pulling his massive bulk up before a large brazier. Reaching into a deep alcove, he pulled forth some aromatic herbs and flowers and placed them in the brass basin. Then he raked his claws along the rugged cave wall, sending a shower of sparks down onto the herbs. In moments, a fire flared to life. The sweetly scented smoke rose to the dragon’s vapor-scored nostrils, soothing his senses. Drawing a deep breath, the dragon began to speak, the sounds rumbling low in his long neck. The ancient command words rolled out into the smoke and mingled with it.
The miasma above the brazier began to thicken and swirl. Strange, bright colors glimmered through a veil of misty ash, like lightning bolts dancing behind summer storm clouds. But at last the colors coalesced, and the smoke took on the vague shape of a human’s face.
“Your bidding is all, Master,” came a disembodied voice as indistinct as the face in the smoke.
“Bring me more abelaat crystals,” the dragon rumbled. “Good ones this time. Make them if you must.”
“Is that all, Great One?” the voice droned.
“No!” The single word was nearly a roar, sharply contrasting to the servant’s voice. “Have you done the penance I set for you?”
A brief silence hung in the air, then the words “No, I have not.”
“Do so!” Verdilith hissed. “Do not try my patience!”
“Yes, Master,” came the barely audible reply. The image wavered and disappear. Another shadowy face formed in the smoke, as indistinct as the first. It spoke.
“I understand Flinn has regained Wyrmblight.” The words were smooth, without any detectable malice. Verdilith bared his teeth anyway.
“Yes,” the dragon hissed.
“Don’t fail in your revenge, Verdilith. Your domination of Penhaligon is critical to our plans. And, I must ask-” the speaker paused “-is that item I entrusted to you still safe?”
Verdilith smiled uneasily and said, “Yes. It is where you left it.” His eyes wandered over to the one-foot- square box resting in a corner of his cave. It was a simple box, iron reinforced with steel. Not a single gem or rune graced it. Even the lock was inauspicious-a simple clasp. Its looks were deceiving, however. Verdilith had spent more than a month trying to open the box, but to no avail. The clasp simply would not be undone, despite the dragon’s best magical and physical efforts. And neither would the box break. Verdilith had carried the box to the loftiest height he could climb and then dropped it on the rocky Wulfholdes far below. A tiny, one-inch scratch was his reward.
“Good,” the voice replied. “When you are finished with your business with Flinn and I have things settled here, I will take the box from you. Do you need anything?”
“Only the abelaat crystals, but the other one is taking care of those.” Verdilith needn’t have bothered with his response, for the swirling image had dissolved into simple smoke. The dragon turned away and hissed in annoyance. He lumbered over to the precious box and picked it up.
It fit easily into Verdilith’s palm and was inexplicably heavy. Nothing rattled inside. He tried the lock again, and as usual it wouldn’t budge. The dragon put the box down and returned to his bed.
“Vengeance,” the dragon rumbled, a green cloud swirling like a dark halo about his head. “First, death to Flinn, then to the orcs… and then to you, my fine friend.”
Yvaughan whimpered in her sleep. A voice tolled incessantly in her mind, like a death knell, but she couldn’t understand the words. Her dream was starting again, and a part of her was aware of it and feared it. She rolled over, seeking her husband’s warmth, but her arms remained empty. Maldrake was away tending other matters. Silent, bitter tears fell from her eyes to the silken pillow. Her two pet birds cooed and fluttered to her side. One nestled at her ear; the second cooed again, then flew to a dark corner of the bedchamber.
Her dreams grew more frightening. The dark, many-fanged creature entered them as he had so many times before. He was moving toward her, a man-shaped beast with brutal claws. A tiny groan escaped her lips. She knew of the dream and what was to come. She struggled to control her thoughts, to force the monster from her mind, but the angular creature continued toward her. She covered her face with her arm, trying to bar the vision from her mind.
Still it came.
The thing with the shining claws came to her bedside and bent over her. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t scream-only whimper. Drawing her arms from beneath the covers, the monster stroked them lightly over and over. His claws raked her skin just hard enough for the flesh to open and ripple with pain. Then he bit her at the tender joint of one elbow. She almost welcomed the pain, for it meant her dream was almost done.
But something inside her fought back tonight, something that was suffocating. Her breath was being pulled from her body in wave after wave. Yvaughan panicked and fought her way toward consciousness, thrashing in the bed. She had to awaken, she had to, or else she would surely die. With a sudden, strangled gasp for air, the woman sat up.
Darkness surrounded her, the familiar darkness of her bedchamber. Beside her, a bird cheeped a complaint at having its rest disturbed. Automatically she soothed her pet, petting and stroking its downy buff feathers. Then something flew at her from the corner of the room, and she threw her hands around her head and gave a tiny shriek. But it was only her other bird, jealous for attention. She took it in her arms and lay back down. It cheeped plaintively.
She noticed then how weak her arms felt, how cold and drained of life. She rubbed her hands across them. They felt wet and slippery. Am I still dreaming? she thought. This has never happened before. Concerned, she reached out to the table beside her and touched the lantern. Instantly, it sprang into magical light.
Yvaughan extended her arms before her and looked at them. Blood and jagged lacerations laced her white skin. She screamed. “Teryl! Teryl!” she cried for her advisor, her only friend with Maldrake away. “Teryl!”
The doors to her chamber flew open, and the mage ran toward her. “Lady Yvaughan!” he called. “Is something wrong? Has someone disturbed your rest?” In the room beyond, her other birds fluttered and cried out in alarm. How wonderful that they care for me, she thought suddenly.
Teryl tottered to the bed and sat on its edge. Tearfully, Yvaughan stretched out her arms to him. The mage’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, lady,” he whispered. “What have you done? What have you done to yourself?”
Yvaughan shook her head in growing horror. He thinks I did this! she thought wildly. She shook her head again, desperate that he understand. “Teryl, this is not what it seems! I didn’t-”
The advisor put his hand on her shoulder and pressed her back into the waiting pillows. “Calm yourself, my lady. I will fetch bandages and a cool drink for you.”
“Teryl, you don’t understand!” Yvaughan cried as the man walked away. “I didn’t do this! There was a monster, and he-”
“The monster of your dreams?” Teryl inquired as he reached the door. “Come, come, lady. We all know dreams cannot hurt us.” The mage left the room, and Yvaughan pounded her fists impotently on the silk coverlet beneath her hands. Why doesn’t he believe me? she asked herself. He is my friend! More hot tears fell from her eyes.
“Here we are, lady,” Teryl said, coming back quickly. He held up a goblet of wine and pressed it to her lips.
Yvaughan choked on the pungent bitterness. “What is this?” she asked.
“Something to help you sleep peacefully through the rest of the night. Didn’t you take the draught I made you earlier?” Teryl asked accusingly.
Between swallows Yvaughan replied, “No, I didn’t drink it. I didn’t think I would need it, Teryl.”
“But you always sleep so poorly when Lord Maldrake is away, lady,” Teryl chided. He set aside the chalice and began applying salve to her injuries.
“That’s true, but… tonight was no different from the other nights I’ve had this dream, Teryl,” Yvaughan responded slowly, her tongue suddenly thick. “Except that tonight I fought back.”
The mage pursed his lips. “And that, my lady, is obviously how you hurt yourself.”
“But I’ve dreamed the attack before, and there were never any marks on me then.”
“Ah, but you didn’t wake up those times, did you? That’s because you never hurt yourself before tonight, which is why you woke up this time,” Teryl said sagely.
