Prophet of Moonshae

rain-slicked rocks of the shore.

Gotha paused in surprise as the other strange creatures did the same. He saw still more of the humanoids emerging from the surf, gathering in a semicircle before the dracolich, bowing and scraping and offering gurgling cries of praise.

Red gills flexed at the necks of the things, but they breathed air as well as water, for they showed no inclination to immediately return to the sea. The scaly creatures waited expectantly, as if desiring some sort of command or instruction.

The dracolich saw that some of the beasts wore hard breastplates, apparently made from great turtle shells, or helms made from the carapace of the great sea snail. Many carried weapons-tridents tipped with long sharks' teeth, or swords and daggers of oiled steel that had somehow resisted corrosion in the undersea realms.

These are your warriors. Use them well, my slave.

Gotha started abruptly as the voice of Talos came into his mind. Several of the yellow fish-folk moved forward. He saw breastplates inscribed with coral mosaics depicting the triple lightning bolt symbol of the Destroyer. The dracolich guessed that these were the clerics of that vengeful god.

A sneer of wry amusement curled his rotting lips as the monster considered the irony: He himself, a slave to the Raging One, was given slaves of his own so that he could work his master's will. At the same time, the undead dragon sensed a great deal of use toward which he could put these obviously savage minions.

For one thing, their ability to move through the water gave him great mobility and made his island lair an ideal stronghold-and the perfect base from which to launch assaults against the isles.

'Name yourself,' growled the dragon, speaking to the largest and foremost of the fish-men.

'King Sythissal, Monarch of Kressilacc, ruler of the sahuagin, and your most humble slave, O mighty compound of filth and decay!'

The sahuagin raised his head. Gotha saw that the beast's back bristled with long, sharp spires. He was the largest of his band, standing nearly nine feet tall when he was upright.

'Rise,' commanded the dracolich. 'What know you of the lands around here?'

'These are but small islets, grand slitherer, north of the great islands of Alaron, Gwynneth, and the many Isles of Norheim,' began the king. 'But each has a host of humans upon it, except for Dragonshome, which lies to the north of here.'

'And the nearest humans?'

'They dwell upon Grayrock, to the south, lying not far beyond the horizon,' came the sahuagin's reply.

'Very well,' replied the dracolich. 'Let us go there and slay them all!'

'We shall kill all humans?' inquired the king hesitantly.

Gotha puffed a cloud of smoke in annoyance. 'Not all of them. We shall begin the slaying, but soon they will begin to massacre each other!'

The hissing of the sahuagin, he knew, was their accolade. The dracolich unfurled his broad wings. With a powerful spring, he took to the air even as the troops of his army dove into the surf below.

'It'll be getting dark outside soon,' Keane warned. 'Unless you want to spend the night in this tomb, we'd better get someplace where we can sleep.'

'Let's go,' said Alicia reluctantly, with a lingering look at the bier of Cymrych Hugh.

The princess didn't want to part from the wonders around them, yet neither did she feel comfortable with nightfall descending. Like Keane, she felt that their intrusion would somehow be made more severe if they were to treat this barrow as a mere cave, claiming it for a few hours' shelter.

'You don't have to go already, do you?' said Newt, with a pathetic look at each of the companions. 'What am I supposed to do?' he wailed.

'Well, you could come with us,' said Alicia quickly. She wondered if that was a good idea, but she knew that the little dragon had accompanied her father and mother on several of their adventures, and in the tales of those days, Newt's helpfulness had generally tended to outweigh his mischief, though not always by a terribly large margin.

'I could?' The dragon beamed, his color immediately shifting to bright yellow. 'Oh, but I couldn't! I'm supposed to wait here for you.. but you've already come, haven't you? Why, I must be done with that now!' The realization was a great dawning to the dragon. 'Sure I'll come! Oh boy, it'll be great fun! Where are we going, anyway?'

'We were going to meet with the northmen,' replied the princess. 'I guess we have to make a new plan.'

'Let's go, then,' Keane said gruffly. Alicia sensed that he was less than delighted with their new traveling companion. 'The sunset isn't about to wait for us, I'm sure.'

Bearing their treasures-ring, harp, and bracers-the three companions and the faerie dragon carefully made their way down the long, dark tunnel. They emerged onto the mountain-top to see the glow of sunset in the west. .

. . and the arrows and axes of two hundred northmen, compelling them to lay down their arms and surrender.

Hanrald pressed forward through the night, though his mare staggered upon weary legs and his own back ached from the strain of the long day's ride. Still, it seemed that news of the ambush needed to be delivered to the manor before dawn and then sent on to Callidyrr as quickly as possible. Now, as the horse lumbered awkwardly down the stretch of the road leading into the valley, Hanrald smelled the familiar and acrid smell of coal smoke cross his nose. As always, the odor depressed and annoyed him.

He thought back to his day's journey and found his mind focusing irresistibly on High Princess Alicia. Stealing glances at her every time he could do so unobserved, he had studied her through the leisurely hours of the morning and during the hectic flight of the afternoon.

By the gods, there was a woman to fight for, to die for-to love! The knight, second heir to the earldom of Blackstone, remembered her cool decisiveness as their ways had parted and the hopeful smile she had given him as he rode away, alone, to bear the urgent news. That smile had lingered long in his memory, steeling his courage as he had dodged the northmen companies that seemed to be teeming through the highlands. Now that same memory kept him riding, pushing resolutely forward as the stars wheeled toward dawn and dead exhaustion strained to topple him from his saddle.

He thought, with momentary annoyance, of the greeting his father had given the princess, so pale compared to what she deserved! Why, if the mantle of Blackstone were his, Hanrald would have arranged a presentation of his honor guard and a festival for the common folk of the cantrevs to come and see their king's daughter!

'Halt! Who rides there?'

The challenge, from the gatehouse of the earl's manor, was Hanrald's first clue that he had arrived at home.

'Sir Hanrald. Open up and awaken my father. I bear important news!'

The steel portcullis started upward with a cranking groan, and a man-at-arms appeared behind it, speaking as the rider dismounted and waited to pass beneath the bars. 'Welcome, milord. The earl's already up and in conference with your brother. Sir Gwyeth arrived home not two hours ago, and sore hurt he is, at that!'

'Is his life in danger?' he asked, surprised and concerned.

'I shouldn't say so … no more, at least. But his shoulder's broke solid, and the clerics are worried about the arm.'

Hanrald left the horse in the care of his groomsman and quickly hastened to the hall, removing only his helm and gloves before he reached the great doors and was announced by the guardsman there.

Gwyeth, seated before the fireplace, grimaced from the pain of his wound as he looked up at Hanrald with sharp suspicion. Indeed, his eyes blazed with a look that seemed nothing less than hatred. Their father stood nearby.

Hanrald saw heavy bandages around his brother's left shoulder. Pryat Wentfeld, a priest of Helm and the leader of the local clerical hierarchy, stood over the wounded man. The holy man had apparently just completed some sort of healing ritual, for he raised his hand in the V-shaped sign of his god and nodded to the duke.

'It will heal well… my magic has knitted the bone where it was crushed, and the bleeding has stopped of its