that the black beast could have swatted it with his left forepaw, but for some reason Deathwing held that
paw closed and near to his body. Instead, he whipped his tail at his adversary, sending the red reeling
back. As the black dragon moved, under the shifting metal plates what seemed to be a vast series of
veins filled with molten fire radiated along both his throat and torso, flaring with each roar from the titan.
Legend had it that to touch those veins of fire was to risk truly being burned. Some said this was due to
an acidic secretion by the dragon, but other tales took it as literal flame.
Either way, it meant death.
“The orc is either brave beyond compare, a fool, or without any control over his beast!” Falstad shook
his head. “Even I would not remain in such a fray if it could be helped!”
The other gryphons neared. Tearing her gaze away from the posturing dragons, Vereesa inspected the
newcomers, but saw no sign of either Molok or Rhonin. In fact, their little group now numbered only her
and four dwarves.
“Where is the wizard?” she called to the others. “Where is he?”
“Molok is dead,” one of them proclaimed to Falstad. “His mount lies drifting in the sea!”
For their small stature, dwarves had incredibly muscular, dense bodies and so did not float well. Falstad
and the others chose to take the discovery of the dead gryphon as proof enough of the warrior's fate.
But Rhonin was human and, therefore, whether dead or alive, stood a better chance of floating for a
time. Vereesa seized on that slight hope. “And the wizard? Did you see the wizard?”
“I think 'tis obvious, my elven lady,” Falstad returned, glancing back at her.
She clamped her mouth shut, knowing he spoke truth. At least with the incident at the keep, there had
been enough question. Here, however, matters seemed final. Even Rhonin's magic certainly could not
have saved him up here and from this height, striking the water below would have been like striking solid
rock. . . .
Unable to keep from glancing down, Vereesa made out the half-sunken form of the other red dragon.
Death must have come to Rhonin and Molok from one of the creature's mad turns during its final fit. She
only hoped the end had been swift for both.
“What should we do, Falstad?” called out one of the other dwarves.
He rubbed his chin. “Deathwing is no warrior's friend! He'll no doubt come after us after he deals with
this lesser beast! Facing him is no proper battle! Would take a hundred stormhammers just to dent his
hide! Best if we return and let others know what we've seen!”
The other dwarves looked to be in agreement with this, but Vereesa found she could not give up so
readily despite the obvious. “Falstad! Rhonin is a wizard! He is likely dead, but if he still lives—if he still
floats down there—he could still need our help!”
“You're daft, if you'll pardon me for saying so, my elven lady! No one could've survived a fall like that,
even a wizard!” Please! Just one sweep of the surface—and then we can depart!” Certainly if they found nothing then,
her duty to the mage and his never-to-be-fulfilled mission would be at an end. That her sense of guilt
would linger much, much longer was something the ranger could do nothing about.
Falstad frowned. His warriors looked at him as if he would have to be mad to spend any more time in
the vicinity of Deathwing.
“Very well!” he growled. “But only for you, only for you!” To the others, Falstad commanded, “Go on
back already without us! We should be behind you before long, but if for some reason we don't return,
make certain that someone knows of the dark one's reappearance! Go!”
As the other dwarves urged their own mounts west, Falstad had his animal dive. However, as they
swiftly headed down to the sea, a pair of savage roars made both elf and dwarf look up in concern.
Deathwing and the red bellowed at one another over and over, each cry louder and harsher than the
previous. Both beasts had their talons out and their tails whipping about in a frenzy. Deathwing's crimson
streaks gave him a frightening and almost supernatural appearance, as if he were one of the demons of
legend.
“The posturing's over,” Vereesa's companion explained. “They're about to fight! Wonder what the orc
must be thinking?”
Vereesa had no concern for the orc. She again focused her concentration toward the search for Rhonin.
As the gryphon soared just a few yards over the water, she surveyed the area in vain for the human.
Surely there had to be some trace of him! The desperate ranger could even make out the twisted form of
the dead mount not too far from them. Whether dead or alive, the wizard had to be somewhere
near—unless he had actually managed after all to magick himself away from the danger?
Falstad grunted, clearly having decided that they were wasting their time. “There's nothing here!”
“Just a little longer!”
Again savage cries drew their attention skyward. The battle had begun in earnest. The red dragon tried
to cut around Deathwing, but the larger beast presented too great an obstacle. The membraned wings
alone acted as walls that the lesser dragon could not get past. He tried flaming one of them, but
Deathwing flapped out of the way, not that the fire would have likely done more than slightly singe him.
In the process of trying to scorch his opponent, Deathwing's foe left himself open. The ebony giant could
have easily raked the nearest wing of the red beast, but again the left forepaw remained shut and near to
the chest. Instead, he whipped his tail at the other leviathan, sending the crimson dragon scurrying away
again.
Deathwing did not look injured, so why would he hold back?
“That's it! We search no longer!” Falstad shouted. “Your wizard's at the bottom of the sea, I'm sorry to
say! We've got to leave now before we join him!”
The elf ignored him at first, watching the black dragon and trying to make sense of his peculiar fighting
technique. Deathwing utilized tail, wings, and other limbs, everything but the left forepaw. Now and then
he moved it enough to reveal its obvious health, but always it returned to the nearness of his body “Why?” she murmured. “Why do that?”
Falstad thought that she spoke with him. “Because we gain nothing here but the possibility of death, and
while Falstad never fears death, he prefers it on his own terms, not those of that armored abomination!”
At that moment, Deathwing, even with one paw incapacitated, caught hold of his adversary. The vast
wings hemmed in the smaller red dragon, and the lengthy tail wrapped around the lower limbs. With his
remaining three paws, the black leviathan tore a series of bloody gaps across the torso of his foe,
including one set near the base of the throat.
“Up, blast you!” Falstad demanded of his flagging gryphon. “You'll have to wait a little longer to rest!
Get us out of here first!”
As the furred beast pushed skyward as best it could, Vereesa watched as Deathwing cut yet another
deep series of wounds across his counterpart's chest. A tiny rain began underneath the crimson dragon,
the monster's life fluids showering the sea beneath.
With tremendous effort, the lesser beast managed to free himself. Tottering, he pushed off from
Deathwing, then hesitated, as if distracted by something else.
To Vereesa's surprise, the red dragon suddenly turned and flew, in rather haphazard fashion, in the
direction of Khaz Modan.
The battle had not lasted more than a minute, perhaps two, but in that short space of time Deathwing
had nearly slaughtered his foe.
Curiously, the gargantuan black did not pursue. Instead, he peered at the paw held close to his chest, as
if looking over something within the folded digits.
Something . . . orsomeone?
What had Rhonin told Duncan and her about his astonishing rescue from the crumbling tower?I don't
know what it was, but it took me up as if I was a toy and whisked me away from the devastation.What
other creature could so easily take a full grown man and carry him off as if he were no more than a toy?
Only the fact that such an astounding act had been unheard of until this time had kept the ranger from
seeing the obvious. A dragon had carried the wizard off to safety!
But . . . Deathwing?
The black dragon suddenly flew toward Khaz Modan, but not quite in the direction his crimson
counterpart had fled. As he headed away from them, Vereesa noted that he continued to keep the one
palm close, as if doing what he could to protect a precious cargo.
“Falstad! We need to follow him!”
The dwarf glanced at her as if she had just asked him to ride into the very maw of the behemoth. “I'm
the bravest of warriors, my elven lady, but your suggestion hints at madness!”
“Deathwing has Rhonin! Rhonin is the reason that the dragon did not use his one forepaw!”
“Then clearly the wizard is as good as dead, for what would the dark one want with him other than as a
0 Comments