"Lef s teleport," suggested Jahet.
Khisanth shook her head. "I doubt if 11 work here. I tried it in my lair-magic seems suppressed."
"Then how were you able to shapechange?
Khisanth struggled for the words to explain qhen. "The only thing I can figure is that shapechanging is more a mental than a magical discipline. The distinction must be a loophole in the spell that negates our magic." Khisanth snapped her talons. "You've given me another idea." She rubbed her claws together in preparation. "Stand back."
At a loss for any other solution and growing more desper shy;ate, the highest ranked dragon did as the lowest bade.
Khisanth concentrated, trying to sharpen the edges on an old memory. On the first seasonable day one spring back in the Great Moors, the ice on her pond had nearly all melted, and she'd gone to ground in search of fresh, warm prey. But the selection had been strangely slim, considering mammals' penchant for warm weather-a few young, foolish ground squirrels and an elderly, nearly blind ferret. Khisanth had an excellent long-term memory for meals.
She had been about to close on the ferret when the ground began to tremble, then shake violently. Suddenly-unexplain-ably-a twenty-foot-tall, budding maple tree shot out of the ground and fell over. Sharp talons emerged in the tree's wake, digging a tunnel to the surface at a rate that had impressed even Khisanth. A hideous, snout-nosed creature emerged, tangled in the dirt clods that dangled from the tree's torn roots. Snarling and slathering wildly like a rabid dog, the gigantic creature thrashed itself free. It had an elliptical; bluish-green body cov shy;ered with thick plates and scales. The creature snatched up the fear-frozen ferret and choked it down in a gulp.
The dragon had watched the creature solely out of curiosity; her taste was more particular than to consume something so hideous and tough. Thaf s why she'd been so surprised when its milky-yellow eyes and sky-blue pupils locked onto the largest meal it had ever seen. It sprang into the air like a jackrabbit, launching directly at Khisanth, four clawed feet raking and scratching. It seemed not even to notice that Khi shy;santh was twice its size.
The surprise move had left time only for instinct. Hot green acid spewed from Khisanth's jaws and splashed across the creature's exposed underbelly. In moments, the thing was digested. She'd killed her first bulette, a rare and widely feared carnivore. Now she was about to become one herself.
"You'd better step into your lair," Khisanth advised. Stand shy;ing in the archway between her two chambers, Jahet looked mildly annoyed at what she considered Khisanth's theatrics, but again did as the other dragon suggested.
Painfully aware of the claxons still pealing outside, Khi shy;santh hastily envisioned her own powerful dragon body trans shy;forming into her memory of the bulette's. She felt herself grow shorter, stiffer under the plates and scales; her vision was not as keen. But the most significant change was one she'd never before encountered in a shapechange; her mood shifted abruptly. She felt jumpy and agitated, with an overriding impulse to burrow frenetically. It took all of her dragon sensi shy;bilities to make herself dig in a logical place.
The bulette Khisanth sank her squared, pawlike claws into the packed dirt floor of Jahef s antechamber and sent it flying on either side of her armored flanks in two steady, thick black streams. Digging under the outside wall, her claws tore through layers of hard clay and rock, until a hole large enough for a bulette to pass through was carved. Her claws bit into the base of the supporting wall itself to make room for a dragon's escape. When she finished, Khisanth was not the least bit tired.
Khisanth was anxious to doff the bulette form and quickly did so before calling to Jahet. The other dragon had watched the bulette with amazement from between the growing mounds of dirt and rock in the antechamber.
In deference to her rank, Khisanth waved Jahet through the underground trench first. Hurrying after, she heard Jahet's angry gasp from the other side of the ponderosas. Khisanth stepped through the hedge of trees and stopped next to her friend to view the fortress in the early light.
An army at least six hundred strong, colorful banners wav shy;ing, was launching an all-out assault on the Black Wing of the Dark Queen's army.
Maldeev stepped onto a parapet above the courtyard, hands in their usual position on his breech-covered hips. The yellow light of the torches made his rippling chest look as if it were carved of the palest marble. Under his highlord helm, Mal shy;deev's expression was beyond anger as he tried to make sense of the chaos around him.
The early morning atmosphere had changed from the softly glowing calm of a sleeping encampment to a torchlit frenzy of activity; half-dressed, droopy-eyed men hopping about, pulling on clothing, barking orders without true understand shy;ing or purpose. This was not how he'd trained his troops! Why weren't his commanders restoring order? Where was that dandy, Wakar, his second-in-command?
What was the meaning of this unexpected call-to-arms? It was still dark, several hours before the scheduled drill. The wing was not yet at war. Someone had intentionally disrupted the order of the compound. Maldeev scowled in the direction of the bell tower, where the claxons still rang, looking for the culprit. He blinked, then looked again. The rope jerked up and down, but he saw no one pulling it.
Magic. Maldeev's eyes narrowed to tiny black slits. Andor and the other two dark clerics … He'd reluctantly accepted their presence at Neraka's insistence, distrusting magic as he did. If they were in any way responsible for initiating this prank, Maldeev would see their heads roasted slowly until their skulls exploded!
Where in the Abyss were the blasted clerics, anyway? Mal shy;deev spun around and stormed back into his chambers. He began dressing in his armor as quickly as he could; he had to do it alone since no amount of bellowing brought a servant to his aid. Maldeev had pulled on just one boot when he heard a cry outside that cut through all the din, a cry that made his blood run cold.
"Army of knights approaching from the north!"
Maldeev's mind dashed frantically through denial, past the expected questions, and settled on acceptance. Obviously, the pathetically small company of knights from Lamesh had decided to launch an attack on Shalimsha. It would be a swift and easy slaughter, especially with the aerial support from his dragons.
Speaking of dragons, he recalled abruptly, he'd seen neither hide nor tooth of Jahet, nor any of the dragons. Maldeev angrily jammed his foot into his other boot. Where in the name of Takhisis were those greedy and undependable black beasts who were supposed to win the war for the Queen of Darkness?
Maldeev could scarcely believe how wrong things had gone in one short night. If he had any hope of righting them, he'd first have to reorganize his ragged troops. Then he'd find those dragons and kick their lazy hides from here to Neraka! With that pleasant thought propelling him, Maldeev charged from his apartments, headed for the stairway that led down to the courtyard. And the chaos.
Chapter 17
Studying the crumbling north wall of Shalimsha Tower, Sir Tate Sek-forde felt a momentary twinge of regret that it hadn't been possible to drag a catapult from Lamesh. Two or three well-placed boulders would have tumbled the remaining links in the wall like a child's set of wooden blocks. As it was, the fortress would be so ridiculously easy to breach, Tate never considered trying to batter down the central gate. The knight couldn't conceive of raising an army without repairing the outer curtain. He could only conclude that the man inside who called himself a highlord must be very arrogant to assume no one would attack him.
Tate's legion of soldiers, along with their baggage wagons, pack animals, and all the train of war, had marched over the parched land for four and a half days-thirty-three leagues in choking dust. At least it wasn't hot, thought Tate, just damnably dry. The knight was grateful enough for the rela shy;tive coolness. He was wearing his heavy plate mail, the only heirloom he'd taken from Castle DeHodge. Still, the constant clouds of dust didn't help the sore throat he'd woken with on the morning they were to set out. But he couldn't delay the march if they were to take advantage of the waxing moon. Tate was glad they hadn't. They'd marched the last three miles tonight in moonlight so bright it looked as if daylight's wick had simply been turned down. Now the sky was light shy;ening toward dawn; the time for attack had come.
"Sir Wolter," Tate called to his sponsor, who was talking to some men-at-arms a short distance away. The stout, gray-haired knight nudged his horse next to Tate's. "Take fifty knights, our best swordsmen, and get them into position near that big breach." He pointed at the largest section of crum shy;bled wall, to the right of the north wall's arched wooden gate. "Tell them to wait until Regist's archers have flanked them and picked off the few bowmen on the ramparts. Then send the knights in, led by a handful of crossbowmen who can shoot into the breach just before the charge. The crossbows can fall back after firing. Obviously, the attack will have to be made on foot. Find a place to shelter and tether the horses."
"What about the dragons?" Welter's bushy gray eyebrows were raised.
"What about them?" snapped Tate. "They're supposed to stay out of it, if that's what you're asking. Khoal said he'd be able to delay the other two evil dragons from joining the fight, if not keep them out of it entirely."
"Let's hope we can trust the word of a traitor."
Tate heaved a sigh. "Look, I know what you think of my arrangement with the black dragons. Let me assure you, it's not a situation that I would have initiated. The dragon came to me, not I to him. How could I reject an opportunity to dis shy;able the Black Wing, the center of evil in this region? Isn't that why we came to the frontier?"
Wolter extended his hand as if to deflect an angry response. "How do you know if s not a trap?"
"I consulted Wallens," said Tate. The lord knight beckoned to a soldier with bookish eyes and a solemn face. "Tell Sir Wolter what you've read in the ancient annals, what the order knows about the nature of black dragons."
Sir Geoffrey Wallens lowered the hand from his brow to his saddle pommel, pausing briefly on the way to stroke his thin brown mustache. "Black dragons are driven by greed, self-aggrandizement, and self-preservation, mostly in that order. They are evil, unpredictable, and unreliable. Unfortu shy;nately, sir, they are quite capable of breaking their bond to us, as they have to their own kind."
Scowling, Tate waved the too-honest knight away. He gave the grim-faced elder knight an earnest look and directed his gaze to the crumbling walls. "Come on, Wolter. If this is a trap, if s not a very good one. Why didn't they repair the walls? The dragon spoke truthfully about Shalimsha's layout-mountains with dragon lairs to the west, the north wall easily stormed. The chaos inside the compound looks genuine to me, too." His brown eyes scanned the mauve, early-morning sky. "I see no signs of dragons perched for attack, either."
Sighing, Wolter peered about to make sure that only Tate could hear him. "Look, lad," he whispered, "I understand you think you're doing what you must." He shook his hel-meted head. "Call me old-fashioned, but it just feels wrong to make a pact with creatures renowned for evil. I'm certain the Council of Knights wouldn't approve."
Tate laughed without humor. "They scarcely approve of me!" He grew suddenly serious. "I truly believe there's no dishonor for the knighthood in this. I've prayed for months to Kiri-Jolith, and I have sensed no displeasure for the plan."
Tugging up his gauntlets, Wolter managed a rueful smile. "If you've spoken to your god, you shouldn't have to answer to a crotchety old knight like me." He clapped his young friend on the shoulder. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got some knights to assemble." Wolter's well-worn plate armor disappeared in the throng of soldiers.
Tate's eyes followed him fondly, then slipped past to eval shy;uate the inside of the fortress. With any luck, they would soon be fighting there. He was surprised at how similar the layout of Shalimsha Tower was to Lamesh. There was no central keep here, either. Instead, the few buildings that had been repaired lined the inside walls, with a courtyard in the center. Must be a regional thing, Tate thought, since keeps were very common in Solamnia. He could see why the open courtyard would be an advantage for an army with dragons; a keep in the center of the courtyard would make it difficult for dragons to land.
Two years had passed since the fire had damaged Lamesh and destroyed part of the garrison's stockpiled grain. Tate had vowed by the end of that lean, hard winter to never eat another potato. He and his men had worked tirelessly to rebuild the burned sections so that they were better than before. News of their progress had spread to Solamnia; in the spring, fifty-two more young knights, eager for the chance for quick advancement, made their way to the frontier at Lamesh, further speeding up the reconstruction. That reinforcement also strengthened fate's troops to the point where he could field an army and still leave behind thirty men-at-arms with a handful of knights to defend Lamesh Castle. That was a small garrison, but the castle was strong and well situated.
Tate had been stunned, impressed despite himself, when he met his first dragon, the one who called himself Khoal. He'd been poring over some account ledgers on an early spring day, a tedious task he despised, when his adjutant ushered in a glassy-eyed farmer. Expecting to hear some complaint about the taxes, the lord knight was taken aback, to put it mildly, when the man calmly told him that he'd just met a black dragon.
"He was as nice as any creature you'd like to meet, and pretty. He wants you to meet him in the hills at sundown."
Back in Solamnia, Tate had first heard the rumors of drag shy;ons returning. At Lamesh, he'd even spoken to several eye shy;witnesses who claimed to have seen black dragons flying in the area, and others who had encountered physical evidence on the ground. Obviously, the creatures were not allies of Good. The farmer showed definite signs of having been mag shy;ically charmed, for no one would call the first dragon he met, particularly a black one, 'nice.' Aside from being surprised, Tate was certainly intrigued. "Why does this dragon wish to meet with me?"
"He said he has a business proposition."
Tate had plied the farmer for more information; the man had favorable, but not particularly informative things to say about the creature who had bewitched him. Though Wolter strongly disapproved, Tate rode into the mountains at the appointed time with two other knights. They dressed in the full ceremonial armor and regalia of their order, as they would on any other diplomatic mission. His primary motiva shy;tion had been curiosity.
With the farmer as a guide, they had no difficulty getting to the rendezvous point. The spot was a shallow valley at the foot of the mountains. The farmer indicated that only Tate was to approach closer than a hundred paces, and that he should leave his horse behind. Tate agreed as a practical mat shy;ter, since he suspected the horse wouldn't react well in the presence of a dragon.
The enormous beast was perched on its belly on a slab of rock that was slightly higher than Tate, forcing the knight to look up at it. Its foreclaws curved around the edge of the rock shelf, talons like sickles. Leathery wings were folded intri shy;cately along its flanks. Tate was mildly surprised to note that while the creature was covered in flat, leathery scales, like a reptile, it also had smooth patches of hide. The dragon's col shy;oring was astounding. Never had Tate seen such black. It was liquid and luminous like ink, polished and impenetrable like onyx.
Its most arresting feature, though, were its eyes, set in a head nearly as long as Tate was tall. Dozens of paces away, Tate could hear its breathing and feel the rush of hot air from its lungs. But the eyes were quick and bright, despite being as big as a man's head.