The two formations swept closer, and the red dragon bellowed a cry of battle, ordering his serpents into a dive. Corro spat a drool of acid, snarling loudly, leading the remaining blacks and greens-those that had survived the first clash with the Dragonlances. Many blues and whites pulled alongside, and more than sixty of the Dark Queen’s wyrms swept downward in an awful wedge of death.
The metallic dragons closed swiftly, with those curiously shining weapons raised, the wyrms bugling bold challenges of their own. Don’t they see the odds? Tombfyre was amazed and a little shaken by the foe’s tenacity.
“Lances?” declared blue Azurus, gliding beside Deathfyre with a disdainful snort. “As if they could strike us down with mere pinpricks!”
“Beware,” countered Deathfyre, “for those are more than pins.”
The blue looked scornful, and Tombfyre himself was amazed to hear his sire speak of caution.
“Spread out!” warned Deathfyre, urging the blues and whites to give them room, knowing that the eruption of red dragon breath would be deadly even to his own allies and that the lethal frost of the whites and the crackling lightning of the blues could prove equally harmful to the serpents of his own wing. It was far better to attack the enemy with a widespread formation, concentrating all the breath attacks against different portions of the sky.
Azurus led the way, bringing his blues through a plunging curve, sweeping toward the head of the metal dragon flight. Some of these silver and gold wyrms rose toward the blues, while the rest winged on, bearing steadily toward the reds or warily eyeing the whites that swerved outward to make an attack from the other flank.
Lightning crackled as Azurus spat a flaming bolt at the lead dragon, a large gold. But that serpent twisted away, leaving a cascade of sparks spilling from the dragon-scale shield protecting the rider. Then the lance of the leading attacker ripped through the blue membrane of a broad wing. Mighty Azurus, greatest of the blues, lurched and flapped pathetically, veering to the side, then toppling onto his back while the shredded membrane trailed behind him. With a shrieking cry of fury that swelled to disbelief, then curdled into sheer terror, he tumbled from the skies.
Other keen lances ripped into the blues, and in a few shocking instants, a half-dozen of the sleek, powerful dragons had fallen. The metal serpents veered and dodged, maneuvering to avoid the effects of the deadly lightning breath. Now the dragons of Paladine attacked aggressively, spewing acid and cold and flame of their own, bearing the riders and those wicked lances into the midst of a swirling aerial melee. Slashing with metallic talon and fang, the good dragons desperately sought to rend the evil serpents who escaped the initial killing onslaught.
The whites swept inward, but they were met by a trio of silvers, immune to the frosty blast of white dragonbreath. The metal serpents emerged from the cloud of icy spumes, three riders crouched behind their shields, lances poised steadily, aimed at the ranks of wounded enemy dragons. With piercing stabs, the serpents of Paladine drove relentlessly through the scattering whites, stabbing and slashing many of the alabaster wyrms out of the sky.
For long, deadly moments, the formations wheeled through the sky, an aerial dance of exquisite beauty and lethal consequence. The evil wyrms struggled for the advantage of height, but even bearing their burdensome riders, the good dragons stayed close, stabbing and burning, knocking down one after another of the Dark Queen’s serpents. When the chromatic dragons separated, then swept inward for a concentrated attack, the knights on their dragons managed to hold them at bay. Meeting the onslaught with outstretched lances, they forced the attackers to veer up, down, sideways, as the dragons of metal wheeled through a protective circle, each lancer guarding the flank of the man and dragon before him.
Suddenly a great presence loomed in the sky as clouds congealed into a shape, straining to achieve solidity. Again Tombfyre felt a shiver of awe, of lethal and immortal presence. Was it the queen? Would she come here, to Krynn, riding the victory of her legions? Tombfyre saw the writhing heads, the smoky clouds that formed the great immortal body now taking form, and his heart flared with hope.
But one after another of Deathfyre’s wyrms were slain, and though a few of the good dragons and their riders were knocked out of the air, the battle developed catastrophically for the red dragon’s wing. The serpents of the Dark Queen surged from high altitude or tried to sweep upward from below. But always they were met with those terrible lances, the weapons relentlessly cutting and piercing and killing.
Finally, with a shrill cry, Deathfyre dived away and led the surviving serpents of the Dark Queen in headlong flight, while the good dragons maintained their defensive spiral, apparently content to let the attackers go-until a mighty silver, mounted by an armored knight, appeared out of nowhere. The tip of his lance ripped through Deathfyre’s flank, and with a ground-shaking scream, the villainous red dragon, the ancient harbinger of evil who had lived for two thousand years, flipped onto his back and plunged, lifeless, toward the bloodstained plain.
Tombfyre shrieked in rage as he saw his sire fall. But still more of those deadly lances rushed closer, an encircling ring of death, and he knew that this battle was lost.
“We will marshal our forces and return with a hundred dragons!” he bellowed in fury, though the cry sounded hollow even in his own ears. In truth, they had been soundly defeated, his dragons all but driven from the skies.
“My son, scion of Deathfyre… hear the will of your queen.”
The words reached Tombfyre, and they were clear and precise, as if Takhisis spoke to him from close proximity. He whipped his head around, gaping at the sight of a massive, cloudy shape crowned by five writhing heads of smoke. The heads wailed and twitched, as if the immortal goddess were suffering grievous pain.
“Speak, my queen, giver and taker of all life!” the red dragon begged.
He saw the Queen of Darkness herself as she shimmered in the air. Again he felt a moment of soaring hope…
… but then he sensed the whole truth. A terrible lance had pierced the gut of the five-headed monstrosity, and he understood that more than a battle had been lost. He thought of the silvers who had killed his sire, who had evaded him in the skies to the south, and he cried out in anguished frustration as he watched the dark goddess fade into the skies.
He knew he should fly, should seek and kill his enemies.
But he couldn’t move.
“My chromatic children, you are banished, exiled. It is the price of my survival. You must come with me!”
The will of the Dark Queen reached him through space, and he saw the awful truth: By oath had Huma freed the Dark Queen, and by that oath was Tombfyre bound as well.
Takhisis would withdraw from Krynn, and as she had pledged to Huma, a vow made in exchange for her life, she would bear her children away with her, ordering them into exile from the world.
But as always the Queen of Darkness sought to work betrayal.
And as the chromatic dragons were pulled toward the Abyss, Tombfyre was given a lair of comfort and safety deep in the bowels of the world.
And he felt a destiny of greatness and majesty laid upon his shoulders.
Chapter 35
1027 PC
A wild elf brave, Ashtaway, reached Lectral only a few hours after the grievously wounded dragon had sounded the ram’s horn. Marked by the spiral tattoos of black ink that had marked his clan since the time of Kagonos, the warrior found the shallow cave in which the silver serpent had sought shelter. Aided by a Kagonesti maid, Hammana, the brave brought venison to the injured dragon, while the healing skills of the elfmaid helped to stanch the bleeding of his worst injuries.
Slowly, dreamily, he allowed them to tend him, welcomed their ministrations and their company. For a long time, he remained under their care, depending on Ashtaway for food, relying upon Hammana’s poultices to heal his many wounds. Though the brave was often absent, the maid stayed at his side for many days, and the large dragon welcomed her presence. At the same time, Lectral was aware of a deep irony: He had come to save the Kagonesti,
