disappeared into night.
Kharendaen lowered her head, looking alone and frightened as she stared at the ground. After a moment, Marthaen moved close to her side and placed his arms around her shoulders, holding her tight. Sir George sighed softly and put his hands in his pockets as he walked away to gather his things for travel. Jherdar pulled what was left of their dinner from the spits and the meat to the edge of the woods for the wild animals. Then he sat down and turned his long neck to stare up at the ancient fortress on the mountainside, as if hoping for a last glimpse of the Dragonking. All the world was silent, waiting. Brooding.
'What a night,' he sighed sadly. 'I feel almost as if the world is waiting for one of the ancient gods to die, and nothing will ever be the same.'
'The world waits for a new god to be born,' Marthaen corrected him. 'If we did not fear for our friend, this would be a time of hope and joy.'
*****
Thelvyn landed just below the steps of the citadel, surprised to see that the double doors were opening slowly at his approach. The doorway was small for a dragon, and he had to crouch and crawl through almost on his belly. A soft light came from portions of the smooth, blue-gray stone, just enough so his sharp eyes could see the inside of the citadel clearly. He paused for a moment, looking up through the eight-sided central chamber, where ring after ring of narrow balconies rose into the darkness far above. The inner wall of each level had heavy wooden doors leading into plain, win-dowless cells like strong rooms. These chambers once held many of the greatest treasures of ancient Blackmoor.
For a moment, he paused to recall his first visit to this place. He was rather surprised to notice how familiar this place seemed to him, even after all that had happened to him in the last six years. But his errand this night would not lead him into the levels above. He moved out onto the floor of the central chamber, which was sunken slightly, like a shallow pit surrounded by many steps. Once again he paused in the center of the chamber, this time sitting back on his haunches so that he could remove the Collar of the Dragons and carefully lay it aside for a brief time while he completed his first task.
Once the collar was removed, he shifted to his Eldar form and teleported himself into the armor of the Dragonlord, feeling the protective embrace of its deceptively light weight for the last time. No longer used to two legs, he crossed the floor awkwardly to a short passageway in the back wall of the main chamber. The inner door of ancient wood opened easily at his touch, leading him into a larger version of the cells or storerooms in the rest of the fortress. The remains of ancient tapestries and other furnishings lay in dusty fragments on the floor.
In the center of the chamber was the place where the armor of the Dragonlord had waited through the centuries, or at least the shell of that place. All that remained was a circular stone rail, like those that might encircle a fountain or pool, with a matching circle of stone on the ceiling, once the frame of the pillar of protective crystal that had encased the armor. In the center of the circle stood the empty frame that had supported the armor itself.
Now that the moment had come, he found himself strangely reluctant to part with the armor. He had not actually physically removed the armor in the six years since he had become the Dragonlord. Each time he had needed to remove it, he had simply teleported it by will into its unknown place of waiting until he had need of it again. The armor had always been a source of tremendous security to him, never failing him even during some very difficult tests of its powers, saving him again and again. One of the first things he had to learn when he became a dragon was having to deal with being vulnerable once again, dependent upon his own strength and magic.
But he dared not delay too long, knowing that he was expected. He removed the armor piece by piece, laying it out on the floor until he had removed it all. Then he fastened all the pieces back together on the stand in the center of the stone ring. Finally he removed the old clothes that he had worn beneath the armor, folding them carefully and laying them on the floor just below the stand. When all was ready, he stepped out of the stone circle and turned back to face it, willing it to seal itself again. The air within the circle shimmered with a pale silver light, and the pillar of crystal returned, encasing the armor once more until some distant day when a third Dragonlord might be called to serve.
At last he left the inner cell, closing the door behind him. When he was back in the open central chamber, he returned to his dragon form. As he was fastening the Collar of the Dragons around his neck, the fact that he was no longer the Dragonlord was finally beginning to seem very real to him. Parting with his former life was sadder than he had expected. He had done many good deeds during his time as the Dragonlord. For the first time in a life of great uncertainty, he had finally found some cause to feel proud.
Once the collar was fastened, he lowered himself slowly to lay his full length on the cool stone floor while he waited. He was glad to rest; die pain in his back had followed him even during the brief time that he had changed form, although he had no idea why that should have been. The relentless pain of the last few days was almost enough to make him satisfied to be leaving his former life behind. He was still very young for a dragon, but in the last few days, he had begun to feel old and weary. He knew that, given time, a dragon would recover completely even from terrible wounds, an aspect of their dual nature as creatures both magic and mortal. Nevertheless, he realized he had given too much of himself lately; there would be no going back to the boundless joy and energy of youth.
Had he succeeded? Had he performed his duty completely enough to feel that he had done well? He hoped that he had. Certainly he had been a hero worthy of being called the Dragonlord, not only in his deeds but also in the spirit of his duty, knowing the joy of giving to others without concern of honor or reward. He had been a king of men, and a king among dragons. And the dragons that had once feared and cursed him had come to respect and even to love him. And of all the events of his life, that was the one thing he cherished most, that the dragons seemed to be the better for his example.
If anything was lacking at that time, it was Kharendaen. She had been with him from the moment he had first become the Dragonlord, the moment he had begun to fulfill his destiny. And she had been at his side constandy since he had become a dragon, absolute and uncomplaining in her devotion to him, quick and capable in her service. She had become so much a part of his duty that it had been almost as if they were two equal parts of the same destiny. Because he had no choice in his service to the dragons, he had come to overlook the fact that all she had done and all she had suffered had been by her own choice, out of her love and devotion to her people, to the Great One, and to himself.
'There is a time for duty, and a time for reward.'
Thelvyn looked up and saw that the Great One stood before him. 'Father?'
The Great One looked surprised and troubled. 'I cannot expect you to acknowledge something that exists only as a matter of convenience to serve a greater end.'
'I have not been unaware of your concern and regret about what you have had to ask of me,' Thelvyn said as he rose. 'And I think I am not wrong in suspecting there may have been love behind that concern.'
'And more pride than you may ever know,' The Great One agreed.
Thelvyn placed one claw to his breast and bowed his head. 'I have come, and I have done as you asked. As I understand such matters, I must now present myself for the final test.'
'It seems that you do indeed understand,' the Great One said. 'You understand that you were prepared by the events of your life, even by the circumstances of your conception, to become the second dragon Immortal. What you may not understand is that there are four common paths to becoming an Immortal. The one element they share is that each requires a lifetime of absolute devotion and unflagging effort. But there is also a Hidden Path, open only to dragons and other creatures of strong magic, by which one is chosen by the Immortals who sponsor him because of his special qualities of worthiness.
'As you have already guessed, I renounced my own Immortality for a time in order to become your father. By that means, you were predisposed to the Hidden Path. The way has always been open to you, as long as you remained constant in your worthiness. Still, the final decision must remain your own. That too is ordained. Because you did not choose to take this path, you alone have the right to choose whether you want to take the final steps at the end of your path. Do you wish to take the final test?'
'I do,' Thelvyn agreed. 'My being here testifies to that.'
The darkness closed about them, so that Thelvyn could no longer see the walls of the citadel. Glancing up, he could see stars shining in die night sky, and he knew they were no longer within the ancient fortress. Now the forest surrounded them, the edges of tall pines barely visible in the deep, moonless darkness. As he watched,
