87 "It has been a good time. My Lord, I will remember you."

The sunlight was almost gone. I wondered if I'd be around to see it come back again.

I sat on my haunches in the snow and watched the western sky fade from peach and orange to gold and scarlet, then slowly swallowed up by ultramarine that was itself being devoured by black. The first stars began to emerge; I studied them for several minutes, then dropped my gaze to the clearing I'd been pacing for several hours now, and to those I shared it with. Lady Dithra and Stefan had come up here a little while ago, and we'd talked for a time about small, inconsequential things.

Eventually, though, the light conversation ground to a halt and silence reigned for a time. Dithra finally turned to me. "Dear one," she asked "is there any way that I can turn you from this course?"

I chuckled sadly, my mane jangling quietly as I shook my head. "Is there any other course left to take, my Lady? No; like a certain human commander once said long ago, the die is cast. There is no going back. This battle must be fought." I sighed, looked at the ancient dragoness "You understand this, probably far better than I do."

Dithra gazed at me for a long moment, her gray-green eyes dark with sadness and regret. "Yes. Yes, I am afraid that I do." She looked away. "I am sorry, young one; I had hoped for so much better for you."

I felt one corner of my hard mouth curve upward into a humorless smile. "Things rarely turn out the way we intend, my Lady, for good or for ill." I sighed. "The humans have it right, you know; the only justice to be had in this life is what you rip from the underbelly of this uncaring universe." I winced slightly at my words, realizing whom I had unconsciously paraphrased. I looked up at the sky. "You'd best leave, my Lady; they'll be coming soon."

Dithra glanced upward, nodded reluctantly. "Yes, but not before I complete one final task." Her gaze swung back to me, her eyes ironic. "You may not have realized it, but the elders and the Council were not the only ones Challenged that day, young Hasai, which left me in a most interesting position; one that, I suspect in all honesty, was what truly annoyed me the most about the situation. The problem can, however, be simply remedied. Stefan, please bear witness."

Before I could react, Dithra folded gracefully into the same posture I had seen more than a few clan elders assume in the previous days, and intoned the same words of capitulation to me. Numbly I watched as she straightened, her eyes holding a trace of amusement as she studied my stunned expression. A trace of amusement, and, perhaps, something else. "Lord Hasai," she began, her voice sounding strange in my ears "in our short time together I have found you to be impetuous, overconfident, independent to the extreme, and infuriating to the brink of insanity." The amusement faded, the other emotion grew stronger. "It has been a good time. My Lord, I will remember you."

The ancient dragoness watched me for a moment longer, watched as I opened my jaws, closed them, nodded silently. Then she turned and walked away, quickly disappearing into the surrounding trees.

"My Lord, I know of only one other dragon who courts death as readily as you, and he is on the other side. Are you as mad as he, or are you simply the most courageous dragon I have ever known?"

I grimaced, then turned to face Stefan, who stood a short distance away. "I am not a brave person, Stefan; far from it. But I'm not crazy, either." I chuckled grimly "Or at least I don't think I am. No," I sobered, searching for the right words "it's just that-- It's just that some things have to be done, and if I don't do them, who the hell is going to?" I asked lamely.

A thought occurred to me then, and a short, sharp bark of amusement escaped my jaws, though it felt like it should have been a sob. "I am about to cover myself with shame, Stefan; I am about to use our people's sense of honor as a weapon against them. But I would do it again, and again and again and again, if it meant I could save them from themselves. Many of our people will curse my name after this night, but I can live with that. Hell, I can die with that, knowing that at least I tried."

And how are you different, then, from your adversaries? hissed a certain wraith. I winced.

Stefan eyed me warily, his form very still. "My Lord, you sounded so very confident before, yet I hear none of that confidence now. Why?"

"Because if I hadn't sounded confident, Heaven and Hell together would not have been able to keep Luce, Deebs, and the rest of the troops from standing here with me, and in doing so destroying everything." I cocked my head as a distant rumble came to my ears. I looked back at Stefan. "They're coming. Stefan, if I fall, remember there is a letter for you as well. You may not understand what's in it, but swear to me you will not only follow it exactly, but ensure everyone else does as well. Swear that to me now."

The sound was swiftly growing louder. Stefan gave the skies an uneasy glance, then bowed to me. "Upon my honor, my Lord, upon my honor." He hesitated, glanced up at the rumbling sky again then back down to me. "My Lord, if there is any way-- Let me stand with you. Please."

"I wish to both God and Ancestors that you could, Stefan, but I can't think of any way. Go, soldier. Go now."

His normal impassivity in tatters, Stefan gave me one last, agonized look, then turned and fled down the way Dithra had taken earlier. Mere seconds after he had vanished into the trees the rolling thunder resolved itself as the sound of vast, leathery wings beating the air as dozens of huge, reptilian forms hove into view over the flank of the mountain.

So many. Even after all of Dithra's efforts, still so many . . . . I gave my head a sharp shake, forced my talons to unclench themselves from the icy soil. A moment to steady my thoughts, then the sphere of the Lung snapped into being next to me, its soft glow gently illuminating my immediate surroundings. The elder dragons soaring above me saw the glow, seemed to hesitate, then began to settle in for a landing.

Huge, clawed feet slammed down onto the ground, then again, and again. Soon the clearing was filled almost to capacity with armored bodies, their eyes glowing like multicolored lanterns as they stared either at me, or, more often, at the sphere.

A moment of near-silence ensued, then was broken by a stirring in the ranks facing me as Ahnkar shouldered his way to the fore. He stared at me for a long moment, then raised his eyes to look at the empty forest behind me. "You are alone?" he spoke at last, his tone incredulous "You would face all of us? Alone?"

"Not all of you, Ahnkar," I replied mockingly "as it seems your ranks have thinned just a bit since last we met."

"No! Do not speak with it! Just kill it!" Another commotion and Ksstha fought his way forward, his eyes glowing like twin bonfires as they glared at me with a mixture of revulsion and fear. "Kill it now, before it is too late!"

Ahnkar gave a twitch of annoyance, made a quelling gesture with one forepaw. Several of the dragons around him moved in response to block Ksstha. "Hasai, we can yet avoid this foolishness," he began, his voice almost pleading. "Cease this madness and pledge your fealty, if not to me, then to the will of the Council itself--"

I gave him a savage grin, then raised my own voice, cutting him off. "WHOSE HEAD IS HELD HIGHEST HERE?"

Ahnkar gave me a despairing look as I slammed the last door shut, a look that settled into a grim bleakness. "Mine is the head that is held highest here, and highest it shall remain. I am here, at thy behest, to settle our accounts."

"And so it shall be." I paused, then turned to pluck the sphere of the Lung from the air and hold it in my upturned forepaw before my opponents. "You fear this, don't you?" I watched, my fangs baring themselves in a carnivore's grin as the closest of the elders drew back slightly, their eyes apprehensive. "And well you should. If any of you were willing to learn the lessons of the past, you would not be here at all, but instead would have sought a different way. But you do not learn, do you? A dragon is reduced to nothingness before your very eyes, and you do not learn. I suppose I should not be surprised, as you failed to learn your lessons regarding the humans, as well." I gave then a look packed with as much scorn as I could muster. "I have seen whole cities devoured by the flames of war. My parents, my own Ancestors, saw entire continents burn. And still, Ahnkar, you and yours have learned nothing about war against the humans."

The clearing was thick with tension. Only indecision and curiosity kept the elders from attacking that very instant. My very body was vibrating with that tension. The human half of my soul was crooning Phil Collins' In The Air Tonight, as it reveled in it. My killer's smile grew wider, and I chuckled grimly. "Perhaps another lesson would do the trick? Oh, no; not with this--" I responded to the tension that immediately curdled the very atmosphere, then suddenly took the sphere and flicked it high into the air much the way a human would flip a coin, where it disappeared with a quiet snap "--but with this."

That old pain swept over me once more. Within seconds what stood before those stunned elders was not a steel-armored dragon, but a human soldier in full winter battle dress. Ahnkar stared down at me in utter confusion as I grinned at him, swung my empty hands wide, walked toward him. "Well, Ahnkar? Shall we begin?"

I took one, two steps forward, then the ground collapsed beneath my feet. I yanked my arms back in to keep them from snagging on the sides of the slit trench as I fell, then my combat boots hit bottom with a thud. Up above there was a fraction of a second of deadly silence, then an ear-shattering roar erupted from a dozen throats and the slice of sky above me was blotted out by a wave of searing flame. I gritted my teeth against the wash of heat penetrating my body armor, scrabbled for the little clacker that sat in its small, earthen cubbyhole in the trench wall, its dull-green frame wrapped in bright yellow tape so I wouldn't miss it. My frantic hands grabbed it, flipped down the safety bale, squeezed down hard on the thick plastic lever. . . .

Clack!