The Black Wing (5 page)

“It is not a skill to employ when it suits thee,” said the nyphid with silent fury. “It is
a way of living.” “How can you say in one breath that I was brilliant, and in the next say
I know nothing?”

“Greed blinded thee to thy goal. Qhen is focus, and patience, among other things. What
hast thou accomplished, and what not?” Chortling, Khisanth puffed out her chest. “I knew I
could overpower fifteen ogres, and I proved it!”

“To whom hast thou proven what thou already knew?” The dragon bristled. “I also have a
full belly, and gem-studded weapons with which to line my cave.” “Was thy goal to
slaughter a band of ogres?” “No, but” “Hast thou furthered thy goal to study Styx or sight
a human female?”

“No, but” “Could the ogre thou spoke with, undoubtedly their leader, have furthered either
goal if thou hadst not killed it in anger and lust?” “No!” Khisanth snapped defensively.
Frowning, she thought for a moment, then had to mumble, “How do you mean?” “Perhaps,
living so close to Styx, it knew something of the village, or even of Dela.” Khisanth
thought about that for a moment. “The ogre was not going to tell me anything.” The nyphid
surveyed the stinking goo that was once the chieftain. “Thou hast ensured that with thy
thoughtlessness.” Khisanth looked up with angry eyes. “Have a care, little creature,” she
muttered, her tone low and threatening. “I tolerate you when you are useful. When you are
not” The little nyphid was not cowed. 'Thou cannot control me in a meaningful way, if thou
cannot control thyself.“ Khisanth's first instinct was to pluck off the nyphid's wings,
but on some level she realized she would only be proving him right. The dragon turned away
from her teacher in frustration. Hoping to calm herself, she ran her long, moist tongue
over a small abrasion on her left foreleg. Khisanth stopped abruptly. Kadagan's
displeasure had soured her mood so that she found even the taste of blood was dulled.
Moving clumsily over the mounds of bodies in the small glade, Khisanth thoughtfully hooked
her claw into another ogre corpse and dragged it to the growing pile of bones in front of
her. The task of separating ogre bodies from their treasure was tedious with her large
claws, which were not suited to such fine work. She neither wanted nor expected the help
of Kadagan's slender fingers. His silent observation of her work made her burn with
unspoken fury, yet she did not express it, would not give him the satisfaction of proving
she couldn't control her temper. Kadagan surveyed the wreckage around the campsite, then
looked to the moon traveling across the night sky. ”It is late,“ he muttered. ”We will
return to thy lair.“ ”What about Styx?“ Khisanth asked. ”We still have time to observe,
and perhaps spot a human woman.“ ”We will return to thy lair/' Kadagan repeated firmly.
“Only dogs are about at this late hour. Further, after tonight's display, I would not
allow thee near Dela.” Before Khisanth could fire off an angry defense, the nyphid issued
an order. “Use thy acid to destroy the evidence of thy folly.” Snatching up a loincloth
from a dead ogre, he darted out of the way. Startled by the tone that brooked no
insolence, Khisanth obeyed. When she finished, she saw that Kadagan had fashioned the
filthy loincloth into a sling that accommodated the swords she'd pilfered from the dead
ogres. His thoughtful acknowledgment of her desire for treasure angered her since it
engendered the first

pangs of guilt she had ever experienced. “Canst thou fly?” Kadagan asked, considering her
wounds. “I did not expect to need Joad's services on this trip.” Khisanth stood slowly and
stretched her wings high. There was some stiffness. The descending moon shone as a fuzzy
blotch behind the translucent, leathery membranes, except in a few places where it
streamed through jagged tears in the flesh. She would be sore for several days, but
Khisanth was certain she could make the flight back. Taking three powerful, rabbitlike
hops she sprang into the air. Then the dragon dipped her left wing to pivot north toward
her lair in Endscape.

Summer gave way to autumn while Khisanth applied herself to her studies. The leaves turned
golden and tumbled from the trees. Ambling in the form of a white-striped badger through
grasslands gone stiff and brown, Khisanth was contemplating the stride and stance that
made her form uniquely that of a badger. She had long sharp claws like a dragon, but

Khisanth's head jerked up. She heard soft rustling ahead in the tall grass, coming toward
her. She stood only half as high as the weeds, so she could not see what approached.
Baring her teeth against possible predators, she waited. Joad popped through the grass and
waved her on. “Come,” he said, his voice old and scratchy from lack of use.

Khisanth's badger body nearly fell over with surprise. “You talked!” she rumbled. “Of
course,” Joad said simply, as if his speaking were nothing unusual. “Thy progress has
renewed my strength. I am grateful.” His old gray head bowed. Khisanth had thought of late
that the elder nyphid looked better, not so sad, his lightning-blue eyes less hollow. She
was strangely gratified. “And now I have a surprise for thee in the forest,” he rasped.
“Come.” Seeing the badger's eyes focusing, he reached down and laid a soft hand on her
head. “Do not changea dragon would be far too large to follow where I lead thee.” Thrilled
at the change in Joad, intrigued by the mystery of his surprise, Khisanth followed, past
the pods the nyphids would soon have to abandon when the grasses died entirely. Nyphid and
badger entered the trees, tiny booted feet and splayed claws crunching over mounds of
fallen brown leaves. The forest looked more spacious to Khisanth than when she'd first
seen it, but she wasn't certain if that was because the leaves had dropped from their
branches or because, as a badger, she was so much farther from the canopy. Cresting the
near side of a hillock, Joad turned left and followed a narrow, twisting gully downhill.
Rounding a sharp corner, the gully joined with a trickle of water, scarcely a stream since
it came only to where the fur on Khisanth's badger legs gave way to paws. As she splashed
in the cool water behind the mysterious nyphid, Khisanth's curiosity grew with each step.
Joad stopped so suddenly, Khisanth's pointed snout met with the back of his legs. He
jumped to one side of the gully and gave her a clear view of an abrupt drop, the small
stream of water forming a narrow waterfall. Joad leaned over and looked down, waving
Khisanth to do the same. Creeping forward cautiously on the opposite bank, the badger
peered over the edge and was amazed. The drop was short, perhaps one and a half times the
nyphid's height. But that was not what amazed Khisanth. Like a furry blanket, lush green
moss covered every dead branch and rock below in a six-by-six-foot swatch. Somehow it had
sustained its rich emerald color long after the underbrush around it had turned brown. The
forest seemed to be holding its breath; a damp green scent filled the air. “It remains
green year-round,” said Joad. “How? The stream?”

Joad bobbed his head toward the center of the collection of mossy rocks. “Their energy,”
he said mysteriously. “Look, they know we're here.” Squinting, Khisanth saw thousands of
the yellow-tailed glowbugs that often hovered near the nyphids at night. The insects
crawled through the green cracks between the rocks. She could hear the faint sound of
tiny, fluttering wings. “Why are they all gathered here?”

“They always return here to pass the daylight hours. Each spends its lifetime gathering
energy. They give it back to us by illuminating the night.” Joad paused, then gave a happy
sigh. “That is a life well spent, I think.” With that, the nyphid led the way back up the
ravine. Khisanth was silent, pondering the great wisdom she was certain she'd just
witnessed. But like most of the nyphids' lessons in qhen, Khisanth did not immediately
understand the message.

The difference now was that she was content to wait, for Khisanth knew that one day Joad's
message would be clear to her.

Autumn had given way to an early and unseasonably cold winter in the Khalkist Mountains,
bringing snow to the higher elevations, which Khisanth was now approaching by wing. A
shadowy form against the night sky, the black dragon sliced through the pearly flakes,
silent, steadfast.

Khisanth could scarcely remember her first stumbling attempts at flight, just a few months
past. The activity was now as much a part of her spirit, as important to her vitality, as
eating. Where once she had to concentrate to counter the effects of even the smallest air
currents, her body now utilized them without conscious thought. Khisanth remembered
hearing before the Sleep stories of dragons who'd been permanently grounded by wing
damage. She knew she would commit keptu, ritual dragon suicide, before she would live
without flying.

Solinari, the white moon, had made two full revolutions around Krynn since Khisanth had
last flown this route to Styx. The days since the encounter with the band of ogres had
been overfilled with silent study, deprivation to promote patience, deep breathing to
foster concentration and strength. Each day Khisanth grew closer to achieving the
heightened sense of awareness, of qhen, that Kadagan taught in his mysterious, sometimes
nonsensical, way. She suffered occasional feelings of foolishness and humiliation because
she had seen the positive effect of every single exercise, no matter how odious. She felt
less the ignorant child, more the admiring student. Best of all, whenever she was able to
demonstrate true patience or unique observations, Kadagan rewarded her with time to
develop her natural spellcasting abilities.

Khisanth knew from the pace they set, never Kadagan's composure, that the nyphids were
increasingly anxious to complete her training. Whenever she inquired about Dela's health,
Kadagan calmly informed her to focus on her studies. Until this morning. Waiting for
Kadagan to arrive for the daily lessons, Khisanth had been on her haunches in the tiny
cave, tinkering with the effects of a simple cantrip. She could create and hold a healthy
spark on the tip of her claw, but had difficulty turning it to flame. Summoning her
energy, she'd channeled it down her right claw arm

and focused it on the index talon, banishing all other thoughts. A tiny, flickering yellow
flame leaped to life. Khisanth's lips drew back in a smile of triumph. Suddenly the
usually serene and nimble nyphid stormed into her lair. Startled, Khisanth's concentration
wavered, and the flame extinguished. The dragon glared at Kadagan through a thin trail of
smoke.

“It is time,” the nyphid had said, out of breath. His glowing golden hair was disheveled,
his green tunic twisted, his soft skin flushed. “Get ready to depart before the sun climbs
to midday.” Khisanth stood up, bumping her horns on the ceiling. “Whaf s happened?”
“Dela's signal to Joad has been weakening,” the nyphid explained hastily. “It has become
erratic. Joad thinks they are moving her ... or something worse.” Kadagan's expression
became sadder than Khisanth had ever seen. “I had hoped to give thee more time for study,
but we dare not wait another moment. We may lose her if we do....” One way or another,
Khisanth had thought inwardly. “I'm ready,” was the reply she voiced. “Perhaps,” the
nyphid said before departing again to make his own preparations. Khisanth had only one
thing to prepare; a way to transport her small treasure hoard. She was determined not to
return to the tiny cave, no matter the outcome in Styx. The sling Kadagan had fashioned
before had been utilitarian, but too cumbersome to carry as a human. She needed something
that would free her hands and be unobtrusive, if ever a dozen swords could be. She'd
settled on stringing the hilts of the weapons through a length of soft vine and tying the
unusual necklace tightly around her throat. She could use a spell to shrink the choker
later. Now, many hours after leaving her lair, Kadagan's finger was aimed ahead of them in
the twilight sky, toward the dull glow rising up from the lantern-lit village. “There it
is,” he said from behind her head. Both nyphids, wearing furry vests over their usual
green tunics, rode between Khisanth's wings and neck. Joad sat behind Kadagan, clutching
the younger nyphid. Slung over the elder nyphid's shoulder was a sack of dried curative
herbs. Joad's spirits had picked up considerably in the past month, as Khisanth's qhen
skills increased. The elder nyphid had begun to believe that the dragon might be able to
rescue his daughter. After the trip to the moss garden, when he'd first spoken, she found
she pushed herself even harder, seeking the silent wise one's praise. As he peered toward
the village where his daughter was held, however, concern filled Joad's eyes. He alone
knew the depth of Dela's despair, how little time was left. Khisanth would have recognized
the village without the nyphid's help. Under her now, the rolling farmlands on the north
edge of Styx were tilled and dotted with snow- covered hayricks, harvested since her last
trip. Just ahead, trails of smoke rose from the chimneys that poked through the thatch
roofs on the buildings clustered around Miremier Bay. One street followed the curve of the
bay, its dirt turned to slushy mud by the snow. At regular intervals, impossibly narrow
cobblestone walkways passed between the closely placed buildings, like the spokes of half
a wheel. Wasting no time, Khisanth tipped her wings and spiraled earthward. She lowered
her hind feet, clutched in flight to her belly, and landed gracefully on a snowy path.
Kadagan and Joad slipped off her back, their soft booted feet dropping silently into the
frigid powder. The three stood where the tree line met the mountains, just beyond the
light from the covered lanterns on the town wall. “Thou knowest what to do?” asked
Kadagan. Arms crossed tightly before him, he began to pace, kicking up the fluffy snow,
which came to the top of his boots. “Find, then free Dela,” said the dragon in a monotone,
as if it were a mantra. "Locate the human thou saw in the globe, and thou wilt find Dela.
Remember to keep her covered in the presence of humans. Revert to dragon form only if
necessary for ye

both to break free.“ The dragon patted the tense nyphid's shoulder. ”I'll remember
everything, Kadagan,“ she said softly. ”I'll be as quick as I can, but I don't know how
long it will take,“ she warned. Kadagan's face looked pinched. ”We will wait in the forest
as long as necessary.“ Joad nodded agreement, then reached into the bell-shaped cuff of
his green tunic; the glowing globe overfilled his aged hand. ”Take the maynus,“ he said,
holding it out. ”Dela will need it when thou rescues her.“ Khisanth hesitated. ”Won't you
need it?“ Joad raised the globe over his head and pushed it insistently toward the
dragon's claw. ”I will know if thou hast found her. Perhaps, with thy magical nature, it
will help thee as well.“ ”Slip it onto thy necklace,“ suggested Kadagan. Humbly Khisanth
untied the vine around her neck and threaded it through the center of the glowing orb. To
her surprise, the small ball caught hold and continued to glow softly between the swords
on the thick string. She refastened the vine around her scaly neck and adjusted it so that
the maynus hung just above her breastbone. ”Someone comes!“ hissed Kadagan. Khisanth's
glanced up from her necklace to see a shrouded form emerging from the unguarded gates of
Styx, its head bent against the early snow and unseasonably cold winds. Khisanth dropped
to a crouch to make herself smaller against the backdrop of the black trees. Squinting,
she focused her sharp dragon sight on the creature. The person looked up suddenly, as if
it felt the dragon's gaze. It peered into the darkness beyond the torchlight, but its
limited human vision revealed nothing. Khisanth's eyes allowed her a clear view. Heavily
bundled against the elements, the form lacked definition. Its features, swathed in a
tattered blue scarf, were something like an ogre's, but softer, much more pleasing to the
eye. A narrow strip of soft brown fur arched over each of its eyes, which were shaped more
like Kadagan's than Khisanth's, but not so impossibly bright as the nyphid's. It had plump
pink cheeks that curved, then hollowed abruptly. The mouth between them was too small to
be of use in tearing apart food, Khisanth thought disdainfully. ”It is a human woman,“
said Kadagan. ”She seems nervous about the weather.“ Aggis Mickflori was indeed worried.
Her trip to Styx for much-needed supplies had taken longer than usual. Now she was
terribly afraid of traveling back to her small shack during a snowstorm on a moonless
night, but her children were little and her lame husband was nearly as helpless as they.
In truth, with rumors of ogres in the hills of late, she was more afraid of what she would
find at the shack if she did not hasten her steps, storm or no. Dragon and nyphids watched
the woman adjust her scarf lower over her determined face, hug her packages closer to her
chest, and set off. Head bent to the storm, she was oblivious to the presence of the black
dragon lurking in the darkness ahead. Annoyed that the woman should pick the path that led
to her hiding place, Khisanth's first instinct was to ready her breath weapon. She
wondered absently what human flesh would taste like. ”No!“ Kadagan hissed softly, sensing
her thoughts. The dragon shook away the urge to attack. ”I remember the ogres,“ she
whispered. Khisanth focused on her breathing, envisioned the steady rise and fall of her
own chest to slow the pounding of her blood. In time, it thrummed peacefully through her
veins. The woman was almost close enough to see Khisanth, if she looked up. ”Now thou hast
seen a human. Change form, before she discovers us," urged Kadagan. The dragon closed her
eyes and concentrated on an image of the woman: hair under the scarf, plump cheeks, softly
curved jawbone, arms to the narrow waist, the stride of

legs that were half the height of the body. She held tight to the vision in her mind,
blocking out all other sensations. Suddenly the black dragon's snout began to tingle. Then
through her body a hot flash raced like mercury, ending at the very tip of her tail. Her
entire frame convulsed as her bones constricted. Khisanth could hear strange pops and
clicks, and then only the eerie wind that accompanies a snowstorm.

The dragon nearly staggered from the enormous weight that suddenly pulled at her neck,
dragging her to her knees. Looking down, she saw that the sword choker that before had
seemed so tight now dangled to the ground, the maynus casting a soft yellow glow from
under snow that was quickly covering it. Closing her eyes again, Khisanth formed a mental
picture of the choker reduced to about the size of the human woman's neck. Tinkling
together gently like bells in the wind, the swords and globe shrank until the vine was
snug, the snow-covered swords and globe unexpectedly cold against the skin of her neck.

“Goodness, child, what are you doing out in this storm? And as naked as the day you were
born. Did you think that ugly necklace would keep you warm?” Khisanth's eyes popped open
at the insult to her hoard. She looked into the woman's clear brown eyes. The young
dragon's mind was a tumble of conflicting sensations, not the least of which was a new and
unpleasant vulnerability to the elements. She glanced around furtively for Joad and
Kada-gan, but the nyphids were gone.

“Look at those goose bumps! You must be freezing!” cried the woman, dropping her packages
in the snow. She shrugged off her shawl and draped it around Khisanth's naked,
dark-skinned shoulders. So this is what cold feels like, the black
dragon-turned-young-woman thought. She looked down at her new, shivering form, barely
covered by the shawl. Soft flakes of snow drifted onto her warm brown skin and melted into
rivulets.

The woman ripped the ratty blue scarf in two and handed both halves to Khisanth. “Wrap
your feet in these until we can get you inside and find you proper shoes.” She tucked her
packages under one arm and put the other around Khisanth's slight but muscular waist in
support.

“Were you robbed?” the woman asked, turning Khisanth toward the gates. “Or worse?” She
dropped her tone to a horrified whisper. “Did someone” she stumbled over the distasteful
word “molest you, dear?” Khisanth didn't know how to respond, so she said nothing.

“Are you touched, dear, or just mute?” The words were unfamiliar to her, but Khisanth was
somehow certain she had been called stupid. She was conjuring up a fiery response when her
training in patience came unbidden to mind. “I can speak,” Khisanth managed to moan, her
human voice unfamiliar to her own ears. It was surprisingly soft and pleasant. “I was
robbedby ogres,” she added. “Oh, you poor thing,” cooed the woman. “Styx isn't the same
place, now that the mercenaries and their filthy bands of ogres have found us. No one
feels safe anymore.” She clucked her tongue. “Strange that they took your clothing, but
left this necklace,” she said. Her hands, swollen and red-tipped, touched the tiny swords
that lay against the smooth skin of Khisanth's human neck. The disguised dragon jerked her
hoard from the human's touch. The older woman looked surprised but compassionate. “Don't
you worry, hon. You're safe with Aggis. I'll help you back to your home.” “II don't live
in Styx,” said Khisanth. “I was just passing through.” “If this is how the city treats its
visitors, then I'm glad I live in the hills!” she spat. Aggis patted Khisanth's hand, and
the dragon had to force herself not to pull away. "Not to worry. I know an innkeeper near
the city's edge who'll help you. We'll slip in

the back way, through the kitchen, to spare you the embarrassment of prying eyes.“ With
undisguised envy, she glanced again at Khisanth's barely covered form. Her own figure had
not looked half so feminine even before children, she thought wistfully. As they walked to
the town gates and into the city, Khisanth listened only enough to respond when necessary.
She was caught up in her own thoughts and had no concept of human embarrassment,
especially about nudity, having never worn clothing. With one arm draped around Khisanth's
shoulders and the other steadying her elbow, Aggis led the disguised dragon through the
narrow alleys. In places, the thatched peaks of the buildings leaned so close together the
falling snow scarcely reached the ground. Yellow light from candles bled through oiled
parchment windows, keeping the dark- ness of night from the walkways. A bull-necked youth
cut across their path, struggling under the weight of two buckets on a yoke. Dogs ran,
barking, between the legs of villagers hurrying home. Women leaned from second-story
windows and called their children to the evening meal. Finally Aggis rapped on a battered
wooden door that was nearly hidden between piles of empty crates and small barrels. A fat,
balding man with saggy cheeks opened the door, permitting a wave of warm air to escape and
surround the two women. The innkeeper gawked in surprise for a moment at Khisanth's naked
body, but he came to his senses when he heard his kitchen help whistling appreciatively
behind him. ”Slice them stew potatoes and mind yer own businesses,“ he growled. Quickly he
helped Aggis hustle Khisanth up a narrow set of stairs just off the kitchen. The innkeeper
waved them into an unheated room, lit only by the light streaming in from the hallway. The
sloping, thatched roof of the building formed two walls. Rough whitewash covered the other
two. The room held a trunk, a narrow rope bed, and a cane-backed chair. Dry rushes on the
floor crunched softly beneath the women's feet. Snow was piled against the outside of the
windowpane in the back wall. Another, similar room could be seen across the hall through
the open doorway. Aggis and the innkeeper spoke in whispers for a few moments. Finally the
old woman nodded, and the man left, stealing one last, red-faced, admiring peek at
Khisanth before lumbering down the staircase. After using her teeth to pull the fingerless
woolen gloves from her hands, Aggis turned to the chest and began sorting through the
clothing. ”Bert says to apologize, but he's only got men's clothes. He doesn't get too
many ladies passing through, leaving frilly dresses behind.“ She pulled out a dark purple
drawstring tunic and handed it to Khisanth. ”Here, this will do for now.“ Jamming her
hands on her hips, Aggis stood back and peered at Khisanth. ”You've got the blackest hair
I've ever seen, as black and smooth as polished onyx.“ When Khisanth didn't reply, Aggis
tried another tack. ”Whaf s your name, child?“ Khisanth was about to respond honestly, but
something inside warned her to protect her dragon name. ”You've guessed it,“ she said.
”Onyx. For my hair.“ ”Isn't that pretty?“ Aggis handed her leggings, pantaloons, and
thick-heeled, cuffed boots. Khisanth looked in puzzlement at the collection of clothing,
unsure of where she should don any of it. Fortunately, Aggis attributed her confusion to
the garment's being men's clothing. ”You must be used to dresses. Here, Onyx,“ she said,
standing on her tiptoes to hold the tunic above the girl. ”Slip this over your head. My
goodness, you're a tall girl. You remind me of a black oak tree, with that dark hair and
milk-in-coffee skin of yours," she muttered. Seeing Khisanth's dark hands fumbling next
with the pantaloons, Aggis took the russet-colored leathers from her and turned them
around so the girl could slip them on.