The Dragon's Doom - Ed Greenwood [190]
The shapeshifter was wallowing on cold and dusty flagstones and staring at the smoke streaming from its blackened claws when a slender human female of dark hair and darker gown stepped from behind a crumbling hanging and plucked the Koglaur's floating, blazing Dwaer out of midair.
She smiled down at the twisting, shuddering Faceless with a Dwaer-Stone in either hand, and said sweetly, "You should have been dead centuries ago. You and all your ilk."
Two Dwaerindim kindled into humming brightness as one-and lashed out.
The Koglaur was old, cunning, and still deadly swift. It snarled an ancient incantation that made the sorceress frown and step back in wary alarm-and even as Dwaer-blasts bit into its shuddering, flowing flesh, spell-glows of a strange hue raced back along those twin bolts and washed over the Stones.
The Dwaer glowed and tingled strangely for a moment, causing Gadaster Mulkyn to murmur in wordless alarm… and then returned to their former state, their blasts steadying and gathering strength.
The slender sorceress showed no hint of carelessness or mercy, and soon the Koglaur ceased to shriek and shudder. Then Gadaster made a Dwaer raise a spiraling wind. That breeze snatched up the ashes that had been the Koglaur, moaned as it flung them at the ceiling-and then died away, leaving nothing at all on the flagstones where the shapeshifter had been.
"Three above," Hawkril gasped, staring at the bedchamber ceiling. "What was that?" He was naked and drenched with sweat, burning inside as if he was on fire. Embra was lying half atop him, down his left side, and she'd been raking him with her nails-causing the pain that had awakened him. And no wonder; her touch burned. Wherever their skin met, it felt like a searing Hawkril remembered from long, long ago… from the first time he'd curiously plucked a blazing brand out of a fire.
"Fire and flames," Embra whispered reluctantly, rolling away from him.
Her curves were as glistening-wet as his own, and she flung her limbs wide, gasping, "I was swimming in it! Flames, bursting up everywhere, consuming everything, yet burning on…"
The Dwaer at her throat glowed steadily, as if nothing was wrong. Its power was awake, of course, spinning the humming web of force that held the moaning, mumbling Blackgult on his bed across the room.
The Griffon stirred, writhing and kicking back his bed furs just as Embra and Hawk had done. Peering at him, they saw sweat glistening to match their own.
As her father started to roar, Embra put fingers to her Dwaer, licking sweat off her lips as it started to drip, and concentrated.
"Craer and Tash?" Hawkril rumbled.
She nodded and acquired the intent look that meant she was mind-speaking with someone. The armaragor could tell from her expression that she was soothing the person she was in contact with… Tshamarra, probably. Then Embra lifted her head to meet his gaze, smiling at the tenderness she saw there.
"They've shared the same dream. Warning from the gods, urgent sending, or break-sleep mischief, I know not-nor do I care overmuch. If any of us see snake- or dragon-heads in our dreams, of course…"
"It'll mean there's a Great Serpent again," Hawkril growled, "and a new Dragon's aborning."
Embra nodded grimly, and then touched her Dwaer again as Blackgult started to shout incoherently and struggle against the web that held him. As the magic brightened around her father, constraining and then quieting him, she sat back against the headboard with a sigh. "Well, this Lady of Jewels isn't going to get much sleep tonight, that's for sure."
Flaeros Delcamper came awake shouting, striking out with his fists into the night. "Fire!" he cried, seeing again those erupting flames,