Free Master of Dragons by Margaret Weis Page A

them—all without their
knowledge.
    “Occasionally
there would be interaction between us—a young hot-blood would forget himself
and carry off a few cattle or set fire to a barn—but such incidents were few
and, I must admit, tended to benefit us more than harm us. For centuries,
humans have feared us, held us in awe. Humans have long told stories of how
their heroes attacked and even killed dragons, but those tales are just
that—tales, myths, legends. No human was capable of slaying one of us.”
    Anora’s colors
grew dark and grieving. “But that is about to change.”
    “What are you
saying?” Malfiesto demanded, scoffing. “That humans now have the power to kill
dragons? Preposterous!”
    “Once it was
preposterous,” said Anora gravely. “Not anymore. When a human first picked up a
stick, we envisioned the spear. When a human flung a rock, we foresaw the
catapult. When a human dug iron out of the ground, we saw the sword in his
hand. Such puny weapons could never be a threat to us and so we did not concern
ourselves with them. We slept in our caves and wove our dreams of tranquillity
and peace. But these dreams have been shattered by the cannon’s blast.”
    “Bah!” Malfiesto
scoffed. “That puffed-up piece of ironmongery. Humans do more damage to
themselves than to any of us.”
    “That is true now,”
Anora agreed. “And maybe it will be true a hundred years from now But,
inevitably, such weapons will be a threat. As we saw the spear from the stick,
so I foresee a terrible human weapon that will have the capability of blowing
apart a mountain, of slaughtering us while we sleep, of destroying the nests of
our young, no matter how well they are hidden.”
    Images of fiery
death flared in Anora’s mind, images of caves that required hundreds of years
of patient carving blown apart in an instant. Images of labyrinthine passages
sliding down crumbling mountainsides. Images of eggs smashed and the young
dragons crushed beneath tons of rock.
    “For the first
time in our long history,” said Anora, “I see the possibility of our
extinction. And it will be at the hands of humans.”
    “Is this true,
Draconas?” Lysira cried in silent dismay. “Do humans have such power?”
    His colors were
dark for long moments and fear gripped Lysira’s heart, for she knew the answer
before she saw it in his mind.
    “They do not have
such power now. But soon.”
     

7
    THE DRAGONS WERE
EITHER SHOCKED AND OUTRAGED AT ANORA’S words or shocked and disbelieving. Their
thoughts flew about the cavern, spattering the walls and each other with the
colors of fire and blood, almost as if one of the explosive devices had landed
in their midst. Anora did not try to call for order. No one would have seen her
colors in the storm of emotion roaring about the cavern.
    “But what can we
do to stop the humans?” Lysira asked Draconas.
    “Humans are not
ours to stop,” he returned.
    Lysira bristled at
his tone. “I don’t know how you can be so flippant—”
    “Careful,”
Draconas warned. “She’s watching you.”
    The tumult was
dying down. Lysira saw Anora’s gaze fixed upon the young female. Small tendrils
of thought coiled toward her. Lysira made her own mind a flutter of confusion;
not difficult, with so many conflicting emotions flapping about like birds
tangled in a net. Lysira had the impression that Anora was asking for her
forgiveness and her understanding. Lysira could not grant that, not yet. She
hunkered down and avoided the elder dragon’s thoughts.
    Anora brought the
meeting back to order.
    “I made plans—”
she began.
    “Without
consulting us!” Malfiesto thundered.
    “I couldn’t,”
Anora returned, blazing up. “Because of Draconas.”
    “The Walker? It
seems to me he would be central to any plans you made regarding humans.”
    “The walkers were
sent to live among humans in order to provide us with information about them,
their habits, their way of life, and so forth. Walkers proved quite