and if her knowledge of the ritual gets into the hands of her masters, they will certainly try the ritual again in the future. Of course, with Gregor’s disappearance, it will take them a long while to find another elixir.”
Duvan blinked. Gregor was gone? Not that he cared for Gregor; the man had sold him to be tortured by Vraith.
But he also had rescued Slanya after her house had burned down. He was not all bad.
Tyrangal’s hand touched Duvan on the shoulder. “I am not much good at relationships, Duvan,” she said. “Your lives are too short and your actions are colored by the fear of death. But you are different, my friend. It may not seem like it, but I care for you and I consider you a friend.”
Duvan felt the words chase away the emptiness, if only slightly,
“I am rarely one to wax emotional, so please know that I mean it when I tell you this. I want you to stay with me at my mansion or wherever I settle. I have many lairs.”
Duvan took in a breath. This offer was unexpected, and he did not know whether he trusted it. Did she truly want him? Or just his aura of protection?
“I also would like you to consider helping me to keep tabs on the Order of Blue Fire. It is extremely hard to find someone I can trust. I can trust you, Duvan.”
But can I trust you? Duvan wondered. Tyrangal had kept her true nature hidden from him. Had she just saved him from the WildhOme elves to use him for his spellplague resistance? Duvan didn’t know if he could trust anyone besides Slanya.
Tyrangal stood up straight. “The offer of my home is not contingent upon anything. You can come and go as you wish. You can help me combat the Order or not as you wish. However, I sense you are ready for a new journey, friend.”
Duvan nodded. “I just want to rest,” he said. “Just rest.”
“Do that then,” Tyrangal said. “Take some time to rest. Take some time to say good-bye. That is important. But know that you can come to me whenever you need me.”
Duvan took a deep breath and sat up. “Thank you, Tyrangal.” Duvan stood and faced his rescuer, his long- time employer, andjust perhapshis friend. He took her into his arms and hugged her.
She returned the hug with less awkwardness than he expected. Up close she smelled of smoke and hot metal.
“Thank you for everything,” he said. “I am not sure what I will do, but you have been kind and generous to me. You have treated me more like a friend than have most humans.”
Yet, as much as Tyrangal’s relationship was important to him, she was still alien in her thinking, still a dragon at heart. And while he respected her immensely, and he appreciated all that she had done for him, he could not really relate to her with any degree of closeness, especially when contrasted against the intimacy of the bond he had shared with Slanya.
“You are most welcome, Duvan. You are a remarkable human. Don’t believe anyone who says otherwise. Despite the hardships you have endured, or perhaps because of them, you are unique and valuable.”
Duvan gave her an awkward grin. All those things may be true, he thought. And part of him appreciated that Tyrangal had made a point of mentioning them. But none of those things made losing his closest friend any easier.
Sadly, nothing Tyrangal could say would make the hurt of Slanya’s death go away. “I need to leave now,” she said. “But I hope to see you again soon.” And with that she vanished, leaving Duvan standing alone in the room.
Gregor paced the perimeter of the massive chamber one more time. There had to be a way out, just had to be. A domed, stone ceiling arched overhead, polished like red marble veined with black and green.
The floor was made of more of the same, smooth as glass except where ancient crates and piles of what looked like valuable sculptures and ceramics, embroidered pennants and crested armor drifted haphazardly. Gresror hadnt tried to move the piles yet, to see if there were any exits through the floor, but that would come in time, if necessary.
The light in here seemed to come from crystals set into the domed ceiling high above, but if there was another source, such as windows to the outside, Gregor couldn’t tell. His flying abilities were lacking for the moment.
He chuckled, then caught himself. A few hours in here and he was already starting to lose his discipline. That was a bad sign.
But so far his diligent, methodical check of the room had revealed nothing. So far his adherence to order was doing him no good.
“Good to see you haven’t given up.”
The abrupt appearance of a very large dragon in the room startled Gregor. As it was no doubt supposed to do, he thought.
“Tyrangal?” he guessed.
Muscles rippled underneath heavy copper scales. Her batlike wings stretched for a moment before folding against her body. Her lips peeled back to reveal huge teeth. “Very good.”
“I saw you fall to the ground at the ritual. And watched as the plagueland swallowed you.”
“That wasn’t very enjoyable,” Tyrangal said. “But I survived, thanks to your elixir. I drank the rest of the cauldron just before the border broke down.”
Gregor smiled, determined not to show his fear. The horns that curved from her skull were as long and sharp as swords, and the disconcerting bitter smell of acid hung over her. “You’re welcome, then,” he said.
“We won, actually, if you haven’t heard.”
“I” Gregor considered. “The last things I remember are the ritual failing and the border snapping back into place.”
“fin thanks to vou.” Tvraneal’s tone had erown mean.
Her claws scraped against the polished stone floor, the sharp sound raising the hairs on Gregor’s neck.
“I was pursuing a vision,” Gregor said, defensive. “The ritual could be used to reduce the size of the Plaguewrought Land and eventually contain all the remnants of the Spellplague.”
Tyrangal’s deep laugh rumbled through the cavern.
“You can laugh, but it is a noble vision. I thought it worth pursuing and even convinced High Priestess Kaylinn to move to Ormpetarr in pursuit of it.”
Tyrangal’s laughter cut abruptly off. “Yes, a noble vision, but a naive one. Your visions, my young monk, were sent to you by creatures who help shape the Order agenda.”
“What?” Gregor felt like he’d been kicked in the gut.
“The Order of Blue Fire has been sending you images of what you want to see. Ultimately, they were hoping that you’d join the Order, but at a minimum they just needed your elixir. And that, you happily supplied to them.”
Gregor’s gasped for breath. His dreams had been fabricated? He’d been manipulated?
“The Spellplague cannot be contained,” Tyrangal went on. “It is, in fact, a major feat that your elixir works at all, and that is the reason I helped you. That is the reason you are still alive.”
Suddenly, Tyrangal was standing next to him in human form. Her long, auburn hair shone brightly in the light from the crystals above, and her round, golden eyes appraised him kindly. “Let me show you something.” She reached out and touched him on the shoulder.
In a flash, the room disappeared. And suddenly the two of them stood side by side in a richly appointed chamber lined with bookshelves and reagent bottles. Gregor stepped back in shock; the books on the shelves were his books. The labels on the reagent bottles were written in his handwriting.
“TVe hrnucrht. vnnr lnh horo n she aaiA “T want wwi tr, continue your work, but for me this time. Here you will be shielded from the influence of the Order, from their visions.”
Gregor looked around. If anything, this lab was better equipped than his own. “And if I refuse?”
Tyrangal stared into his eyes, and for a brief moment, her gold eyes became reptilian slits. Her tone, however, was matter-of-fact. “We live in dangerous times, Gregor. An epic battle is shaping. You can choose to be a part of it. Or through negligence, become a casualty. I don’t have a lot of patience for apathy.”
Gregor grimaced. It was clear that she would kill him in some way if he didn’t agree. “Such options! What are
