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The Last Dragon Orb
The orb Par-Salian looked at, the last in
existence, was controlled by Raistlin Majere. How was that possible?
Par-Salian was a powerful wizard, perhaps one of the most powerful ever
to have lived, and he wondered if he would have the courage to lay his
hands on the orb that could seize hold of a wizard's mind and keep him
enthralled, caught forever in a twisted, living nightmare, as it had
done the wretched Lorac. The young mage, Raistlin Majere, had dared to
do so, and he had succeeded in bending the orb to his will.
As Par-Salian gazed into the orb, both
fascinated and repelled, he had his answer. He could see the figure of a
man, an old, old man, barely skin and bones, more dead than alive. The
old man's fists were clenched in fury, he seemed to be shouting,
screaming in rage, but his screams went unheard.
Par-Salian looked in amazement and awe at
Raistlin, who gave a confirming nod.
"You are right, Master of the Conclave.
The prisoner is Fistandantilus. I would tell you the story, but there is
no time. You must all be quiet. Speak no word. Make no movement. Do not
even breathe."
Raistlin placed his hands upon the dragon
orb. He cried out in pain as hands reached out from the orb and grabbed
hold of him. He closed his eyes and gasped.
"I command out, Viper, summon Cyan
Bloodbane," said Raistlin. His voice was a gasp. He shuddered, yet he
kept his hands firmly on the orb.
"Bloodbane is a green dragon!" Ladonna
said. "He lied! He means to kill us!"
"Hush!" Par-Salian ordered.
Raistlin was intent upon the orb,
listening to an unheard voice, the voice of the orb, and apparently he
did not like what it was saying.
"You cannot relax your guard!" he said
angrily, speaking to the dragon within the orb. "You must not set him
free!"
The hands of the orb tightened on
Raistlin's, and he gasped in pain from either the strengthening grip of
the agony of the decision he was being asked to make.
"So be it," Raistlin said at last.
"Summon the dragon!"
Par-Salian, staring at the orb, saw the
colors swirl wildly. The tiny figure of Fistandantilus disappeared.
Raistlin grimaced, but he kept his hands on the orb, concentrating his
will on it, oblivious to what was happening around him.
"Ladonna, are you mad? Stop!" Justarius
cried.
Ladonna paid no heed. Par-Salian saw a
flash of steel and leaped at her. He managed to grab hold of her hand
and tried to wrest away the knife. Ladonna turned on him, striking at
him and slashing a bloody gash in his chest. Par-Salian staggered back,
staring down at the red stain on his white robes.
Ladonna lunged at Raistlin. He paid no
heed. The orb began to glow with a bright, green gaseous radiance.
Tendril-like mists swirled out of the orb and wrapped around Ladonna's
body. She screamed and writhed. The smell was noxious. Par-Salian
covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve. Justarius began to gasp for
air and stumbled to the window.
"Do not harm them, Viper," Raistlin said.
The tendrils released their grip on
Ladonna, who sagged back into a chair. Justarius was trying to catch his
breath, staring out the window.
"Par-Salian," Justarius said and pointed.
Par-Salian looked out.
A dragon circled the Tower of High
Sorcery, his massive body shining a sickly gray-green in the lambent
light of a moonless sky.
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