The tiny black kitten hissed softly from his hiding place under the stone bench as Sardon twisted his ring and vanished from the garden. Monster settled deeper into the safety of darkness. His green eyes did not waver as he watched the place where Sardon had stood.

"That monster disgusts me," the woman said, turning from the muted light of the glowing crystal ball.

"The cat?" the man asked as he idly turned the black rook in his hand. "Why would a cat disgust you?"

"Do not be a simpkin." She took the rook impatiently from his hand and flung it down on the table. They watched in silence as the chess piece bounced and rolled slowly onto the green marble floor.

"You know very well how I love cats. Especially black ones. I mean Sardon di Mercia," she explained when the rook

had finally come to rest near the leg of her chair.

"That one," the man said thoughtfully. "Aye, he is a bit of a monster."

"Well, what are you going to do about this?"

"Wait."

"Wait?" She was incredulous. "You are just going to wait?"

"Aye," he answered. "I am interested to see what his next move will be. I believe he would make a rather good opponent in a game of chess. Do you not agree?"

TWENTY-THREE.

Miriam stood by the postern gate. Well concealed in the dark corner, she watched as Sardon twisted his ring and vanished. She heard his evil threat and saw Monster's reaction to the man.

She was worried. She had raised Tempest from birth and shared with her a vast knowledge of herbs and spells; but Tempest was not yet ready to face the likes of Sardon di Mercia.

Adrian would do everything in his power to protect Tempest, but he had problems of his own. Miriam had an idea who and what Adrian was, but was afraid to acknowledge it in her own mind lest she unwittingly hex them with her thoughts.

She was well aware of Sardon's ability to twist everything to his advantage.

Monster poked his head out from under the bench and gave a soft meow.

"Monster," she chided, as she bent to pick him up, "Tempest has looked everywhere for you." She sat on the bench and looked absently around the snowy garden. She needed to think, to plan.

"I must do something to help them," she said as she petted his silky head. "But what?" Monster purred loudly and settled deeper into her arms, content with the moment.

"I am too old to do battle with that powerful an evil," she mused. "If I could but remove that great opal ring, mayhap they would be able to stand against him. But how do I do such a thing?" Monster had stopped his loud purring and soon replaced it with a growl-then a snarl. Miriam almost dropped him in her surprise. She had never seen the kitten act thus- unless Sardon were in the vicinity.

As she looked up, her gaze met emotionless black eyes glowing from deep within the dark, hooded robe, the face only visible as a pale gray blur. She shivered as the odor of pestilence overtook her, almost driving her to her knees. With a banshee scream, Monster leaped from her arms, diving deep into the garden, his fear manifested in his raised fur and frantic scrabble for safety. She was alone with Sardon di Mercia.

"What are you?" she whispered, fear making her voice tremble.

"I am death come calling." His sonorous voice tolled from the blackness. His hand delved deep into the shadowy robe, then emerged, holding Adrian's sword.

"I will not go easily, demon," she said as she rose from the bench to face him.

She had no fear of mundane, earthly weapons. Many had tried to take her from this life with such tools and failed. 'Twas the arcane knowledge he held which she feared. She raised her hands, and a bolt of shining blue light shot from her fingertips.

The sword glowed brightly with white fire, but Sardon did not release it. He drove the weapon into the snow, and the light hissed then was gone, leaving only an undamaged sword in its wake. He lifted it again and advanced toward her.

His hood fell back, and she could see the malicious smile on his twisted face.

"Is that all you have to offer, woman?" he asked, surprised at her ability to cast white fire but secure in the knowledge that he could easily defeat her. After all, he was Sardon di Mercia- dragon mage.

"Nay," she replied, "'tis only a small warning."

She shot another bolt at him; this time red fire erupted from her hands, but he calmly raised his other hand to ward off the blow. The blazing fire hit his hand, knocking him back a step, but he only smiled as its heat enveloped his hand, then turned from him and ricocheted back to its sender.

Miriam calmly moved to one side, and the fire sizzled harmlessly past her to hit a rosebush, igniting its branches. It burned hotly for a moment, then abated, leaving the bush unharmed.

Again she sent the red fire at her foe, but this time he easily stepped aside as it hit the frozen ground beside him.

He returned her fire with a black fire of his own. It burned hotly in a circle at her feet She did not move out of its way, but waved her hand in small circles in front of her and the magefire dissipated. "You have no more than simple magefire to offer me, demonsp.a.w.n?" she asked quietly. "Mayhap you are not as knowledgeable as you would have others believe."

"I but play with you, woman," Sardon growled, as he wove his fingers in intricate patterns before her. Again, black magefire erupted from his fingertips. He grasped the blade of the sword and sent a wall of flames toward her.

The heat hit Miriam like a physical blow, but she did not falter. Instead, she manifested a shower of ice crystals. They surrounded him and grew solid as ice covered his body. He waved his hand, and the ice was gone, leaving him unharmed and dry. He was enjoying this battle. But he could see she was weak; she could not defeat him.

Miriam took a deep breath, readying herself for the next salvo but was distracted by voices approaching the secluded garden. They were calling for Tempest's kitten. She looked around but saw no one. She again breathed deeply and concentrated upon the figure standing before her.

"We will soon have visitors," he noted as he rubbed his fingers across the glittering opal ring. "And t'would not do for them to see what I am about. So..." His body shimmered in the winter's light and became that of Adrian. He stepped closer to her.

"I grow tired of this," he sighed, his dank breath hitting Miriam like a physical blow. He raised the sword. It glowed and pulsed like a living creature as he infused it with his malevolence.

Miriam could not move. She could not look from those compelling black eyes. Eyes that did not belong in the face of the gentle young man she had come to love as a son. Those evil eyes mesmerized her, making her limbs grow weak and heavy.

She tried again to move, to look away from that chilling gaze.

But she could not.

She felt the sharp, icy blade sink deep into her chest. Miriam cried out with the blinding pain and sank slowly to the ground.

Her hand grasped the sword as she watched her life's blood trickle, then gush from between her suddenly nerveless fingers.

"Sardon?" Adrian's voice came to her as though from a great distance. She watched her killer twist the opal ring on his finger and he was gone. Her body grew cold as numbness overtook her arms and legs.

"Miriam?" Adrian's voice was close. She smelled the scent of sandalwood and knew it really was he. But he was too late.

Sardon had accomplished what he had come to do.

He grasped the sword to pull it from her body, but she wrapped her b.l.o.o.d.y fingers around his hand and tried to speak.

"Adrian..." she whispered, her words barely audible. He bent his head closer. "The opal..." Her eyes closed.

'"Miriam!" he cried, frantic now. Her eyelids fluttered, and she made one last effort.

"His power... the ring..." She could say no more as eternal blackness descended, releasing her from mortal pain.

Adrian felt her death as he had felt no other. He watched as a smoky cloud rose from her body and drifted heavenward.

He reached for the sword and pulled it gently from her inert body. Raising the b.l.o.o.d.y weapon to the skies, he screamed- the mindless scream of a dragon about to do battle.

His cobalt eyes began to turn golden, and his body began to change. He could feel it. Dragonpower.

"Adrian?" Tempest's voice drew him suddenly back to himself. Back to his human self. He whirled around to face her, the sword now hanging uselessly at his side. Her face was pale as her eyes met his, then flew to Miriam's lifeless body.

She walked slowly forward, her anguished gaze returning to him and the b.l.o.o.d.y sword at his side. "What have you done?"

"Tempest. Nay," he said, backing away from those hurt green eyes. "I did naught. 'Twas the lizard... Tempest?"

She did not speak as she knelt and took Miriam in her arms, rocking her back and forth, crooning softly. She looked again at Adrian, her eyes almost as lifeless as the body of the woman she held so tenderly.

"Tempest? Beloved?"

She gave him no answer but closed her eyes and turned away from him.

Screams. Suddenly the garden was filled with people, drawn there by the dragon's scream. Frightened eyes. Hate- filled eyes. Accusing eyes. He dropped the b.l.o.o.d.y sword and backed away, raising his hands as if to ward off their anger.

They surged as one into the snowy garden.

"I did naught," he whispered helplessly. "She was my friend."

"I saw you kill her," a woman shouted from the fringes of the angry mob. "I looked out the tower window, and I saw you drive that great sword into her."

"Take him to the dungeon," Wendall commanded as he stepped forward. "Chain him well. I will pa.s.s judgment after our Miriam is laid to rest."

Rough hands bound him and hauled him through the great hall, down winding steps to the furthermost reaches of the keep.

Adrian did not protest as they chained him to the wall and slammed the heavy iron door behind them. As he sagged against the stone walls all he could see was the anguished eyes of the woman he loved. He could feel her despair and loss. Adrian shed the tears he knew Tempest could not.

For the four days since Miriam's death, Tempest had felt dead inside. Her body felt numb, her eyes dry and sore. She could not weep for her friend. Witches could shed no tears.

They could only grieve deep in their souls.

She sat silently beside Miriam's bier, her mind and heart strangely empty. She could form no cohesive thoughts, feel no pain. Nay, 'twas wrong-she could feel pain, she could worry about Adrian, she could think. She just did not want to. Not now. Not ever. She knew she must think, plan. But how? It hurt too much...too much.

Miriam was gone, and Adrian stood accused of her murder.

Adrian had loved Miriam. He could not have killed her, of that Tempest was certain. But how was she to convince her father?

Wendall would surely condemn Adrian to death.

"Someone, please help me!" she cried out in desperation.

But there was no response. Only silence greeted her plea.

Exhausted, she let her head droop, to rest wearily upon her chest. Her eyes closed.

A soft noise caught her attention, and she looked up.

Sardon stood across from her, only Miriam's body separating them. He did not speak, but his deep penetrating look made her uncomfortable. Something was missing. Then she realized she could not smell him. Tempest wanted to slay him, destroy his ugly body, send his evil soul to eternal d.a.m.nation. But she could not move.

"I see you have learned to mask your disgusting odor," she snarled to break the tension. She tried to rise from the bench.

She wanted to kill the monster with her bare hands, to feel his life-force flow from his body. But still she could not move.

He did not speak.

"Speak your piece, lizard," she said angrily, unintentionally using Adrian's name for the loathsome creature. "Then be gone from my sight. I know what you have done, and you will not go unpunished. Neither shall Adrian suffer for your crimes."

"I am not who you think." The words were gentle and soft, as though spoken from a great distance. They tinkled like tiny bells through her mind. She noticed absently that his lips had not moved when he spoke.

"Who are you?" she whispered as she watched his form waver in the still room. His body grew transparent then became opaque once again. "What are you?"

"I was Tsuraldi of Werishan." The gentle voice rang in her head. "I was Sardon di Mercia's mentor. I found him as a hatchling and took him in."

"Hatchling?" Tempest could barely speak so great was her shock at his words. But nay, she vaguely remembered a time...Sardon...his visage had taken on a form. A dragon's face...

"Yes, little witch. Hatchling." He nodded. "His sire and dam were destroyed in the dragon wars, and he would have perished. I thought I could teach him to be good and kind. I thought giving him the power would make him into a great mage and healer. I was wrong. I could not change his true nature,

and he destroyed me."

"Adrian can see his true form," Tempest said in wonder.