Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,239

not matter; he believed the avian when it spoke of the dragons and their deadly strength. Much larger than either a Vraad or bird man, the three flying drakes were wreaking havoc. The invaders, Rendel was informed, were refraining from using their medallions for fear of striking down their own. Drakes were swift and agile despite their girth. It would require a practiced aim and great daring to bring down the beasts without adding a few feathered misfits, too.

Rendel shot back the image of his people as warriors, leaving an unformed question concerning the avians’ abilities in the same role. As he had expected, it made the huge figure furious. He removed his hand from Rendel’s forehead and pulled the hapless sorcerer forward so that the razorlike beak was within snapping range of the spellcaster’s pale visage. The Tezerenee stumbled at the last moment, falling against his irate captor. The creature pushed the cloaked figure back. With its great strength, Rendel fairly flew, landing several paces from where he had stood. To his surprise, the two warriors dismissed him from their attention, refocusing on the scene in the crystal. They apparently felt they had no more use for his knowledge, something he was not ready to dissuade them concerning. Only the elder still eyed him.

Rising to his feet, the sorcerer pretended to brush himself off. The damnable, half-plucked bird was still staring at him when he finally gave up the effort. Rendel put one hand to his mouth and coughed, starting back to the trio at the same time.

The elder’s attention strayed back to the images of the battle before it evidently occurred to him that their prisoner was a thing not to be trusted despite the dampening of his sorcery. A watery but wary eye looked Rendel’s way.

It was a decision made a breath too late. The unsupervised moment was all the Tezerenee needed. The one thing Barakas had taught him that Rendel had come to appreciate was to use anything possible as a means to an end. He had planned something similar to the provoked attack by his one guard, but a bit later. Circumstances had, however, worked to his benefit.

He had the medallion focused on the trio even as the ancient one became aware of the threat the Vraad intended.

Rendel had palmed the medallion knowing only that it had been designed to kill. He neither knew nor cared what sort of deadly force had been trapped inside by its maker, only that it would suffice as a means of removing the three tensed figures before him. The avians had assumed he did not know how to utilize it, but the spellcaster had used every glance to study the artifacts, noting how the markings were fingered and how it had to be focused. Now, his studies had rewarded him. He concentrated, willing the spell of the medallion to come forth and looking forward to the pathetic cries of those who had dared to make him their slave.

Nothing happened.

The amusement in the eyes of the one he had stolen the magical item from told the story. Rendel’s prize was an empty vessel, a useless ornament. They had allowed him to betray himself, to pick the time of his own demise. As his face reddened in anger—anger at himself for being so easy a pawn—Rendel thought how like the clan of the dragon these creatures were. How often had Barakas employed similar methods?

The patrol leader strode toward him, needle-sharp claws waiting to rend, beak open in the closest the avian could come to a cold smile. A low, reverberating sound issued forth, laughter of a sort.

Rendel did the only thing left to him—he ran. The entrance to the caverns themselves was blocked by his executioner. That left only one path. He would have to hope he could escape to the lower tunnels and lose himself.

A malevolent form swooped down before him. The avian had flown over his head and blocked his way. Rendel swore and ducked among the stone leviathans, wishing he knew how to tap into the power he felt within them. Yet the birds had tried countless times and they had not succeeded. It was why they had sent explorers overseas. There likely lay the key to understanding and utilizing the elemental forces sleeping deep inside each figure.

Claws struck stone just inches from his throat. Rendel let out a yelp and scurried to a different effigy, this one a muscular, horned beast that looked as if the artist