The Black Wing (4 page)

Stretching painfully now, Khisanth was sorry that she had defiantly flung the small,
unused pots of balm across her lair the night before. Spotting the cracked vessels of
ointment, she dabbed the fleshy ball beneath one claw into a partially dried puddle and
touched it to the sorest muscles in her wings. To her surprise, the goo provided instant,
if not total, relief. The dragon reached down for more and was dismayed to realize that
she could not salvage enough from the sandy floor to apply to her whole body. It enraged
her to think that her anger had cost her the cure to her ills. Her tail lashed out, and
she sent the shards of the crude ceramic pots flying through the lair's opening. “Anger
will defeat thee in battle as well as in life,” said Kadagan, calmly dodging the flying
fragments as he fluttered into the cave. “An old nyphid maxim.”

“Does nothing enrage you? Aren't you furious those humans took Dela?” “Anger is energy
spent foolishly.” Khisanth's eyes rolled up in exasperation. “It never ceases to amaze me
that such a wise and all-knowing race has come to the brink of extinction,” she stabbed.

As usual, Kadagan did not rise to the bait. “A cruel trick of nature hast given nyphids
wisdom without the physical strength to defend it. Thou hast the opportunity for both.”
Kadagan settled himself, pulling up his tunic slightly to sit cross-legged on the dirt
floor. “Art thou prepared for the next lesson in qhen?”

“Qhen?” snorted Khisanth. “I intend to fly today.” Kadagan watched the dragon's stiff,
jerky movements as she shuffled around the cave. “I feel fine! I'll have no problem
flying,” Khisanth croaked defensively at the nyphid's cool gaze. “Besides” she whirled on
the small creature “I thought you and Joad were in a hurry for me to rescue your Dela. I'm
just trying to oblige you.” She crossed her claw arms in a challenging pose. “So let's
skip these fascinating lectures of yours and get on with teaching me to shapechange.” “I
am more than anxious to rescue Dela,” said Kadagan evenly. “But thou wilt surely fail in
the task if thou dost not moderate thy temper. How canst thou hope to control an enemy
without first controlling thyself?” “Is that why you're always so maddeningly calm?”
Khi-santh snapped. They both knew the question needed no answer. In a strange way, she was
beginning to understand the nyphid's logic. Besides, she was tired of looking foolish in
contrast to the nyphid's unshakable tranquility. “How long will it take to learn what you
want me to know?” “As I said before, that depends on thee,” said the nyphid. “I cannot
hurry and teach thee patience.” Sensing the circular course this topic could take, Kadagan
noted, “The males of my race pass down a tale that might help thee: The time came for a
young nyphid to develop her magical nature and learn qhen. She walked to the pod of her
teacher uncle and said, ”It is time for me to become the finest nyphid qhen. How long must
1 study?“ ”Ten years at least,“ her teacher uncle said. ”Ten years is a long time,“ said
the young female. ”What if I studied twice as hard as all thine other students?“ ”Twenty
years,“ replied her teacher uncle. ”Twenty years! What if I practice day and night with
all my effort?“ ”Thirty years.“ ”How is it that each time I say I will work harder, thou
tells me that it will take that much longer?“ ”The answer is clear. When one eye is fixed
upon thy destination, there is only one eye left with which to see the way there." The
thick, scaly skin above Khisanth's brow bones drew up in understanding. She heaved a
rumbling sigh of surrender. For a hot-tempered dragon, grasping qhen was

going to be a lot more difficult than learning to walk or fly.

Under cover of darkness, Khisanth, with Kadagan clinging to her neck, soared over the
eastern cliffs of the bay known as the Miremier. Guided by the nyphid, the dragon was
learning the names of the lands over which they flew. The terrain just south of the long
narrow forest of End-scape was unremarkable for anything but its rugged coasts on both the
east and west sides of the peninsula. Impossibly long stretches of flat, unforested land
continued south until, abruptly and without foothills or even forest, the easternmost
ridges of the Khalkist Mountains jutted out of the earth like jagged fangs.

The flat land might have made for good farming, if any humans cared to go into the far
northern reaches of the Ogre-lands, to face the isolation of life beyond the populated
villages of either Kernen or Ogrebond. It was a strange and silent stretch of land,
surrounded by lonely rain-washed cliffs.

The nyphid and the dragon shared a new spirit of, if not mutual respect, common purpose.
Khisanth was learning qhen even more quickly than Kadagan had hoped, for the dragon was a
very bright student and was learning, above all, to control her ever- ready temper. Her
muscles were toned by long daily flights. With a little more practice, she would be able
to master the rudiments of shapechanging. With a little more mental discipline, both
teacher and student knew that Khisanth would be ready to fulfill her end of the bargain.
In light of this fact, Khisanth had persuaded Kadagan that she was ready to begin
shapechanging. Kadagan himself had said she must see, firsthand, a human female in order
to assume its shape. It would also be helpful, Khisanth had reasoned, for her to see the
village where Dela was being held. The young nyphid had given a fairly detailed
description of Styx from his own journey there with Joad, but Khisanth had a difficult
time envisioning it. She'd never seen human dwellings before. “Something puzzles me
mightily, Kadagan,” said Khisanth now. “How have these humans come to govern the world? By
your own words, they are weakly built, to the point of perishing from simple indigestion.
They aren't the least magical by nature. Only after a lifetime's study can a very few of
them wield even paltry spells. ”You've said they can do almost nothing for themselves,“
the dragon continued. ”Beasts of burden plow their fields and pull their wagons. They use
bows and arrows to bring down prey larger than the smallest rodent, and even those they
will not kill with their bare hands or teeth.“ ”That's all true,“ noted Kadagan. ”Yet they
can walk freely, while nyphids and dragons must hover in shadows, for fear of
retribution.“ The dragon shook her head vigorously. Kadagan clutched her neck more tightly
against the sudden turbulence. ”Tell me, how have they subordinated so many more powerful
races?“ Khisanth demanded. ”Why would anything but a worm fear them? They aren't nearly as
strong as dragons. They can't even fly! I will hate being one of them!"

The nyphid's expression softened at the dragon's plight, and he added with gentle
confidence, “Thou wilt understand their crude power after thou hast been one. They are
emotionally complex. Their many facets make some weak and small, but give others a fire
that inspires followers.”

“I will never follow or fear them,” said Khisanth, scowling. “As dragon or human, I will
bow only to the Dark Queen.” She snapped her head up, to punctuate the end of the
discussion. Recalling Kadagan's qhen teachings to live the moment, the dragon concentrated
on something more pleasing. She watched the ground below with vain pleasure, catching
glimpses of her graceful, menacing, moonlit shadow as it skimmed from cliff face to dusky
bay and back. At full extension, she was the most beautiful creature of her limited
memorypowerful, gliding silently over the unsuspecting land. What a world it must have
been when those of her kind had traveled wingtip to wingtip in the skies but that had been
long ago, before the banishment known as the Sleep.

“There is Styx,” Kadagan said abruptly into the dragon's ear. Khisanth followed the line
from the nyphid's tapered finger to a dimly glowing collection of lights in the distant
southwest. The village was cupped around a calm, indigo blue bay, and its back was pressed
against a low ridge of mountains.

“Remember to keep thy distance,” warned Kadagan. “For Dela's sake, we cannot risk
detection.” “Why would they assume a dragon flying overhead was looking for a kidnapped
nyphid?”

“After the disturbance Joad and I caused, they will be suspicious of anything unusual. But
thy presence is nothing compared to thy nature. Lest thou forget, the return of dragons is
still just rumor to much of the world. The villagers of Styx would be most surprised and
alarmed to sight one of your kind.”

“No one will see me,” Khisanth said confidently. Taking in the dark ridge of mountains at
Styx's back, Khi-santh banked and flew southeast, paralleling the far northeast edge of
the village. “I should be able to see what I need from the foothills above Styx,” she
explained. Reaching the northernmost peak, Khisanth slowed her speed, dropped her
elevation to just above the tree line, and lowered her right wing ever so slightly to
swing westward. The dragon became aware of a dim, flickering glow from the forested
foothills below. Curious, cautious, Khisanth dropped back behind a spiky pine and
fluttered her wings just enough to remain aloft. Kadagan clung to her craning neck as she
peered down into a small glade that would have gone unnoticed if not for the firelight
illuminating it. A dozen or more creatures were reclining around a small campfire. The
flames made the orange tusks that protruded from their jowly mouths glow like hot coals.
“What are they?” breathed Khisanth. “Ogres.” Khisanth vaguely remembered them from the
maynus, lurking in the background at Dela's capture. By comparison to the two-foot-high
nyphids, ogres were huge, perhaps ten feet tall, with sloping foreheads that made them
look witless. The warty yellow, brown, and violet flesh beneath their green hair was
covered with torn scraps of animal fur that stank even at a distance. Despite the foul
stench, Khisanth found the underlying scent of living flesh inviting. If thoughts of their
taste weren't invitation enough to strike, Khisanth spied gem- studded swords near each
creature, the precious stones winking at the dragon in the firelight. Picking their teeth
with the bones of their recent dinner, the sleepy ogres did not notice the threat that
hovered in the shadows beyond the trees. 'Thou art planning to attack.“ Khisanth had to
force herself to think enough to respond. ”Instinct tells me to, yes."

Spittle flooded her maw in anticipation of the feast. Blood hammered at her temples and
burned in her veins at the thought of the treasure. “It is most unwise” The pounding in
Khisanth's head prevented her from hearing anything but her own blood-thirst. She didn't
even notice when, sighing, the nyphid extended his gossamer wings and fluttered earthward
into the protection of the leafy branches beyond the glade.

Unable to contain her hunger for another second, Khisanth spiraled downward like a black
tornado. She only distantly heard the ogres' screams as they spotted her circling in the
dimness above. They panicked, and every ogre jumped to its feet. Thinking only of running
away, they slammed into each other and fell back down in a tangled pile. Several stumbled
and landed in the fire, setting their greasy hair and clothing aflame. Pulling up short
just eight feet off the ground, Khisanth snatched up an ogre by the chest. The creature's
purple eyes flew wide open before Khisanth's fangs cut through the flesh and laid its
chest bare. The dragon landed with a hop, looked inside the cavity to the heaving heart,
and sighed. That delicacy would have to wait until she had dealt with the others.

Khisanth whirled to find a second ogre brandishing a thick branch in its talons, slashing
the air before the black dragon. Khisanth bit through the club with a satisfying snap,
then tore off the ogre's arm. She thrilled to the unaccustomed texture of the limb sliding
down her long throat. In the fighting that followed, Khisanth was aware of only her own
sound and speed, the ogres' fear and blood. She simply acted and reacted. As with flight,
the dragon discovered that she instinctively knew what to do. Her entire body was a
weapon, effective beyond anything these ogres could imagine. Her talons slashed like
sabers, her teeth impaled like spears, her tail whipped and smashed like a battering ram,
her wings beat and buffeted like windstorms. There was no escape for the ogres, and
turning to fight was hopeless. One after another they died, screaming, stumbling in their
own gore. The campsite was strewn with torn bodies, blood still pumping from dying hearts.
Khisanth's red-flecked face looked up sharply from the last kill and saw that only one
more ogre stood between her and the treasure. Khisanth paused to consider the last ogre.
Its cured-hide loincloth was of high-quality deer instead of bear, and much less
moth-eaten than the others, suggesting some care. This ogre was noticeably bigger than its
comrades, its dusty, sweat-streaked forehead a little less sloped. Something about its
heavily scarred face suggested enough intelligence for the creature to realize that this
was its dying day. Yet there was an absence of fear in this one, too. Khisanth noted that
the ogre's eyes still gleamed with a feral light as she slithered over the corpses,
preparing her attack. “You dragon?” Khisanth stopped short. “You know what I am?” “Hear
stories.” “What have you heard?” The ogre drew back warily. A weak, threatening growl
rumbled through its filed orange teeth, as if warning her to keep her distance while it
thought. “Tell me what you know, or I'll kill you slowly,” Khisanth growled, leaning in.
The creature had been chieftain of this small band of ogres and had killed enough foes to
realize that mercy in exchange for information was unlikely. The ogre's eyes shifted from
side to side, looking for something to help it. Bursting into motion, the tall warty
creature stooped and snatched up a sword lying in the dust. The chieftain's attack was
straightforward and ferocious, wasting nothing on cleverness. The ogre simply lunged and
drove the point of its sword toward Khisanth's breast.

Ever wary, the black dragon lashed out with her right claw. The dusty sword was torn from
the ogre's hand, sent spinning across the clearing until it disappeared in the dark- ness
among the trees. The ogre's eyes hopelessly followed the weapon for only a moment. It
looked back again quickly, hatefully, at Khisanth.

She threw back her head and opened her toothy jaws in laughter at the creature's impotent
rage, displaying slimy chains of pink-tinged slaver. The ogre's scarred face testified to
countless scrapes with death, and it called upon that hoarded experience for another ploy.
Keeping its eyes locked on Khisanth, the ogre reached down again and snatched up the torn
corpse of a fallen comrade, holding it by its ankles. A rake of Khisanth's claws had
ripped away the creature's shoulders and head just moments before. The chieftain swung the
gruesome torso in a circle overhead and launched it at Khisanth before she could dodge
away. The gory bulk slapped her in the left eye, a broken rib slashing across her leathery
eyelid. Her own blood streamed from the gash and mingled with the corpse's. Squeezing the
throbbing eye shut, Khisanth could see the desperate ogre scramble over broken weapons and
dead bodies. If the creature reached the woods, she would be unable to follow. Khisanth
pulled back her thick lips and constricted her abdomen. The black dragon's gorge rose, and
she felt the hot, salty acid race up her long throat, storm over her crimson tongue, and
roar through her tightly drawn lips. As it hit the air, the steaming bile exploded into a
shimmering mist and blasted across the clearing in a five-foot- wide stream of ruin.
Plants withered and dissolved in the awful vapor. Droplets fell and sizzled upon the
remains of bodies in the path of the blast, filling the air with a noxious green fog and
the scent of burning blood. In less than a heartbeat the full force of the blast slammed
into the back of the fleeing ogre. The corrosive river splashed around the beast's
shoulders and head, eating through its deerskin clothing and past to its flesh. The
chieftain's death scream pierced the air for a second before fading into a strangled
gurgle. Then the forsaken creature fell forward on the hideous remains of its face. The
only sound in the still clearing was the hungry sizzle of acid burning through bone. When
it had finished its meal, the darkened liquid bubbled and soaked into the dirt and ashes,
burying itself. An eerie, whispering wind rose to fill the silence in the clearing.
Khisanth stood among the wreckage, her hind legs a bit shaky. The bloodlust that had
driven her was gone, leaving her weak and light-headed. The blast of acid had left a sour
taste in her mouth. She bent her head to feast on the corpses, if only to cover up the
bitter taste in her mouth and renew her strength. A beam of light suddenly sliced across
her path. Khi-santh's gore-covered face popped up and looked toward the night sky. The
moon had cut through the clouds, and the angled beams of bluish light provided a pathway
for Kada-gan. He slid along the moonlight and landed soundlessly at the dragon's hind
feet. “Did you see the battle?” she asked the nyphid eagerly. Kadagan nodded. “Thou fought
brilliantly, striking with the power and unpredictability of lightning.” Khisanth's brows
raised at the pleasing comparison. Resuming her feast, she spoke only between gulps. “I
used the qhen technique and fought on instinct. You would have been proud of how I just
let myself be a dragon. Nothing can stand up to the power of a dragon who knows qhen.”
“Thou knowest nothing of qhen,” said Kadagan, his voice and bright blue eyes as cold as
ice. Khisanth's head snapped up. “How can you say that?” she gasped. “You've seen how I've
studied and practiced.”