He saw, then, that the black wizard was there too. Willim’s robes swirled from the lingering motion of the spell that had carried them there, and he held Gretchan’s staff in both of his hands.
Then Brandon and everyone else were further distracted as a blossom of fire exploded in the great chasm. A creature made of fire, with great wings trailing sparks and smoke and a gaping mouth spread wide, roared a cry of inarticulate hunger and longing as it soared into view.
Those wings pulsed again and again as the monster flew on, and Brandon could see that the fire creature was flying directly toward the cage holding Gretchan Pax.
“It comes!” Willim the Black croaked, his voice a mixture of thrilled anticipation and stark dread. “Make ready!”
The latter statement was accompanied by a shiver of genuine terror, and Gretchan understood how much the wizard truly feared the creature of Chaos. He certainly had reason to fear. She knew the story of the Chaos War and the massive destruction the monsters had wrought across the face of Krynn. As she beheld the monster for the first time, she understood how its kin could have wreaked such destruction throughout all of Thorbardin.
“You must release me! And I’ll need my staff,” she said, somehow managing to sound calm.
The wizard refused to let her out of the cage, but he did allow her the religious talisman. “Here, take the staff! Remember, you will defeat the monster or die!” hissed Willim, suddenly thrusting the butt of the staff through the bars.
Instinctively she snatched the staff away from him, clutching it to her and murmuring a prayer of thanks. Immediately she felt the strength and serenity of Reorx flowing through her. She was ready to fight and, if it came to that, to die.
But there were all those other dwarves around her. She saw at least a thousand of the Kayolin soldiers, and guessed that Brandon must be down there with them. In the same instant that she thought of him, almost as though her magic had created him, Gretchan saw Brandon, standing on the wall almost directly below her, shouting and waving up at her.
The two female magic-users flew through the air; they were black specks that were almost impossible to see against the bright, surging flame of the Chaos creature. They swept toward the cage, following Willim’s command, until, a hundred yards away from Gretchan, they vanished, presumably teleporting to safety.
The dragon roared and surged on. Gretchan grabbed the bars of the cage, but they were unyielding, and she had no doubt that the wizard had spoken the truth about his trap. Her throat was dry, so parched she could barely croak out a sound. With another whispered word, she conjured a drink of water, instantly gulping the liquid that magically appeared in her waterskin and easing her parched throat.
Then the dragon was there.
Its huge, flaming head reared upward from a long, sinuous neck. Foreclaws, like its skin and wings, made of solid fire, glowed like red-hot metal superheated in an infernal forge. The beast rippled upward. Through the waves of heat that caused it to flicker in the air, a sinuous figure of majesty and terror was outlined in crackling flames.
“Oh Reorx, grant me your strength, to stand before this horror of the Abyss. If it be your will, may I slay it. Or if it be your will, may I die with courage and grace.”
She heard a cackle of laughter, like an insane giggle, coming from directly behind her, and she knew that Willim the Black lurked there, waiting for her to work Reorx’s magic. The beast was so close that she dared not look away. Instead, she clutched her staff and stared at the unspeakable creature in awe.
Its head was as large as the cage imprisoning her. Atop the serpentine neck, it swiveled around, with eyes of charcoal black-the only part of the monster that didn’t seem to be on fire-sweeping around the vast cavern of Norbardin’s royal plaza, clearly searching, searching.
And finally those soulless eyes came to rest upon her. The dragon flew closer, looming overhead. The heat of its presence blasted Gretchan’s face and hands, warmed her robe, and began to singe her hair.
“By all the power of the Forge, you are doomed!” she cried, raising the staff. “Go back to the Abyss! Go hide in your foul plane of nothingness and despair! There is nothing for you here!”
The dragon reared back, fanning the air with the great sails of its wings, dripping a cascade of sparks across the gathered throng of dwarves below. Its huge maw gaped wide, and a belch of fire erupted, an oily fireball spewing toward Gretchan, crackling and sizzling. Behind the priestess, Willim the Black shrieked, and when the sound was abruptly cut off-a split second before the fireball reached them-the cleric instantly suspected that the wizard had teleported away.
She had access to no such refuge, however, so she closed her eyes, clutched her staff, and relaxed, yielding her person and her life into the hands of her god as the dragon’s fiery breath surged forward, enveloping the cage and fully engulfing her.
Then she felt Reorx’s presence surround her. The Master of the Forge was like a cool blanket, insulating her against the hellish inferno that surged and churned everywhere. Even through her closed lids, she saw the fire, the brilliant orange brighter than the sun. She knew the flames were right there, but somehow she couldn’t feel the terrible heat.
The fire seemed to last forever, though she realized that only a few seconds had passed. She heard the monster roar again and again as it gradually realized that it was not killing her, that, in fact, the power of Reorx was not only protecting her, but exerting itself against the Chaos creature itself.
She dared to open her eyes, and she saw the dark circles of the dragon’s eyes, widening as if in astonishment or disbelief. It breathed fire again, but it seemed as though its blast of infernal breath were actually infusing her with strength and draining away the terrible potency of the fire dragon’s searing presence.
“Ha!” she cried, taunting the dragon with her joy and might. “You have met your master! He will take your power! You will know death!”
She raised the staff from the floor of the cage and pointed its anvil head directly at the monster. The fire dragon bellowed again, twisting and thrashing those great wings, but it struggled like a creature caught in a trap. It writhed and roared, flailing the air with its red-hot talons, lashing with its tail, driving those vast wings in ever more desperate attempts to break away.
“No!” shouted Gretchan, exulting in the creature’s defeat. “You shall not fly!”
The Chaos creature uttered one last, furious roar, a sound that resonated through the huge cavern, reverberating from the walls, echoing up and down the connecting caverns. Gretchan was pulled, hard, toward the wall of the cage, but she still held the staff, and she stabbed it like a spear, as if she would drive the head right through the monster’s heart.
Then it was as though, suddenly, the fire at the dragon’s core was smothered, the brightness of the flaming skin fading, the heat radiating from its horrific presence cloaked, muffled, and absorbed.
Even as she watched, the essence of the monster chilled and shrank. The flaming body cooled, flowing like smoke into the air, sucked toward the cage by the power of Reorx and the agency of his staff. Gretchan placed the head of that staff into the midst of the dense cloud of smoke and watched as it sucked away the pure, chaotic power that had wrought so much destruction.
And the staff continued to absorb the fading remnant of the fire dragon. The magical protection of Reorx still cloaked her, allowed her to survive the heat that caused the iron bars of the cage to burn hot and glow red. She could feel the shaft growing fiery in her hands, so hot that she could feel the skin on her palms blistering.
But still she held firm, not daring to let the rod even wobble or sway. Indeed, she held it straight upward, and the silver anvil at its head began to glow red, then yellow, then white, filling the underground cavern with a brilliant light such as it had never known. That illumination pierced into the far corners of Norbardin, driving back the darkness and, for a brief moment, shining as proof of Reorx’s goodness and of his triumph.