Author's Note: Ok, I figure I better explain my setting here before anyone wigs out too much. I am using the world created by Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory in the Obsidian Triology and the Phoenix Trilogy. This story is set between the first war between the Light and Dark and the Great War. This is a time completely forgotten by the elves and every other living creature alive during the time of the Obsidian Trilogy. I did this mostly so I can weave in and out of canon as I please. So, if you see a being that was not part of the books (e.g. orcs), rest assured I am well aware of their lack of existence in the trilogies. I am simply assuming that while a great many races of the Light were destroyed in the Great War, so were many races of the Endarkened. Also, I am the first to admit that I begin forgetting a book as soon as I read it. This means I may mess up some of the history or terms used in the books. Feel free to mention it in a review, but I give no guarantees that I will have any inclination to change it.
With that all said, I hope you will read and review my story. I am all in favor of a critique, good or bad, as long as it is productive. I apologize to anybody that has read my works, commented or faved me and I have not written you a note in thanks. I'm terrible with communication, but I assure you that I am eternally grateful for your words and patronage.
Disclaimer: Anything created by Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory is not mine. Anything not created by them is, hands off.
Prologue
Ashtaroth sat on his throne of ice at the crown of Shadow Mountain and surveyed his domain. Stretching out before the demon king was a vast snow covered wasteland; a valley surrounded by glaciers, through which there was only one exit, only one entrance. Beyond the valley stretched a desolation such as had never been unleashed on the world. For hundreds of miles, no living thing grew and the clouds gathered so thick that the land was encapsulated in eternal twilight. But this valley was the demon king's stronghold, the only place above land capable of sheltering his legions. They spread below him, marring the snow pack with their many camps.
As Ashtaroth watched, a signal fire flared at the far end of the valley, the flame an eerie unnatural green; a reaving unit was returning from the lowlands. The fire jumped to the next camp, which sent up its own green flame. The signal slowly marched its way to the very foot of the mountain. However, the demon king was no longer paying it any mind. At the very edge of the immense valley, his keep crimson eyes picked out the unit as it straggled in. Even at such a distance, it was hard to miss as two massive frost giants accompanied the group. Thick rope was thrown over their shoulders and they hauled an enormous sledge behind them.
The demon's eyes were drawn to the steel-banded cage sitting atop the sledge, and the prize filling its confines. A great golden dragon was curled tightly inside the enclosure, its massive spiked head drawn all the way to rest near its tail and its majestic wings were bound tightly against its sides.
The demon king snarled with glee, hopping to his clawed feet and spreading his leathery black wings behind him with a snap. He stood there for a moment while the frigid tundra air washed over him. Gleaming ebon scales covered his entire finely muscled form, each ending in a small, sharpened spike. A pair of long spiraling horns curled back from his forehead to the back of his head and pointed canines dimpled his lower lip. A thick, spiked tail curled back behind him, and waved lazily as he watched the party march ever closer. One might consider Ashtaroth majestic in his own right, even dragon-like, if not for the sense of vileness that seemed to emanate from his very essence. The Endarkened King was terrible in his beauty and even the mightiest of his king trembled under his fiery gaze.
With a sudden motion, the demon king snapped his wings downward, launching his ebon form into the air. He circled once over the valley before gliding toward the middle of the camp where the convoy and sledge now sat. Silently, he set down in the midst of his troops, folding his wings tightly against his body. An orc, encased in jagged black iron armor was the first to notice, turning his head at the rush of air. He began to look away before suddenly starting with realization. A throaty whimper of terror escaped his cracked lips, and he stumbled backward, falling over the coldwarg panting next to him. Before he can hit the ground, a trio of pasty-skinned goblins set upon him, tearing off his armor to expose the soft flesh beneath. His screams of terror drew the attention of the remainder of the party, and they quickly moved out of the demon king's way, leaving him a path to his prize.
Ashtaroth smiles darkly, taking a moment to drink in his minion's pain and terror as the creature's screams give way to bloody gurgles. He then steps forward, ignoring the lesser beings casting themselves at his wickedly clawed feet. His gaze was firmly planted on the great beast confined before him. As he approached, the mighty creature lifted its head, and turned it to face the demon, though doing so crushed it even more tightly in the cage. It flared its nostrils dangerously.
"My, my, what a pretty beast. Shall we bond and become the mightiest duo to ever walk the face of this land?" The demon's voice was silken honey and he knew the dragon was being drawn to him, despite its disgust for him. "Demons live forever, you know, just like dragons."
The dragon snorts loudly, blinking its wise golden eyes at Ashtaroth. "While your offer is tempting, Endarkened, I am afraid I must refuse." Its voice was deep, but decidedly feminine.
Ashtaroth smiles, flashing his elongated canines. He knew the beast felt the same desire to bond as he, and a female dragon, if bonded, could produce offspring. "Ah, but I have not even attempted to tempt you yet, beloved." He smirks as the dragon twitches her head away at the familiar reference. "I have nothing but time, my lady, and I believe that is all I require to woo you."
The dragon laughs aloud at that, but Ashtaroth sees the doubt playing in her eyes before she turns her massive spiked head away. In time, she would be his, and he would be more powerful than the Dark One himself. The world of the light would be his and caves of the dark would tremble at his name. Soon, soon.