Quentin stood at the high parapet overlooking the tranquil forest. His

 
"Your Majesty, Quentin is here."
 
Quentin drew a deep breath and stepped across the threshold. In the
center of the high-ceilinged chamber sat a heavy, round oaken table,
shaped liked the room itself, for it was a part of one of Askelon's
many towers. Small round windows of amber glass tinted the afternoon
light with a warm hue. Eskevar was standing in a shaft of light from
one of these windows, his back turned, gazing out onto the courtyard
below.
 
There was an awkward moment when Quentin could not speak, and the King
did not seem to have heard the chamberlain's announcement. Quentin
hesitated, feeling suddenly trapped. Then the King turned slowly and
fixed his eyes upon Quentin. A thin smile stretched his lips.
"Quentin, my son, you have come."
 
If not for the Queen's warning, Quentin did not know what be would have
done. He bit his lower Up to stifle a cry and then recovered himself
and forced a grin.
 
"I came as soon as I could.  Toti's horses are magnificent. I believe
they have wings. We flew over the land at a fair pace."
 
Still smiling the sad, weak smile of a dying man, Quentin thought the
King advanced slowly and offered his hand.
 
Quentin took it without hesitation and could not help noticing how weak
the King's grip had become, and how cold the feel of his hand.
 
Eskevar*s flesh had taken on a waxen pallor, and his eyes seemed to
burn with a dull, feverish light. His lips were cracked and raw, and

his hair, that crowning glory of rich, dark curls, hung limp and

lifeless and had turned now almost completely gray.
 
Quentin found himself staring at the face of a strange man who looked
at him intently with sunken eyes rimmed with dark circles. He looked
away quickly and said, "This is a cheery room. Sire. Will we be
alone, or are others expected?"
 
"Others will come, but not yet. I wanted to speak to you alone first.
Please, sit down." The King lowered himself slowly into a chair at the
round table, and Quentin followed. He wanted to weep at the sight
ofEskevar, the mighty Dragon King who was now tottering like an old
man.
 
How could this be? wondered Quentin. How could such a change be
wrought in such a short time? In a scant eight or nine months the King
had deteriorated to a shocking degree. Quentin wanted to dash from the
room, to remove himself far away from the creature who sat beside him
and who wore the King's crown.
 
Eskcvar gazed into the young man's eyes with a look of inexpressible
gentleness; a fatherly compassion which Quentin had never seen there
before suddenly flowered. Quentin was strangely moved and forgot for a
moment the horror of the King's shattered health.
 
"Quentin," said Eskevar after a moment's contemplation, "as you know, I
have no son, no heir to my throne save Bria. My brother. Prince
Jaspin, is banished, nevermore to return.
 
"I think it time for me to choose my successor."
 
"Oh, no. Sire," Quentin snapped. "Now is not the time to think of
such things. You have many years ahead of you. You are strong yet."
 
Eskevar shook his head slowly, frowning slightly. "No, it is not to
be. Quentin" again the sweet, sad smile and fatherly glance "Quentin,
I am dying."
 
"Nol"
 
"Yes! Hear me!" The King raised his voice. "Slowly it may be, but I
am dying. I shall not live to see another spring. It is time for me
to set my house in order.
 
"I intend to choose you as my successor wait! Since you arc
 
/ 401 I
 
not in direct bloodline, it will have to go before the Council of
Regents. But I expect no problem there. As I have chosen you myself,
they will ratify my choice gladly."
 
Quentin sat gazing at his folded hands, speechless. The King*s words
had stricken him mute.
 
After what seemed like hours he looked up and saw Eskevar watching him
quietly, but intensely. "You honor me greatly. Sire. But I am not
worthy of such high accord. I am an orphan, and of no noble birth. I
am not worthy to be King."
 
"You, Quentin, are my ward. You have been a son to me as I have
watched you grow to manhood these last years. I want you, and no
other, to wear my crown."
 
"I do not know what to say, my Lord."*
 
"Say but that you will do as I command; ease my heart in this
matter."
 
Quentin stood up from his chair and then went down on his knees before
his King. "I am ever your servant. Sire. I will obey."
 
Eskevar placed a hand upon Quentin's head and said, "I am contented.
Now my heart can rest." He touched Quentin on the arm. "Rise, sir!
One king does not kneel to another. From this day on you are
considered the heir to the throne of Mensandor."
 
Just then there came a knock upon the chamber door and Oswald's voice
could be heard calling, "The others have arrived. Your Majesty," as
the door swung open.
 
In walked Toli and Durwin. Toli hesitated at the sight of the King,
but Durwin did not flinch at all. He hurried to the table and, with a
quick bow, began talking of his travels, all the while keeping a close
eye on the ailing monarch as if weighing him for some remedy.
 
"Good, good. Be seated both of you. We have a matter to discuss."
 
The King looked at his comrades closely and drew a deep, weary breath
before he began.
 
"For some time I have been of an uneasy mind. Restless, hungry and
uneasy. At first I attributed this to the illness which consumes me,
but it is more than that, I fear. It is for Mensandor that my unease
persists. There is some distress in the realm."
 
The Dragon King spoke softly and distinctly, and Quentin
 
realized that Eskevar had so long been the head of his land that he had
developed a special feeling for it and knew instinctively when
something was wrong- It was as if a pan of him were hurt and he felt
the wound. He had discerned trouble before anyone else had suspected
even the slightest eddy in the current of peace and prosperity that
flowed throughout the kingdom
 
It struck him absurdly at first, but with growing conviction that
perhaps what ailed the land was the cause of the King's distress as
well.
 
"To prove my intuition I summoned the faithful Theido and Ronsard to me
and sent them with a small force to discover, if they could, whence the
trouble came.
 
"The time for their return is now past. I have received no word or
sign from them, and I am anxious for what may have befallen them. That
is why I have summoned you" he nodded to Quentin and Toll. "It becomes
ever more urgent that we discover the source of our harm before it is
too late. There is evil afoot; I feel it. Each day it grows the
stronger. If we do not find it soon and crush it out ... "
 
"My Lord," said Toll, "we have seen portents which would indicate the
prudence of your fears."
 
"And I as well," agreed Durwin.
 
Toll and Durwin shared with the King the signs they had observed,
foreshadows of an impending evil they could not identify. Quentin
noted that as his two comrades spoke, and especially when they
mentioned the Wolf Star, Eskevar appeared to fall even further beneath
the weight of his kingdom's peril.
 
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, the King spoke solemnly.
"Quentin and Toll, my brave friends, we must discover wherein our
danger truly lies. My people require your courage."
 
"We will go at once and seek out this evil- And it may be we will find
good Theido and Ronsard, as well," Toli offered boldly.
 
Quentin said nothing but stared from one to another of the faces around
the table.
 
"Very well," sighed the King. "You know I would not send you out thus
if I thought it were but a small thing, or if another ' could serve as
well."
 
He turned and looked at Durwin thoughtfully. "You, sir, I did not
summon, but as usual one who knows me better than I know myself has
doubtless interceded." He smiled again, and Quentin saw a flicker of
the former man. The King continued, "I will detain you, good hermit,
that you may remain with meI may soon have need of your ministrations,
and perchance your arts will be better employed here than on the back
of a horse."
 
"So it is," replied Durwin. "I will abide."
 
The King rose with some difficulty and dismissed them, asking his two
warriors, "How soon will you ride?"
 
"We will leave at once. Sire," said Toli.
 
"It is well; but stay and share at my table tonight at least. I want
to see my friends all together before ..." He did not finish the
thought.
 
The three arose, bowed and went quietly out.  At the door Quentin
turned and was about to speak. He looked at Eskevar, and his eyes
filled with tears; no words would come. He bowed quickly and then went
out, too overwhelmed to say what he felt in his heart.
 
"THE VILLAGE has been subdued. Most Excellent One." The rider bowed
low in his saddle. Behind him black smoke ascended in a thick, dark
column to be scattered by the wind blowing in from the sea. His sorrel
pony jerked its reins and tossed its head, its hide besmeared with soot
and dried blood. "There was no resistance."
 
Savage eyes watched the messenger from beneath the rim of an iron helm
ornamented with black plumes which fluttered like wings in the wind.
The warlord said nothing but turned his horse and started slowly away.
The messenger spurred his mount forward and drew up beside his
departing commander. "Is there something that has displeased you, my
Master?" The voice trembled anxiously.
 
"No, it is well. Our task is complete. I will return to the ships;
 
you will accompany me. I may have need of a messenger." He lifted
himself in his saddle and called to several riders who waited a little
distance apart. The riders held their helmets under one arm and stared
impassively ahead at the smoke curling upward.
 
"You four" the commander gestured with his gauntleted hand "stay with
the men and occupy this place. You Others will come with me. We ride
at once. Follow."
 
"But what is to be done with the prisoners. Most Excellent One?"
called the messenger after the dark retreating form. The warlord did
not turn nor look around, but the messenger heard the words drifting
back to him.
 
"Kill them," his commander said.
 
The room hung heavy with the pungent fragrance of burning incense, and
clouds of the aromatic vapor drifted about the great figure seated on a
throne of silk cushions. Tiny colored birds fluttered and chirped in
cages nearby, their songs accompanied by the soothing notes of a
flute.
 
Presently, the tinkling ring of a chime sounded in the passageway
beyond, followed by the rustle of clothing. The gigantic form seated
on the throne appeared to be asleep, for he did not move or acknowledge
the intrusion in any way. The huge head remained resting on the great
barrel of a chest. The meaty hands clasping one another in the wide
lap remained motionless, thumbs pressed together.
 
"Immortal One, I have news," said the minister who had just entered so
quietly. He waited on his knees with his forehead pressed to the
floor, hands thrust before him, palms upward.
 
"You may speak, Uzia." The voice seemed to fill the small room, even
though the words had been spoken quietly.
 
"Your warlords have returned. And they bring tidings of victory. The
cities of the coast are subdued."
 
"Has a suitable residence been found for me?"
 
I 405 I
 
"Alas, no. Immortal One, these were but small villages and none
possessed a dwelling worthy of your being. For this affrontery the
villages have been burned and the ashes scattered, lest the sight of
them displease you."
 
Nin the Destroyer looked darkly upon his most trusted minister. "This
land will feel my wrath he shouted. The birds trembled in their cages,
and the music stopped, Uzia, the prime minister, cowered below him on
the floor.
 
"The wretches of this accursed land speak of many castles in the north,
and one in particular which may serve your needs while you sojourn here
to subject this land to your will."
 
"What is the name of this palace
 
"It is called Askelon. It is the city of the high king of this land
one known as the Dragon King."
 
"Ah," said Nin softly. "The sound of these words pleases me. Say them
again."
 
"Askelon is the home of the Dragon King."
 
"It will be my home, and I will be the Dragon King. This pleases meT
have never killed a dragon before nave I, Uzia?"
 
"No, my Deity. Not to my knowledge." He hastened to add, "That is,
unless in a previous life, of course.
 
"Then I will look forward to that event with anticipation, and I will
savor the moment of its accomplishment." He stood slowly. "Now, where
are my warlords?" Nin asked, his deep voice booming.
 
"They await you on the beach," replied Uzia. "I will summon them."
 
"No, I will go to them. They have achieved my desires and will be
rewarded by the sight of their god drawing near to them."
 
"As you command. Great One-**
 
Uzia bowed again and raised himself from the floor. He turned and
withdrew to the hall and clapped his hands and shouted, "The Deity
walks' Kneel before him everyone!" He went before his sovereign,
clapping his hands and shouting the warning. Nin followed slowly,
balancing his immense bulk upon ponderous legs.
 
As they reached a short flight of stairs which led upward to the deck
of the palace ship, Uzia clapped his hands again and eight attendants
brought a throne on poles. They placed the throne before their king,
and he lowered himself into it. Then, straining every muscle, the
chair-bearers climbed the steps, careful to keep the throne level, lest
they incur the wrath of their temperamental god. Soon they moved out
upon the deck.
 
Two more attendants waited on deck with large shades made of brilliant
feathers. As soon as Nin's chair emerged out upon the deck, the huge,
burly head was shaded from the bright sunlight of a beautiful summer
day. The attendants swayed under the weight of their burden, but
proceeded down a long ramp which had been erected out over the shallow
water from the palace ship to the shore. The ramp terminated in a
platform on the beach, forming a dais from which Nin the Destroyer
could command his subjects.
 
At the sight of this procession moving slowly down the ramp, the four
warlords dismounted and drew near to the dais, prostrating themselves
in the sand. The chair-bearers reached the platform and placed the

mobile throne squarely in the center of the dais, beneath a broad

canopy of rich blue silk. Then they withdrew to await the irking
command; they knelt with their faces touching their knees.
 
The blue silk ruffled in the soft sea breeze. Above the dais gulls
wheeled in the air and shrieked at the spectacle below. Nin raised his
hands and said, "Arise, my warlords. You may look upon your
 
Deity."
 
The warlords, clad in their heavy armor, rose stiffly to their feet and
stood shoulder to shoulder before their patron.
 
"I have seen your victory from afar Nin continued. "With my own eyes I
witnessed the flames of destruction. I am well-pleased. Now tell me,
my commanders, what is the strength of this land? Is there an army to
stand before the Destroyer's blade?" He looked at the four fighting
men and nodded to one of them, who stepped forward slowly. "Gurd?"
 
The warrior struck his heart with his closed hand; the mailed fist
clanked dully upon the bronze breastplate. His long straight black
hair was pulled tightly back and bound at the back of his head in a
thick braid.
 
Quick black eyes set in a smooth, angular red face watched Nin closely.
"I have seen no soldiers in the south. Immortal One. The peasant
villages were unprotected."
 
"Amut."
 
/ 407 /
 
The warrior, a member of the yellow race, advanced. His gleaming head
was shaved completely bald, except for a short bob of hair which he
wore tied in a tight knot. On his cheeks and forehead were strange
blue tattoos, and a ragged scar streaked from the corner of one
almond-shaped eye to the base of a thick, muscular neck. "In the north
we encountered no soldiers. Great One. The cowardly populace fled
before our arrows like leaves before the storm."
 
"Luhak," called Nin and the third warlord stepped forward.
 
Luhak touched his bearded chin with a brown hand. His head was covered
in a helm of white horsehide which sprouted a short plume made from a
horse's tail at its crest. He was tall and lean, and when he opened
his wide mouth to speak, a row of pointed white teeth flashed.
 
"I encountered but one village in the mountainous interior of this
land, named Gaalinpor," the warrior said. "No army could cross those
mountains in surprise. We may turn our eyes elsewhere."
 
"Boghaz."
 
The last warlord, a towering black man whose features were hidden
beneath the black veil which covered the lower part of his face,
revealing only the large, dark eyes, took his place beside the others.
His head was encased in a horn-covered, leather helmet, and he wore a
breastplate made of flat disks of horn which had been linked together
with Iron rings. A long red cape fell from his shoulders to the heels
of his black boots. At his side he carried, as they all did, a curious
curved sword with a thin, tapering blade honed dagger-sharp on both
edges.
 
"And I, too, have seen no soldiers. The villages offered no
resistance, the blood of the stubborn ran red upon the ground, and
their ashes ascended to heaven in your honor. Immortal Nin." With
that the black warrior touched his forehead and bowed low.
 
"What land is this which builds no walls around its cities and leaves
the small villages unprotected? Here is wealth for the taking, my
warlords. We will push north to Askelon and there I will establish my
palace, so that I may be comfortable while bringing this land under my
rule.
 
"Go now and bring me word when the castle is mine, that I
 
The WartorSs of Nin rosy come at once and take possession of what I
desire. But do not make sacrifice of the Ring. I will have that
pleasure for my own; his blood will Bow for me alone. Hear and
obey."
 
The four commanders saluted Nin and backed away a few paces. Then they
turned, mounted their horses and galloped off together. Nin clapped
his hands, and the attendants sprang forward to begin the laborious
process of carrying their god back up the ramp and into the magnificent
palace ship.
 
NINE
 
HEAVY DEW still clung to the leaves as the first rays of golden morning
broke upon the countryside. Near the sea such dew was common, but it
never ceased to delight Quentin when the sun struck each tiny droplet
of moisture and turned it into a glimmering gem. Each hillock and bush
seemed to acquire inestimable value.
 
Toll's high-spirited horses, now well-rested, pranced and jogged in the
cool morning air. Quenun himself lined his voice in a hymn to the new
day. Toli, too, joined in and their voices rang in the dells.
 
"Ah, it is good to be alive!" shouted Quentin, more for the joy of
shouting than for the sake of conversation.
 
"This morning the saddle seems a friend to you called Toli, bouncing
along behind. "That is not the impression you gave me last night."
 
"In the morning the world is re-created. All things are made new
including saddles."
 
"It is good to see my master in such high humor. For the last three
days one would have mistaken you for a growling bear not that I
noticed."
 
/ 409 I
 
Quentin seemed to ignore the remark and they continued on as before,
the trappings of the horses jingling brightly as they cantered along.
"I am sorry if I have been out of sorts," said Quentin after some time.
"I have had much on my mind these past days. It is like a shadow has
been hovering over me. But now I can see clearly again."
 
"That is well for both of us," replied Toli in his usu sal elliptic
style.
 
The two riders approached and mounted the crest of a long, sloping
hill. Here they paused for & short while and contemplated the road
before them and the valley beyond, in the center of which lay the
village of Persch.
 
"See how quiet it is," remarked Quentin as he gazed at the scene below.
"So peaceful. This is how it has been for a thousand years...." His
voice trailed off.
 
"We will pray that it may remain so for another thousand," answered
Toli. He flicked the reins and started down the road, a thin dirt
trail barely scratched in the long, thick green grass of the hilts.
 
As they drew nearer to the seaside village, Toli grew tense with
concentration. Quentin noticed the change in his companion's attitude
and asked, "What is it? What do those eagle eyes of yours see?"
 
"Nothing, master. And that is what worries me. I see no one ' no
activity in the village at all."
 
"Perhaps the people of Persch are late abed and late to rise," Quentin
said carelessly, attempting to maintain the mood of tranquillity which
had just been shattered by Toll's observation.
 
"Or maybe they have a reason for remaining behind doors on such a day
as this, though that reason is certain to be born of fear."
 
Quentin sighed. "It will not be the first time we have encountered
such this trip." He placed his free hand on the hilt of his sword and
shifted it slightly to bring it into readiness. His eyes scanned the
breadth of the town drawing slowly closer with each step. He saw not a
sign of life, either human or animal, in the streets or on the road
before them. Certainly that was strange. Ordinarily, the first rays
of morning light would find the narrow little streets busy with
citizens going about their daily chores. The merchants would be
opening their stalls in the marketplace and the craftsmen their
awnings. Farmers would be offering cheese and melons and eggs in
exchange for cloth and various metal utensils. Wives would be carrying
water from the well in the town square, and children would be
scampering around corners and darting to and fro in noisy play while
the village dogs barked and dodged their bare, sun browned legs.