Legends of the Dragonrealm: The Horned Blade

By Richard A. Knaak

A strange blade could turn the tide in a war between wizards and dragons in this fantasy adventure by the New York Times–bestselling author of Firedrake.

With the rebellion in dire straits, Nathan Bedlam and the Gryphon turn to a desperate spell that may win the war for them at the cost of their souls. Yet, an even darker threat lurks behind the scenes, an ancient evil whose resurrection is being instigated by none other than Nathan’s son, Azran, through his sinister creation, a magical blade housing a malevolent mind of its own . . .

The Turning War is a three-volume saga answering many of the questions concerning the Dragonrealm and the Dragon Masters and how those events yet reverberate in the current timeline.

Praise for the Legends of the Dragonrealm

“Full of energy. . . . Great world building [and] memorable characters… It’s easy to see why Richard has enjoyed so much success!” —R. A. Salvatore, New York Times–bestselling author

“Richard’s novels are well-written, adventure-filled, action-packed.” —Margaret Weis, New York Times–bestselling author

“Endlessly inventive. Knaak’s ideas just keep on coming!” —Glen Cook, author of Chronicles of the Black Company

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Sep 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781682613832

Richard A. Knaak

Richard A. Knaak is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of The Legend of Huma, World of Warcraft: Wolfheart, and nearly fifty other novels and numerous short stories, including “Black City Saint” and works in such series as Warcraft, Diablo, Dragonlance, Age of Conan, and his own Dragonrealm. He has scripted a number of Warcraft manga with Tokyopop, such as the top-selling Sunwell trilogy, and has also written background material for games. His works have been published worldwide in many languages. His most recent releases include Shade—a brand-new Dragonrealm novel featuring the tragic sorcerer—Dawn of the Aspects—the latest in the bestselling World of Warcraft series, and the fourth collection in his Legends of the Dragonrealm series. He is presently at work on several other projects.

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Praise for Legends of the Dragonrealm

"Richard Knaak’s fiction has the magic touch of making obviously fantastic characters and places come alive, seem real, and matter to the reader. That’s the essential magic of all storytelling, and Richard does deftly, making his stories always engaging and worth picking up and reading. And then re-reading.

—Ed Greenwood, creator of the Forgotten Realms®

Full of energy…. Great world building [and] memorable characters… It’s easy to see why Richard has enjoyed so much success!

—New York Times Bestselling author R.A. Salvatore

Richard’s novels are well-written, adventure-filled, action-packed!

—New York Times bestselling author Margaret Weis

Endlessly inventive. Knaak’s ideas just keep on coming!

—Glen Cook, author of Chronicles of the Black Company

Also by Richard A. Knaak

Black City Saint

Black City Demon

The Dragonrealm

Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. I

(featuring the novels Firedrake, Ice Dragon, & Wolfhelm)

Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II

(featuring the novels Shadow Steed, The Shrouded Realm, & Children of the Drake, plus the novella Skins)

Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

(featuring the novels The Crystal Dragon & The Dragon Crown, plus novellas Past Dance, Storm Lord, & The Still Lands)

Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. IV

(featuring the novels Dragon Tome & The Horse King, plus novellas Dragon Master, A Wolf in the Fold, & A Game of Ghosts)

Shade

The Turning War:

Vol. I - Dragon Masters

Vol. II – The Gryphon Mage

Vol. III – The Horned Blade

The Dragon Throne

*Vol. I - Knights of the Frost

*Vol. II - Empire of the Wolf

*Vol. III - Dragon of the Depths

The World of Warcraft

Day of the Dragon

Night of the Dragon

Stormrage

Wolfheart

The War of the Ancients:

Vol. I – The Well of Eternity

Vol. II – The Demon Soul

Vol. III – The Sundering

Dawn of the Aspects

Diablo

Legacy of Blood

Kingdom of Shadow

Moon of the Spider

The Sin War:

Vol. I – Birthright

Vol. II – Scales of the Serpent

Vol. III – The Veiled Prophet

Dragonlance

The Legend of Huma

Kaz the Minotaur

Land of the Minotaurs

Reavers of the Blood Sea

The Citadel

The Minotaur Wars:

Vol. I – Night of Blood

Vol. II – Tides of Blood

Vol. III – Empire of Blood

The Ogre Titans:

Vol. I – The Black Talon

Vol. II – The Fire Rose

Vol. III – The Gargoyle King

The Age of Conan

Vol. I – The God in the Moon

Vol. II – The Eye of Charon

Vol. III – The Silent Enemy

The Knight in Shadow

Vol. I – Dragon Mound

*Vol. II – Wake of the Wyrm

*Vol. III – The Twilight Throne

Individual Titles

The Janus Mask

Frostwing

King of the Grey

Dutchman

Shattered Light: Ruby Flames

Beastmaster: Myth

LEGENDS OF THE DRAGONREALM:

THE HORNED BLADE

(VOLUME III OF THE TURNING WAR)

BY

RICHARD A. KNAAK

A PERMUTED PRESS BOOK

ISBN (eBook): 978-1-68261-383-2

Legends of the Dragonrealm: The Horned Blade

The Turning War Book 3

© 2017 by Richard A. Knaak

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

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Permuted Press, LLC

New York & Nashville

Published in the United States of America

THE HORNED BLADE

This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved copyright 2015 by Richard A. Knaak

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the author.

Legends of the Dragonrealm:

The Turning War Trilogy

Book I: Dragon Masters

Book II: The Gryphon Mage

Book III: The Horned Blade

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to gratefully acknowledge the countless fans of this series for its longevity, with special thanks going to the following supporters:

Adam Harrison, Mary Lewinski, Jon Cazera, Samir Schwayri, Wade Atkinson, and James Evick for magically adding to the Dragon Masters’ ranks.

Matthew Warnstedt, Chris Coughlin, David Zawistowski, Jennifer Alberts, Chad Armstrong, Christopher Oldham, Justin Passmore, William & Brandy Schuster, Kevin Looney, David Moniz, Wade Atkinson, Eric Reitz & Jeremy Reynolds for their added contributions to this effort.

Jeremy Reynolds for light editing.

And everyone else who has taken it upon themselves to join in seeing more tales of the Dragonrealm come to life!

Richard A. Knaak

CONTENTS

I: Interlude’s End

II: Sssorak

III: Pagras

IV: Dark Passions

V: Ancient Evils

VI: Turning Point

VII: Birds of a Feather

VIII: The Darkness Within

IX: Mayhem in the Manor

X: The Adajian Fields

XI: Tezerenee

XII: Standing Warrior

XIII: Fears

XIV: Brothers

XV: Discovery

XVI: Trapped

XVII: Flesh and Blood

XVIII: Cabe

XIX: What Burrows Beneath

XX: The Turning

XXI: Sins of the Son

XXII: Yalak

XXIII: Sins of the Future

XXIV: Lady of the Amber

XXV: Doom over Penacles

XXVI: Lord Jekrith

XXVII: Sacrifice

XXVIII: The End of the Beginning

About the Author

I

Interlude’s End

The eleven armored figures strode through the vast cavern unconcerned about the sinister creatures lurking in the shadows around them. If anything, the malevolent shapes cloaking themselves in the cavern’s darkest recesses appeared to be the ones fearing for their existence. They flattened against the walls, sank into crevices, or burrowed through the rock as best they could in attempts to avoid notice by any of the newcomers.

At first glance, the eleven seemed cut from the same horrific cloth. More than seven feet in height, clad in scaled armor from head to toe, and wearing face-obscuring helms topped by dragon’s head crests so intricate that they seemed alive, the band marched almost in unison as they descended deeper into the gargantuan mountain known as Kivan Grath. Yet, a closer look—for any who dared—revealed individual traits that marked each for who they were.

At the head moved a warrior so black he was almost invisible in the dim illumination radiating from the walls. Near his left shoulder, a silver-hued knight eyed the passage covetously. Behind them, and almost as if twins in their arrogant attitude, came fighters of iron and bronze.

A slight gap consistently left the next in the group not only separated from those in front, but also from those following. Thin to nearly the point of emaciation, the ice-draped warrior paid no heed to his surroundings, instead seeming to be caught up in deep thought.

Eyeing the back of the frosty form with quiet distrust was a forest green figure at whose side walked a knight the color of the blue sea. They briefly murmured to one another, then grew silent.

Dread fighters of crimson, brown, and grey came next, and it would have been the matter of a long debate as to which looked the most volatile of nature. The three stood the farthest apart, as if to be too close to one another might stir a battle royal.

Lastly came perhaps the most arresting of all, a glittering knight who might have been hewn from diamond. The dim light from the walls magnified when it touched him, creating about the final warrior a multi-colored aura.

He paused. The reptilian countenance half-seen within the helm twisted into an unreadable expression. He cocked his head as if listening to something no one else could hear.

Finally, with obvious reluctance, the gleaming knight rejoined the rest.

A few moments later, they entered an even grander chamber. Stalactites and stalagmites the size of small mountains decorated their surroundings, but they paled in comparison to the rows of giant effigies flanking the newcomers’ path ahead. Creatures of both recognizable and unrecognizable appearance peered down at the band as it continued on. Gauntleted hands curled into wary fists as more than one warrior glanced at this statue or that. It was not merely that each effigy had been carved to seem very lifelike, but that every member of the group could sense the ancient powers residing in the statues. Even as skilled as all the band was in the art of magic, they knew that here were powers they either barely understood or could not comprehend at all.

But even the statues were forgotten as the armored visitors arrived at their destination. As one, they fell to their knee in homage to their master and host.

Seated upon a high-backed throne of stone set upon a dais carved from the volcanic ground beneath was a twelfth armored figure whose gleam not only matched that of the last warrior, but overwhelmed it. He stood as the rest neared, his golden armor so bright that more than one of the eleven had to briefly shield their eyes.

Ssso…at lassst we are convened, he rumbled angrily. At lassst…

It could not be helped, my lord, the forest green one very respectfully responded. Events have taken several of us—

Eventsss? Eventsss? The golden warrior literally swelled in size, growing half again as tall and as massive as the others. "Thisss isss war, not sssome ssseries of sssocial occasionsss!"

Exactly asss you sssay, my emperor, interjected the brown fighter with much eagerness, and it isss a war long passst concluding…if we act asss we should!

The forest green knight tried to speak again, but the emperor cut him off with a savage hiss before roaring, No more babbling! Let thisss council begin asss it should! Ssso I command!

And with that, the twelve warriors transformed.

Leather wings sprouted from their backs. Limbs twisted, with joints shifting to accommodate creatures that walked on four legs, not two. Hands and feet became long, sleek paws with monstrous claws. As each figure fell onto their newly formed forepaws, tails also sprouted, tails that quickly grew long and sinewy. The elaborate dragon’s head crests slid down over the half-seen faces, molding in place, and then stretching forward to become the true countenances of the twelve.

Although the eleven newcomers were now several times their previous size, they remained dwarfed by the auric behemoth perched where their leader had once stood. The golden dragon continued to magnify in size at a pace greater than the rest. The top of his ridged skull came within inches of the cavern’s high ceiling. He peered down at the other titans, each of them several sizes larger than any other dragons in all the lands. With the power that each gained as masters of their realms came enhanced abilities, magnified might.

And with the power gained as emperor of all dragons, as lord of all drakes, the golden leviathan had no peer.

Or so it had been said until late…

Despite his immense size, the Dragon Emperor’s eyes bore a wary look, as if he distrusted every potential move by the other eleven. They were all aware just how much he had relied on the guidance of the now lost thirteenth member of their party. Lord Purple had ruled Penacles, the City of Knowledge, and it had been his knowledge and the mysterious libraries at his command that had kept the human wizards tractable for so many generations previous. Yet, Purple was dead and Penacles lay in the hands of the human rebels, and, in particular, in the clawed hands of the mongrel creature called the Gryphon.

Our Lord Brown hasss it correct, the Dragon Emperor finally snarled as for the moment he shook aside his concerns about the others’ ultimate loyalties. This war is long passst concluding…Penacles lays more than a year under the control of the ssspellcasters and that thing! Why are not these rabble crushed yet? Why have none of you obeyed my edictsss in thisss regard?

The humongous head swung from one smaller dragon to the next. Although a few pairs of eyes met the emperor’s angry gaze, none held any indication of answer…until once more Lord Brown came into view.

If I may, your imperial highness, the earth-colored beast calmly replied. There isss a plan that Lord Purple and I discusssed. It isss—it is one still demanding patience, but one that promises a killing blow once and for all.

And will there be blood? the iron-hued dragon to the brown’s left demanded. Will they pay for their audacity with much blood?

Brown bared his teeth in a dragon’s equivalent of a triumphant smile. There will be much blood…more than even we could desire…

Iron snorted. "That I doubt—"

Sssilence! the Dragon Emperor roared to Iron. Explain, my Lord Brown…explain thisss plan that should have been brought to my attention long before…

The Brown Dragon cocked his head. It isss a plan that needed the correct moment and the correct puppet. My spiesss indicate to me that both are now at hand…

The Gold Dragon’s reptilian eyes narrowed. And thessse two factorsss will enable usss to put an end to the so-called Dragon Masssters and their rebellion? We will at lassst dessstroy these vermin?

In response, Lord Brown laughed. "The Dragon Masters will be destroyed, yes, my emperor…but if all goesss as planned, if all goesss as it mussst, then they will be the instruments of their own destruction…"

The gold dragon smiled wider. Elaborate for usss, my lord Brown…elaborate…

Dayn Bedlam exhaled in frustration. For months, he had followed false trail after false trail, discovering in the process that his younger brother was a much more cunning, much more secretive person than he could have ever believed.

Rich black hair divided on one side by a great streak of silver—the last the mark of a human spellcaster—spilled to Dayn’s shoulders. Youthful in appearance—as well as in age, for a member of his calling—he did not look like one of the most powerful wizards to walk the land. With his narrow, refined features, Dayn Bedlam looked more akin to one of those of the royal house of Mito Pica…no surprise since his mother had been a part of that august family. His somewhat stockier build—more akin to those of a hardworking peasant—came from his father’s side, but with that build he had also inherited the Bedlam power. There was no bloodline of wizards stronger than the Bedlams, Dayn’s sire, Nathan, considered the greatest of all spellcasters.

But Dayn was not the only one would could lay claim to the legacy of the Bedlams through his father. Azran, Dayn’s younger brother, was also very talented. Indeed, Dayn had come of late to believe Azran might even now surpass his elder sibling in both power and ability. Once, he would have been proud of that thought.

Now…now he feared for Azran because of it.

Dayn crouched behind the black rock, his defensive shields barely keeping at bay the intense heat radiating not only from the rock but the rest of his surroundings. Twice now, he had managed to track his brother to the Hell Plains—realm of the Red Dragon—but the trail always ended there. Azran had hidden his ultimate destination well, and although doing so made sense since the Dragon Kings constantly monitored their domains, Dayn could not help feeling as if his younger sibling was purposely doing so with his own family also in mind.

As to why that might be, Dayn had a dozen ideas. Many of them focused on the unsettling weapon Azran always carried, a sword of the wizard’s own making. Three times, Dayn had attempted to persuade his brother to dispose of his creation and each time the elder sibling had felt as if someone else had silently convinced Azran not to listen. Someone always at Azran’s side. Someone Dayn could neither see nor sense.

The ground ahead shook violently.

Well aware of the almost constant tremors coursing through the area, Dayn at first did not pay much attention save to adjust his balance in case the shockwave reached him. Only when the hard, dry earth began to bulge and shake in a manner not at all akin to a coming eruption did Dayn throw himself to the ground and work even harder to mask his presence. Only one thing could cause such a peculiar tremor.

The crimson leviathan burst from under the surface. He spilled out of the hole, his focus on the south. Wings stretching in preparation for a flight, the dragon sniffed the air ahead as if seeking particular prey.

Azran… Dayn quietly blurted in sudden concern.

He realized his mistake the moment his brother’s name left his lips. The dragon came to an abrupt halt. His baleful gaze shifted to where Dayn hid.

Wings spreading, the giant took to the air, then arced around. He needed but seconds to reach the wizard’s vicinity, where he hovered while he surveyed the land below.

Dayn felt no relief that the dragon was too small to be the lord of the realm himself. The hovering hunter could still swallow the human whole.

But feasting was not on the dragon’s mind. Instead, he exhaled sharply, then released a column of lava that spilled over Dayn’s hiding place.

Only the strongest of his shields kept the mage from being roasted alive. Dayn knew that he either had to flee or fight. The latter opened him up to direct assault by not only this reptilian hound but very likely his master, too. The former availed the wizard a little better, but it still meant the Red Dragon himself very likely taking notice. Had Dayn been anyone other than Nathan Bedlam’s son, the Dragon King might have decided the effort not worth it, but the emperor had long ago made the heads of the Bedlams the greatest prize of all to his subjects. The death of a Bedlam—especially their father, Nathan ---—would at the very least shake the rebellion to its foundations.

Praying that he had not also betrayed Azran’s presence, Dayn reinforced his defenses. As he did, the magical plume of molten earth increased in intensity. The dragon did not exactly know where the wizard was, but Dayn’s need to better protect himself was enabling the magical beast to slowly but surely hone in on him.

Dayn wanted desperately to leave, but now his concern for Azran outweighed that for himself. He did not want to be the cause of his brother’s discovery. If only—

The fiery plume ceased. The mage peered up to find the dragon bearing a peculiar, unsettled expression. He looked from side to side as if seeking something.

A great, moist rip suddenly spread through the crimson behemoth’s right wing. The dragon veered to the side and let loose with another blast.

Whatever he exhaled at, he evidently missed, for a second savage cut materialized in his other wing. Blood spilled to the steaming ground as the dragon fought to stay aloft despite the two horrendous injuries.

Dayn concentrated. For a moment, he thought he sensed a tiny presence below where the dragon fought to keep aloft, but then even that brief hint faded.

Another deeper gash opened in the dragon’s chest. The leviathan ceased his attack, his breath now coming in gasps. Each flap of his wings seemed to take more and more effort.

Two additional cuts materialized in the right wing. Try as he might, the dragon could no longer maintain his position.

He dropped to the ground with an earth-shaking thud. Roaring weakly, the dragon spun over and over in a circle in search of his adversary until, to Dayn’s surprise, he paused again to glare the wizard’s direction.

Only then did Dayn see the deep ravine now decorating the dragon’s throat.

A second later, the beast’s head and much of his neck toppled backward off the torso.

Startled, Dayn rose to his feet to better view the corpse, the body of which was only now tipping over.

What felt like gigantic invisible hand seized the wizard, throwing him back. The scene of carnage swiftly shrank as the unseen force propelled Dayn to the edge of the Hell Plains and beyond. He tried to fight against it, but whatever power guided it somehow anticipated his moves.

Then, before Dayn could in turn compensate, he collided with something behind him that knocked the breath from his lungs. The wizard tried to maintain his focus --

A second collision hurtled him into unconsciousness.

Azran’s breathing came in rapid gulps. Twice, he had nearly blacked out. Pain still wracked his body. His black and silver robes were soaked in sweat from his efforts. Cropped hair that was almost as much silver as it was ebony lay matted against his head.

He had never felt so exhilarated in his life.

I—did—it! Azran gasped joyously.

Yes…you have the power…no one has the power…only you…

The voice in his head was stronger than ever, but Azran only saw that as another sign of his own growing prowess. For the past few months, the voice had been as real to him as those of his family…sometimes more.

This time, there’s no mistake, though! The dragon was my kill! I even kept my brother from harm…

And your wisdom grows, too…your brother never saw the truth…

"He’ll know soon enough. They’ll all know soon enough! I told you that this stalemate couldn’t go on much longer! When the Dragon Kings stir again, Father will have to deal with the emperor! That’s when I’ll make my move! That’s when everyone will learn!"

Soon…but not yet… warned the hollow voice. First…she is owed. She is owed for both of us…and in paying the debt, you will grow more powerful yet…

The debt… Azran smirked as he stared off at the smoke-filled skies. He could already sense other servants of the Red Dragon coming to see what had happened to one of their own. In addition, shelled Jaruu soldiers were wending their way up the underground tunnel formed from the dragon’s burrowing after the mage. Azran had not known that red dragons could burrow, but the voice had.

The debt…the price…you must attend to it…

I think she might take offense at being called a ‘debt’, referring to someone other than the ‘she’ the voice had first mentioned. She really is a clever, fascinating female. If it wasn’t for the fact—

The debt must be paid… This time, the words were accompanied by a dangerous humming from the sword in Azran’s left hand. The black sword with the curved handle. The sword already known to a few as the Horned Blade.

Yes, yes, of course… muttered the young mage with some irritation. There’s been so much going on…and too much unintended interference—

But you are strong…we are strong…

Azran grinned. Yes…as you say… He chuckled. You think she missed me much?

The voice did not answer, which was answer enough to the wizard. Still chuckling, Nathan’s youngest son reached into the belt pouch hanging on his right side. He did not remove what his probing fingers found within, but rather gently caressed it as one might have caressed the cheek of a lover.

"My son…" Azran whispered as he faded away. "Soon, she will give me my son…"

II

Sssorak

I can sense it in the air, the ground, in my very being. The lull is over. The war’s going to return in earnest.

Nathan Bedlam shuddered as he stared beyond Penacles’ northern walls to the landscape far beyond. He had returned to the City of Knowledge after more than a month in seclusion with the remnants of what the rest of the rebellion called the Dragon Masters. Few of the surviving spellcasters saw themselves by such a lofty title even if in truth it might have been well-deserved if one did count the number of the drakes slain by the band…and especially Nathan. The eldest of the Bedlams had gained several titles of his own, none of which he felt worthy in the least for one particular reason.

We are losing this war. No one else sees that, but I know it’s true. Nathan frowned. More than once, he had asked Yalak of the Egg, his greatest and oldest friend, what his foresight could tell the rebels. Yet, while each time Yalak spoke of a future where humans and other races were free of the Dragon Kings’ yokes, Nathan always thought he caught an odd tone in the balding mage’s voice.

The others…the others all took the prediction to heart even at the worst of times. Some even reveled in the expected victory.

The tall, sturdily built wizard brushed his blue robes off as he turned from the view. The Gryphon had promised that he would not keep his guest waiting more than a quarter and it had already been twice that. Granted, the libraries could make one lose all sense of time, but the lionbird was perhaps the most literal, most honest creature that Nathan had ever met. It was why despite his inhuman appearance, he could stir men and women to victory for a cause so many otherwise might have felt hopeless. The Gryphon had single-handedly kept a revolt alive when even Nathan and the rest of the spellcasters had served the drake lords, not battled them.

Forgive me for keeping you waiting, an unusually deep voice said from the balcony entrance. A lithe figure strode out to meet the wizard, a figure who, perhaps from a tremendous distance, might have been taken for a man. The Gryphon was male, true, and to Nathan’s surprise could take on the semblance of a man, but no one who saw the rebel leader clearly could have taken him for anything other than the title by which he was known.

In appearance if not attitude, the Gryphon was the living embodiment of the savage beast. His face was in general that of a raptor, an eagle, including a long, sharp beak capable of biting through flesh and bone. The eyes were almost human, but still retained an avian trace. A thick, leonine mane not only framed the face, but flowed for some length behind. Toward the end, the fur mixed with feathers, just as it did on the Gryphon’s clawed hands.

No streak of silver marked the Gryphon, his magic unique to him. Nathan knew fragments concerning the lionbird’s background and would have dearly wanted to hear the rest, but the Gryphon kept those secrets even from him. The wizard respected that, aware that his host did so as much to protect the human as to protect himself.

I think I detect a pattern to the damned clues the libraries give, the Gryphon went on, but it’s been slow going.

I’m sorry to hear that. Nathan glanced over his shoulder at lands to the north. Very sorry.

You feel it, too, then. The Gryphon stepped past the wizard. The fur and feathers on the end of his neck had stiffened. Our time is up.

There’s been no actual hint, though—

The avian face turned back to him. "Oh, yes. There has. My agents tell me that there’s been much movement in and around Kivan Grath."

So…there it is, the mage thought sadly. When the rebellion had taken Penacles and the Gryphon had shown the other Dragon Kings what had happened to its former master, the startling turn of events had put an immediate halt to the war. Here and there had been skirmishes, secret plots, and insidious traps, but no major battle had taken place. Month after month had passed, creating a false sense of peace with which so many were willing to delude themselves.

And now…

And what does Yalak say about all this? the new Lord of Penacles asked when Nathan did not speak. "What does he see, if he sees anything?"

He still sees a victory ahead. That’s how he phrases it. A victory ahead.

The Gryphon let out a low growl akin to one of the great cats he partially resembled. He is not telling us something relevant.

Yalak would not let the rebellion fail. He knows what that means to so many.

Why am I not so certain of that?

Nathan at last took some umbrage. "I will swear by