the hall, calling for Kaylinn and the other monks to join her.
“Come outside with me,” Tyrangal said. “I will show you my true form.”
Duvan followed quickly and quietly. In the distance, he could hear Slanya calling for the monks and clerics to gather in the central courtyard, raising the alarm.
Duvan always known that Tyrangal was more than what she seemed, that she was alien to him in some primal way. But her bounty and generosity toward him was undeniable. She had never betrayed him or lied to him, so he’d never questioned her about what made her different. It had never mattered.
Outside in the courtyard, under the deep, midnight-blue sky full of stars and motes, Duvan watched as Tyrangal commanded the gathering monastery folk to give her a wide berth. When they had backed away from a Tyrangal who seemed larger and less and less human, his long-time mentor and benefactor underwent a remarkable transformation.
Duvan watched in awe and growing recognition as Tyrangal’s neck elongated. Her skin grew rough and scaly. Her arms thickened and her body stretched until she had grown to fill half the courtyard. Duvan found his heart pounding, but more with pride than fear when Tyrangal sprouted a heavy tail and broad batlike wings.
Horns grew out of Tyrangal’s new elongated head. Teeth as long as Duvan’s forearm showed from her snout as she grinned. The torchlight reflected coppery off her shiny scales, as smooth as polished glass, and glimmered off spikes as sharp as daggers sprouting from the back of her head and neck.
Duvan took a step back as the huge beast stretched her wings and neck. Then she let out a loud, bone- shaking roar into the sky. Tyrangal was a dragon.
Duvan sucked in a breath. It made sense, he thought. It fit. He was glad he’d never tried to kiss her, though.
“Climb on,” she said. “We have a date with fire.”
Slanya watched in amazement as her fellow clerics and monks gasped at the massive dragon in the courtyard. Everyone took a step back as Duvan climbed up onto Tyrangal’s extended front knee. Slanya felt a rush of sympathetic fear as she watched her new friend grab hold of a spike that jutted from Tyrangal’s shoulder and pulled himself up to her neck.
By Kelemvor! Slanya thought. Tyrangal was full of surprises.
Was she really a dragon? Or a powerful illusionist? It hardly mattered; she was on Slanya’s side. It was good to have such friends.
When Duvan had finally settled into a somewhat secure position, straddling Tyrangal’s neck near the base, he leaned down against the dragon and swung a rope around her neck to help him hang on. And as he tied the rope loosely but securely, the dragon stretched her leathery wings and rose into the air in a swirl of wind and dust.
Wind buffeted Slanya as she watched the two of them fly off toward the border of the Plaguewrought Land, toward the Festival of Blue Fire. She shook her head to clear it.
Marvels like this happened. She’d been through the changelands and come out again! No time right now to dwell on these things.
As she readied herself for combat, Slanya considered her condition. She was tired and still in a great deal of pain. She was far from completely healed and certainly not completely sound of mind and body. But she could not afford to sit this out. She didn’t have time to heal up. She didn’t even know if her spellscar could be healed.
Slanya tried not to think about Duvan’s safety now, but she already knew that she would miss him if something happened to him. She steeled herself, focused, and tucked away her emotions as best she could.
She located Kaylinn, dragging herself from her chambers half-dressed and bleary-eyed. Slanya told her what Tyrangal had reported and what needed to be done to stop Vraith. She explained that hundreds of pilgrims could die in the festivalthat the Order of Blue Fire intended to expand the border of the Plaguewrought Land.
The Order must be thwarted in this.
Kaylinn merely yawned and nodded. “Go confront Brother Gregor,” she said. “He’s not evil, just driven by selfish motives. Get him to help you stop Vraith. I will organize the temple complex, and we will meet you at the festival field.”
“Aye, High Priestess,” Slanya said. And then, overcome with gratitude, she continued, “Thank you for all you’ve done.”
Kaylinn merely grinned and said, “When this is all over, you can take my duties for a day while I sleep.”
Slanya laughed. “Deal.”
“Now go!”
Slanya grabbed her staff then raced to the stables. She quickly saddled one of the mares, eased it out of the stall, and mounted. Slanya heeled the horse into motion, quickly picking her way through the scattered tents toward the Festival of Blue Fire.
Warm wind washed over her scalp, her sideknot whipping as she rode. Despite the darkness of the night, the horse made no missteps. The mare easily negotiated the proliferation of tents and scattered wagons. Then Slanya was clear of the encampment and galloped up a short hill.
Wheeling her horse around, Slanya gazed down at the sight of the Festival of Blue Fire aglow with many bonfires. The pandemonium of the festival drew her in like a moth to a funeral pyre. Part of her wanted to dive in and dance, revel with the pilgrims, and let the chaos consume her. Part of her had always been drawn to let go of her iron grip on order. Abandoning herself to randomness would be freeing.
And self-destructive.
As the pallet of colors resolved in front of her, patterns emerged. Order from chaos. She caught sight of a long line of pilgrims arcing out from the border veil, enclosing the revelers. It made sense that the line marked where Vraith’s new border would be. Vraith would increase the size of the Plaguewrought Land by an area about the size of Ormpetarr.
If Vraith was successful, would everyone inside the arc be consumed? Burned alive by the chaotic changelands?
Where were Tyrangal and Duvan?
Slanya searched the skies above. Eldritch light from the border veil washed the sky in blue-gray, making it hard to see shadows. For a moment Slanya saw nothing but a flat, monochrome expanse above herno stars or motes or clouds, although she knew all of those things were up there. A flicker of red flared low in the sky, drawing her attention.
Ah, there they were. Flying low, the burnished copper dragon breathed a stream of burning acid as she dived at a small group of what looked to be high-ranking Order of Blue Fire accordants standing amid a cadre of well- armed Order Peacekeepers.
Dragon’s breath belched forth from Tyrangal’s diving form, but the Order group stood their ground near the far end of the line of pilgrims, right next to the border veil. As Slanya watched, the deadly acid was absorbed by a protective sphere of energy that surrounded’th group. And as the liquid ran off and hit the ground with a hiss, it became clear that nobody inside the sphere had been touched by the acid.
A few of the pilgrims scattered in fear. Most of them, however, held their formation, and those who ran were caught by roving Peacekeepers on horseback and returned to their spots. Other Peacekeepers fired arrows and cast spells at the dragon as she swooped past.
To her right, Slanya noticed the arrival of a well-armed fighting force on horseback. From the red-brown glint to their shields, she concluded that these new forces were Tyrangal’s own Copper Guard riding in from Ormpetarr. They immediately engaged the Order’s Peacekeepers as well. It was a full-blown battle.
Abruptly, flares of gossamer blue-white arched up from the shielded Order accordants on the ground. The flares shot out like ballista bolts encased in fire, up into the sky toward the circling dragon.
Tyrangal was wheeling around for another dive when the first of a barrage of flares struck her and Duvan. The blue fire wrapped around the dragon like tendrils of smoke and the dragon was lost in the clouds of magic.
Only for a moment, though. The fire washed over and off, like fog around the prow of a sailing ship. And in the passing wake, the blue fire swirled away and condensed, raining the stench of rotting corpses and oranges on those below, including Slanya.
She caught sight of Duvan, a tiny dark form clinging to. Tyrangal’s neck, his spellscar protecting her.
Vraith had to be in the group that Tyrangal was attacking.
Slanya doubted Vraith was powerful enough on her own to take on Tyrangal. But together the accordants of
