researched the matter to determine what type of magical artifact the jewel was and how she could most safely approach it. Then she returned to her own room and prepared for bed, leaving such mysteries for the next day.
The dreams came again that night, as they often had since the mysterious voice had first begun calling to her. Once again she found herself in that strange, cold desert land, where an icy wind drove sheets of gray, dusty sand. She could feel neither the cold nor the sting of the wind-whipped sand in her dream, but odd, distant memories told her that the feel of such things had once been very familiar to her. The sun was dim and pale, obscured by the gray dust passing like thin, dark clouds high above. There was something very old and familiar about this raw, dying world, but its familiarity was hardly comforting. She felt rather that this could be some forgotten nightmare world that she hadn't visited in a very long time, and she dreaded her return with a deep, cold fear.
Visions passed before her, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that she passed before the visions, since she had the impression she was looking down on them from a great height, as if she were flying. She saw mountains so broken and desolate that only a few small, twisted trees managed to push their way between broken stones. Lakes and seas of sand passed below her, and plains of crushed stone. Then she saw, through a momentary parting of the haze of dust, great fortresses as large as cities. In a few sheltered places between the ridges and peaks, armies of slaves fought to maintain fields of green. In the fields, she saw people of races she did not know and beasts the likes of which she had never seen.
Once again the clouds of gray dust closed about her, and the next thing she knew, she was standing alone in some strange place. It might have been a chamber of vast size, made of cut stone like the floor beneath her. But the dust had become a cold, dark mist that drifted and swirled slowly, obscuring everything. She could neither see nor hear anyone, but she could sense the menacing presence of many strange, powerful beings gathered about her. In growing fear, she would have run, but she sensed that there was nowhere she could run that she would not encounter the powerful beings who surrounded her.
With her heart pounding, Alessa waited, not daring to move from the small pocket of open space in the center of the chamber. After some time, she began to see the glimmer of large eyes peering at her from out of the mist. Then faces began to emerge from the darkness, long, narrow faces, like those of dragons. And yet they were unlike dragons, for they seemed not to be living creatures but carved or cut from precious stones. She could not recall ever seeing anything like these creatures, whether in half-remembered dreams or in obscure tomes of magic. They did not seem to be evil, but she had the distinct impression that they considered her so far beneath themselves that they would use her to serve their own purposes without regard for her welfare. Certainly this had not been a part of any of her previous dreams, and yet even these creatures seemed vaguely familiar.
After a short time, the alien dragons drew back into the dark obscurity of the mist. As great and powerful as they were, she sensed that even they were afraid, and now she began to feel even more frightened. She looked up, and for an instant, she beheld a glimpse of another face, never emerging completely from the mist before it withdrew slowly into the darkness. That face was also vaguely like that of a dragon but considerably different from the others. It was much wider, with a short, powerful snout, and it was of such massive size that the body it belonged to would have to be three or four times larger than any dragon she had ever seen. While the face of a dragon was often lean and noble, even wise, this face was brutish and hideous, filling her with terror. Even after it had drawn back into the mist, the great, menacing eyes continued to glitter like sparks of red light from the darkness, holding her in their fierce, calculating gaze.
The surroundings faded into complete darkness, although the glare of those terrible eyes lingered for a long moment after everything else had faded into blackness. She felt an odd awareness, as if her mind and will were now awake, even though her body continued to sleep. And while she seemed to be alone, she knew that she was not. That mysterious, almost godlike being maintained its contact with her mind, although she was now aware of just how distant it really was, as if it were not even a part of her own world. Then it spoke, and with a shock, she recognized it as the voice that had been calling to her.
Alessa's response seemed to form itself out of her own memories, without any need on her own part to consciously form a response. She was Alessa Vyledaar, now one of the most experienced Fire Wizards in all the Highlands and the leader of her order since the death of Byen Kalestraan and many other traitor wizards the previous summer. She was quite young for a sorceress of such high rank, the daughter of a family of lesser nobility. She had traveled outside the Highlands in the past, and she had been considering going out into the rest of the world again, admittedly to serve her own ambition, when events had brought her to her present state.
The memories of those desperate days of the previous summer seemed almost to be wrenched from her mind. Even as the Highlands had been preparing for war with the dragons, Kalestraan had sent her to assist the Dragonlord, but her true purpose had been to serve as a spy within his own house. She had known that Kalestraan was planning to seize control of the Highlands in some bold scheme; she had betrayed the mage to the Dragonlord, although her motive had been to further her personal schemes.
But it had been too late, for Kalestraan struck that very night. Assuming the form of a dragon, he had invaded the palace and had slain King Jherridan. And there he had waited, preparing a trap by which he intended to destroy the Dragonlord, removing his last rival to command of the Highlands. But he had either overestimated his own power or underestimated the power of the Dragonlord. The trap had failed. Kalestraan had been defeated and destroyed, and in the process revealed as a traitor and murderer.
Thelvyn Fox-Eyes had reluctantly agreed to become King of the Highlands, but only for the duration of the war that threatened. But the dragons had mistaken his actions as ambition, and so they had feared him all the more. They had laid siege to the city of Braejr in incredible numbers, thousands in all, and «ave every appearance of preparing for a final confrontation with the Dragonlord. But that battle never happened.
Marthaen, the leader of the dragons, was too clever. He knew ihat the dragons could never hope to defeat the Dragonlord in battle, so he had sought to defeat the Dragonlord by other means. In the end, he had revealed secrets previously known only to the dragons themselves. Thelvyn Fox-Eyes, who had been chosen by the Immortals themselves to be the new Dragonlord, was himself a gold dragon in enchanted form and a cleric of the Great One, the Immortal patron of the dragons. And so the dragons achieved a form of victory. Mistakenly fearing that the Dragonlord sought power and conquest, they had made certain that all the other races and nations of the world would never trust the Dragonlord again.
Alessa honestly did not know. He had abdicated the throne of the Flaemish realm after only a short time, recommending that the rule of the king be replaced by the leadership of a council of representatives. In that way, he had broken forever the old struggle for power between the king, the dukes, and the Fire Wizards that had always been so detrimental to their land. Then Thelvyn had simply disappeared into the night, on a quest to break the spell that preyented him from becoming a dragon, eventually to fulfill his destiny among his own kind. Only the old, one-handed knight, Sir George Kirbey, his companion and mentor, had gone with him.
The mysterious voice remained silent for a long moment, as if considering all that it had learned and formulating new plans accordingly. Alessa waited in the darkness and silence. Now that she no longer had the distraction of the questions, she had a brief time to think for herself. She was beginning to feel frightened once again, knowing that she was held by a will far stronger than her own. Even her mind was no longer her own, if her very memories could be so easily summoned forth for review. And now that she had been ensnared, she knew that she would not easily escape.
'Who are you?' she dared to ask in return, only partly reassured.
That was not for the moment important, she was told. All she needed to know at that time was that the mysterious speaker had ancient ties to her own people, having helped them in the past. The voice then proceeded to relate aspects of the history of the Flaem even she had never known, of events that occurred during their long age of wandering and of the enemies and the friends they had encountered along the way. It spoke to her of
