bulking larger than any other creature on Midkemia. Silver sparkles of moonlight danced over golden scales as a greater dragon settled to the earth. A head the size of a heavy wagon lowered, until it hung just above and before the two men. Giant eyes of ruby colour regarded them. Then the creature spoke. ‘Who dares summon me?’
Tomas answered. ‘I, who was once Ashen-Shugar.’
The creature’s mood was apparent. Irritation mixed with curiosity. ‘Thinkest thou to command me as my forebears were commanded by thine? Then know we of dragonkind have grown in power and cunning. Never willingly shall we serve again. Standest thou ready to dispute this?’
Tomas raised hands in a sign of supplication. ‘We seek allies, not servants. I am Tomas, who, with Dolgan the dwarf, sat the deathwatch with Rhuagh at the last. He counted me as a friend, and his gift was that which has made me again Valheru.’
The dragon considered this. Then she answered. ‘That song was well sung and loudly, Tomas, friend of Rhuagh. In our lore, no more marvellous thing has occurred, for when Rhuagh passed, he coursed the skies one last time, as if his youth had been restored, and he sang his death song with vigour. In it he spoke of thee and the dwarf Dolgan. All of the greater dragons listened to his song and gave thanks. For that kindness, I will listen to thy need.’
‘We seek places barred from us by space and time. Upon your back I may breach such barriers.’
The dragon seemed leery of the notion of one of her kind again carrying a Valheru, despite Tomas’s reassurance. ‘For what cause dost thou seek?’
It was Pug who spoke. ‘A grave danger is gathering to strike this world, and even unto dragonkind it poses a threat terrible beyond imagining.’
‘There have been strange stirrings to the north,’ said the dragon, ‘and an ill-aspected wind blows across the land these nights.’ She paused, pondering what had been said. ‘Then I think it may be thou and I a bargain shall strike. For such purposes thou hast spoken shall I be willing to carry thee and thy friend. I am called Ryath.’ The dragon lowered her head, and Tomas adroitly mounted, showing Pug where to step so as not to cause the giant creature any discomfort. When both were mounted, they sat in a shallow depression where neck joined shoulder, between the wings.
Tomas said, ‘We are in your debt, Ryath.’
The dragon gave a mighty beat of her wings and took to the sky. As they rapidly climbed above Elvandar, Tomas’s magic kept Pug and himself firmly seated on Ryath’s back. The dragon spoke. ‘Debts of friendship are not debts. I am of Rhuagh’s get; he was to me what in thy world thou wouldst term a father, I to him a daughter. While we do not count such kinship vital as do humans, still such things have some importance.
‘Come, Valheru, it is time for thee to take command.’
Drawing on powers not employed for millennia, Tomas willed a passage into that place beyond space and time where his brothers and sisters had once roamed at will, visiting destruction upon worlds unnumbered. For the first time in long ages, a Dragon Lord flew between worlds.
Tomas mentally directed Ryath’s course. As need came, he discovered abilities not used in this life. Again he felt the persona of Ashen-Shugar within, but it was nothing like the all-consuming madness he had endured before he finally overcame the heritage of the Valheru to regain his humanity.
Tomas maintained an illusion of space about himself, Pug, and the dragon, again almost instinctively. All about them the glory of a thousand million stars illuminated the darkness. Both men knew they were not in what Pug had come to call ‘true space’, but were rather in that grey nothingness he had experienced when he and Macros had closed the rift between Kelewan and Midkemia. But that greyness had no substance, existing as it did between the very strands of the fabric of space and time. They could age here while appearing back at the point of departure an instant after having left. Time did not exist in this nonspace. But the human mind, no matter how gifted, had limits, and Tomas knew Pug was human, regardless of his powers, and that now was not the time to test his limits. Ryath appeared indifferent to the illusion of true space around her. Tomas and Pug sensed the dragon change directions.
The dragon’s ability to navigate in this nothingness was a source of interest to Pug. He suspected Macros might have gained some insight into how to move between worlds at will from his time of study with Rhuagh years ago. Pug made a mental note to search through Macros’s works back at Stardock for that information.
They emerged in normal space, thundering into existence with a loud report. Ryath beat her wings strongly, flying through angry skies, dark with rain clouds, above a rugged landscape of ancient mountains. The air held a bitter metallic tang, a hint of something foul blown along by a stinging, frigid wind. Ryath sent a thought to Tomas. This place is of an alien nature. I like it not.
Aloud so that Pug might hear, Tomas answered, ‘We shall not tarry here, Ryath. And here we need fear nothing.’
I have nothing to do with fear, Valheru. I simply care not for such odd places.
Pug pointed past Tomas, who turned to follow the magician’s gesture. With mental commands, Tomas directed the dragon to follow Pug’s instructions. They sped between jagged peaks, a nightmare landscape of twisted rock. In the distance mighty volcanoes spewed towers of black smoke that fanned upward, their undersides glowing orange from reflected light. The mountain slopes were aglow with flowing superheated rock. Then they came upon the city. Once-heroic walls lay rent, the gaps framed by shattered masonry. Proud towers occasionally still rose above the destruction, but mostly there was ruination. No signs of life could be seen. Over what had once been a plaza they banked, circling the heart of the city, where throngs once gathered. Now only the sound of Ryath’s wings could be heard over the icy wind.
‘What place is this?’ asked Tomas.
‘I do not know. I know this is the world of the Aal, or once was in the past. It is ancient. See the sun.’
Tomas observed an angry white spot behind blowing clouds. ‘It is strange.’
‘It is old. Once it shone like ours, brilliant and warm. Now it fades.’
Valheru lore, long dormant, returned to Tomas. ‘It is near the end of its cycle. I have knowledge of these. Sometimes they simply dwindle to nothing. Other times … they explode in titanic fury. I wonder which this will be.’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps the oracle knows.’ Pug directed Tomas toward a distant range of mountains.
Toward the mountains they sped, Ryath’s powerful wings carrying them swiftly. The city had stood on the edge of tableland, once cultivated, they suspected. But nothing hinting of farms remained, save a single stretch of what seemed an aqueduct, standing isolated in the centre of the broad plain, a silent monument to a long dead people. Then Ryath began to climb as they approached the mountains. Once again they flew between mountain peaks, these old and worn by wind and rain.
‘There,’ said Pug. ‘We have arrived.’
Following Tomas’s mental instructions, Ryath circled above a peak. Upon the south-facing rocks a clear flat place was revealed, before a large cave. There was no room for the giant dragon to land, so Tomas used his powers to levitate himself and Pug from her back. Ryath sent a message that she would fly to hunt, returning at Tomas’s call. Tomas wished her success, but expected the dragon to return hungry.
They floated through a damp, windblown sky, so darkened by the storm there was little difference between day and
