The Radiant Dragon

loose, silver robes for a period of meditation and purification. Tekura wore no robes; she did not mourn the lives she had taken.

'How are you feeling?' Her voice was soft, and her green eyes were as warm as if Hectate had never left the Clan-had never left her.

'Puzzled,' he answered frankly, not knowing what else to say. 'Why have you brought me here?'

'You belong here, now more than ever. We're nearing a great prize, a great victory.' Tekura leaned forward, reaching out to take one of Hectate's hands between both of hers.

Hectate's fears crystalized into a dull, aching certainty. Clan Kir had entered the race for Teldin Moore's cloak.

'Ah, our guest is finally awake,' said a voice behind them.

The scratchy whisper startled both bionoids. At the door stood a tall, robed figure with an elflike face. He came into the room and lowered the cowl of his robe. The dim lamplight revealed a narrow, pale green face, above which prehensile antennae slowly unwound to rise high over elflike ears. Hectate recoiled from the insectare with a surge of horror.

A second shock came with the insectare's shadow. Behind the creature stood three bionoids, all from Clan Kir, all of them known to Hectate since late childhood. Wynlar, the scholar, and his two brothers: the wizard Zeddop, and a wiry, flame-haired farmer named Enester. Their faces brought a flood of memories. The extended clan had taken him in when he was a confused, wounded lad grieving the death of his parents. Clan Kir had been a warm, closely knit community made up of several related families and a number of adopted bionoids such as himself and Tekura, and it had been his entire world. Yet he'd left over ten years ago when he realized that Clan Kir had been formed to be a battle clan. Seldom in bionoid history had such a clan been gathered, and the results had been so appalling that both elves and bionoids shrouded those episodes in secrecy. Refusing to be a party to another such disaster, Hectate had left Clan Kir and gone his own way. Even so, he was gladdened by the sight of his family after so many years.

Wynlar had greatly aged in the intervening years, and Zeddop's perpetually worried expression had chiseled deep, parallel lines into his forehead. The red tabard that signified the death of a beloved was draped over Enester's uniform as the farmer-turned-warrior mourned his daughter's death. The sight brought a despairing chill over Hectate, and his vision swam, to be momentarily replaced by the sight of a red-haired girl lying dead on the deck of the swan ship.

Hectate turned his eyes back toward the insectare. The evil monster at his bedside was easier to contemplate than the death of merry little Soona-his childhood playmate- at his own hands.

Tekura had risen immediately upon seeing the insectare, and as she stepped forward to greet the creature, her deferential attitude brought new, raw pain to Hectate's heart.

'You keep strange company, Tekura,' he said softly.

She shot him a look of unmistakable warning, then turned back to the newcomer. 'Lord K'tide, this is-'

'I know.' The insectare's voice reminded Hectate of the snapping of dry twigs. The creature walked to Hectate's bedside and lowered himself into the chair Tekura had just vacated. Hectate heard a faint chittering sound beneath the robes, and he shuddered. He knew that the insectare's body was covered with hard, interlocking plates, with only the exposed face and hands covered by humanoid skin. As he regarded the elflike creature, Hectate had the strange sensation of being confronted with the dark side of his own dual nature. He often had feared becoming trapped forever in his own monstrous form. What manner of creature would he become? The answer was one he did not care to face in his darkest dreams, yet here it was, sitting at his bedside.

'Your clan speaks highly of you, Hectate Kir,' said the insectare in his dry, brittle voice. 'When we were forced to abandon the elven ship without the human, acquiring a fighter of your caliber made the attack not entirely without gain. Your skills, not to mention your connection to Teldin Moore, make you an invaluable ally.'

'I'll not fight with you,' Hectate stated. His voice was quiet but inflexible.

'Let me tell you an ancient tale, Hectate Kir,' K'tide said as if the half-elven bionoid had not spoken at all. 'Many centuries past, orc priests developed a mighty weapon of destruction. Like them, it was crude and difficult to manage, but effective. Oh, yes, undoubtedly so.'

Hectate swallowed a wave of revulsion as he realized the nature of the weapon. 'The Witchlight Marauder,' he whispered as soon as he could speak.

One of K'tide's antennae quirked, the equivalent of an arched brow. 'You know history,' the insectare said approvingly. He leaned forward, his multifaceted eyes compelling. 'The question is, are you ready to make history?'

Tekura stepped forward. 'One of the secondary Witchlight Marauders has been tested in battle, with great success.' She paused significantly, giving him time to absorb her revelation. 'We soon will release another!'

'Where?' Hectate whispered.

'Lionheart.' Tekura's voice rang with triumph, and her eyes held cold fire. 'The first marauder ate its way through an elven armada. Let us hope its twin is equally hungry.'

Hectate had to turn away from the sight of her. 'What manner of creature have you become, Tekura?' he asked softly. His gaze shifted to the insectare, and the implication was unmistakable. Tekura flushed, but she lifted her chin in defiance.

'An outcast,' she said flatly, 'like all bionoids. Our only hope of improving our lot is to break the power of the elves.'

'But what happens once the elven high command is destroyed?' Hectate argued. 'How will that aid the bionoids? The goblin races, particularly the scro, will simply fill the void. They hate all things elven or elflike. Do you think they will regard us with tolerance and respect?'

'So far, they've-' Tekura broke off abruptly, biting her lip in chagrin. She looked quickly at the insectare, who merely regarded her with his strange, expressionless eyes.

'No, Tekura. You can't be working with the scro,' Hectate said, aghast. Despite everything he'd seen, he could not bring himself to believe that of Clan Kir.

'We are using the scro,' K'tide corrected. 'The alliance is regrettable, but necessary. Only orc priests know the rituals that hold the primary Witchlight Marauder in thrall.'

Hectate shook his head in disbelief. The primary Witchlight Marauder was an enormous slug whose mouths consumed everything in its path-metal and minerals as well as living things-and produced poisonous gas and more marauders. A well-fed primary marauder periodically would spawn secondaries, which were gray monsters twenty feet tall with six-taloned hands and insatiable appetites for elven flesh. They, in turn, ejected tertiary marauders, miniature versions of themselves that had two metallic swords for each hand. The tertiaries were incomparable berserker warriors who finished off any living thing the larger monsters might have missed. Once the creatures ran out of food, they turned upon and destroyed each other; not, however, before their entire environment had been laid waste.

'The orcs were willing to revive the primary marauder and feed it until it released secondaries?' Hectate asked in disbelief. 'The risks are incredible!'

'Indeed they are,' the insectare agreed. 'A number of orc priests were killed during the process. But the goblinkin are so eager to wash their hands in elven blood that they are willing to endure such losses.'

Hectate felt numbed by the appalling revelation. 'And you share that emotion, Tekura?'

'Why not?' The silver-haired bionoid stepped closer, and Hectate saw the unmistakable flame of fanaticism in her eyes. 'The primary Witchlight Marauder, the source of our secondary weapons, was hidden on Armistice, frozen under a time-stop spell.' She paused, and her smile was grim. 'I don't think the goblins had much to do with that decision.'

'What are you saying?'

'Think, Hectate. Do you think the Witchlight Marauder exists on Armistice due to elven oversight' she demanded. 'I'd wager my life that the elves not only know about it, but that they deliberately trapped the goblins on Armistice with that monster. It gives them a convenient way to destroy the goblinkin if the urge arises.'

'I can't believe that,' Hectate said flatly. 'Assuming the elves would sanction the destruction of an entire world, they would never deliberately allow a marauder to live.'

'Believe it,' she said flatly.

Hectate was silent for many moments, then he looked up into the grave face of Wynlar, the clan leader.