Far to the north in the city of Sanction, another battle raged. Gold and silver dragons, Knights of Solamnia, elves, and men fought the forces of the Dark Queen Takhisis for the city Crucible had rebuilt. While men and elves died in the skies and at the walls of the city, the goddess herself arrived in a storm of black clouds to descend in a chariot drawn by five dragons. She stepped from her chariot into the sands of a killing arena and surveyed the captive audience that awaited her pleasure. They would witness her entrance into the mortal world, and they would grovel before her.

One woman waited for her on the dismal sand. A young woman-a girl really-with short red hair, amber eyes, and the power to lead an army. This girl had given everything to her Queen and now she waited, her head bowed, her soul willing to make the sacrifice of life itself for her One God.

Takhisis stretched out her hand to take the girl’s offering.

She met resistance. Before her eyes her power failed, and her forces retreated in dismay.

She, who had dared to steal a world and hold in it thrall, realized her plans were collapsing around her.

The other immortals had found her at last, had found the world she had hidden from them.

The gods had returned.

Clear and bright as sunlight on morning dew, a warbling song pierced through the darkness of the tunnel. It sprang into the cavern and echoed off the walls like the first bird songs of spring. There were words in the joyful melody that stripped away the black fog of Linsha’s mind and spread through her thoughts with dawning comprehension.

Varia burst into the cave crying at the top of her impressive voice. “The gods! They have returned!” She swirled and dipped overhead, singing in delight.

Linsha felt Lanther falter. His magic, once so powerful and overwhelming, seemed to drain from her mind. The pain faded to a throbbing ache.

Lanther shook his head. “No! Takhisis, hear me!”

He got no answer. Linsha had spoken many times of the gods. She had used their names, listened to her parents’ stories, and talked to Solamnic clerics who refused to give up their belief in the deities. But not once had she ever truly beseeched a god for help… until she felt the magic of the Akkad-Dar fail and sensed with unutterable certainty that the gods of her people had finally returned to their world.

Kiri-Jolith! she implored to the god most beloved of the Solamnic Knights. Help me!

For the first time in her life, her prayer was answered. Love, hot and sweet, filled her muscles and bones; reassurance surged through her mind. She rose out of the soft earth, knocking Lanther off her chest. He reached for her throat, but she slammed his hands aside and grabbed a fistful of his dragonscale cuirass.

He had sought to use the magic power of the dragon scales for his own evil, but the scales were brass. Brass dragons were metallic-dragons of good, dragons of the light. Their power could not be corrupted for long.

This time a Majere sought the magic of the scales, and there was nothing to stop her. Her own inherent talent and empathy for dragons drew the magic into her mind, increased it five times over, and bent it to her will. She sent it lashing back into the Akkad-Dar, reinforced by all the pent-up grief and anger he had caused.

The magic exploded within him. His hands clamped on his head, and his face contorted with his inner agony. He screamed until his voice broke. He toppled backwards, pulling the cuirass out of Linsha’s hand. His body convulsed a few times and then he lay softly moaning, his eyes staring vacantly at the stone ceiling.

The power faded from Linsha’s control, leaving her both weak and exhilarated. Shaking, she stepped around the mound to fetch the sword she had left. Lanther appeared to be in a stupor, but unconscious or not, she was going to finish what she should have done in the garden house at the imperial palace. Lanther would not live to see another day.

“Linsha!” Varia called. “Come up here! Something is not right!” The owl fluttered above the mound, looking down at the eggs.

All thoughts of Lanther and the sword vanished. Linsha climbed up the soft side of the mound and saw with alarm that the eggs were rocking back and forth.

“Oh, no,” she breathed. “I don’t know anything about hatching dragons!”

“Don’t they just do it themselves?” Varia asked, dropping down to her shoulder.

Linsha swallowed hard. The depth of her lack of knowledge about baby dragons hit her like a punch to the abdomen. She didn’t know what to do to help them.

“Most of the time,” she said. “I… I think. But these have been…altered. They are hatching too soon, and these eggs are different! Those shells are soft, but they’re tough. They won’t crack. Maybe the membranes are too thick. If the dragonlets can’t get out of their shells…”

She couldn’t finish the words. She climbed down into the nest with the eggs and gently put a hand over one. A silent, frantic plea for help radiated from the egg into her head. She stretched out her hands over all the eggs and felt the same desperation from each one.

“They’re in trouble!” she cried. “What do I do?”

“Stay with them. I think they will sense your presence. I will go find Danian.”

Varia hooted and swooped out of the cavern.

The assurance that the tribal shaman was close by and could come to help steadied Linsha’s panicky thoughts. Danian had nursed Crucible back to health. He could find a way to help these babies. She thought of Kiri-Jolith again, and after saying a heartfelt prayer of thanks, she added one more plea for the health of the babies and the life of the bronze dragon who had given so much for her.

“Hold on, Crucible,” she whispered.

“Linsha!”

She was startled to hear a familiar voice call down the tunnel. Hooves pounded on the stone floor, and to her great relief and delight, Varia flew into the cave followed by a centaur she knew very well. Leonidas. The young buckskin trotted into the cavern carrying two men on his back-one an older tribesman with milky blind eyes and the other a young fair-skinned Outlander with red hair. They both slid off the centaur and hurried up the mound.

“Leonidas, remind me to tell you later how glad I am to see you,” Linsha called down before she greeted the two newcomers. Swiftly she told them about the eggs and the Tarmaks’ insidious experiments.

Danian knelt in the sand beside Linsha and laid his hands on an egg. His sightless eyes stared thoughtfully into the distance. “These babies are in distress,” he said. “They must be released from their eggs.”

“I know,” Linsha replied impatiently. “What can we do?”

“First, you must comfort them.”

Linsha looked at all eight eggs and said, “What?”

He took her hand and laid it on the leathery shell of a twitching egg. “You must be mother to them. Comfort them. Tell them you will help them, but they must not fight the shell. When they are relaxed, we can try to slice the eggs open without hurting them.” He seemed to sense her confusion and dismay, for he turned his blind eyes to her and nodded. “You can do this. I have seen a great power in you. I did not understand it at first, until I spent some time with Crucible.”

She tried to force out a deprecating chuckle, but it just sounded like a gagging noise. “I may be a Majere, but the talent for magic went to my brother. Not to me.”

Danian shook his head. “You are wrong. Your magic is simply different. You have an empathy for dragons, and they sense it and respond. Use that for these babies.”