the creatures, wounded and alone, turned and fled toward the cave entrance. Magda dropped her sword, the blue force fading before it reached the ground, and started casting another spell. Her rage was complete and her determination resolute. She raised her hand and released a light-lance. Brilliant light flooded the cave, dancing on the ice in dazzling fashion before striking the creature full in the back and burning a hole the size of a man’s head through its chest. It crashed to the ground.
Ixabrax casually brought the intruder impaled on his tail to his mouth and slowly chewed it before swallowing.
Magda went to Anatoly and began casting another spell, this one creating a number of glowing orbs bobbling about him, each radiating gentle warmth. His teeth began to chatter and he started to shiver violently.
Magda retrieved their blankets and laid them out beside him, then helped him roll onto the hasty bedroll to protect him from the cold of the frozen ground while the warmth of her spell soaked into him.
“Seems Zuhl has found us,” Ixabrax said, as he stood and stretched, inspecting the now healed gashes along his flank. “At least your magic worked. I believe I’m fit for flight.”
“We’ll leave as soon as Master Grace has recovered,” Magda said.
“As you wish,” Ixabrax said, casually picking up the first of the creatures to fall and eating it.
“What are those things, anyway?” Magda asked.
“They’re an abomination,” Ixabrax said. “Zuhl has crossed a man with a dragon to create a creature that should not be. He calls them drakini. They’re sterile, completely devoted to him, and none-too-bright. Even worse, they don’t taste very good, but they will sustain me until I can find a more suitable meal.” His tail darted out into the cave, stabbing the last of the three and bringing it to his mouth where it quickly disappeared.
“I haven’t eaten in over a week,” Ixabrax said. “I hope my … table manners don’t offend you.”
“Not in the least, Dragon,” Magda said. “Can you tell me how many of these drakini Zuhl has in his service?”
“Probably hundreds. He’s been breeding them for centuries. As I understand it, they don’t always survive the birthing process and then they’re slow to mature, many developing abnormalities that ultimately result in death, but some are successful. Once mature, they age as slowly as a dragon and only grow stronger with each passing year.”
“Do they have any vulnerabilities that we can exploit?” Magda asked.
“Fire and heat,” Ixabrax said. “They are immune to cold, even my breath would have no effect on them, but they fear fire. Their scales act as armor, protecting them against most attacks unless the weapon is wielded with great force or imbued with magic.”
“Delightful,” Magda said. “Has Zuhl created any other abominations we should be aware of?”
“His clergy,” Ixabrax said.
Magda frowned.
“After he captured my sire and dam, he began to circulate the story that he is the dragon god, worshipped by dragons and therefore surely worthy of human devotion. As a reward for his most devout adherents, he provides our blood to drink in ceremonial rites of passage. He calls these servants his priests and priestesses. They begin to take on some of the characteristics of the dragons whose blood they’ve consumed, a blue tinge to their skin, sharper features, talons, and catlike eyes.
“Most noteworthy is the access to the firmament they gain as a result. His clergy are capable of wielding potent magic but of a limited scope. They can create a wide variety of cold-based effects and many are capable of causing their skin to scale over for a limited time, rendering them virtually immune to normal weapons. Some few of the more advanced can actually transform themselves into the form of a dragon, though smaller and weaker than any true dragon.”
“Well, he’s just full of surprises, isn’t he?” Anatoly said.
“How are you feeling?” Magda asked.
“Cold and irritated,” he said, sitting up and scrutinizing one of the glowing orbs bobbling around him.
“For warmth,” Magda said.
“Huh,” he said, struggling to his feet. “When do we leave?”
“Once you’ve fully recovered,” Magda said.
“I’m well enough.”
“I suspect the journey will be a cold one,” Magda said. “Perhaps you should take more time to warm yourself.”
Anatoly frowned but nodded as he began unbuckling his breastplate. “I’ll never get warm with this thing on.”
“Your armor is made from the scales of a dragon,” Ixabrax said, his eyes narrowing.
“Yep, one that died during the Reishi War,” Anatoly said, ignoring the suspicious look. “We found quite a