The claw groped, feeling for the warm flesh it could smell. A red eye peered inside, searching for its prey. Iridal fell back, but there was nowhere to hide in the rubble-strewn, partially collapsed chamber. She was trapped in a small area beneath the hole in the ceiling. When the dust cleared and the creature could see, it would have her.
She tried desperately to concentrate on her magic. Closing her eyes to blot out the fearsome sight, she formed mental reins and tossed them over the dragon’s neck.
The infuriated creature roared and tossed its head. Jerking the reins out of her mental grasp, the dragon’s opposing magic came near overthrowing the woman’s reason. A claw slashed at Iridal’s arm, tearing her flesh. The ceiling gave way. Shards of stone fell all around her, striking her, knocking her down. The dragon, screeching in triumph, swooped on her. Gasping, choking in the dust, she crouched on the floor, her face averted from death. Iridal waited almost impatiently to feel the sharp, searing pain, the talons piercing her flesh. Instead, she felt a gentle hand on her arm.
“Don’t be afraid, child.”
Incredulously, she raised her head. Bane’s servant stood before her. Stoop-shouldered, his bald head covered with marble dust, the fringes of gray hair sticking out ludicrously, he smiled reassuringly at her, then turned to face the dragon.
Slowly, solemnly, and gracefully, Alfred began to dance.
His voice raised in a thin, high-pitched chant to accompany himself. His hands, his feet, traced unseen sigla, his voice gave them names and power, his mind enhanced them, his body fed them.
Burning acid dripped from the dragon’s flicking tongue. Momentarily startled, feeling the man’s magic and uncertain what it was, the creature drew back to consider the matter. But it had already been thwarted once. The lure of flesh and the memory of what it had endured at the hands of the detested wizard drove it on. Snapping jaws dived down, and Iridal shivered in terror, certain the man must be bitten in two.
“Run!” she screamed at him.
Alfred, looking up, saw his danger, but he merely smiled and nodded almost absentmindedly, his thoughts concentrating on his magic. His dance increased in tempo, the chanting grew a little louder—that was all.
The dragon hesitated. The snapping jaws did not close, but remained poised over their victim. The creature’s head swayed slightly, in time to the rhythm of the man’s voice. And suddenly the dragon’s eyes widened and began to stare about in wonder.
Alfred’s dance grew slower and slower, the chanting died away, and soon he came to a weary halt and stood gasping for breath, watching the dragon closely. The quicksilver didn’t seem to notice him. Its head, thrust through the gaping hole in the castle wall, gazed at something only it could see. Turning to Iridal, Alfred knelt beside her. “He won’t harm you now. Are you hurt?”
“No.” Keeping a wary eye on the dragon, Iridal took hold of Alfred’s hand and held it fast. “What have you done to it?”
“The dragon thinks that it is back in its home, its ancient home—a world only it can remember. Right now it sees earth below and sky above, water in the center, and the sun’s fire giving life to all.”
“How long will the enchantment last? Forever?”
“Nothing lasts forever. A day, two days, a month, perhaps. It will blink, and all will be gone and it will see only the havoc that it wreaked. By that time, perhaps, its anger and pain will have subsided. Now, at least, it is at peace.”
Iridal gazed in awe at the dragon, whose giant head was swaying back and forth, as if it heard a soothing, lulling voice.
“You’ve imprisoned it in its mind,” she said.
“Yes,” Alfred agreed. “The strongest cage ever built.”
“And I am free,” she said in wonder. “And it isn’t too late. There is hope! Bane, my son! Bane!”
Iridal ran toward the door where she’d last seen him. The door was gone. The walls of her prison had collapsed, but the rubble blocked her path.
“Mother! I am your son! I—”
Bane tried to cry out again to her, but a sob welled up in his throat, shutting it off. He couldn’t see her; the falling stone blocked his view. The dog, barking frantically, ran around him in circles, nipping at his heels, trying to herd him away. The dragon gave a dreadful shriek and, terrified, Bane turned and ran. Halfway to the door, he nearly fell over Sinistrad’s body.
“Father?” Bane whispered, reaching out a trembling hand. “Father, I’m sorry . . .”
The dead eyes stared at him, unseeing, uncaring.
Bane stumbled back and tripped over Hugh—the assassin paid to kill him, who had died to give him life.
“I’m sorry!” The child wept. “I’m sorry! Don’t leave me alone! Please! Don’t leave me alone!”
Strong hands—with blue sigla tattooed on the backs—caught hold of Bane and lifted him up out of the wreckage. Carrying him to the doorway, Haplo set the stunned and shaken boy on his feet next to the Geg.
“Both of you, keep near me,” the Patryn ordered.
He lifted his hands, crossed his arms. Fiery runes began to burn in the air, one appearing after another. Each touched, yet never overlapped. They formed a circle of flame that completely encompassed the three of them, blinded them with its brilliance, yet did not harm them.
“Here, dog.” Haplo whistled. The dog, grinning, leapt lightly through the fire and came to stand at his side. “We’re going home.”
Epilogue
“And so, Lord of the Nexus, that’s the last I saw of the Sartan. I know you’re disappointed, perhaps even angry, that I didn’t bring him back. But I knew Alfred would never allow me to take the boy or the Geg, and as he said himself, I could not risk fighting him. It seemed to me to be a splendid irony that he should be the one to cover my escape. Alfred will come to us of his own accord, my lord. He can’t help himself, now that he knows Death Gate swings open.
“Yes, my lord, you are correct. He has another incentive—his search for the child. Alfred knows I took the boy. I heard, before I left Drevlin, that the Sartan and the boy’s mother, Iridal, had joined together to look for her son.
“As for the boy, I think you’ll be pleased with Bane, my lord. There is potential in him. Naturally, he was shaken by what happened in the castle at the last—the death of his father, the horror of the dragon. It’s made him thoughtful, so if you find him quiet and subdued, be patient with him. He is an intelligent boy and will soon learn to honor you, lord, as we all do.
“And now, to finish my story. When I left the castle, I took the boy and the Geg with me to the elven ship. Here we discovered that the elf captain and his crew were being held prisoners by the mysteriarchs. I made a deal with Bothar’el. In return for his freedom, he would take us back to Drevlin. Once there, he would hand over his ship to me.
“Bothar’el had little choice but to agree. He either accepted my terms or met death at the hands of the wizards—the mysteriarchs are powerful and desperate to escape their dying realm. I was, of course, forced to use my magic to free us. We could not have fought them successfully otherwise. But I was able to work my magic without the elves seeing me, they didn’t notice the runes. In fact, they now believe that I’m one of the mysteriarchs myself. I didn’t disillusion them.
“The assassin was correct in his estimation of the elves, my lord. You will find that they are people of honor, as are the humans in their own curious way. As he had agreed, Bothar’el flew us to the Low Realm. The Geg, Limbeck, was greeted by his people as a hero. He is High Froman of Drevlin now. His first act was to launch an attack against an elven ship attempting to dock and take on water. In this, he was helped by Captain Bothar’el and his crew. A combined force of elves and dwarves attacked the ship and, singing that strange song I told you about, they managed to convert all the elves on it. Bothar’el told me before he left that he intended to take the ship to this Prince Reesh’ahn, leader of the rebellion. He hopes to form an alliance between the rebel elves and the dwarves against the Tribus Empire. It is rumored that King Stephen of the Uylandia Cluster will join them.