Author's Note: This chapter goes up in honor of the new DragonLance book being released today, which I won't be able to read for at least two to three weeks! Cries Please review! Reviews feed ideas! Speaking of food, a cookie to any reviewer who can find the random Mary Poppins tribute. Though he can't get a cookie for finding the Mary Poppins reference because he was there when I came up with it, I also give a cookie (along with a cameo) to my wonderful beta, Valgorúth! I hope you enjoy, and once again, I beg you – review!
The Pattern Still Remains, on the Wall Where Darkness FellThe Dark Queen cursed. Due to her blasted father, her plans were ruined, or at least postponed. She had worked so hard over the last few years, building an army of unparalleled might. Now, her army would have to be destroyed.
Her Abyss-cursed father had decided that he was going to destroy her world. Didn't he have anything better to do? So now, her army had to join everyone else like good little soldiers, and help fight. If they didn't, Chaos might win, and then there would be no world left for her to take over. Curses!
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Dalamar felt as though the world were dropping out from under him. The world seemed to spin as his stomach dropped abruptly from its position in his throat to the soles of his feet. He knelt beside the body of his daughter, an action governed more by a desire to regain equilibrium than a feeling that there was anything that could be done.
For what seemed the first time in his life, Dalamar was truly sad at the loss of another's life. While he had been heartbroken at his expulsion from his homeland, he had never been close enough, never let himself get close enough, to another being to truly mourn their loss. However, over the past months, his daughter had wormed her way into his heart. He found himself remembering their few months together – her laugh, her determination, her fire. For what may have been the first time in his life since childhood, Dalamar felt a single tear drip down his face.
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At Chaos' sudden retreat with the loss of his general, several of the metallic dragons that had been hovering just out of the range of their demonic brethren were able to wing their way to the Library. Quickly, their riders dismounted, and the dragons arranged themselves so that they would be able to defend the street.
Dunbar Mastermate, appointed head of the Order of the White Robes by the former archmagus Par-Salian, quickly appraised the situation before his eyes. Not commenting upon the two black-robed magi huddling over a body, he strode towards the mage who appeared to be in charge. Close behind him limped Justarius, the Head of the Conclave.
"Daughter!" Justarius' call brought Jenna out of her stunned reverie. "What has occurred here?" Justarius wanted to know the state of the defense at the library, as it was obvious that Chaos was destroying the city. He seemed not to notice Evelynn or Raistlin standing in the shadowy doorway to the Library.
For a moment, Jenna could not speak. She was struck dumb by the display of power she'd witnessed moments before from the two children that she had thought to guard. Now that Chaos was not an immediate threat, her mind was attempting to come to terms with the impossible power displayed by the young human, and the impressive display from the mysterious half-elven maid.
For the moment, Jenna was saved from the need to respond by Palin, the son of Caramon and Tika Majere. "Uncle?" The boy was dumbfounded.
The former archmagus sighed as he emerged from the shadows where the glint of his golden skin had attracted the attention of his nephew. Gasps were heard from all of the newly arrived members of the Conclave. At the sounds of horror from his fellow mages, Raistlin was tempted to wave his hands and mutter arcane words, but such childish pranks were beneath him.
"You must be Palin." Raistlin's voice was acidic as he regarded his nephew. "I had heard that a relative of mine had joined the White Robes. You have not been Tested yet?" The last question was rhetorical, as Palin's simple robes indicated a novice still under the guidance of a sponsor.
"No, Uncle." Though Palin was still young as mages go, he was older than Raistlin was at his own Test, and it was obvious that the archmagus had expected any relatives of his to excel in the same fashion.
Suddenly, the thunder of mortal hooves was heard. The dragons moved aside in order to let the horsemen pass. A troop of soldiers had arrived from the gate, having decided that it would be more productive for them to guard the only surviving citizens of the city than to attempt to defend Palanthas itself.
"Ah, Lord Tanis, you have arrived." As Justarius greeted the half-elf, Raistlin slipped unnoticed to Dalamar's side.
"Blast it! As far as I can tell, there is no way for my men to stop Chaos." Tanis was ranting as he dismounted, and his only acknowledgement of the mages was a nod of his head. "Have you any ideas, Justarius?"
"As far as I know, such an attack on Krynn has never been waged before. The last time Chaos attempted to interfere with the world, he was entrapped by Reorx in the Greygem. As we do not possess the Greygem, to defeat him in the same manner would be impossible. Even should all of the mages of the Conclave band together, it could not be done. We would need one person of immense power to channel the spell, and we do not have one such. Even if we did, we do not have a spell to create another prison for Chaos, and to create one would take too much time." Justarius shook his head wearily. Though not a truly old man, he was beginning to feel the pull of time.
"I suppose then, that we must simply attempt to protect these people, or die in the effort." Tanis mounted his destrier once more and began shouting to his troops to surround the Library.
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Dalamar barely stirred when he felt the long delicate hand resting on his shoulder. He wished that whoever was disturbing him would go away and allow him to mourn in peace.
"Apprentice, you must get up now. You're making a fool of yourself." Raistlin's harsh voice brought the dark elf back into the real world. "Besides, you have three days."
"Three days," Dalamar asked dumbly. He turned his grief-wracked face upward to look at his Shalafi.
"Until her soul will be completely severed from her body." Raistlin spoke patiently, as though explaining something to a simpleton.
Dalamar blinked a couple of times, and his expression of horrified grief transformed into one of hopeful curiosity. "How?"
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Before Justarius could remember the precipitous return of Raistlin to Krynn, Raistlin had disappeared from the Library. On his finger was a ring spelled to take him to his Tower in Palanthas, in his pocket one to return him to wherever Dalamar was when he was finished. In the confusion of the milling armies and mages, he was soon forgotten. Dalamar carried Catherine's body into the Library and joined his fellow mages; Fie trailed by his side, unnoticed. No one seemed to care what happened to the body of Arash.
"I apologize for the delay." The dark-skinned Ergothian spoke as though the negligence of the Conclave had caused a minor inconvenience rather than an immense loss of life. Dalamar seethed silently at Conclave politics. "We had decided that in case there truly was a crisis in Palanthas as you'd reported, Dalamar, it would be safer to conjure a Sending to investigate rather than having Palin do the same work. Of course, once it had returned, time was needed to extract the relevant information." Were Dalamar not completely exhausted, he would have had difficulty refraining from cursing the other two Heads of the Orders to the deepest bowels of the Abyss for their implication that he had either lied or grossly overreacted.
"Now that we have properly judged the magnitude of the situation, we shall send Palin back to Wayreth to request that the rest of the mages join us." At Justarius' dismissal, the novice mage bowed and used a ring to return to the Tower rather than taking a dragon away from the Library's defense.
"You should listen when your elders speak, young man." All of the mages jumped as Evelynn snapped at Justarius; no one had noticed her sneaking up quietly behind them. "Just because someone has a dark soul does not mean that they always lie. And just because someone looks younger than you doesn't mean that they are!" With that, Evelynn began humming a melody of a hymn and appeared not to be listening any more.
"We don't have time to argue or lay blame." Much as he wanted to do just that, Dalamar decided that the present war on Chaos was more important than a personal vendetta against his lover's father. "Chaos will soon recover from my daughter's sacrifice, and we must be as prepared as we can. Jenna, Fie, and I need to rest. We have used up nearly all of our spells." With that, Dalamar gently pushed Fie towards the Library. He himself followed after lifting his daughter's prone body. With an apologetic shrug at her father, Jenna yawned and followed. Evelynn trailed behind the young Red Robe, forgotten once more.
Inside the doors of the Great Library, Fie was waiting for Dalamar. "Where do we go now?" The teen was obviously having trouble staying on his feet.
"To Astinus." Dalamar was exhausted as well, but did not let it show as he strode towards the study of the mysterious historian. Even the proud dark elf bowed as he entered Astinus' chamber.
Fie, taking his cue from Dalamar, was astonished when Astinus spoke without taking eyes or quill from parchment. "Welcome all. You will find four rooms to your tastes if you walk to your left after you leave my study. You will be undisturbed while you sleep. Gods know that the Aesthetics won't be returning to claim them any time soon!" Astinus' mouth turned up slightly at the corners as he looked up at the group while continuing to write assiduously.
Dalamar bowed once more, with the others mirroring his actions and trying not to topple over with weariness. Fie silently marveled that the dark elf could be so graceful, even with his exhaustion and the weight of his daughter's body in his arms.
When they got to the promised rooms, the mages entered with the intention to study their spells. Within moments of sitting down at the Spartan desks, however, all fell asleep. Only Evelynn was left awake, laying in bed and thinking dark thoughts. Only moments after his head hit the large spellbook on the desk before him, Dalamar began to dream…
…The world slowly came into focus for Dalamar. The three gods of magic were standing around a bier. As the dark elf wandered closer, he could see that an ornate coffin was resting among the gods. The coffin was of flawless obsidian, with veins of red gold and silver tracing runes of magic.
"This was not supposed to happen." Even the classically calm and even-handed Lunitari was upset. The lovely goddess' face was a mask of anger as she regarded the prone figure in front of her.
"This is all your fault." Nuitari's voice was even colder than normal as he glared at his Good cousin. "It was your precious mage who misinterpreted the prophesy!" In a sudden burst of inspiration, Dalamar realized who was on the bier. It was his daughter entombed in the elegant coffin.
"You cannot place upon me the blame that mortals cannot comprehend the many paths and meanings of true prophesy." As Dalamar crept closer, still unnoticed, a backdrop came into view. He could now see that they were in a room, and the wall on the opposite side of the bier was covered in an intricate web. Thousands of strands of color covered the wall. Once in a while, one would wink out, or another strand would come into being.
"Besides which, if your mage had kept track of his seed, none of this trouble would have happened in the first place." Lunitari put aside her anger for the moment as she stepped between her two cousins, who looked as though they were about to curse each other into oblivion.
"Boys." Her tone was reproachful. "Arguing is not going to do anything. Besides which, we have a guest." Dalamar jumped as he realized that the goddess had noticed him over her cousins' shoulders.
"Masters, Lady." Dalamar bowed low. "I did not mean to intrude."
Nuitari motioned for his mage to rise. "Of course not." His voice was tart, but held none of the malice that had seconds ago been directed at Solinari. "You had no choice about whether or not to intrude, because I called you here!" He motioned for Dalamar to approach.
"We were just discussing the fact that somehow," He glared at Solinari again, "your daughter was removed from the mortal plane for no reason at all."
Dalamar blinked in shock. "What are you saying?"
"He's saying that…" Lunitari attempted to intervene in order to keep the tempers of her cousins at bay. Unfortunately, she was not successful, as Nuitari cut her off.
"That the imbecilic Par-Salian brought an innocent into a prophesy that had nothing to do with her, and could not be changed even if it did!" The god of Dark Magic was obviously furious.
"An innocent?" Dalamar's mind worked furiously to process what he had been told, but it did not seem to be working.
"The prophesy was never about your daughter." Solinari seemed annoyed that yet another mortal had misunderstood the cryptic message of the gods. "Its subject was not within our reach, however, so the message had to be delivered through another at the time of birth." He drummed his fingers on the shiny surface of the coffin as though bored with the proceedings.
"Not about Kit? Not in your reach?" Dalamar's face contorted as he attempted to comprehend. Suddenly, understanding dawned on his handsome Elven features. "Fie…" he breathed in amazement. "It never involved her?"
"Of course not." Nuitari's voice was acidic. "But, of course, Par-Salian always has to know everything, so he acted upon his first idea. Technically, your daughter never should have been exiled in the first place." The dark god smiled as he watched Dalamar go from a deep, angry shade of red to a white nearly paler that Solinari's robes.
Dalamar's hands clenched and unclenched within the sleeves of his robes. He breathing staggered as he attempted to contain his anger, knowing it would do no good against the gods.
"What was done, was done." Lunitari's voice was soothing. "There is something you could do, though. You know what."
Dalamar finally managed to shove his emotions behind their normal façade. "Are you saying that I should…" The implications were stunning.
"We do not normally condone necromancy," at Lunitari's words, Nuitari rolled his eyes. Obviously, he did not approve of that regulation. "However, Zivilin has foreseen for us all possible futures. He has seen that in all times when Catherine no longer exists, Krynn is doomed. While the world is no better off in some futures where she survives, there is hope. Be warned, however. She will be changed if you should succeed."
"Separate futures?" Dalamar was confused. Wasn't the future a concrete path, set down by the gods?
"Of course. Come forth." Nuitari beckoned to his servant. Dalamar followed the god of Black magic to the wall he had seen before. "This shows only the paths of prophesy, but time works in a similar direction." Now that Dalamar was closer, he could see that each colored thread followed a straight line until a certain point, where it branched out. The effect was much like observing a multi-colored forest.
"The single paths are the past. The branches are the current prophesy. When the subject of the prophesy makes a choice, some paths are erased. Others form." He allowed Dalamar to examine the intertwined branches for a few moments, and then led the mage away. "Now, you know what you must do. You will need the support of others, for it is a powerful spell. Take care not to overtax yourself." The other gods, as well as the room, faded into oblivion. "You shall do well, my son…
… Dalamar opened his eyes with a jolt. Judging by the light coming in through the small window, he had been asleep for the entire afternoon and night, along with most of the morning. Suddenly, he realized that he would have slept longer had not something … someone, been shaking his shoulder vigorously.
"Finally, you woke up! Lord Tanis is having a conniption outside because some more dragons showed up, and he sent me to wake you." Fie's face told Dalamar exactly what the young man thought about being used as a messenger. Wryly, the dark elf thought about how lucky Tanis was that Fie could not risk using any of his spells prior to the battle. With a sigh mourning his lost sleep, he sat up.
"Coming." Dalamar trailed Fie out of the Aesthetic's cell, rubbing his eyes and studying his spellbook. He mechanically accepted a piece of bread that Evelynn handed to him as she followed the mages out, his eyes still glued to the spells. It was only when Evelynn gasped at what she saw in the daylight that the exile looked up from his studies.
Arrayed around the streets surrounding the Library were about a dozen dragons. What Fie had failed to mention was that they were the chromatic dragons that were generally allied with Takhisis, rather than their metallic cousins. Several feet away from the dragons, Tanis stood, arguing with who appeared to be a rider. Dalamar shook his head in exasperation. Did he have to do everything around here?
Motioning for Fie to stay behind, a motion as promptly ignored as it was given, Dalamar strode towards the dragons. Ignoring the human arguing with the half-elf on the ground, Dalamar approached one of the dragons directly. He did not bother with the immense red who had a rider's harness on it, knowing that the dragon would be too in-tune with its rider's feelings to have a rational conversation. Instead, he walked to one of the smaller dragons, a female black dragon with elegant, sinuous features.
"Greetings, My Lady…" Dalamar bowed low to the dragon, waiting for her to supply her own name.
"Stygia." The dragon sounded pleased at being treated with such reverence.
"My Lady Stygia." Dalamar acknowledged. "I am Dalamar Argent. What is the difficulty?" Dalamar was truly puzzled; the dragons were obviously not attacking!
"We were sent by Her Dark Majesty." Though Dalamar did not think much of the Five-Headed Dragon, he gave a small bow of acknowledgement and honor. "She told us that our help would be needed. There are more troops of many races waiting for our word. However, this steel-head here," she indicated Tanis, "seems to think that he is too noble to accept help from Evil." She tossed her head and snorted, allowing a small jet of flame to sear the empty sky to indicate her displeasure.
"Perhaps I can help iron things out, Lady?" He bowed once more.
"Wonderful. Why is it that we 'evil' beings seem to be the only ones with any sense?" Dalamar smiled wryly up at her, and walked back to where Tanis was standing.
"Lord Tanis, a word?" While Dalamar did not by any means need to use the honorific, he'd found that courtesy sometimes was a bit more helpful. He pulled the unresisting half-elf to the side. As soon as they were out of immediate hearing, Dalamar stopped walking. Turning the general around, he cut off all attempts at further niceties.
"What in the name of the Dark Moon do you think you are doing?" While Dalamar's voice was kept to a barely-audible whisper, the effect was the same as though he had shouted.
Tanis was saved a reply for the moment, however. With the loud snap that indicated a novice using a transportation spell, Palin appeared in the increasingly-crowded courtyard. Spotting the trouble immediately, he walked over to where Tanis and Dalamar were standing.
"Lords." He bowed to both. "I do hope that you haven't done anything rash." Dragonfear was obviously affecting the boy, and he was babbling slightly. "The Conclave sent me with a message." Dalamar's 'hurry up' glare seemed to only increase Palin's discomfort. "They said… They said not to do anything rash before they sent more back up. And, I would most definitely say that joining with those… those things would be considered rash!" Dalamar smirked. It seemed that all representatives of Good regained their composure at the chance to preach.
Tanis nodded. "That is what I was about to explain to Lord Dalamar." Tanis too had obviously decided that courtesy veiling insult was the best course of action. "I fought dragons such as that in the War of the Lance. They and their Evil allies are not to be trusted."
Unfortunately for him, Tanis seemed to have forgotten the fact that Dalamar had spent the greater part of his life as a servant in a culture where a sentence without a hidden insult was akin to a day without light. "Ah. I see, Lord Tanis. As a Hero of the Lance, you won't be needing help against Chaos. Once I explain that to the dragons, I'm sure that they will have no problem departing to safety, and bringing Fie and myself with them." He turned, caught Fie's arm, and began walking back towards the dragons.
"Wait!" Obviously, Tanis had realized that he would need all of the help he could get, no matter how distasteful. Dalamar paused in his march, waiting for Tanis to apologize. "I suppose that we may need backup." Dalamar knew that would be as close to an apology as he would get, and he nodded an acceptance.
"Good. I shall inform the Dark Queen's troops of your de…" He paused as he saw Raistlin appear, clutching an immense spellbook. He wondered if the situation could get any more amusing. "Ah, Shalafi. You have returned!" Dalamar bowed, veiling his smirk behind a curtain of dark hair.
"Raistlin?" Tanis' voice emerged as a surprised near-squeak. "You… But…" He subsided into a noiseless state of shock.
"Close your mouth, Tanis. You look like a codfish." The former archmagus turned to Dalamar. "I have obtained the needed spell." He handed the dark elf the tome, erasing any need for Dalamar to make a request that would reveal their shifted positions. Dalamar grasped the night-blue tome hesitantly, half-worried that it would sear him for the crime of touching it. Nothing happened, however. "When you are ready to use it, I will oversee the spell." Raistlin wandered back to the Library.
"Now, if we have come to an agreement?" Tanis nodded, still in shock, and Palin was too entranced by the spellbook of Fistandantilus to protest. Dalamar decided to take that as a yes. Once more, he walked towards the dragons, trailed by Fie. As he passed the human rider, the man seemed more than slightly miffed that Dalamar ignored him.
Dalamar took no heed, however, and walked back to the elegant black dragon. "Lady Stygia? We have come to an accord. Lord Tanis has come to the conclusion that you and your brethren would be an invaluable addition to our cause." Dalamar smiled to himself as Stygia stretched her neck in pleasure – dragons were notorious for their adoration of compliments.
"Then we shall join you." She trumpeted her message to her fellows, and it was only through supreme will that Dalamar managed not to cover his ears against the terrible, yet melodic sound. "Thank you, magus." Dalamar looked up at the formidable creature, surprised. "You have given us a chance to defend our homes. Though we are allied with the Dark Queen, we still care for Krynn! We, as she, have recognized that the best chance that Krynn has to survive is if we join in the protection of Palanthas and its Library."
"I understand, Lady Stygia." And Dalamar did understand, more than most. Too often it was that one of Evil loved the land, but the land did not love Evil.
As the chromatic dragons flew off, going either to more strategic positions or to alert the rest of the troops of the decision, Stygia turned back to Dalamar. "Magus, is there anything that you need?" Suddenly, the dragon seemed slightly shy. "I do not have a rider, and you should not use all of your spells up before a battle."
Dalamar was about to defer the favor until a later date, but then he realized that there was something he needed. "Lady, can you carry myself and another?" Blacks were, by nature, one of the smallest breeds of dragons, and Stygia was obviously not fully matured.
Stygia, however, seemed to see no problem. She snorted a small puff of flame in indignation. "Of course I can! Where is it that you need to go?"
"I seek the magus Par-Salian, retired head of the Conclave." Dalamar's eyes glinted cruelly. "I believe that he has taken residence in a house outside of Wayreth Forest. Of course, he's enchanted the house to follow the Forest, but I'm sure that between the two of us, we can find it."
Stygia grinned toothily, realizing that Par-Salian would be less than pleased at this surprise visit. "Get my other passenger then, mage, and we'll be off to find this Parsley of yours." Dalamar did not bother correcting her pronunciation.
A few minutes later, Dalamar returned to where Stygia was sitting. She had gotten several soldiers to put a saddle on her, and was looking very pleased at the attention. "Like it?" Stygia's dark opalescent eyes glimmered with delight, and she shook her body comfortably before kneeling down so that Dalamar would have a chance of clambering on.
"You look lovely, My Lady." He handed his burden to a nearby soldier so he could mount. The soldier nearly protested as he realized that it was a young girl's corpse that had been pressed into his unresisting arms, but subsided at a glare from Dalamar. After only a bit of a struggle, the dark elf was on the dragon's back, and accepted his daughter's body from the soldier. When he thought Dalamar wasn't looking, the soldier wiped his hands on his pants in disgust. Dalamar decided that he didn't care enough to waste a spell on the man.
"Are you ready?" Stygia sounded excited at the prospect of a flight. At Dalamar's murmured assent, Stygia broke into a long, rhythmic lope in order to gain momentum. Her immense wings flapped, jolting the elf sitting between her shoulder blades. He turned to make sure that Catherine was securely bound.
The flight to Wayreth was long, but not onerous for Dalamar. Stygia was a good companion. She was surprisingly cheerful and playful, characteristics not often found in dragons, much less ones allied to Evil. It was also fascinating to talk to a creature of such immense intelligence, and yet so different from the other sentient races of Krynn. The two had formed a friendship before the hours of the flight were over.
Finally, the Forest of Wayreth loomed in the distance. Luckily, Par-Salian's manor was visible from Stygia's back; Dalamar did not want to waste time that he did not have in looking for it. Stygia began a circling descent towards the manor. Within minutes, the two were on the ground. Not waiting for Dalamar's okay, Stygia took the initiative, trumpeting their arrival.
Within seconds, a startled-looking elven apprentice stumbled outside. His look of shock only increased when he realized that the clarion call had been produced by a fierce-looking black dragon, ridden by an equally fierce-looking mage. For a moment, the young man struggled with himself. Here was a dark elf, dropped at his doorstep, and he would be expected to welcome this nefarious stranger! Finally, the beliefs of the Conclave overrode decades of Elven teachings. "Yes?" Despite the obvious effort he made to be polite, the elf's voice was harsh with disapproval.
"I am here to see Par-Salian." Dalamar wanted to waste no more time.
"Who may I say is calling, please?" The White-Robed apprentice fell into the familiar pattern of greeting strangers, and had his hands clasped behind his back.
"Dalamar the Dark, Head of the Order of the Black Robes." Dalamar couldn't resist the reinforcement that it was a Dark Elf who dared to call on the former head of the White Robes. "Tell him that it is urgent. And your name is?"
"Valgorúth. I shall inform Master Par-Salian of your request immediately, Sir." The White Robed elf spun on his heel and reentered the manor.
Stygia shifted onto three legs, and began examining the claws on one ebon limb. "Why do I get the feeling that your Master Par-Silly will need more encouragement?"
Dalamar was prevented from answering with the return of Valgorúth at the door. "Sir, my Master is quite busy at the moment, and asked me to beg your indulgence. He is performing a delicate experiment, and cannot be disturbed by visitors for several days."
Dalamar felt his temper rising again, both at the thought of his mission, and the fact that Par-Salian had asked his apprentice to lie in order to get rid of him. Before he could either answer or curse the boy into oblivion, Stygia answered for him. "Please inform Master Parsnip that we are quite content to wait." The young man bowed and went back into the mansion.
"Stygia, why did you say that? You know that we do not have time to wait for the old man to get around to seeing us!" Dalamar was furious.
Stygia craned her sinuous neck around to look at her passenger. She said nothing, only acknowledging Dalamar's anger with a toothy draconian grin. She turned around again so that she was facing the door. The dark elf could feel Stygia's back expanding as she took a deep breath. Shifting her wings so that she was aimed correctly, the black dragon let out her gust of air in the form of fire. Not a second had passed before the door to Par-Salian's house was completely incinerated.
"My dear Dalamar, I had no intention of waiting." She allowed the doorframe to burn a second longer before putting out the fire with a muttered spell. Once again, her terrible, beautiful call sounded, this time in triumph and pleasure.
The two watched the hallway as Valgorúth emerged around the corner. Upon catching sight of the decimated door, the White-Robed apprentice paled, and raced away to find his Master. By the time Par-Salian came to the spot where the door used to be, Dalamar had dismounted.
"Dalamar, what is the meaning of this? You can't just go around destroying peoples' property on a whim! I had asked you to wait." The old man's skin was blotchy from anger.
Dalamar's mouth curved into a cruel sneer. "My apologies, Master Par-Salian. Dragons do not care for human rules and boundaries." Stygia decided to show off her perfect teeth, each one larger than Par-Salian's head. Dalamar got the pleasure of seeing the former Master of the Conclave look more than a little abashed.
"I came here to ask a favor of you. I'm not the only one who has destroyed something dear to someone recently." Par-Salian looked confused, even more so when Stygia gently reached around to her back and lifted a black-shrouded body with gentle claws. "My daughter died in battle against Chaos, and it is more than partly your fault."
"My… My fault? How?" Par-Salian's voice rang with holy indignation.
"Where to start?" Dalamar steepled his fingers. "Well, for one thing, you meddled in a prophesy that you did not understand, and sentenced my daughter to a life without magic. Oh, by the way, the gods of magic let me in on a little secret. Were you aware that Catherine had nothing to do with the prophesy in the first place? No? Good. I hope it rests on your 'White' conscience that because of your meddling, an innocent life was lost for absolutely no reason.
"Your part in this is neither here nor there, however, for the moment. You are to keep my daughter's body safe. I will return within two days, at which point, you will help me with a little experiment. If you harm a single hair on her head between now and then, I will pluck the images of your worst fears from your meddling little mind, and entertain myself with them. No, I won't kill you for it. I will, however, bring you so close to death so many times that you will wish that you could die and go to the Abyss and suffer at the hands of Her Dark Majesty, just so that you could escape me. Have I made myself clear?"