Dragons of Autumn Twilight

No, there was only one place Eben could take him and be safe-outside the walls of Pax Tharkas. They could lie low in the wilderness until the confusion died, then sneak back inside the fortress at night. His decision made, Eben took Berem's arm and helped the man rise to his feet.

'There's going to be fighting," he said. "I'm going to take you away, keep you safe until it is over. I am your friend. Do you understand?"

The man regarded him with a look of penetrating wisdom and intelligence. It was not the ageless look of the elves but of a human who has lived in torment for countless years. Berem gave a small sigh and nodded.

Verminaard strode from his chamber in a fury, yanking at his leather, armored gloves. A draconian trotted behind, carrying the Highlord's mace, Nightbringer. Other draconians milled around, acting on the orders Verminaard gave as he stepped into the corridor, returning to Pyros's lair.

"No, you fools, don't recall the army! This will take but a moment of my time. Qualinesti will be in flames by nightfall.

Ember!" he shouted, throwing open the doors that led to the dragon's lair. He stepped out onto the ledge. Peering upward toward the balcony he could see smoke and flame and, in the distance, hear the dragon's roar.

"Ember!" There was no answer. "How long does it take to capture a handful of spies?" he demanded furiously. Turning, he nearly fell over a draconian captain.

"Will you be using the dragonsaddle, my lord?"

"No, there isn't time. Besides, I use that only for combat and there will no one to fight out there, simply a few hundred slaves to burn."

"But the slaves have overcome the guards at the mine and are rejoining their families in the courtyard."

"How strong are your forces?"

"Not nearly strong enough, my lord," the draconian captain said, its eyes glinting. The captain had never thought it wise to deplete the garrison. "We are forty or fifty, perhaps, to over three hundred men and an equal number of women. The women will undoubtedly fight alongside the men, your lordship, and if they never get organized and escape into the mountains-"

"Bah! Ember!" Verminaard called. He heard, in another part of the fortress, a heavy, metallic thud. Then he heard another sound, the great wheel-unused in centuries-creaking with protest at being forced into labor. Verminaard was wondering what these odd sounds portended, when Pyros flew down into his lair.

The Dragon Highlord ran to the ledge as Pyros dropped past him. Verminaard climbed swiftly and skillfully onto the dragon's back. Though separated by mutual distrust, the two fought well together. Their hatred for the petty races they strove to conquer, combined with their desire for power, joined them in a bond much stronger than either cared to admit.

"Fly!" Verminaard roared, and Pyros rose into the air.

"It is useless, my friend," Tanis said quietly to Sturm, laying his hand on the knight's shoulder as Sturm frantically called for order. "You're only wasting your breath. Save it for fighting."

"There'll be no fighting." Sturm coughed, hoarse from shouting. "We'll die, trapped like rats. Why won't these fools listen?"

He and Tanis stood at the northern end of the courtyard, about twenty feet from the front gates of Pax Tharkas. Looking south, they could see the mountains and hope. Behind them were the great gates of the fortress that would, at any moment, open to admit the vast draconian army, and within these walls, somewhere, were Verminaard and the red dragon.

In vain, Elistan sought to calm the people and urge them to move southwards. But the men insisted on finding their womenfolk, the women on finding their children. A few families, together again, were starting to move south, but too late and too slowly.

Then, like a blood-red, flaming comet, Pyros soared from the fortress of Pax Tharkas, his wings sleek, held close to his sides. His huge tail trailed behind him. His taloned forefeet were curled close to his body as he gained speed in the air. Upon his back rode the Dragon Highlord, the gilded horns of the hideous dragonmask glinting in the morning sun. Verminaard held onto the dragon's spiny mane with both hands as they flared into the sunlit sky, bringing night's shadows to the courtyard below.

The dragonfear spread over the people. Unable to scream or run, they could only cower before the fearful apparition, arms around each other, knowing death was inevitable.

At Verminaard's command, Pyros settled on one of the fortress towers. Verminaard stared out from behind the homed dragonmask, silent, furious.

Tanis, watching in helpless frustration, felt Sturm grip his arm. "Look!" The knight pointed north, toward the gates.

Tanis reluctantly Ipwered his gaze from the Dragon Highlord and saw two figures running toward the gates of the fortress.

"Eben!" he cried in disbelief. "But who's that with him?"