Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [138]
From the center of the Hall rose another, slightly larger platform, curling upward from the floor like a giant, hooded snake—which is exactly what it had been carved to represent. One slender bridge of rock ran from the snake’s ‘head’ to another gate in the side of the Hall. The head faced Ariakas—and the darkness-shrouded alcove above Ariakas.
The “Emperor,” as Ariakas styled himself, sat upon a slightly larger platform at the front of the great Hall, about ten feet above those around it.
Tanis felt his gaze drawn irresistibly to an alcove carved into the rock above Ariakas’s throne. It was larger than the rest of the alcoves and—within it—lurked a darkness that was almost alive. It breathed and pulsed and was so intense that Tanis looked quickly away. Although he could see nothing, he guessed who would soon sit within those shadows.
Shuddering, Tanis turned back to the darkness within the Hall. There was not much left to see. All around the domed ceiling, in alcoves similar though smaller than the Highlords’ alcoves, perched the dragons. Almost invisible, obscured by their own smoking breath, these creatures sat opposite their respective Highlords’ alcoves, keeping vigilant watch—so the Highlords supposed—upon their “masters.” Actually only one dragon in the assemblage was truly concerned over his master’s welfare. This was Skie, Kitiara’s dragon, who—even now—sat in his place, his fiery red eyes staring at the throne of Ariakas with much the same intensity and far more visible hatred than Tanis had seen in the eyes of Skie’s master.
A gong rang. Masses of troops poured into the Hall, all of them wearing the red dragon colors of Ariakas’s troops. Hundreds of clawed and booted feet scraped the floor as the draconians and human guard of honor entered and took their places beneath Ariakas’s throne. No officers ascended the stairs, no bodyguards took their places in front of their lord.
Then the man himself entered through the gate behind his throne. He walked alone, his purple robes of state sweeping majestically from his shoulders, dark armor gleaming in the torchlight. Upon his head glistened a crown, studded with jewels the hue of blood.
“The Crown of Power,” Kitiara murmured, and now Tanis saw emotion in her eyes—longing, such longing as he had rarely seen in human eyes before.
“ ‘Whoever wears the Crown, rules,’ ” came a voice behind her. “So it is written.”
Lord Soth. Tanis stiffened to keep from trembling, feeling the man’s presence like a cold skeletal hand upon the back of his neck.
Ariakas’s troops cheered him long and loudly, thumping their spears upon the floor, clashing their swords against their shields. Kitiara snarled in impatience. Finally Ariakas extended his hands for silence. Turning, he knelt in reverence before the shadowy alcove above him, then, with a wave of his gloved hand, the head of the Dragon Highlords made a patronizing gesture to Kitiara.
Glancing at her, Tanis saw such hatred and contempt on her face that he barely recognized her. “Yes, lord,” whispered Kitiara, her eyes now dark and gleaming. “ ‘Whoever wears the Crown, rules. So it is written … written in blood!’ ” Half turning her head, she beckoned to Lord Soth. “Fetch the elfwoman.”
Lord Soth bowed and flowed from the antechamber like a malevolent fog, his skeletal warriors drifting after him. Draconians stumbled over themselves in frantic efforts to get out of his deadly path.
Tanis gripped Kitiara’s arm. “You promised!” he said in a strangled voice.
Staring at him coldly, Kitiara snatched her arm free, easily breaking the half-elf’s strong grasp. But her brown eyes held him, drained him, sucking the life from him until he felt like nothing more than a dried shell.
“Listen to me, Half-Elven,” Kitiara said, her voice cold and thin and sharp. “I am after one thing and one thing only—the Crown of Power Ariakas wears. That is the reason I captured