The elf steadied himself. “The four champions answered the summons and are embarking on a quest.”
The wizard frowned inside the hood. “Four? Not three?”
The elf felt confused, wondering at that but knowing better than to ask. He’d seen those who didn’t know their place burned to a crisp or frozen and then shattered on being toppled to the floor. “Yes, four of them.”
“And they claim to be Eriana of Coreth, Andier of Roir, Korrin of Andor, and Soliander of Aranor?”
“Yes.” The elf paused, then ventured, “There has been no suggestion in Olliana that they are imposters.”
Only silence greeted this, for the dark magus was not one to share his thoughts. “What is the quest?” he asked, fingers touching on a newly fashioned amulet of priceless, bluish steel, made from a rare material that the dark elf knew no one else had ever possessed.
“To banish the dragons again. The device holding them–”
“Yes, yes, I know what happened.” He waved a dismissive hand.
The elf wondered how the dark magus could have known, but he was often aware of things transpiring far away.
“When did they embark on the quest?”
“They have yet to do so.”
“Leave me.”
As the dark elf turned toward the door, his eyes darted to the rosewood cabinet in one corner, where no one dared go. Those with magic power could sense the foreboding protection around it, and those without power just felt unwell the closer they got. He suspected a demon guarded it, for he had a bracelet that pulsed when one was near and had discreetly tested it just by wearing it into this chamber. He knew better than to even look too long, for he’d seen a man killed for that. But this was the first time he’d been in here in some days and he had the unmistakable impression that the cabinet had been disturbed. As he closed the door behind him, he risked a glance at the wizard and saw glaring eyes on it, lips set in a resolute grimace.
In the azure sky high above Castle Olliana, the white wizards’ tower drew hopeful eyes to it like none other, for the tower’s residents were known to practice their art from its highest reaches, creating fantastic displays for anyone lucky enough to be watching. Those within had a rare sight to behold, too, for the topmost windows provided view of the swaying green treetops of the Great Honyn Forest and the jagged, snowcapped peaks in the distance. In the last fortnight, Sonneri had spent many hours watching those peaks for dragons. Even with magical vision enhancements that put telescopes to shame, nothing unusual had appeared to magical watchers like the one he now stood instructing for a different purpose.
“I want you to discreetly follow them,” said the wizard to the black crow, whose impassive black eyes stared back with unusual intelligence. “It’s imperative you not be detected. The rogue is likely to be just as alert as the stories say, and the elves are wise to such surveillance.”
“Of course,” squawked the bird, impatient. This wasn’t the first time it had spied on people.
Sonneri fixed it with a serious stare, used to more respect. “Keep your distance, for the wizard’s magical sense is formidable and extends farther than you’d ever imagine. Change your shape each time you come near them.”
The crow became a robin, then a mockingbird, and finally a peregrine falcon, and he nodded, satisfied.
“Report back often and don’t dawdle in the elven lands.”
The falcon bobbed as if bowing and turned on the pine perch before launching itself through the open window. Sonneri stepped to the window, reaching out for its bronze handle. A loud brass fanfare rang out far below and he peered down into the teeming courtyard, where a throng of people cheered. It seemed the Ellorian Champions were leaving.
Castles weren’t designed with dragons in mind. That much was obvious. Even well-kept keeps kept their occupants only one step ahead of discomfort, the hard stones cruel surroundings. Drafty, ruined castles fared worse for the lack of upkeep, though they did have the advantage that if you felt compelled to knock down a wall or rip through the ceiling with your claws, no one would complain, but there was only so much you could do to one and leave it standing. Interior decorating dragon-style had its limits.
Even with her recent modifications to the long-abandoned Castle Darlonon, Perndara the dragon was grumpy. The Grand Hall was big enough for her enormous bulk, and the hole in the floor a good place to dangle her barbed tail, but she wanted to be outside. Dragons weren’t meant to be indoors any more than castles were meant to be their homes, and she desperately wanted to fly again. She’d been spotted last time, however, and though she’d devoured most of those hunters, one had gotten away and Nir’lion hadn’t exactly been amused with the result. Now their plans – well, all the plans were really Nir’lion’s – had been ruined and Nir’lion was off dreaming up some way to turn the situation to her advantage.
In fact, just this morning, news had come that the Ellorian Champions were on their way. Perndara’s spirits had soared for the first time since Nir’lion had practically torn her golden scales from her thick hide. Shortly after the pair first escaped through the Dragon Gate, Nir’lion learned of the champions’ apparent disappearance, threatening the revenge she so badly wanted. But now that goal had returned.
Perndara had been so happy that she’d roasted the poor messenger and then slurped him down in one gulp, savoring the flavor of fresh human. That was a chief complaint about the land of their banishment, there being nothing but wild livestock. Dragons loved to play with their food, and nothing fought back like sentient races. Humans were good, dwarves not so much with all that nasty hair, but the elves were delicious, the marrow sweeter and more succulent
