There were mysteries here. He was eager to discover them. “Silanah!” he cried. “Eleint! I give you your life! Flee now, Silanah. I show mercy but once. Hear me, eleint!” The red dragon regarded him steadily, her multi-faceted eyes glowing like beacons. She did not move, nor did she reply.

Raest strode towards her, surprised to find her Warren gone. Was this surrender, then? He laughed a second time.

As he neared, the sky above him changed, filling with a sourceless mercurial glow. The city beyond vanished, replaced by wind-whipped mudflats. The distant jagged line of mountains loomed massive, uncarved by rivers of ice, bright and savage with youth. Raest's steps slowed. This is an Elder vision, a vision before even the Jaghut. Who has lured me here?

“Oh, my, oh, my. .”

The Tyrant's gaze snapped down to find a mortal standing before him.

Raest cocked a withered brow at the man's peculiar clothing, the coat tattered and faded red with large, food-stained cuffs, the baggy shimmering pantaloons dyed an astonishing pink, and the broad black leather boots covering his small feet. The man withdrew a cloth and patted the sweat from his brow. “Dear sir,” he wheezed, “you've not aged well at all!”

“There is Imass within you,” Raest rasped. “Even the language you speak echoes their guttural throats. Have you come forth to grovel at my feet? Are you my first acolyte, then, eager for my rewards?”

“Alas,” the man replied, “you are mistaken, sir. Kruppe-this humble, weak mortal who stands before you-bows to no man, be he Jaghut or god. Such are the nuances of this new age that you are felled by indifference, made insignificant in your mighty struggles by lowly Kruppe into whose dream you have ignobly stumbled. Kruppe stands before you so that you may gaze upon his benign countenance in the last moments before your demise. Magnanimous of Kruppe, all things considered.”

Raest laughed. “I have walked in the dreams of mortals before. You believe you are the master here, but you are mistaken.” The Tyrant's hand shot out, virulent power erupting from it. The sorcery engulfed Kruppe, blazing darkly, then faded, leaving not even a remnant of the man.

A voice spoke to Raest's left: “Rude, Kruppe proclaims. Disappointing, this precipitateness.”

The Jaghut swung around, eyes narrowing. “What game is this?”

The man smiled. “Why, Kruppe's game, of course.”

A sound behind Raest alerted him, but too late. He spun-even as a massive flint sword crunched through his left shoulder, tearing a path that snapped ribs, sliced through sternum and spine. The blow dragged the Tyrant down and to one side. Raest sprawled, pieces of his body striking the ground around him. He stared up at the T'lan Imass.

Kruppe's shadow moved over Raest's face and the Tyrant met the mortal man's watery eyes.

“He is Clanless, of course. Unbound and beyond binding, yet the ancient call commands him still-to his dismay. Imagine his surprise at being found out. Onos T'oolan, Sword of the First Empire, is once more called upon by the blood that once warmed his limbs, his heart, his life of so very long ago.”

The T'lan Imass spoke. “You have strange dreams, mortal.”

“Kruppe possesses many surprises, even unto himself.”

“I sense,” Onos T'oolan continued, “a Bone Caster's hand in this summoning.”

“Indeed. Pran Chole of Kig Aven's clan of the Kron T'lan Imass, I believe he called himself.”

Raest raised himself from the ground, drawing his sorcery around his body to hold its shattered parts in place. “No T'lan Imass can withstand me,” he hissed.

“A dubious claim,” Kruppe said. “Even so, he is joined in this endeavour.”

The Jaghut Tyrant straightened to see a tall, black-shrouded figure emerge from the streambed. He cocked his head as the apparition approached. “You remind me of Hood. Is the Death Wanderer still alive?” He scowled. “But, no. I sense nothing from you. You do not exist.”

“Perhaps,” the figure replied, in a deep, soft tone that hinted of r “If so,” he continued, “then neither do you. We are both of the Jaghut.” The figure halted fifteen feet away from Raest and swung hooded head in the dragon's direction. “Her master awaits your arrival, Jaghut, but he waits in vain and for this you should thank us. He would deliver a kind of death from which there is no escape, even by such a creature as you.” The head turned, and the darkness within the hood once again regarded the Tyrant. “Here, within a mortal's dream, we bring an end to your existence.”