The Dragons' Gift

The leader moved on, raising the cup to the lips of the next initiate. The boy raised startlingly blue eyes, curling familiar hands firmly around the stem of the goblet . . .

'Pren demna! Pren demna!'

There was another half of him, not so easily controlled that had continued his role as he should have, as he had been expected, as he had planned. But it was only now, after the rite had been broken that the two halves could reform.

Dagnan found himself staring down on the proceedings below standing on the cliff edge, still only partly aware of the searing pain in his side and the blood that soaked his tunic.

He forced himself to ignore the pain, while a gale wind ripped through the caldera, blowing wildly through his hair, flinging his cloak out behind him like a demon godling of old. He of the dark forces that battered his senses, beating at his outwardness. But what had been there, that which had been controlled, was gone and well dead. Dagnan knew well the struggle it would take to heal, but other, more pressing matters demanded his attention.

Thirteen pairs of eyes turned to face him, and he knew, whatever had really happened to him, he could not contemplate it any longer. Now was the time for battle.

He raised his arms and threw his head back, fixing his gaze momentarily on Aleris' thin crescent. To those below, he appeared perhaps as a godling of old and well-worthy of his proud heritage. The fires of Challenge blazed in his eyes and a demonic smile on his lips. His cloak, as it waved violently behind him, was a shadow of his chaos familiar. His words were like a summer's heat, persistent and demanding.

Cesa Ghantanth, semic da'ams,
Zexile geishen li bes.

Suln alchah shamsinul ajon larnin,
Namzalth damsat n'le dagna dnar.
Zexilec li brekk j'derif temuen eni,
Ishnaelic avaris im abaer.

Ilisic li liezthin shech suln raemah,
Sietic gaam zvedraelth.
Aliyac n'vraskth dnar, n'aeroac
Lanal li derif ce'na kepal.

Yeltiac gheln filn en'sadin gazhielen dnar,
Gadrac th'cels-li telkgesln gimlal.
Aliyac alegnar i da lei,
Sheic da ou rhaesti tris irudae.

It took only seconds for the spell to be cast. The wavering of the image of the cage began almost immediately, even as Frayne struggled to maintain it. Both men could feel as it weakened, and the struggle of the dragonet to extend beyond it.

And then it collapsed.

The dragonet stumbled forward. It tried to fly immediately, but Its wings beat more in pain than in flight. It was only a number of moments, but as the creature's wound began to close, It was at last able to take flight, trumpeting shrilly, and beating Its smooth, bronze-gold wings in approval and thanks, Its wound no longer burning.

It took flight, though obviously still troubled by the wound already closing in Its side, heading north and eastward toward Its home, circling once over the caldera to get Its bearings before fleeing back into the mountains. They could hear the call of Dragons as It flew toward Them.

Below him, only the two initiates who had already drunk from the goblet lay motionless on the ashen floor. The others scrambled about, frantically searching for cover, disoriented by the sudden disruption of the rite and the chaotic flow of power it caused. Their leader moved groggily, stumbling, half-unconscious toward the ruby sphere, which now throbbed with a wild, random pattern. Loudly, though he slurred his word as if he were drunk, he ordered the statue-like guardians to kill the intruder.

Making the best use he could of his temporary advantage, Dagnan drew back one hand over his shoulder, palm open, as if to hurl a rock over his head. Then he shouted aloud,

Cesa Ghantanth serh tanat da jinu,
Dalna daen sakx da'palont.

Aljon dagdha shech arelnih,
Gaam tasath dashacat.
Jed ya dosk aliya,
En'kallath ens bajuo.

A ball of green flames grew large in his hand, churning with the power of Dagnan's long contained anger. He hurtled the flaming sphere with all the strength his arm could give him, focusing mind with the muscles.

It curved in an arch when it left his hand, scattering the guardians and disrupting their advance, before finally burying itself in one guardian's unprotected body. His mouth opened as if to scream, but no sounds could be heard as the sorcerous fire consumed him. Dagnan cringed at the fate of the misplaced soul that had given life to the body.

One of the young traitors screamed when the sorcerous flames caught his garments and quickly spread to engulf his entire body. The rebel's body fell against one of the standing stones, leaving behind only a charred mark from the heat of the flames.

Dagnan turned his attention then to the nearest of the still approaching sentries and prepared another attack. He spread his hands out in front of him, palms open and facing to the ground. As the guardian began to climb the cliff toward his position, Dagnan began anew,

Ghantanth n'le dagna ghanidrad velib,
Ransal shelt derifen cesa.

Dhaakth e tamat,
Taraniil dana,
El'nuch cadnih-serh,
Ya temuen nayn.

Beneath his feet, the rocks stirred and pulled loose from their lodgings, throwing themselves down the cliff. Dagnan was forced to take a step back from the edge, as the cliff wall collapsed on top of the guardian, burying it beyond any further usefulness. Two of his fellows stepped away from the rock slide quickly enough not to be trapped and crushed. Dagnan cursed himself under his breath, knowing, though, that he could not afford to dwell on it now.

The leader, though still dazed, stood his ground and prepared himself for combat. Frayne turned to face his enemy and raised his eyes to meet Dagnan's.

Even though Dagnan had known it before, the irrefutable proof rocked him, and he paused too long. Frayne's words echoed off the valley walls in a voice much stronger than Dagnan could have expected from his earlier behavior.

'Kelta Ishada kallal li va'ghantal recadan.
Ral diht Ishada tosad li do'rern iedi damnas,
Da laevan i yelzhan y'derif-kelt imn.
Im kalla, gemnas sisimna,
Do'jaeni damnas demna pren!'

Recovering from his momentary shock, Dagnan threw one arm in front of his body in an upward sweeping half-circle, calling, 'Darwon do'keltin damnas!' in a simply worded defensive measure.

He thrust his hands outward in the leader's direction to meet the shock of Frayne's attack. He could sense when his defense met Frayne's much weakened onslaught and felt them dissolve each other in the space between them. Once more unprotected, Dagnan was forced to turn back to the other four sorcerers and the five remaining sentries.

He knew from long experience in magical combat situations that Frayne should be of little consequence for now. He was too weak and too drained to be a serious threat, at least until his followers had worn his enemy down further, but he could not afford to let Frayne regain too much strength.

He had no time to assess the threat the others could pose him. He was forced to draw his sword against the guardians' attack before he could fully turn his attention to them.

The nearest guardian had climbed the crumbled cliff face with two of his fellows not too far behind. Dagnan took another step back from the edge and faced them with his sword. The guardian topped the rise and strode single-mindedly toward his quarry.

The guardian's first blow nearly flung the sword from Dagnan's hands, but the Dragon Lord recovered quickly, firming his grip and cutting back.

It did not take many strokes to realize how truly mindless these creatures were. The sentry used the same move after each of Dagnan's parries and attacks, and scarcely bothered to parry his opponent's blows. He did not even seem to notice them. But the creature was immensely strong, and they did not bleed from the numerous, gaping wounds Dagnan dealt them. Dagnan continued to have difficulty maintaining a hold on his own blade from the sheer force o