Maldeev looked up at her, clearly surprised, even with his mask to cover his expression.
'We will mingle blood.' Khisanth held her left claw-arm out and raked a talon from her right claw over the tough hide, bringing a fine bead of red blood welling to the surface. She nodded toward Maldeev to do the same.
The highlord hesitated for a moment, eyes shifting. When he could find no reason or way to decline, Maldeev pulled his cape back from his left arm and slipped his dagger from its sheath. Khisanth's eyes lingered on the diamonds twin shy;kling around the hilt, then blinked to bring herself back to the task at hand. Biting his lower lip, the highlord nicked his forearm just enough to raise a thin line of blood to his white skin.
Her pulse pounded at Khisanth's temples as she held her enormous forearm to Maldeev's small white one. Their blood collided. The dragon was almost physically knocked back by the brutal assault to her senses brought on by the revelation of Maldeev's true feelings, true mind.
She saw hatred for all creatures, a desire to kill anything more powerful than he, revenge, betrayal, greed, naked ambition, and not one ounce of kinship with anything….
There was now no doubt in Khisanth's mind who had killed Jahet. Murdered Andor. She yanked her claw arm back to end the excruciating mingling.
The dragon's first reaction was to rip Maldeev apart and devour him before his men. Somehow, Kadagan's teachings penetrated her numb brain, bade her be calm, to think. The dragon despised the highlord, had not one whit of respect left for the human. She'd had more regard for the knight Tate than for this pitiful human who stood next to her, and she'd impaled Tate. Funny how she had so carefully kept herself from taking a rider. Now she was uniting with the most despicable human she had ever met.
The words of the Dark Queen came, unbidden, to mind. Trust no one. What you seek is a human worthy of your talents. Look in unexpected places. You will know him when the time comes.
Khisanth closed her eyes. She'd misread the signs, selected her rider in the most obvious of places. She thought of Tate, remembered her own comparison between him and Maldeev after she'd slain the knight. The dragon would not be so fool shy;ish as to misinterpret the queen's words again.
Khisanth became suddenly aware that Maldeev was star shy;ing at her with a strange, expectant look. The dragon made her decision.
'Maldeev and Khisanth shall not betray,' she mumbled the traditional words, knowing as she did that Jahet had spo shy;ken them before her. The difference was that Khisanth knew what Jahet had not; the vow was a lie. The knowledge gave her immense power over Highlord Maldeev.
Khisanth allowed the ceremony to come to a close around her. All of this pomp and circumstance was symbolism for the enjoyment of humans, anyway.
After all, she was Khisanth, touched by the Dark Queen herself. Astinus would record the great deeds done by the magnificent black dragon in the name of Takhisis.
She had only to wait, and to watch her back.
Epilogue
Khisanth had been ever-vigilant as the Black Wing's ranking dragon. For over two years, she watched for Maldeev's betrayal. So intently, in fact, that she didn't see the frontal attack coming from Maldeev's second-in- command.
Salah Khan's campaign of whispered lies eventually earned him the position of highlord of the Black Wing. The masked human had been like a viper in both dragon and highlord's ears. In many subtle ways, Khan had reminded Khisanth to be watchful. In not so subtle ways he had told Maldeev that Khisanth was too greedy to be trusted. The ten shy;sion between Khisanth and Maldeev had become palpable.
Then one day, as the queen's war machine neared comple shy;tion, Maldeev had decided to participate in an otherwise rou shy;tine drill, claiming he needed the practice with his dragon. Without warning or consulting Khisanth, he had invited a new dragon to fly wing. Remembering the last time the high-lord had made such an offer, something inside the ever-wary black dragon snapped.
Khisanth clawed her soul mate's face to shreds, while Salah Khan watched.
At least that's what Takhisis told her when she pulled the insensate black dragon into the Abyss one last time. The Dark Queen was true to her promise: Khisanth did not fare well in her second meeting with the queen. Takhisis was most dis shy;pleased by the murder of a highlord at so crucial a time. Unlike the last time, Khisanth didn't even try to explain her shy;self. She knew there was no point.
I seldom give second chances, Khisanth. Never a third.
The black dragon held her breath, readying herself for the killing blow.
Don't force me to regret making an exception now. You'll wish I had slain you here.
The Dark Queen had sent her post-haste to Xak Tsaroth to guard the blasted staff for Verminaard. A sentence that, as time wore on and nothing of consequence happened, seemed more punishment than reprieve.
Heaving an enormously bored sigh, Khisanth leaped back onto the stone altar and reclined on her haunches. Spotting the ancient spellbook, she picked it up in her talons and began to thumb through the musty brown pages. At least she could improve her skills in this wretched hole.
The horns on Khisanth's head suddenly quivered, sensing vibrations from the upper levels. Ears tilted, the dragon held as still as black marble, listening. Something, or someone, was definitely walking above in the Plaza of Death. It was neither gully dwarf nor draconian; she knew that for sure. Khisanth's heart began to hammer in anticipation. She had waited so long for someone to come.
The dragon sprang from the altar and began her ascent the thousand feet to the ceiling of the underground city. Halfway up, she passed the north falls, but kept climbing to the bot shy;tom of the well. Knowing she would need more than ordi shy;nary speed to ascend through the well shaft, Khisanth concentrated on the words of a haste spell. She gave one last upward thrust, clamped her wings to her sides, and shot up the shaft at twice her normal speed.
Khisanth burst from the mouth of the well and into the sunny Plaza of Death. Pivoting in air, she saw her first human in years, bent over the fallen form of a young elf girl. The man was a dark-haired, well-muscled barbarian, wear shy;ing only wrist bands and a loincloth over fringed leather leg shy;gings. The dragon's red eyes abruptly grew wide.
In the barbarian's hands was the wooden staff.
Khisanth's weathered lips drew back in a smile of anticipa shy;tion. The barbarian was obviously of little importance, but he would be easy enough to slaughter.
At long last, things were turning around for the black dragon. Khisanth could feel it. She would soon fulfill her destiny.
