A Darkness at Sethanon (Riftware Sage Book 3)

They passed above the edge of the Garden, and Pug could see that somehow a large circle of land floated beside the city. Atop this circle of earth a garden of lush vegetation sat, fully covering every inch of the surface. It brimmed with meandering streams, which spilled over the edge. Fruit trees of every description could be seen. Pug said, “This is indeed a most improbable place.”

 

 

Tomas indicated a stone artifact. “A bridge should stand there.” At once Pug could see that a span had indeed once arched above the moat. It had been shattered, leaving a stone foundation on the ground. Across the moat, the twin of that foundation squatted. “If this place once existed upon some real world, then whoever or whatever brought it here neglected to include the river that ran around the Garden. With the bridges destroyed, there’s no way to leave the Garden.”

 

They began a search, skimming over the trees. Not only the varieties known to Pug from Midkemia, but also many he knew from Kelewan were planted there, along with a host of bowers from other worlds, never seen before. They flew past one stand of large tubular plants that began a haunting fluting, almost a musical sound, in the wind from the dragon’s wings. They sped above a wine coloured stand of flowers that exploded in white, as seed pods were thrown skyward to drift upon the breeze of their passing. And as Tomas had predicted, other bridges along the perimeter of the Garden were also shattered.

 

Small animals could be seen scurrying below the brush, hiding from the potential predator that flew above. Then another shape appeared in the heavens, heading toward them.

 

Faster than an arrow’s flight, something hurtled through the sky at them. In the instant before it closed, Ryath bellowed a bone wrenching battle cry. It was answered.

 

A giant black dragon attacked, claws extended, head craning forward with sheets of fire exploding from its maw. Tomas erected a barrier that prevented Pug and himself from being harmed by the flame.

 

Ryath answered the attack and the two creatures joined in battle. They grappled with claw and fang as they hovered above the garden. Tomas slashed out with his blade, but could not reach the other dragon. “This is an ancient beast,” shouted Tomas. “His kind no longer exist upon Midkemia. No greater black has lived there in ages.”

 

“Where did it come from?” shouted Pug, but Tomas seemed unable to hear the question. Pug felt the buffeting of the black’s wings, but Tomas’s spellcraft was sufficient to keep them both safely seated. They would have difficulty only should Ryath not win the contest, for while Pug thought he had some idea of how the beast flew between worlds, he didn’t wish to have to put those theories into practice. If Ryath fell, they might be stranded here.

 

But the golden dragon was equal in might to the black and Tomas punished the black every time it came close enough to be struck. Pug incanted and launched an attack of his own. As crackling energies struck the enemy dragon, the beast screamed in rage and pain, throwing back its head. Ryath seized the opening and bit upon the black’s neck, bringing claws up to rip at the less protected belly. The golden dragon’s fangs could only dent the heavy scales of the neck, not break them, but the claws were doing considerable damage to the black’s underside. The battle carried the two mighty dragons away from the heart of the Garden, until they hovered near the moat.

 

Now the black sought to escape, but Ryath’s jaws held tight. Pug and Tomas felt the gold falter and begin to be dragged down. Then suddenly they were moving upward again. The black had collapsed, ceasing its hovering. The sudden added weight had pulled Ryath down, but she had released in time to prevent them all from being dragged downward.

 

Pug watched as the black fell past the edge of the Garden, to vanish into the moat between it and the city. As he watched, the black dragon continued to fall, below the city, until at last it was simply a spot of black against the grey, then at last gone from sight. Pug heard Tomas say, “You fought well, Ryath. I have never ridden one so accomplished, even the mighty Shuruga.”

 

Pug felt the beaming pride the dragon projected as she said, Thou art fairly spoken, Tomas. I thank thee for thy words. But that one was an ancient male, one less mighty than I, so it was less a contest than it appeared. Had thou and Pug not crouched upon my back, I would have been less cautious. Still, thine aid and Pug’s counted much.

 

They circled above the island in the sky and began their search again. It was a large place, and the foliage was dense, but at last Pug pointed and shouted, “Tomas!”

 

Tomas followed his friend’s direction and there, in the centre of a clearing, a figure jumped up and down, waving his arms above his head. They waved back as Tomas instructed the dragon to descend. The figure staggered back, covering his eyes from the wind the huge wings caused. He was holding a staff and wore the familiar brown homespun. It was Macros. He continued to wave at them as they came to land.

 

His face registered resignation as the dragon touched ground. There was an odd, strangely quiet moment, and they could hear him sigh. Then he said, “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

 

The universe collapsed and came crashing down upon them.

 

 

 

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