He felt the momentary sensation of movement and found himself crouched atop a creature larger than a keep, and darker than a moonless midnight. Shadowy figures rose out of the dragon's dark cloak, reaching for him. Their hands passed through him, leaving him unharmed but afflicted with a feeling of profound sadness. He dropped to his knees to keep his balance.
The dragon must have felt his weight on its back. Still clutching Riven, whose body lay as limp as a rag doll in its claws, the creature snaked its head around. When its eyes fell on Cale, it uttered a low, threatening hiss. Fear almost paralyzed Cale.
Almost.
Able to maintain his position for only a moment as the creature beat its huge pinions, Cale did the only thing possible-took a two-handed reverse grip on his blade and plunged it as deeply into the dragon as it would go. The enchanted steel-Cale noted that the blade was nearly pitch black-split the dark scales and sank half its length into the mighty creature's flesh.
The dragon roared and lurched backward in a paroxysm of pain, and the shadows around it swirled in agitation. Cale would have oathed that he saw laughter in those dark faces. Shadowstuff streamed from the dragon's mouth and nostrils, and black blood poured from the slot in its back. The abrupt motion sent Cale careening from its back to fall to the earth, though he managed to pull his blade free and keep his grip on it as he fell. He hit the mud flat on his back. The impact blew the breath from his lungs. Though prone and gasping, he managed to keep his blade held defensively before him. He expected it would do little good.
The dragon flung the barely conscious Riven to the earth and whirled on Cale, sending water everywhere. Riven crashed down in a shallow pool and lay unmoving.
From Cale's position, the dragon appeared to be nothing more than an infinite wall of black scales, teeth, malevolent eyes, and writhing shadows. Still prone and unable to breathe, he held his sword defiantly before him. The black blade shimmered in the twilight.
The dragon reared back its head, a coiled snake ready to strike, opened its mouth so wide that Cale thought its teeth must go on forever, and-
Stopped.
Its eyes fixed on Cale's sword and widened. Its head turned to look upon Riven's form, then turned back to Cale and the sword. The darkness around the creature subsided.
Wisps of shadows twisted around the darkened blade. It had changed still more from what it had been back on Faerun. The transformation of the weapon that had begun with Cale's splitting of the starsphere appeared to have advanced along with his own transformation into a shade.
"You bear the token," the dragon said in its whispery voice. "Weaveshear. After all the centuries . . . You are the First."
Cale made no response. What could he say? Instead, he slowly climbed to his feet and tried to regain his breath. As though from far, far away, he heard a hundred voices plead with him in a language he did not know he knew.
Free us, they begged.
Cale shook his head, kept the blade before him, and warily eyed the dragon. The beast's head swung around to look upon Riven.
"And that," the creature said, "therefore, can only be the Second."
The dragon's heavy gaze returned to Cale. It eyed him for a moment, considering. Cale saw reluctance there. He sensed an inner struggle.
The great beast lowered its head to the surface of the water as though bowing to royalty. The dragon's horns were longer than he was tall. Cale clearly saw that the wound in its back continued to leak blood.
Flabbergasted, Cale could think of nothing to say, nothing to do.
The huge reptile remained prostrate for only a heartbeat before rearing back its long neck and looking down on Cale.
"You and your companions will be allowed to live, First of the Five," said the dragon. "Furlinastis keeps his promises."
With that, the dragon uttered a single arcane word and stomped its left front foot in the mud. The wound on its back closed and a viridian glow illuminated the shadowy mist around its claw. The glow spread outward from the dragon's foot in all directions, crawling along the ground, water, and fog. Cale recoiled as the mist around his feet began to glow, but the effect caused him no pain. Instead it relieved his fatigue and healed the bruises on his back. It must have healed his companions too. Jak and Magadon each uttered a groan and climbed slowly to their feet, all the while staring, dazed, at the mountain of scales before them.
The glow dissipated and the dragon said, "The debt is paid."
It crouched, scales creaking, and prepared to take wing. The shadowy forms around the dragon reached desperate arms for Cale.
"Wait!" Cale said. He realized only after the word escaped him how absurd it was that he was making demands of a dragon. But questions were burning holes in his brain. "What promise are you talking about? To whom? What debt? What of the ... people who surround you?"
The dragon looked down on Cale with those unforgiving dark eyes and replied, "To answer your questions would be to break another promise. Find your answers elsewhere, First of Five."
Cale fought down his frustration. He was tired to his bones of being carried along a path that seemed predetermined, and about which he was utterly ignorant.
"At least tell me about this," he said, and held out the sword-Weaveshear, the dragon had called it.
"I will not, shade," the dragon replied, and made that last word sound like a curse. "Except to say that it is the weapon of the First in this age."
Cale thought about asking the dragon how they could escape the Shadow Deep but his pride caused him to reject the impulse. He would ask the creature nothing more, though by doing so he felt he was betraying the shadow creatures apparently bound to the dragon.
"Begone then," he said.
At that, the dragon's eyes narrowed and Cale wondered for a moment if he had gone too far. Wisps of shadow snaked from the reptile's nostrils. When the creature spoke, his voice was heavy with menace.
"Never return to my swamp, First of the Shadowlord. My debt is now paid. I will not forget the wound you gave me, paltry though it was. The next time we meet, an old promise will not protect you."
"Nor you," Cale said, and stared defiance into the creature's face. "Kesson Rel is not the strongest of the Shadowlord's servants."
The words came out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying, and even after, he did not know what he meant.
The dragon apparently did. It reared back its head and hissed.
Cale showed the dragon contempt by turning his back to the reptile and walking over to check on Jak and Magadon.
He could feel the dragon's gaze on his back, as heavy as a hundredweight. The creature growled low, beat its wings, and leaped into the air over him. It flew so low over Cale's head that he could have touched its wingtips. The force of its passing nearly blew him over. Water lapped in its wake. Jak and Magadon watched it go, pale and wide-eyed.
"We're all right," Jak said when Cale reached them, and Magadon nodded in agreement.
Blood covered both of their faces, and each looked exhausted, but Cale took them at their word.
"I'm glad," he said.
Without another word, the three of them splashed their way over to Riven, who still lay on his back in the shallow pool. Cale feared the assassin to be dead.
He wasn't. He was staring vacantly up into the twilight sky with his one good eye, smiling. His grievous wounds appeared to have been healed by the dragon's spell, though he still visibly winced when he breathed.
Cale and Magadon shared a look.
"Drasek?" the guide asked.
The assassin didn't respond.