The Queen stepped down from her throne. “I also hope there will be no regrets, Dolgan. Here in Elvandar the old magic is softened, and Tomas is of lighter heart. Perhaps that is a sign we do the right thing, tempering the change rather than opposing it.”
Dolgan made a courtly bow. “I yield to your wisdom, my lady. And I pray you are right.”
The Queen bade them good night and left. Calin said, “I also pray my Mother-Queen speaks from wisdom, and not from some other feeling.”
“I don’t take your meaning, Elf Prince.”
Calin looked down upon the short figure. “Don’t play the fool with me, Dolgan Your wisdom is widely known and highly respected. You see it as well as I. Between my mother and Tomas there is something growing.”
Dolgan sighed, the freshening breeze carrying away his pipe’s smoke “Aye, Calin, I’ve seen it as well. A look, little more, but enough.”
“She looks upon Tomas as she once looked upon my Father-King, though she still denies it within herself.”
“And there is something within Tomas,” said the dwarf, watching the Elf Prince closely, “though it is less tender than what your lady feels. Still, he holds it well in check.”
“Look to your friend, Dolgan. Should he try to press his suit for the Queen, there will be trouble.”
“So much do you dislike him, Calin?”
Calin looked thoughtfully at Dolgan. “No, Dolgan. I do not dislike Tomas. I fear him. That is enough.” Calin was silent for a while, then said, “We will never again bend knee before another master, we who live in Elvandar. Should my mother’s hopes of how Tomas will change prove false, we shall have a reckoning.”
Dolgan shook his head slowly. “That would prove a sorry day, Calin.”
“That it would, Dolgan.” Calin walked from the council ring, past his mother’s throne, and left the dwarf alone. Dolgan looked out at the fairy lights of Elvandar, praying the Elf Queen’s hopes would not prove unfounded.
Winds howled across the plains. Ashen-Shugar sat astride the broad shoulders of Shuruga. The great golden dragon’s thoughts reached his master. Do we hunt? There was hunger in the dragon’s mind.
“No. We wait.”
The Ruler of the Eagles’ Reaches waited as the streaming moredhel made their way toward the rising city. Hundreds pulled great blocks of stone mined in quarries half a world away, dragging them toward the city on the plains. Many had died and many more would die, but that was unimportant. Or was it? Ashen-Shugar was troubled by this new and strange thought.
A roar from above sounded as another great dragon came spiraling down, a magnificent black bellowing challenge. Shuruga raised his head and trumpeted his reply. To his master he said, Do we fight?
“No.”
Ashen-Shugar sensed disappointment in his mount, but chose to ignore it. He watched as the other dragon settled gracefully to the ground a short distance away, folding its mighty wings across its back. Black scales reflected the hazy sunlight like polished ebony. The dragon’s rider raised his hand in salute.
Ashen-Shugar returned the greeting, and the other’s dragon approached cautiously. Shuruga hissed, and Ashen-Shugar absently struck the beast with his fist. Shuruga lapsed into silence.
“Has the Ruler of the Eagles’ Reaches finally come to join us?” asked the newcomer, Draken-Korin, the Lord of Tigers. His black-and-orange-striped armor sparkled as he dismounted from his dragon.
Out of courtesy Ashen-Shugar dismounted as well. His hand never strayed far from his white-hilted sword of gold, for though times were changing, trust was unknown among the Valheru. In times past they would have fought as likely as not, but now the need for information was more pressing. Ashen-Shugar said, “No. I simply watch.”
Draken-Korin regarded the Ruler of the Eagles’ Reaches, his pale blue eyes revealing no emotion. “You alone have not agreed, Ashen-Shugar.”
“Joining to plunder across the cosmos is one thing, Draken-Korin This . . . this plan of yours is madness.”
“What is this madness? I know not of what you speak. We are. We do. What more is there?”
“This is not our way.”
“It is not our way to let others stand against our will. These new beings, they contest with us.”
Ashen-Shugar raised his eyes skyward. “Yes, that is so. But they are not like others. They also are formed from the very stuff of this world, as are we.”
“What does that matter? How many of our kin have you killed? How much blood has passed your lips? Whoever stands against you must be killed, or kill you. That is all.”
“What of those left behind, the moredhel and the elves?”
“What of them? They are nothing.”
“They are ours.”
“You have grown strange under your mountains, Ashen-Shugar. They are our servants. It is not as if they possessed true power. They exist for our pleasure, nothing more. What concerns you?”
“I do not know. There is something . . . .”