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The cry came from Chief Kronon, who stood above the bloodbath with arms outstretched and head thrown back—bellowing. As he brought his head back down, an eerie light shone from his eyes.

“This can’t be good,” Logan muttered.

Chief Kronon howled again, an otherworldly sound like the cry of the Elder Dragon itself.

That cry was answered by another ogre, and a third and a fourth. All of them were throwing their heads back and bellowing to the sky. Their voices rattled the stones of the keep and made humans and charr drop to their knees. The ogres shuffled toward their chieftain and stood beside him, wailing their lament. The remaining hyenas loped up beside them as well, adding their peculiar cackles to the cacophony.

As the ogres and hyenas filled one side of the courtyard, the humans and charr gathered on the other, all around Logan.

Suddenly, the howling ceased. The crystalline monsters lowered their heads, and their gold-glowing eyes stared levelly across the courtyard. Then they broke into a charge.

Logan raised his hammer and roared, “Charge!” He swept forward, surrounded by humans and charr.

The tide of ogres crashed on the defenders, trampling some, kicking others through the air, crushing more in titanic claws.

A man on one side of Logan fell beneath a stomping foot.

A charr on the other side had his head bitten off.

The clamor of combat, the groans and screams—it was the same as that battle in the Blazeridge Mountains, as Logan and Rytlock fought side by side against ogres.

This time, though, there would be no survivors.

BATTLE OF THE CRYSTAL DESERT

At the center of Glint’s sanctuary, Big Snaff stood alone, so there was no one to hear the tinny shout of joy that came from Little Snaff: “She did it! Glint did it! She got the yoke on Kralkatorrik!”

The powerstone laurel on Snaff’s head flashed, bathing the cockpit in an eerie glow. Those stones cast an even stranger light into Snaff’s mind.

Everything went green—solid green, as if he was staring into an emerald. He could even see his own reflection in a facet of the stone. His face looked intent, squinting, trying to peer into the heart of the gem.

Snaff backed away.

This jewel had many facets, all reflecting his curious gaze.

But it wasn’t a jewel. It was an eye—a huge compound eye.

The true eye of Kralkatorrik.

The dragon was staring at him, seeing him in a thousand facets. Its gaze was cold and calculating, inexpressibly cruel.

Then every reflection of Snaff in every facet began to crystallize.

“No!” Snaff yelled.

His flesh hardened, grew rigid and angular.

He was becoming a minion of the Elder Dragon!

Panicked, Snaff thrashed to get away, but the dragon saw all.

Snaff was dying.

Tap . . . tap . . . tap . . . !

What was that sound?

Tap, tap, tap—

Was it the stony heart of the dragon, mesmerizing his mind with its monotonous beat?

“Did you call for me?”

His eyes flashed open, and he ripped the emerald laurel from his head. The cockpit was plunged into darkness. Through the windscreen, Snaff saw the concerned face of Big Zojja.

She crouched beside Big Snaff, tapping her finger on the glass. “Helloooooo? You in there?”

“Yes, I’m in here!” Snaff blurted. “Of course I’m in here. There’s not an escape hatch.” He blinked in sudden alarm. “Why isn’t there an escape hatch?”

Big Zojja straightened up, and Little Zojja’s voice rang from within. “I thought I heard you shout something, and I wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

“I’m trying to wrestle a dragon’s mind! Of course everything’s not all right!”

“Don’t get testy. I was just checking on you.”

“Go guard.” Snaff said, waving his hand vaguely toward the eastern colonnade. “I’ll be safe. I’ll be fine.”

“Better be,” she said, and Big Zojja pivoted away, her foot grinding grit into the floor.

Snaff watched that miracle in steel and silver—that genius apprentice of his—jog away through the sanctum. “You be safe, too.”

And then Snaff closed his eyes and lifted the emerald