slept? I guarded you, master, I swear it—”
Vestapalk’s eyes flared and he lunged, snapping massive teeth in front of Tiktag’s muzzle. “If Vestapalk believed you tried to prevent this, wyrmpriest, he would destroy you in an instant!” But his snout curved into a sneer. “Not that you could have. It is the will of the Eye. It is Vestapalk’s fate.” The dragon pulled back. “It was Vestapalk’s very enemies who made this possible! The death knight. The human woman. Their wounding of Vestapalk brought the source of his transformation to him. If Vestapalk encounters them again, he will show them what their anger did before he pulls their intestines from their bodies. Vestapalk knew the woman, too. He recognized her scent. And the scent of a halfling. They had attacked him before.”
“The woman’s name is Shara, master. I heard her companions call to her. The halfling is Uldane.” Tiktag rolled the name on his tongue. “He wounded me, master. If we encounter them again, may his death be mine?”
“If Vestapalk doesn’t kill him first, his death will be yours.” Vestapalk raised his head high and stared down his snout at Tiktag. “Your concern for Vestapalk’s well-being was misplaced, but your loyalty is noticed.”
Pride flooded Tiktag’s small body. He rose to his feet. “Will you eat, master? There is meat. Fresh meat gathered by your new tribe.”
Vestapalk’s features crinkled with amusement. “This tribe?” he asked and flicked his head. Tiktag twisted around to look behind him.
The tribe filled the entrance to the cavern. Sistree, the hunters, the clutch-guardians, the hatchlings—all knelt and stared at Vestapalk in rapt, silent adoration. Tiktag whirled on Sistree. “I told you to keep them out!”
“You said to keep them under control. They wanted to see the dragon.” Sistree’s eyes didn’t move from Vestapalk. “He is magnificent!”
Tiktag raced back to throw himself before Vestapalk’s claws. “Master, they are fools. I told them not to disturb us. Do you want the meat? I will have them fetch it. I will send the hunters out for more—”
“No.” The dragon rose onto all four legs and paced back and forth in the cave. “No. Vestapalk has been here long enough. The Eye showed him where he must be next. The Voidharrow is within Vestapalk, but his power is not complete.”
“Voidharrow, master?” Tiktag rolled the strange word on his tongue.
Vestapalk glared at him, then suddenly spat at Tiktag’s feet. The kobold jumped back, staring at a blob of liquid red crystal as it bubbled and seethed on the rock.
“The source of change, wyrmpriest. The source of Vestapalk’s new power. But Vestapalk needs more than just the Voidharrow. He must seek out the One Who Gathers.” His gaze turned distant and Tiktag knew that his master was speaking as much to himself as he was to his servant. “A month lying wounded? Is Vestapalk too late? Has the Gatherer waited and gone? No. The Eye sees all. This follows the will of the Eye. The Gatherer will be there.”
“Where, master?” Tiktag asked, raising himself up again. “Where will this Gatherer be?”
Vestapalk looked at him and blinked, then focused as if seeing him for the first time. “Away from here,” he said. “Come, Tiktag. Prepare.” He turned toward the cave entrance and the chasm beyond.
The tribe started to shift and murmur as the dragon came closer—and most of the murmuring was fear and dismay that their new master should already want to leave them. Tiktag felt a burst of alarm, not so much for the tribe he had stolen and used but for Vestapalk. “Away? Fly? Master, you can’t. You’ve just woken. You need to rest and eat. The meat—”
Vestapalk cut him off again. “Meat is not what Vestapalk needs. The Voidharrow sustains him, but he must also sustain the Voidharrow.”
He loomed over the tribe. A few hunters finally rose to their feet. A hatchling cried out and was slapped into silence by its
Vestapalk’s eyes flared and he lunged, snapping massive teeth in front of Tiktag’s muzzle. “If Vestapalk believed you tried to prevent this, wyrmpriest, he would destroy you in an instant!” But his snout curved into a sneer. “Not that you could have. It is the will of the Eye. It is Vestapalk’s fate.” The dragon pulled back. “It was Vestapalk’s very enemies who made this possible! The death knight. The human woman. Their wounding of Vestapalk brought the source of his transformation to him. If Vestapalk encounters them again, he will show them what their anger did before he pulls their intestines from their bodies. Vestapalk knew the woman, too. He recognized her scent. And the scent of a halfling. They had attacked him before.”
“The woman’s name is Shara, master. I heard her companions call to her. The halfling is Uldane.” Tiktag rolled the name on his tongue. “He wounded me, master. If we encounter them again, may his death be mine?”
“If Vestapalk doesn’t kill him first, his death will be yours.” Vestapalk raised his head high and stared down his snout at Tiktag. “Your concern for Vestapalk’s well-being was misplaced, but your loyalty is noticed.”
Pride flooded Tiktag’s small body. He rose to his feet. “Will you eat, master? There is meat. Fresh meat gathered by your new tribe.”
Vestapalk’s features crinkled with amusement. “This tribe?” he asked and flicked his head. Tiktag twisted around to look behind him.
The tribe filled the entrance to the cavern. Sistree, the hunters, the clutch-guardians, the hatchlings—all knelt and stared at Vestapalk in rapt, silent adoration. Tiktag whirled on Sistree. “I told you to keep them out!”
“You said to keep them under control. They wanted to see the dragon.” Sistree’s eyes didn’t move from Vestapalk. “He is magnificent!”
Tiktag raced back to throw himself before Vestapalk’s claws. “Master, they are fools. I told them not to disturb us. Do you want the meat? I will have them fetch it. I will send the hunters out for more—”
“No.” The dragon rose onto all four legs and paced back and forth in the cave. “No. Vestapalk has been here long enough. The Eye showed him where he must be next. The Voidharrow is within Vestapalk, but his power is not complete.”
“Voidharrow, master?” Tiktag rolled the strange word on his tongue.
Vestapalk glared at him, then suddenly spat at Tiktag’s feet. The kobold jumped back, staring at a blob of liquid red crystal as it bubbled and seethed on the rock.
“The source of change, wyrmpriest. The source of Vestapalk’s new power. But Vestapalk needs more than just the Voidharrow. He must seek out the One Who Gathers.” His gaze turned distant and Tiktag knew that his master was speaking as much to himself as he was to his servant. “A month lying wounded? Is Vestapalk too late? Has the Gatherer waited and gone? No. The Eye sees all. This follows the will of the Eye. The Gatherer will be there.”
“Where, master?” Tiktag asked, raising himself up again. “Where will this Gatherer be?”
Vestapalk looked at him and blinked, then focused as if seeing him for the first time. “Away from here,” he said. “Come, Tiktag. Prepare.” He turned toward the cave entrance and the chasm beyond.
The tribe started to shift and murmur as the dragon came closer—and most of the murmuring was fear and dismay that their new master should already want to leave them. Tiktag felt a burst of alarm, not so much for the tribe he had stolen and used but for Vestapalk. “Away? Fly? Master, you can’t. You’ve just woken. You need to rest and eat. The meat—”
Vestapalk cut him off again. “Meat is not what Vestapalk needs. The Voidharrow sustains him, but he must also sustain the Voidharrow.”
He loomed over the tribe. A few hunters finally rose to their feet. A hatchling cried out and was slapped into silence by its
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