Weis, Margaret - The Dragonvarld Trilogy 03 - Master of Dragons by Weis Margaret

Author:Weis, Margaret [Weis, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780765343925
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2007-06-26T04:00:00+00:00

25

THE DRAGON’S AGONIZED RAGE BURST AGAINST MARCUS, SEEMING to boil his blood. And then the darkness of death began to rush in like a rolling tide, swallowing up the rage, thundering down on Marcus, crashing, churning, and crushing.

“Run!” Lysira warned him. “Don’t get caught inside Grald’s mind!”

Marcus fled the dragon’s mind. He stood, shivering, in his little room, and watched Grald die.

“Ven?” Marcus called.

There was no answer. His brother’s mind was empty, the colors drained. He too was dying.

If Marcus had been there, physically present, he could have saved his brother. But Marcus was far away, with a river between them. And he was running out of time.

“Lysira!” he cried.

“Let him go,” the young female dragon said to him, and she sounded shaken. “He should never have been born. Neither he nor the others.”

“Others?” Marcus cried, grasping hold of that word. “What others?”

The dragon shut her mind and he could not find a way back in.

Desperate, searching for help, Marcus ran about the streets of dragonkind, racing from one mind to another, battering on doors, hammering on windows, pleading for someone—anyone—to open up to him.

He carried the image of Grald holding Ven’s bleeding, beating heart in his blood-stained claw and thrust that image into every mind he could find. Colors swirled around him, colors that had no name in the human vocabulary. If they existed at all in human vision, they were fleeting, transitory. Colors so beautiful his heart ached to bursting at the sight. Colors so hideous and horrifying that his soul shrank away from them.

“You can’t let him die!” Marcus cried. “He is your child!”

But the dragons saw it differently. They wanted Ven to die. If he died, so did their guilt.

Raging, Marcus kicked at the doors and bashed his fist into the windows and, suddenly, one door opened so fast that he was caught by surprise and nearly tumbled over the threshold.

“Who are you?”

A voice. Words. Spoken words. A voice like his voice speaking words like his words. A human voice, yet with something of the dragon in it, for he saw it spangled with silver and radiating shining light.

“Who are you?” Marcus countered, dazzled by the brilliance.

“I am Sorrow, Ven’s sister—part human, part dragon.”

Marcus could see her now. The light reflected off scales and shone on her long hair.

“I am Ven’s brother,” Marcus replied, awed.

“Impossible. You are human,” said the sister scornfully.

“I don’t have time to explain. Ven is in dire peril. Are you in Dragonkeep? Can you go to him?”

“That picture you showed me, of the dragon trying to kill him—”

“That image is from the dragon’s own mind. Ven fought for his life and now the dragon is dead and Ven is dying ...”

“Dead? The dragon is dead? My father is dead?” Sorrow was appalled.

“He tried to kill Ven,” Marcus returned. “Ven had no choice—”

“I don’t believe you!” the sister cried in rage. “Why? Why would our father kill his own son? Ven is to be our leader.”

“The dragon meant to take Ven’s body. As I showed you.

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