The Second Generation

Looking around, Palin saw Sturm’s body bathed in sweat, his eyes wild, his fists clenched. Even Tanin, so strong and unbending, was staring straight ahead, his skin pale, his lips tight, seeing some vision of glory visible only to himself.

Dougan stood in the center of the pentagram, watching them, not saying a word.

Palin held fast to the staff, nearly sobbing in his torment. Pressing his cheek against the cool wood, he heard words forming in his mind. All my life, I was my own person. The choices I made, I made of my own free will. I was never held in thrall by anyone or anything; not even the Queen of Darkness herself! Bow to others in reverence and respect, but never in slavery, Nephew!

Palin blinked, looking around as though awaking from a daze. He wasn’t conscious of having heard the words, but they were in his heart, and he had the strength now to know their worth. No! he was able to tell the Graygem firmly, and it was then that he realized the black dragon behind him was undergoing similar torture.

“But I don’t want to flay the skin from their bones!” the dragon whimpered. “Well, yes, I wouldn’t mind having my island back the way it was. And ten maidens who would act like maidens and not turn into poets.”

Looking at the dragon in alarm, Palin saw its red eyes gleaming feverishly. Acid dripped from its forked tongue, burning holes in the polished floor; its claws glistened. Spreading its wings, the dragon lifted itself into the air.

“Tanin! Sturm!” Palin cried, grasping hold of the nearest brother and shaking him. It was Tanin. Slowly the big man turned his eyes to his little brother, but there was no recognition in them.

“Help me, wizard!” Tanin hissed at him. “Help me slay the dwarf! I’ll be the leader of armies”

“Dougan!” Palin ran to the dwarf. “Do something!” the young mage shouted wildly, waving his arms at the dragon.

“I am, laddie, I am,” said Dougan calmly, his eyes on the Graygem.

Palin could see the black dragon’s eyes watching him hungrily. The black wings twitched.

I’ll cast a sleep spell, Palin decided in desperation, reaching into his pouches for sand. But as he drew it forth a horrible realization came to him.

His fingers went limp, the sand trickled from them, spilling down upon the floor. His magic was gone!

“No, please, no!” Palin moaned, looking up at the Gray-gem', which appeared to sparkle with a chaotic malevolence.

The wooden door to the room burst open, banging against the wall.

“We have come as you commanded us, Graygem!” cried a voice.

It was the voice of the dark-haired beauty. Behind her was the blonde, and behind them all the rest of the women, young and old alike. But gone were the diaphanous gowns and seductive smiles. The women were dressed in tiger skins. Feathers were tied in their hair, and they carried stone-tipped spears in their hands.

And now Tanin’s voice rang out loudly as a trumpet call, “My troops! To my side! Rally round!” Raising his arm, he gave a battle cry and the women answered with a wild shout.

“Bring me wine!” cried Sturm, executing an impromptu dance. “Let the revelry begin!”

The blonde’s eyes were on him and they burned with lust.

Unfortunately, it was lust of the wrong kind. She raised her spear, her eyes looking to her leader—Tanin—for the order to attack.

“You promise me?” said the black dragon eagerly, its forked tongue flicking in and out of its dripping mouth. “No more gully dwarves? I didn’t mind the rest so much, but I won’t be changed into a gully dwarf again!”

“The world’s gone mad!” Palin slumped back against the wall. He felt his strength and his sanity draining from him as the sand fell from his nerveless fingers. The chaos around him and the loss of his magic had overthrown his mind. He stared at the Staff of Magius and saw nothing more than a stick of wood, topped by a glistening bauble. He heard his brothers, one dispersing his troops for battle, the other calling for the pipers to strike up another tune. He heard the dragon’s great wings creak and the intake of breath that would be released in a stream of acid. Shutting his eyes, Palin cast the useless staff away from him and turned his face to the wall.

“Halt!” thundered a voice. “Halt, I command you!”

Chaos whirled wildly an instant longer, then it slowed and finally wound down until all was silence and stillness in the room where before had been a blur of noise and motion. Dougan stood on the pentagram in the center of the room, his black beard bristling in anger. Raising his arm, he cried out, “Reorx Drach Kalahzar” and a gigantic warhammer materialized in the dwarf’s hand. The huge hammer glowed with a fierce red light that was reflected in Dougan’s dark, bright eyes.