A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [121]
"I'm glad I can't see any of this properly," Haeltree muttered, and one of the guards gave him a heartfelt "aye" before he remembered that Cardassa had given him orders to be menacing to all of these useless tersepts.
"What was that?" Maevur Cardassa snapped, his voice more than a little wild.
"Careless and mighty magic," the Tersept of Shaeltor replied darkly, slipping his ring back onto his finger. "What else?"
"Aye, welcome to Aglirta," Tersept Haeltree added in a dry voice, reaching for his belt-flask.
The time for partings had come.
"Remember me," Sarasper Godelmer whispered, white to the lips. "Oh, friends, remember me!"
Craer was bounding out of the way of those gigantic jaws, and Embra had just hurled a beam of ravening Dwaer-fire into the gullet beyond, which made the Serpent roar and hesitate, even draw back for a moment.
Everyone turned to stare at him save the shuddering Serpent above them all, and the old healer managed a crooked smile for them as he held up the scepter… and shifted shape.
He let the scepter's magic guide him-a sudden surging of power that warmed him within, even made him uncomfortably hot for a moment, ere he soared, growing larger, stronger, and more sinuous, scales coming as he loomed still larger, until the roof scraped his shoulders and back, and the scepter tumbled from his talons-talons?-to the ground, crumbling into fragments that trailed smoke. He was billowing up just like smoke, he was… a dragon at last!
"Tshamarra!" Embra cried, as she saw the scepter in Sarasper's hands. "Now! At the Serpent, no matter what it is! Hurl all you have!"
The Talasorn sorceress nodded through the wild tangle of her hair, murmured something, and a feeble flare of flame spat from her fingertips.
Gods, I am spent. Embra closed her eyes for a moment in despair, but kept the Dwaer-fire going. They had to give Sarasper the few moments he needed… or he'd be throwing his life away for nothing-and Aglirta's last hope would the with him.
It befell with awesome swiftness. Suddenly he was surging upward, the scepter tumbling into smoking ruin, and then Sarasper billowed up into massive, wide-winged solidity above them, red and gold and mighty: a dragon, such as had not been seen in Aglirta in living memory!
Vast and terrible it loomed, opening its jaws with a terrible roar. Flame spurted from them-a tiny, feeble flame, as paltry as Tshamarra's spell.
The Serpent swallowed Embra's fire, spasmed in pain, and then arched itself, drawing its head back. Tshamarra's flames fell away harmlessly from shimmering black scales as the Serpent reared-and then struck with the speed of leaping lightning, sinking its fangs deep into the dragon's throat.
Embra choked back tears, white-faced and trembling. There was nothing she dared do now, with those two gigantic bodies locked together. This was their battle now, these titans… and one of them had once been the grumbling old man who'd healed her so often and so tenderly. The one with the Serpent's fangs locked on his throat…
Sarasper struggled, spasming and clawing at the air, his lashing tail bringing down more of the palace. He tried to twist away from the Serpent-but that great black serpentine body stretched and stayed with him, its fangs sunk deep.
Foaming at the mouth, the Dragon roared, or tried to-but what came out was a strangled croak. Clawing the air, Sarasper tried to straighten, but the Serpent was coiling around him now, its great weight bearing the dragon to the ground.
Sarasper fell on his back with a crash that hurled everyone in the throne chamber into the air-which was a good thing, given the thrashing fury of the Serpent's tail as it busily coiled itself around its foe.
Tshamarra Talasorn sobbed in fear and amazement. How long could the old shapeshifter survive? He was doomed, and all Darsar doomed with him…
The two wrestled like mongoose and snake.
Sarasper raked at the Serpent