The Radiant Dragon

'Agreed. You know much of our customs,' she said with suspicion.

'I should. My name is Hectate, formerly of Clan Kir.'

The bionoid woman recoiled with another hiss of rage, and she leveled her halberd's blade at Hectate's throat. 'Change quickly, then, or I'll spit you like a skinned hare,' Ronia gritted out. She charged forward, blade leading.

Hectate leaped aside and spun. As he did, the Change came over him and in a blink he was a ten-foot-tall insect, the mirror image of his attacker. As he whirled, he hooked one of his curved forearm blades over Ronia's halberd staff. He quickly bent forward at the waist, using the momentum of the female's attack to throw her up and over him. She flipped and landed on her back with a dull clatter.

Instantly Hectate leaped at the fallen bionoid, his halberd held before him. Ronia brought her knees to her chest and kicked out high and hard. Her foot spikes raked down Hectate's plate-armored chest with a sound like fingernails on a windowpane. Hectate staggered back, ichor dripping from the large dorsal plates on his chest; the plates had not yet sealed after opening for his ball of force spell.

Leaping nimbly to her feet, Ronia pressed her advantage. In a lightning-quick combination, she raised her left knee high and snapped a kick at Hectate's crystal eye, hit it again with a side kick from her right foot, and whirled to strike a third time with her left. She danced back, both hands holding the halberd before her in a horizontal line. An enraged oath escaped the bionoid warrior when she saw that Hectate still stood. The glow from his central eye had dimmed, but the crystal was not shattered.

Hectate mirrored her stance and the guard position of the halberd staff. A quick spring brought him toe-to-toe with Ronia. Thick oaken staffs clashed again and again as the two bionoids sparred viciously, each trying to work an opening for a halberd's blades. For many moments the battle went on. The monsters were so evenly matched that it seemed that only exhaustion could claim one of them.

Then Ronia spun, taking a sharp blow to her back but kicking backward hard. Her spiked foot smashed into Hectate's knee, and he went down with a sharp cry of pain and the crunch of cracked plate and bone. With a triumphant yell, Ronia raised her halberd high overhead and chopped down. Hectate rolled aside, and the blade bit deeply into the wood of the deck where his head had just been. Before Ronia could tug her weapon free, Hectate hoisted himself up on one elbow and smashed the back of her knee with a mailed fist. The joint buckled, and she went down.

Plate armor clattered against the wooden deck as the bionoids rolled and grappled, each trying to get the advantage. Finally one of the warriors lifted its head high, smashing its forehead into the other's face. The creatures' crystal eyes struck each other like flint and steel, and there was a bright spark and a sudden flare of red light. Then there was darkness, and both bionoids lay still.

In the aftermath of battle, elves and surviving bionoids eyed each other uncertainly, not sure what the strange outcome meant.

After a long, silent moment, one of the creatures stirred and rose unsteadily to its feet. There was an empty oval indentation on the other bionoid's forehead. Its crystal eye had shattered; the creature was dead. Everyone on deck held his breath as the onlookers waited to learn who had survived the challenge.

The dead bionoid quickly compressed back to elven form. A tall, rangy female elf lay on deck, her sweat- drenched black hair clinging to her head and her amber eyes open. Even in death those eyes held the wild, fierce expression of a hawk. Still in his monstrous form, Hectate stooped and closed Ronia's eyes with a gentle, taloned finger. He rose and faced the other four bionoids.

'Challenge was made and met. You will withdraw, as agreed.'

The four bionoids inclined their heads in agreement, and one of them signaled the shrike ship by waving its arms at the shrike ship in an elaborate pattern. The bionoid ship circled, came to a hover, and threw down boarding ropes. One of the creatures gathered up the elven body of Ronia, and, without a word, the survivors of the once fearsome battle clan returned to their last ship. The shrike ship flew off, disappearing into the black vastness of wildspace.

*****

Grimnosh pounded the railing with a white-hided fist. 'The bionoids have failed again! Thrice-damned elf- spawned garden pests, fit only as food for giant Zenuvian flytraps!'

The scro ranted for some time, while the hideous ice orc general looked on impassively and waited for the storm to pass.

'What plan now?' Ubiznik asked at length.

'We must have that cloak!'

'Cloak, scro want. Elf blood, orcs.'

'Indeed.' Grimnosh's colorless eyes narrowed. 'Perhaps it's time for both of us to take what we want. Choose four of your best soldiers and report to the landing dock immediately. We're going to board the swan ship.'

*****

Pearl came up onto the main deck just as Chirp and Trivit were dragging Hectate's limp bionoid form into the captain's cabin. 'About time,' she murmured with satisfaction. Turning to Vallus, she demanded to know what had just occurred.

'The bionoids have retreated,' he said tersely.

'Good. An assortment of goblins is trouble enough. By the way, I'm supposed to tell someone that we're out of ballista bolts down in the cargo hold.'

'Take some from the main deck,' Vallus replied absently.

'Thanks, but I don't run errands.' Pearl raised her voice and summoned Trivit, sending the dracon to resupply the lower level.

Elven crossbows twanged as the swan ship charged yet another orc scorpion ship, and the thud of the catapult sounded twice more from the stern.

'How long can he keep this up?' wondered Pearl, glancing up at the bridge with deep concern. 'Sooner or later those scro out there are going to get mad, squash this sorry excuse for a ship like a ripe melon, and make off with the captain.'

Vallus Leafbower turned to face the mysterious moon elf. 'That would be convenient for you, wouldn't it. With Teldin Moore gone, you would have a clear path to the Spelljammer.'

'Convenient? Ha!' Pearl said scornfully. 'Teldin can have the captain's job, and welcome to it.' She shot an arch glance at the elven wizard. 'I'm sure you can understand that.'

Vallus recoiled as if she'd struck him. 'But how much does he know about the Spelljammer?' the wizard persisted. 'Has he any idea of the dangers aboard the ship? Or that few who seek the ship are ever heard from again?'

Pearl's eyes mocked the elven wizard. 'Not unless you've told him.'

'You see what the elves are up against,' Vallus said, a trifle defensively, pointing toward the ongoing battle with the orc fleet. 'The Imperial Fleet faces destruction. We need the cloak.'

'What do I care about that?' Pearl retorted. Her hand curved around her sapphire pendant in a gesture of deliberate menace. 'I want Teldin Moore, end of story. If the Imperial Fleet interferes, I'll destroy it myself. That goes for anyone else who gets in my way. It's as good a hobby as any. Think about that, little wizard.' She whirled and darted up the stairs to the bridge.

Teldin looked up briefly when Pearl burst into the room. 'They're tightening the noose,' he murmured in a distant, distracted voice. 'They're starting to close on us, and we can't get them all.'

'Can you break through? Outrun them?' she suggested.

'I doubt it. The swan ship's held together with string and spit,' Teldin said ruefully. 'Pieces of it fall off every time I make a run.'

'Then it's time for us to leave,' Pearl declared. 'Turn die ship and its problems back to the elves, and come with me.'

Her suggestion startled Teldin. 'Leave? But how? On what?'

'Under your own power!' she said, and her voice sang with the exultant freedom of wildspace. 'Think of it: