The Radiant Dragon

winding motion she wrapped herself around the ship. She strained and compressed as she squeezed the ship, crushing it in her coils as if she were a giant anaconda.

The dinotherium's metal hull protested, shrieked, and finally gave way. A huge crack ran up the dinotherium from keel to upper deck. Still Pearl squeezed, and plates of metal began to pop off. Finally even the ship's metal frame buckled, and the ship began to break up into pieces. The stunned elves stood gaping at the unusual attack.

With his expanded vision, Teldin was the first to see the strange gray creature emerge from the crack in the cargo hold and climb up the ruined ship as nimbly as a spider. Perhaps twenty feet tall, the creature was dwarfed by the powerful radiant dragon, but it was no less fearsome. It appeared to be an overgrown version of the tertiary Witchlight Marauders. Suddenly Teldin feared for Pearl.

Fast and agile, the monster ran along the dragon's coils until it reached her neck. The enormous talons on its hands found a purchase amid her scales, and the creature's enormous maw worked busily. Pearl's blood flowed freely over the monster, increasing its feeding frenzy.

The dragon roared and twisted, but she could not dislodge the creature from her throat. She released the shattered dinotherium and took flight, weaving and pitching in an attempt to rid herself of the clinging horror. Finally the creature, in its frenzy, bit the gold chain that hung around Pearl's neck.

Teldin sucked in a quick breath, knowing what was coming. Anyone who'd tried to remove his cloak had received a sharp, painful jolt. Sure enough, a brilliant spark flared from the dragon's ultimate helm and the gray creature was thrown off. It flailed wildly, and one of its hands managed to thrust deeply into the base of Pearl's wing.

Six metallic talons tore through the membrane as the monster fell, reducing the dragon's magnificent wing to bloody shreds. The creature hung on briefly to the tip of the wing before it lost its grip and tumbled back down toward the icy prison that was its homeworld.

Pearl, too, was in trouble. Unable to use her ruined wing for flight, she began to spiral downward.

Change, Teldin urged her silently, but the dragon seemed to be too dazed to summon her shapechanging magic. He was forced to watch as the fire faded from her golden eyes. Teldin strained his magical ties to the ship, but he could follow the dragon's descent only so far. He stayed with her as long as he could, until his vision grew dizzy and faint, until he felt himself begin to fall into the darkness of wildspace.

Chapter Twenty-One

With a great effort of will, Teldin dragged himself back to the swan ship. As if in a dream, as if from a great height, he saw himself lying on the floor of the bridge. The pink light had faded from his cloak.

'Teldin Moore.' Vallus's gentle voice pulled him more fully into the ship. Teldin took a deep breath and suddenly he was back in his own body. He remembered his duty, and in a sudden panic he twisted to look toward the helm.

'Kermjin is on the helm. Do not worry. He took over quite smoothly while you were… elsewhere.'

Teldin slowly got to his feet. 'I think Pearl is dead,' he said, and the words seemed to echo in the empty place her absence had left inside him. His knees buckled underneath him, and wildspace threatened to claim him again.

Three sharp metallic thunks, in rapid procession, brought Teldin back to his surroundings.

'Grappling hooks,' Vallus announced, his green eyes wide with foreboding. 'The scro are trying to board.'

*****

The crew of the scro scorpion ship swarmed onto the Trumpeter's deck, and the sounds of hand-to-hand combat rang out as the elves struggled to hold back the much larger scro.

One of the invaders, a seven-foot albino in magnificent battle gear, disdained combat and prowled about the ship as if seeking a worthy opponent. He looked merely annoyed when an aperusa stepped out of the shadows of the galley to confront him.

'The insectare is dead,' Rozloom said by way of introduction.

The scro's pale eyes scorched up and down the gypsy, and his tusks flashed in a burst of derisive laughter. 'You're K'tide's informant? That certainly would explain the confusion. Ah, well, I was rather hoping it had been an elf.' Grimnosh shrugged negligently and drew a dagger-a lesser weapon and a scro insult. 'Since I have no further need of information…'

With a flash of steel and gems, an aperusa dagger met and held the scro's weapon. The two huge combatants stood toe-to-toe, their weapons locked at the hilts and their strength equally matched. It would have been a deadlock, but for the second gypsy weapon that pricked the scro's side.

'We make new deal?' Rozloom asked, his black eyes boring into the scro's.

'Your negotiating style is impressive,' the scro said with a note of irony, 'but what could you possibly offer me now?'

'Your life.' The aperusa's knife pierced the general's leather armor and pressed deeper until it touched a rib.

Grimnosh didn't flinch. 'Well?'

'All is yours: ship, elves, the cloak that changes color. One elven woman I must have. Tell your men to spare the woman with raven hair and eyes of gold and silver.'

'How poetic,' said the scro with a sneer. 'Very well, if she's still alive, you may have her.'

'Swear it!' Rozloom insisted. 'On the Tomb of Dukagsh, swear safety for Rozloom and the black-haired elven woman.'

The scro grunted a response. Satisfied, the aperusa eased his knife out of the scro's hide and took a cautious step back, keeping the jeweled dagger before him.

Grimnosh spun in a swirl of midnight cape and stalked away. He sped up the stairs to the main deck, and his scowl turned to a delighted sneer when he at last saw the object he desired. The Cloak of the First Pilot billowed in a sweep of majestic crimson as its human wielder fended off Ubiznik Redeye's battle axe. Teldin Moore was rather good, Grimnosh noted with a touch of surprise as he watched the battle. Despite a rather nasty gash to the thigh and armed only with a short sword, the human managed to hold his own against the much stronger ice orc.

Caught up in the time-altering magic of the cloak, Teldin fought for his life against the squat, hideous creature. A strength he didn't know he possessed filled him, keeping him on his feet despite his exhaustion, the loss of blood, and the painful ringing in his head where the orc's axe handle had caught him. Dimly Teldin blessed Chirp for the hours the dracon had spent sparring with him. That practice against a battle axe would make the difference now, Teldin vowed silently.

From the comer of his eye Teldin could see Chirp circling the battle, his ornate axe held at the ready as he waited for an opening to chop down his kaba's attacker. Teldin saw a huge white scro burst up from the lower level. With a fearsome sneer, the scro drew an enormous sword and, holding it like a lance, charged toward the preoccupied dracon and buried the sword to the hilt in Chirp's hindquarters. The dracon's mouth dropped open in surprise, then he tottered and fell like a downed tree.

Chirp's eyes sought Teldin, and he murmured, 'Kaba.' With a final, great effort, he gave one sweep of his powerful tail. The tip whipped around the gray orc's ankles and knocked it off balance.

Immediately Teldin was upon the fallen orc, determined to use the opportunity Chirp had bought him. He leaned heavily on his short sword, pushing it through the orc's tough gray hide and up into its heart. Teldin yanked his weapon free of the dead orc and whirled to face the uniformed scro. Before either could strike a blow, Trivit gave an agonized shriek and thundered toward them. The dracon dropped his broadsword as he ran and drew a small throwing knife. He hurled it at the white scro, and the knife buried itself in the monsters shoulder.

With a contemptuous smile, the scro pulled out the knife and tossed it aside. Almost immediately, however, his sneer faltered and a violent shudder shook his large frame. The scro fell to the deck, writhing and twisting as spasm after spasm racked his body.

'Poison,' Trivit said with dark satisfaction. 'Chirp made it from the kelp of Armistice.' The dracon cradled his fallen brother's head in his massive arms as he watched the scro's death agony. Finally Teldin could take no more, and he drew his blade firmly across the huge warrior's throat. There was -a spark of surprise in the scro's colorless eyes, then nothing at all. With the death of the last of the invaders, the cloak's battle magic faded and Teldin's