An empathy for dragons? She had suspected it. Afec told her as much. Was such a thing possible? She knew she liked and respected the native metallic dragons. Could it be that her appreciation for them was based on something innate within her mind and blood?

Her eyes sought Varia, one of the wisest creatures she knew, and looked questioningly into the owl’s steady gaze. Varia tilted her head slightly. One brown eye slowly winked.

“Leonidas,” Linsha said slowly. “Will you please go to Crucible? Tell him the eggs are hatching. Stay with him. I will be there as soon as I can.”

The centaur agreed and trotted through the exit.

Linsha drew in a deep breath. In spite of the return of her magic, she felt exhausted. “I don’t know if I can sustain this long enough to reach all eight eggs.”

“I don’t think you will have as much trouble,” Danian said. “The souls of the dead have been freed. They are no longer under Takhisis’s control.”

Linsha paused. She hadn’t thought of that. For a surprised moment, a stream of familiar faces passed through her memory-Sir Morrec, the knights, Sir Remmik, Mariana, Iyesta, Ian, and a host of others who died and whose souls had been trapped in the living world. She hoped Danian was right and they were free to go-not only for their sakes but for the state of magic. How wonderful it would be to create a spell and have it complete its task without being ripped apart by the souls of the dead.

Kneeling among the eggs, Linsha spread her arms to include them all. She closed her eyes to concentrate better and began the withdrawal into her self to find the power she needed. When all was quiet in her mind, she focused on the beat of her own heart wherein lay the power of her birthright.

Be a mother, Danian had said. But she had been a knight all of her adult life. She didn’t know how to be a mother.

Yes, you do, whispered a part of her instincts, the instincts she had hitherto ignored. Think of your own mother.

Remember compassion. Strength. Love. Sacrifice. The willingness to do anything to protect your child.

She felt the magic energy burst like a spark from a flint. She nursed it carefully on the tinder of her will and felt it flare like never before. She had used the power of the dragon scales to stun Lanther, but this was different. This was her own magic, drawn from her love, from her blood, and it ignited in her heart, burned in her spirit, and set her mind on fire.

Children. She transferred her thoughts to the small lives within the eggs. Do not fear. lam with you.

Eight living minds responded to her touch with such a clamor of fear and confusion that she gasped and clutched her head in her hands. They were so desperate! She felt their need tear at her. It was easy to talk to one dragon like this, but eight was more than she could bear. The connection with their minds began to slip away.

“Hold on to them!” Danian reassured her. “They will listen to you.”

From the oldest memories Linsha had of her mother, she summoned feelings of comfort, caring, and assurance. Warmth suffused her from the ends of her hair to her toes, giving her strength and confidence. She stretched out her arms again and gathered the eight frantic streams of emotion to her.

“It’s all right,” she whispered, and she sensed her magic spread out from her heart to her hands. It enveloped the eggs and settled like a gentle touch over each one. Lie still, little ones, she crooned in their minds. Lie still and we will help you.

The frightened struggles slowly eased within the eggs. An aura of nervousness and tension still surrounded them, but Linsha eased their fears with soothing thoughts. They reached out to her and felt her confidence in them and her love.

Danian pulled a small knife from his healer’s kit and handed it to Tancred. “Carefully, lad, make a small slit in one of the eggs and see what is there.”

His redheaded apprentice obeyed, gently making a cut through the tough, leathery egg shell. “The membrane is really thick,” he murmured as he made another slice with the knife.

“You may have to pull them apart,” Danian suggested.

Ever so carefully, Tancred grasped the edges of the slice he had made in the egg and pulled it apart, dumping the wet, struggling dragonlet into Linsha’s lap. She did not move as the creature keened and tried to flap its crinkled wings.

“Do the rest,” she hissed. “Hurry!”

Firmly gripped in the center of her magic, Linsha did not hear Varia’s furious shriek or see her dive at something behind her. Her attention remained fixed until Tancred looked up and yelled, “Lady! Behind you!”

She dragged her thoughts away from the eggs and turned her head just as Danian’s body slammed into her back and shoulders. She heard the crunch of steel against bone.

Tancred screamed in grief and rage. Varia shrieked like a striking eagle.

Out of the corner of her eye, Linsha caught a glimpse of Lanther, blood streaming down his face, his expression twisted into a feral grimace of hate. Behind her, Danian lay limp against her body, his weight pressing into her back. The dragonlet in her lap hissed and struggled in her arms as Tancred scrambled over the sand after the Akkad-Dar.

In the sudden crush of distractions happening around her, Linsha felt her link with the baby dragons begin to fade. Frantically she shut her mind to everything but the eggs for fear that if she lost the connection now, the dragonlets would panic and die in their shells before someone could help them. She heard, as if from a distant place, the struggle happening behind her between Tancred and Lanther and Varia, but she could not help them yet. She had to get the babies out of their eggs. She gathered the magic from her heart in one last desperate surge and poured it into the minds of the remaining seven.

Be strong, children. It is time!

She moved quickly. Using the utmost care she broke open the eggs and helped the awkward creatures out. In a matter of moments, Linsha found herself surrounded by keening, wet baby brasses, each about three feet long from head to tail. Her magic spell ended, leaving her drained, but the dragonlets’ joy filled her mind until she flung out her hands and burst into laughter. Their little lungs filled with their first breaths, and the warm air of the cave and the residue of Linsha’s magic lent them a sudden, fierce strength.

“Linsha!” Varia screeched.

Her head whipped around and she saw Lanther had pinned Tancred to the sand. The Akkad-Dar’s eyes were wild with madness, and in his hand was the dagger he had used to kill Danian. Hatred, thick and dark as tar, filled her mind, and she struggled to climb out of the pile of dragonlets.

But the baby dragons lifted their heads and hissed. Their small eyes gleamed with sudden fire, and their untried muscles bunched under their scales. In one unified movement, they leaped out of the remains of their eggs and pounced on Lanther.

Lanther screamed a Tarmak warcry. He stood, the newborn dragons swarming him, twisting their tails round his limbs, clawing, biting, rending, tearing…

Screaming in rage, Lanther tumbled backward over the side of the mound. Once more he shouted in fury, but it broke in his throat, and his cries turned to panic and agony. Linsha could not see him, but she heard his shrieks, each more desperate and frantic than the last, and in between she heard tiny claws shredding skin and flesh, small jaws biting.

Linsha closed her eyes. She made no move to stop the little dragons. Surely they were hungry, and after all that Lanther had done to their siblings, they deserved their revenge. She paid no attention to the scream cut short or the sounds of eight tiny mouths feeding that came from the base of the nest.

She stared down at the body of Danian, lying in a muddy puddle formed by his own blood. His chest did not move, and all light had gone from his eyes. She prayed to the gods to watch over the old man’s soul.