Ankhar gestured to the column of warriors, dominated by teeming numbers of hulking, muscle-bound ogres, which spread out through the light forest in the shade at the mountain range’s base, extending as far behind him as Ankhar could see. “More ogres than ever! See the big bulls! How many tribal chiefs have I? More than anyone!”
Laka merely smiled smugly and squinted at the sky. “Look,” she said, pointing to a circling eagle.
Puzzled, the half-giant observed the bird. The huge raptor wheeled and banked, gliding easily on the mountain updrafts. Barely moving those graceful wings, the eagle serenely tilted back and forth, watching the valley floor with deceptively casual interest. It soared with a freedom and majesty Ankhar could only envy.
A dozen rabbits, flushed by the activity of the encamping army, bounced through the grass, racing for the protection of the woods on the slope. The eagle tucked its wings and plummeted like a stone, coming down on the back of a large hare, breaking its neck with the force of the strike. Proudly the bird sailed upward, tearing at the warm flesh with its sharp beak.
“See how that eagle strikes… from the air? Kills quickly… by surprise?”
“Yes, I see!” Ankhar retorted in exasperation. “Of course it flies! It has wings!”
“Your army would fight better if it could fly,” Laka noted.
Ankhar snorted indignantly. “And I could kill you with my breath if I was a dragon! But I am not a dragon. And my army cannot fly!”
“But what if you were to find some warriors, some flying warriors, who would join you in your glorious battles?”
“That fly like dragons, you mean? Where are warriors such as this?”
“There are some. They are not far away.”
“Did you dream about these flying warriors?” he asked suspiciously. He had been exposed to many great and terrible things in the past as a direct result of Laka’s dreams, so he didn’t want to discount her suggestion out of hand. But neither was he willing to embrace the inevitable risks, at least not until he learned more. He would ask some questions, require some persuasion!
“Yes, I did,” she replied triumphantly. “And I know where you can find them.”
“Flying warriors?” he mused. They would be useful, to be sure. Face an enemy cowering behind a wall? Bah! Let them form a line of pikes? Hah!
That was enough thinking for the half-giant. “All right, we go,” he said. “Pond-Lily, you stay here.”
“Yes, my lord,” said the ogress, bowing meekly.
And so it was, three days later, that the hulking half-giant and his frail, withered hobgoblin stepmother made their way high into a remote valley of the Garnet range. Ankhar left his army behind because Laka had assured him the warriors they sought would flee into hiding at the sight of a barbarian horde approaching.
His prospective allies remained utterly mysterious in Ankhar’s mind, and he grew tired and weary of the new quest prompted by his stepmother. While he loved the mountains, he had forgotten how hard it could be to walk up and up and up for days at a time. He even missed Pond-Lily, who-despite her mental shortcomings-had a way of making the long, cold nights a good deal warmer and shorter. Footsore and grumpy, he was working up his courage to challenge Laka when he was distracted by a shape that dived from a nearby cliff, swooped past his head, and landed on the trail before him.
Great pale wings spread from the scaly shoulders of the creature, which snarled at him and Laka, opening a pair of tooth-filled, crocodilian jaws. And then it stood on its hind legs and drew a short steel sword from a leather belt.
“Stop!” it hissed. “And be afraid!”
Ankhar, in truth, had been badly startled by the creature’s appearance. It was a draconian, he noted at once, but of a type that was larger than any draconian he had ever seen previously. Furthermore, the draconian had a broad set of wings that spread much wider than the atrophied leathery flaps that allowed the standard example of the species to glide short distances while preventing true flight.
The creature was silvery white in color and almost as tall as the gaping half-giant. The hissing growls that issued from the draconian’s maw were indeed frightening, and its flapping wings made it look even larger than it really was.
But the thing was not as tall as Ankhar-nor, he felt certain, was it as strong or fierce. The half-giant’s surprise changed to anger and insult, and he lowered his spearhead, brandishing the emerald stone at his challenger’s chest.
“Who are you to tell me to be afraid?” he demanded.
“I am Gentar-chief of the sivaks!” snapped the draconian, hissing, growling, and spitting.
Only then did Ankhar realize that other draconians were settling to the ground all around them. Within moments he and Laka were surrounded by more than a dozen of the creatures, each of whom was some nine feet tall-taller than a bull ogre-and continuously flapping their great, powerful wings. Others remained in the air, wheeling and circling, like bats. They flew with grace and power, and wore bands of leather strapped across their chests and girding their loins. The growling, hissing sivak draconians presented an impressive array of fangs, talons, and silver-bladed weapons.
“I am not afraid!” Ankhar lied-loudly, which was his favorite way to lie. “You fear me, or die!” He waved his emerald-tipped spear for good measure.
A blast of fire erupted from the ground in front of him, sending the half-giant tumbling backward. The blaze shot upward as if exploding from a deep hole, crackling and burning, radiating heat that forced Ankhar to raise a hand just to shield his eyes. He only barely managed to hold on to his spear as his jaw dropped at the sight of a slender, wingless draconian standing in the place where the column of flame had shot upward.
“You are Ankhar!” declared this new draconian. He was smaller than the other winged monsters, but there was something that suggested command about him. His eyes, slit with vertical pupils, nevertheless gleamed with intelligence, and his voice had a sibilant quality. And he knew the half-giant’s name.
“Who are you?” demanded the one who called himself the Truth.
“I am Guilder,” the creature replied easily, stepping forward, extending a taloned paw in a gesture of greeting. “Aurak draconian, master of these sivaks, and lord of this valley. I greet you in friendship and respect.”
Guilder held that paw extended. Ankhar, watching suspiciously, switched his spear to his left hand and took the paw in his own-and immediately felt a numbing, chilling paralysis take root in his palm and start to run up his arm. Magic! He pulled his hand away with a roar of alarm. Weakness seeped through his flesh, and a wave of dizziness surged up through his mind.
“Take them!” cried Guilder, pulling his paw free, dancing away from the suddenly staggering half-giant. The aurak crowed in triumph and chanted words to a magic spell, wildly gesticulating.
His mother laughed shrilly, a cackling sound that made the half-giant wonder if she were going insane. Whose side was she on anyway? The aurak was still casting a spell, making grotesque sounds that rose to a crescendo and-Ankhar feared-a coming convulsion of magic.
Abruptly the sound of the aurak’s spell-casting ceased, though he continued to work his jaws, frantically. But there was a glimmer of fear in the creature’s slit eyes as the shaman’s spell of silence disrupted the casting of whatever sorcery he had been preparing.
As one of the silvery draconians charged him from in front, Ankhar raised his spear by instinct more than plan, still holding the weapon awkwardly in his left hand. The green stone at the head of the weapon pulsed brightly, a flash of light brighter than the sun. The weapon almost seemed to draw the suddenly frightened draconian onto the weapon. Ankhar took heart from that flaring brilliance and thrust the spear forward with a triumphant bellow.