defined in that treaty, would be considered an attack upon all human powers. Inshort, if we attack the elves, all mankind is pledged to come to their aid.”
“Yes, yes,” the king said impatiently. “Come to the point, for Culdus’s sake.”
“This was all predicated upon the powers of magic then held by the elves,” the wizard explained. “Now, through means we need not discuss, the League of the Black Wing has come into possession of certain items and certain facts, then which taken together will nullify the magical power of the elves. Indeed, as soon the eggs arrive—”
“Eggs?” Culdus interrupted. “What eggs?”
“Surely you know what is common knowledge in the marketplace.” The king smirked. “I have purchased from the King of Parona the famed Golden Eggs of Parona, reputedly the greatest treasure on the face of the earth. Even as we speak, a guard of five hundred hand-picked troops is escorting that treasure from the northlands here.”
“What? What drain on the royal treasury was caused by this purchase?” Culdus demanded, his incredulity causing him to forget his place.
“Yes,” the king said. “Tell me, Valdaimon, what payment have we made to obtain this treasure?”
“The price is not the point, Culdus,” Valdaimon replied. “And Your Majesty told me to spare no expense to guarantee the success of Your Majesty’s plans. Now, once the eggs are in hand—”
“How much?” the young king demanded.
Culdus smiled. Now it was the wizard’s turn to squirm. The stinking old man moved out from behind the table and, aided by his giant staff, hobbled across the room toward the high window. He threw the window open and gazed out into the darkening sky. On the horizon, he caught a glimpse of the display he had ordered, should just this question arise.
“Your Majesty, what price would you consider fair for the display of power you can see by gazing from this window into the night sky?”
“What?” the king exclaimed. “What deviltry have you conjured, old friend?” The youth sprang to the window and surveyed the lands and the river below. “I see no display of power, wizard,” he grumbled.
“Look to the horizon in the sky.”
The king’s head snapped back as he gazed into the far sky. Then his mouth dropped open in shock before his eyes glazed over a kind of ecstasy. “Oh! Oh, by the gods! Look at this, Culdus! Look!”
The soldier came to stand by his king and his tired eyes peered toward the far horizon. What he saw froze him with fear. Winging toward the palace-fortress, in numbers sufficient to blot out a good eighth of the sky, were the hideous flying lizards known as wyverns. The ugly beasts were twenty feet long—though half of that was tail—and they could kill a man with a nasty bite from their jaws, with swipes from their deadly claws, or with the poisonous sting of their serpentine tails. Mounted on each wyvern was either a wizard of the League of the Black Wing or an armored man-at-arms, complete with lance and great helm. Onward toward the palace the armada of airborne warriors flew, until they passed within a few feet of the king’s window.
“Wyvern riders, Your Majesty,” Valdaimon said. “Power from the skies to aid your conquering armies on the ground. At their mere appearance many foes will break and flee, for their appearance almost reminds one of the dragons of old legends—does it not?”
“Indeed, Valdaimon, indeed!” the king enthused. “How fitting, given our choice of heraldic crest—the black dragon...”
“I am glad Your Majesty is pleased.” Valdaimon smiled again, this time turning his full gaze on Culdus. “The riders are wizard members of the League and a few troops we have trained on our own. Their leaders will meet with you tomorrow to coordinate cooperative efforts on the field of battle. Agreed?”
Culdus was feeling trapped. How could he disagree? How could any commander turn down a force like this that would guarantee
“Yes, yes,” the king said impatiently. “Come to the point, for Culdus’s sake.”
“This was all predicated upon the powers of magic then held by the elves,” the wizard explained. “Now, through means we need not discuss, the League of the Black Wing has come into possession of certain items and certain facts, then which taken together will nullify the magical power of the elves. Indeed, as soon the eggs arrive—”
“Eggs?” Culdus interrupted. “What eggs?”
“Surely you know what is common knowledge in the marketplace.” The king smirked. “I have purchased from the King of Parona the famed Golden Eggs of Parona, reputedly the greatest treasure on the face of the earth. Even as we speak, a guard of five hundred hand-picked troops is escorting that treasure from the northlands here.”
“What? What drain on the royal treasury was caused by this purchase?” Culdus demanded, his incredulity causing him to forget his place.
“Yes,” the king said. “Tell me, Valdaimon, what payment have we made to obtain this treasure?”
“The price is not the point, Culdus,” Valdaimon replied. “And Your Majesty told me to spare no expense to guarantee the success of Your Majesty’s plans. Now, once the eggs are in hand—”
“How much?” the young king demanded.
Culdus smiled. Now it was the wizard’s turn to squirm. The stinking old man moved out from behind the table and, aided by his giant staff, hobbled across the room toward the high window. He threw the window open and gazed out into the darkening sky. On the horizon, he caught a glimpse of the display he had ordered, should just this question arise.
“Your Majesty, what price would you consider fair for the display of power you can see by gazing from this window into the night sky?”
“What?” the king exclaimed. “What deviltry have you conjured, old friend?” The youth sprang to the window and surveyed the lands and the river below. “I see no display of power, wizard,” he grumbled.
“Look to the horizon in the sky.”
The king’s head snapped back as he gazed into the far sky. Then his mouth dropped open in shock before his eyes glazed over a kind of ecstasy. “Oh! Oh, by the gods! Look at this, Culdus! Look!”
The soldier came to stand by his king and his tired eyes peered toward the far horizon. What he saw froze him with fear. Winging toward the palace-fortress, in numbers sufficient to blot out a good eighth of the sky, were the hideous flying lizards known as wyverns. The ugly beasts were twenty feet long—though half of that was tail—and they could kill a man with a nasty bite from their jaws, with swipes from their deadly claws, or with the poisonous sting of their serpentine tails. Mounted on each wyvern was either a wizard of the League of the Black Wing or an armored man-at-arms, complete with lance and great helm. Onward toward the palace the armada of airborne warriors flew, until they passed within a few feet of the king’s window.
“Wyvern riders, Your Majesty,” Valdaimon said. “Power from the skies to aid your conquering armies on the ground. At their mere appearance many foes will break and flee, for their appearance almost reminds one of the dragons of old legends—does it not?”
“Indeed, Valdaimon, indeed!” the king enthused. “How fitting, given our choice of heraldic crest—the black dragon...”
“I am glad Your Majesty is pleased.” Valdaimon smiled again, this time turning his full gaze on Culdus. “The riders are wizard members of the League and a few troops we have trained on our own. Their leaders will meet with you tomorrow to coordinate cooperative efforts on the field of battle. Agreed?”
Culdus was feeling trapped. How could he disagree? How could any commander turn down a force like this that would guarantee
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