The head snaked forward and sniffed at Zossimus, the fangs only a handwidth from the arcanist's body. Zossimus remained still but recited in his mind the words to a spell.

"I have seen you too, little demon."

Pleeancis squirmed within Zossimus's robes, poked his head out, and piped indignantly, "Little demon? My name is Pleeancis, dragon! Pleeancis the Mighty."

Zossimus winced. The dragon fixed Pleeancis with a baleful gaze, and streamers of black energy snaked from his nostrils.

The quasit let out a yelp, whispered, "Get him, Boss," and teleported into the trees to Zossimus's right, away from Ascalagon.

Zossimus took a step backward, to prevent premature contact between the dragon's energy-draining breath and his protective spells. Ascalagon reared back his head and showed his fangs. A smile? If so, it reeked of menace.

"The protective dweomers about you are plain to me, mage. Paltry things."

Zossimus endured the slight and stood his ground. "As I said, noble dragon-"

At the word "noble," the dragon hissed in what could only be laughter. Shadows swirled madly about the great head and neck.

Zossimus continued, "I have journeyed from Shade Enclave to ask-"

Ascalagon ceased laughing. His smoky, bottomless eyes narrowed, and he lurched forward from the treeline. Darkbriars cracked under the strain. Zossimus took a step backward.

From somewhere within the trees to his right, he heard Pleeancis exclaim, "Uh oh."

"Shade?" boomed the dragon, his voice low and dangerous. "A native from the city of invaders dares come to my abode to ask of me a boon? A boon! Insolent cur!" Ascalagon threw back his head and roared. The noise was Же a roll of thunder. "Here is your boon, mage!"

Jaws wide, Ascalagon exhaled a cloud of seething black energy. The force was enough to paste Zossimus's robes to his body. Blackness swirled about him, and he flinched. When the dragon's breath met the protective sheath of positive energy about Zossimus's person, the contact caused an explosion of golden light, no doubt the most light this dark place had ever seen. The energies sparked and sizzled, opposites at war. Unharmed, Zossimus took the opportunity to incant the words to one of his two most powerful spells.

"Essare telpim."

The world stopped. Silence descended. Around him, the black death of the dragon's breath weapon hung unmoving in the air, frozen in time. The dragon towered above him, a colossal statue of scaled flesh. A halo of motionless golden motes surrounded Zossimus's body.

Zossimus knew he had less than a minute-relatively speaking. To Ascalagon, it would seem as though no time had passed. Unfortunately, Zossimus's spell did not allow him to affect anything other than himself while it was in effect, so he could not yet use the special candle. Instead, he took the opportunity to better prepare for combat. In the end, he had only one spell that would serve his purpose. It was his most powerful, but he needed to weaken the dragon a bit first.

Moving quickly and deliberately, he stepped out of the cloud of the dragon's breath and backed away, perhaps thirty paces. Far enough, he deemed. With deft hand gestures and a sure voice, he renewed all of his protective spells, and also cast a glamour that created six rapidly shifting phantasms of his person, all shifting about his real body. He hoped they would confuse the dragon and attract some of its attacks.

He was out of time.

Sound returned with the rush of an incoming tide. For a fraction of a heartbeat, Ascalagon appeared confused at Zossimus's abrupt movement.

"Get him, Boss!" Pleeancis screamed from the safety of the trees.

Zossimus pulled a pinch of sulfur from his robe, cast it to the wind, and began to cast.

Ascalagon roared, flapped his great wings once, and leaped forward out of the trees to cover the entire thirty paces as quickly and surprisingly as a bolt of lightning. Taken aback, Zossimus stumbled backward, fumbled with the words to his spell, and lost it from his memory. A wall of scales and shadows surrounded him. Fangs and claws ringed him in, seemed everywhere.

Enraged and roaring, the dragon lashed like a mad thing at Zossimus and the illusionary images. The thrice-damned thing moved like whirlwind! A claw ripped through an image and tore great clods of sod from the earth. A backhand lash sent another image to oblivion. Another claw attack, another image. Fangs descended, snapping. Zossimus leaped sidewise and the jaws annihilated another image. Even as he tried to create some distance between himself and the dragon, a claw caught Zossimus full in the chest.

Only his protective spell saved his life. With skin as hard as stone, the eviscerating claw strike only tore a deep, but non-lethal gash down his torso. The impact, however, sent him flying through the air toward the trees, where he crashed into the brush with a groan.

Pleeancis shouted from across the clearing. "Oh, you'll swim up to your snout in Hell's turdpool for that one, dragon."

Zossimus clambered to his feet and began again to cast. He had only two images remaining.

Ascalagon was upon him again. Trees cracked under the dragon's weight as he crashed into the woods. A shower of leaves and limbs fell to earth. Fangs and claws lashed. Zossimus dodged backward and managed to maintain his concentration, determined this time to complete a spell.

With the speed of a striking asp, the dragon's gaping jaws shot earthward, directly at the real Zossimus. He backed off as abruptly as his casting allowed, but he was too slow. The great jaws closed on him and jerked him into the air. Growling, the dragon tossed his head back and forth, trying to devour the human. The powerful teeth and jaws ground against Zossimus's magically hardened skin. Despite the protection of the spell, the teeth pierced his body all over. Warm blood bathed him; pain wracked him. The dragon champed down, trying to crack him open like a stubborn walnut. Bones snapped under the pressure. In agony, Zossimus found himself staring down into the dark tunnel of the dragon's gullet, but he refused to lose his concentration. Prom somewhere, he could hear Pleeancis's terrified shouts.

"Boss! Boss!"

Through the pain, Zossimus managed to mouth the final word to his spell.

"Velendere!"

A glowing, pea-sized ball shot from Zossimus's outstretched hand, flew down the dragon's throat, and exploded into a cloud of fire. Flame and heat rushed back up Ascalagon's throat to envelop Zossimus, but his protective spells shielded him from the worst of it. Not so the dragon. Ascalagon leaped a spearcast into the air, tossing his head madly, roaring in pain, coughing fire. Zossimus flew smoking from his jaws and crashed amongst the trees.

With several fractured bones, Zossimus quickly swallowed a healing potion. Bones and skin painfully recombined. He regained his feet to see the dragon writhing in the clearing, his wings and front legs wrapped around his stomach like a child who ate too many sweetmeats. Smoke streamed from his nostrils and mouth.

Zossimus called to mind the spell he would use to immobilize Ascalagon. The instant he began to mouth the words, Ascalagon focused his eyes on him and rolled to his feet.

"You will die for this, mageling," he said, voice gravelly.

Zossimus paid no heed to the dragon's words. Either his spell would work or it wouldn't. He traced the magical symbols in the air before his face as he incanted the final phrase.

Ascalagon rushed him with a hoarse roar, and closed the distance with a mere two strides.

Zossimus completed the spell, felt his magically augmented will meet with that of the dragon's-and dominate it.

"Stop!" he ordered.

Ascalagon halted in mid-stride.

Zossimus let out a sigh of relief. He could feel Ascalagon fighting against the chains of will that held him immobile, but by the gods Zossimus had done it!