions that burned in both their throats. “How do
you propose I go about that?” Jahet asked, her tone snide. “Shall I put up posters in
pubs, like Khan is doing to recruit human mercenaries?” “How would I know? You're so fond
of pointing out that I don't understand black dragons,” said Maldeev. “How did the others
come to join the wing?” “Word of mouth,” said Jahet. 'The news will get out to the
surrounding swamps that we're looking for recruits.“ ”We can't wait for that.“ Jahet
sighed in agreement. ”I'll think of something.“ ”You'd better,“ the highlord spat, jumping
to his feet to pace around on the reed- covered floor. ”The decimation of the Black Wingby
our own forces!was the last thing my reputation needed now.“ He snorted angrily. ”I'll
wager all the other highlords are laughing at me even as we speak!“ Jahet tried to think
of something comforting to tell her soul mate, but nothing came to mind. The betrayal of
his own forcesbefore the war had even startedwas an enormous black mark on Maldeev's
record. On hers as well. All Jahet could manage was a weak, ”We'll restore order and come
back even stronger." Maldeev was forming a response when they both became aware that the
dim natural

light inside the hall had been abruptly cut off. Looking toward the courtyard, they saw,
to their utter amazement, the dragon Khisanth. She looked to be seeking an audience.
Maldeev's first thought was to grab his highlord mask, since it was rare, if ever, that a
highlord's troops should see his face. Something stayed his hand from the mask that hung
from a knob on the back of the ornate chair.

Curiosity made Maldeev wave the other black dragon into the vast chamber. Now doubly
surprised, Jahet spoke first. “This is a grave violation of protocol, Khisanth.” Like a
dog, Khisanth shook the rain water from her scales before stepping inside and answering,
“True enough. But what I have to say affects the entire wing, more specifically its
highlord and most trusted dragon. I thought it efficient to address you both at once.”

Khisanth glanced up at last and saw their skeptical, annoyed looks. “If you're more
concerned with protocol than rebuilding this wing as swiftly as possible, then perhaps
I've overestimated you both.” The dragon turned to leave. “Give me cause to listen,”
Maldeev challenged. “Quickly.”

Khisanth turned back halfway and laughed ironically. “I'd say it was already worth your
while, since I'm one of the only two dragons you still have on your side.” “Thanks to you,
that's true enough.” Maldeev blinked in disbelief at the dragon's gall. Khisanth didn't
flinch from his reproach. “Once I learned of the betrayal, I did what I thought best to
minimize the damage.” Her eyes narrowed as she added, “If their human riders had been the
least bit perceptive or intelligent, the dragons couldn't have plotted without their
knowledge.”

It was Jahef s turn to flinch. Khisanth had unwittingly laid bare the unspoken crux of the
tension between Jahet and Maldeev. Why hadn't his commanders known? Why hadn't she known,
as the leader of the dragons? It didn't help that Khisanth had obviously avoided implying
the latter about her friend. The question was obvious. The conversation's turn made
Maldeev uncomfortable as well. “Clearly, their human commanders were inferior. As you well
know, they've paid the price.”

Khisanth did know. She and Jahet had been given the honor, for the amusement of the
remaining troops, of tearing apart second-in-command Wakar and the other two officers,
including Dimitras, in a dragon tug-of-war on the drill field. Maldeev arched one brow at
Khisanth. “Surely, you don't risk my wrathtwice simply to point out my faults.” Jahet

knew his calm tone of voice meant Maldeev was far angrier than if he'd shouted. “No,”
Khisanth agreed, nodding once. “I've come to tell you both that I've decided to comply
with your request to take a rider.” The announcement hung in the air between all three of
them for several moments. Finally, Maldeev turned away and busied himself stirring the
fire. “Fine,” he said. “I've selected several for you to choose from. I'll arrange for you
to interview them immediately.” “I will not.” Maldeev looked up. “My compliance with your
ultimatum has two conditions. First, I will choose my rider entirely on my own, and in my
own time. Second, you'll guarantee my position as second-in-command to Jahet from this
moment on.” “Thaf s extortion,” fumed Maldeev. Khisanth's expression was mild. “That's a
narrow way of viewing it. As I see it, my proposal allows each of us to get what he
wants.” “What would prevent you from delaying the decision forever, once you're handed the
position you've long coveted?” Maldeev demanded. “It is not in my interest to do so,” was
Khisanth's unnerv-ingly calm response.

Maldeev was about to argue further when Jahet leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I've
said before that self-interest is a black dragon's only motivation. Go ahead and agree.
Once we replace the other dragons, we can always renege if we need to.” Maldeev clenched
and unclenched his fists. He didn't like being squeezed into making any decision. Yet he
was intelligent enough to see the value in thisand even to add wit and pluck to Khisanth's
long list of attributes.

“All right,” the highlord growled at last. “You shall have this your way.” He squinted up
at her. “See that I'm not disappointed.” Just then, Maldeev's new second-in-command
cleared his throat loudly just outside the door. “Sir,” he called, without stepping in to
intrude, “the wall sentries have spotted the draconians approaching from the northwest.”

“Excellent, Salah Khan.” Maldeev nearly smiled, but managed only a joyous scowl.
Initially, the highlord had dreaded the arrival of these odd and grotesque mutations of
Good dragon eggs. He was of the old military school. They'd had no magic, dragons, or any
of the other oddities of modern warfare. Combat then was between men on foot or horseback,
with swords and clubs. But now, with his troop numbers so low, he welcomed the injection
of strength. Draconians were rumored to be exceptionally strong.

The highlord snatched up his trademark mask from the back of the enormous throne and
pulled it down low over his face, to end at his collar. Rubbing his hands together,
Maldeev strode eagerly toward the courtyard, his hobnailed boots pounding across the
floorboards. Without turning his head, he called back to the dragons, as if he'd just
remembered them, “Come along and review my new troops.”

The two dragons looked at each other before following at some distance. “You've certainly
had a change of heart,” said Jahet. Her conversational tone sounded tight, forced. “Did
your mysterious disappearance from the battlefield have anything to do with this
metamorphosis?”

Khisanth well knew that rumors and speculation were rampant on the subject. She had no
interest in or concern with quelling them. There was something mysticalpro- phetic,
evenabout her journey to the Abyss and the Queen of Darkness, something that made Khisanth
want to hug the details to herself.

“I've had an awakening, yes,” said the newly appointed second-in-command. “You could even
take a measure of credit for talking me into it,” she added. “Make no mistake, though. My
goals have not changed, simply my route to them. I intend to play an important role in
returning the dragons to rule.”

“Does that important role require you to step on me?” Khisanth heard her friend's thinly
disguised suspicions. “I think there'll be enough positions for all dragons worthy of
serving our queen.” They caught up with Maldeev then at the far southern edge of the drill
field, and both fell into an unusually strained silence. At least the rain had stopped.
“There they are,” breathed Maldeev with near reverence, pointing to the endless stream of
creatures marching against the gray sky. Their formation was tight, a narrow ribbon in the
grassy northwestern foothills, made greener by the day's rain. The beleaguered highlord
could scarcely contain his excitement at the sight of the approaching dragon men. Maldeev
had never before seen a draconian, let alone met one. His awed tones were based solely on
the draconians' reputation as the meanest, most fearless and indestructible fighting
creatures ever known. They were also known to be fond of ale and spirits, which made them
especially sadistic. Heeding the advice of the Red Wing commander with whom he'd arranged
delivery of the draconians, Maldeev had removed all spirits from the reach of the troops.
The human rank and file had grumbled in protest, but Maldeev suspected they'd all agree
once they encountered a drunken

draconian, as would inevitably happen, despite his best efforts. The sounds of shuffling
troops on the move got louder as the dragon men approached. Now Maldeev could clearly see
the face of Horak, the human with whom Maldeev had exchanged missives. The Red Wing
commander would join the Black Wing to lead the draconian forces in the upcoming war.
Horak's back was ramrod straight in his bright plate mail. Poking through the narrow
openings in his imposing great helm were wayward tendrils of copper-colored hair. Horak
had a quill-thin, carrot-colored mustache and slight beard that was likely the result of
many days on the trail. Raising high a banner on his pike, which still held the symbol of
Ariakas's Red Wing, Horak signaled his troops to halt some two hundred yards from where
Maldeev and his imposing black dragons waited. The armored horseman spurred his black
gelding in the ribs and galloped swiftly up to Maldeev, kicking clouds of choking dust up
from the field. Horak pivoted to stop as if on a steel piece. He pushed his helm back so
that its face rested atop his red head. “Field Commander Horak,” he said crisply. His
gelding pranced fitfully after the long trek. “I'm pleased to report that we lost only
eleven of five hundred twenty-three draconians in two hundred miles, due mainly to
infighting. The rigors of trail life seem to bring out the worst in them.” “Excellent!”
crowed Maldeev. No introduction of himself was needed or expected. “We will review the
troops momentarily. But first, we must replace that.” Maldeev pointed with near disdain at
the banner on the tip of Horak's pike. The highlord snapped his fingers. Maldeev's head
adjutant stepped forward anxiously, in his hands a folded piece of black-bordered cloth.
Maldeev revealed a glorious rendition of the Black Wing's own banner, designed by Maldeev
himself. On three sides of the rec- tangletwo long, and one short side that would be
attached to the pikewas a three- inch border of darkest black. Inside that was a white
rectangle, a contrasting background for the black dragon depicted in impressive detail,
down to scales made from overlapping ovals of black silk. Most striking of all, though,
was the dragon's red, forked tongue, lashing out from bared teeth to form the banner's
outer, short edge. Horak restrained any signs of flinching. It was an abrupt but necessary
symbolic shift of allegiance from the Red to the Black Wing. The human forced a look of
eager pride to his freckle-flecked face. Slipping the banner's loops over the tip of his
pike, he waved it over his head. The humans and ogres who had gathered behind Maldeev
whooped joyously. Behind Horak, the draconians seemed unmoved, which momentarily surprised
the highlord. Catching his expression, Horak said, “Don't be concerned, Highlord. They are
loyal servants of the Dark Queen. Draconians are devoid of emotion, except for hate ...
and love of ale.” Maldeev shook away his dismayed look, annoyed at himself for showing his
lack of knowledge before this new commander. The dragon highlord squinted at the troops,
evaluating them. “Which are the baaz, and which are kapak? Tell me, how do you make such
creatures without magic?” “The brass-tinged ones in the front with the hooded capes and
short wings are the baaz. They were the first made. A hardening liquid is injected into
the eggs of Good brass dragons, which remains in their adult bodies. The liquid hardens to
stone if they're killed, which also traps any weapons inside them.” Horak pointed directly
at a baaz near the front of the legion. “You may notice that some of them look vaguely
human, like Gorbel. With a minor mask over his snout and a long, bulky cape, he makes a
fairly convincing manI frequently use Gorbel in particular as a spy.” Maldeev nodded his
appreciation.

“All in all, baaz are small but exceedingly powerful, nearly two-thirds of the assembled
troops.” Horak removed a gauntlet and pointed a finger. “Behind them are the kapaks, made
from copper dragons.” He shook his head wistfully. “Unfortunately, they're neither as
smart nor even as tolerable to look at as the baaz, with that strange hank of mane
dangling from their jaws. They also refuse to wear clothing of any sort. Those large,
leathery wings make them fair gliders, though they would be considered pathetic compared
to dragons.” The red-haired commander gave an appreciative look to Jahet and Khisanth, who
were listening and watching with silent but scarcely concealed disdain.