She felt her cheeks flush and mentally chastised herself for keeping civil company with the handsome rogue. "Dhamon stole from wounded Knights," she said, her tone instantly hard.

"And you think he should be tried for that? I couldn't let that happen," Maldred interjected. "He'd be found guilty. And then I would lose my friend."

She shook her head, her eyes still locked to his. "You don't understand. That's not why I'm here."

"Ah, I see! You're here to redeem your old companion. He's not the same man you knew. But he's the Dhamon I've become close to." Maldred offered her the jug again, and this time she took it, surprising herself and drinking deep, then passing it back and glancing across the camp at Rig, who seemed caught up in whatever Dhamon was saying. She blinked, not used to drinking the alcohol, then it went to her head, making her hotter than the summer.

She made a move to join the others, feeling oddly vulnerable in the company of Maldred, but he put a hand on her knee. The warm, light touch was somehow enough to hold her in place.

"You can't redeem Dhamon," he said.

She drew her lips into a thin line. "I'm not here to redeem him." Her hand drifted down to the pommel of her sword.

Rikali snuggled as close to Dhamon as she could, making a display of her affections for Rig's benefit. She traced Dhamon's jawline with her fingertips, then her thumb stretched down to rub the thong around his neck. It held the dwarf's diamond that she coveted. The gem was hidden beneath his tattered shirt, and her teasing threatened to reveal it. Dhamon brushed all hands away. She scowled, then winked at him, amusing herself by toying with his boot laces. "Is this a tale I've heard, lover? Not that I mind hearin' the same ones again. But if it's a new one, I'll pay more attention."

Dhamon shook his head and looked at Rig. "There's not any one thing that changes a man," he began. "No one thing made you righteous and turned you away from being a pirate."

Rig met his gaze. "And with you?"

"With me it was a lot of things. More than I care to remember or perhaps more than I care to count. We fought the dragons at the Window to the Stars. We lived, but we didn't win. Nothing can beat the dragons. I guess that was the start of it-the realization we can never win."

"The start?"

"Something else happened a long ways from here. Not too long after all of us parted company."

The mariner raised an eyebrow.

"Seems like it was the other side of the world," Dhamon mused. "In dragon lands. A forest held by Beryl, the great green overlord some call The Terror. There was terror, all right," Dhamon said. "And death. And the tale is quite a long one."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Dhamon closed his eyes, the blackness swallowing Rig and Rikali and the kobold. He focused on the incident, shivering slightly from the memory, and shutting out the sounds of the crackling campfire and the hushed conversation of Fiona and Mal-dred. At length, he opened his eyes and reluctantly began his story.

Dhamon Grimwulf looked different, his face fuller and form a little thicker. His ebony hair hung only to the bottom of his jaw. It was trimmed evenly and well combed. His face was smooth and clean-shaven, his skin only lightly tanned, his clothes were in excellent repair. Beneath his wooly coat, he wore leather breeches and a chain mail shirt. And strapped around his waist was a recently forged long sword, a gift from the Qualinesti for taking on this difficult task.

The mountains were different, too, not as steep, though still craggy and made perilous because of winter. Ice coated the narrow trail that Dhamon was leading a group of men and women down. Bundled in furs and weighted down with supplies and weapons, they picked their way tediously along the western ledge until they reached the bottom of the foothills where the snow and ice gave way to forest that was somehow more hospitable.

"Your orders, Sir!" the lead mercenary snapped. He was young and eager to please, and stood rigidly at attention.

Dhamon eyed his line of charges, nearly four dozen mercenaries gathered at the request of Palin Majere in the city of Barter, deep off Ice Mountain Bay. Most of them were battle-tested Qualinesti elves. The Qualinesti had sought Palin's help against a young green dragon.

One of the mercenaries was an Ergothian, who by the number of daggers he carried and his confident swagger reminded Dhamon of Rig. And there were a few other humans in the mix.

Three elves were women, so small and slight they looked like children. By their cold eyes and the numerous scars on their arms, Dhamon was certain they were the most seasoned warriors in the group. He intended to rely heavily on them.

It had been several years since Dhamon commanded men, and that was for the Knights of Takhisis. But issuing orders and not second-guessing his own decisions still came easy, and he spit out commands as if this collection of mercenaries-volunteer and paid-were Dark Knights. His experience leading men had prompted Palin to approach him about this mission. That, and his experience with dragons.

"It'll be dark soon. Set up camp and we'll rest for a few hours," Dhamon told them. "We'll break before dawn. Gauderic, assign a watch." No watch for me this night, he decided. He was so very tired. Just a few hours of sleep would put him back in top form. A few hours' respite from the walking and the wind and the memories that gnawed at his mind. There'd been no time for rest since he and his companions-Rig, Fiona, Feril, Jasper-fought the dragons at the Window to the Stars portal in Neraka nearly four months past.

At the Window, an ancient stone ruin that had once held enough magic to act as a passageway to other realms, Malystryx had summoned all of the other dragon overlords. Gellidus the White, Beryllinthranox the Green Peril, Onysablet from the swamp, and Khellendros the Storm Over Krynn-agreed to help Malys ascend to godhood. All of them had been collecting powerful magical artifacts, intending to use the energy released in destroying them to turn Malys into the next Takhisis, god-queen of the dragons.

Dhamon, Rig, and their small band of heroes had likewise been collecting artifacts, to keep them from the Red. And they traveled to the Window to the Stars in an effort to stop Malys's transformation.

It was a foolish undertaking Dhamon realized even then, a handful of mortals going against dragons-the most powerful dragons on Krynn. Still, his heart burned with a righteous fury the night that they made their way up a winding path to the plateau that held the Window. Then his heart nearly stopped at the terrifying sight of the massive dragons gathered there.

One of the overlords spotted them as they were hunkered down behind some rocks. Fortunately, Malys was in the midst of some intricate enchantment and was pulling energy from the gathered artifacts. She refused to be distracted, which bought Dhamon and his comrades precious seconds.

Dhamon rushed forward, intending to fight Malys. He vowed to exact revenge for the scale that was on his leg and to end her tyranny. He also expected to die. Help came from an unexpected source-The Storm Over Krynn. The great blue dragon tossed a lance Dhamon's way, one of the original dragonlances and one of the most arcane weapons ever forged on Krynn.

Amid all the fire and the chaos of that terrible night, the great red overlord was seriously wounded by the lance Dhamon wielded. And she was tossed into the Blood Sea by her blue dragon rival. The massive blue gained the power Malys sought that night.

Dhamon was certain Khellendros could slay them all with a single swipe of his claw, and that the dragon with but a thought could become as powerful as Takhisis. However, rather than using the mystical energy to ascend to godhood, the blue used it to activate the ancient portal, the Window. The dragon, called Skie by men, gave Dhamon and his companions leave-his boon to recognize their contribution in foiling the red dragon's plans. Then the massive blue flew through the Window and disappeared.