For long moments, nothing happened. The druids sang. Eeras even smiled tremulously.

Then he gasped.

He clutched at his throat.

His skin turned a sickly green color, and tendrils ran across him like the vines that bound Laira and Maev to the boulder. He fell to his knees, tossed back his head, and screamed.

Scales rose and vanished upon his body. Horns grew from his head, then cracked and fell to the ground. Smoke blasted from him. Claws grew and detached. He fell over, writhing, twisting, screaming in agony.

"You're killing him!" Laira said.

"Auberon, damn you, I'm going to crush your bones into powder!" Maev shouted.

The druids ignored the two prisoners. They chanted out to their gods, spears raised high. The inuksuks upon the hills seemed to lean in, and the runes upon their stone chests burst into light. They glowed green like the tillvine, a sickly color of disease.

"Help him!" Laira cried out. "He's dying."

The druids ignored her. Eeras began convulsing. Green foam rose from his mouth and leaked from his eyes. He screamed again, a sound that curdled Laira's blood, then lay still.

Maev stared with wide eyes. "The bastards killed him. By the stars, they killed him."

"No, look," Laira whispered.

Wisps of light began to rise from the fallen Eeras. This light was not green like tillvine, not golden like the sun, but silver as starlight. It rose in strands, coiling skyward, and took the shape of a dragon. Laira gasped and her eyes watered. The astral dragon rose higher, spread its wings, and let out a keen, a cry so sad and beautiful that Laira wept. Then it dispersed in the wind and was gone.

"They killed his dragon soul," Laira whispered.

Silence fell. The druids lowered their staffs. Eeras let out a gasp, sucked in air, and finally rose to his feet. He rubbed his eyes, and a tremulous smile touched his lips.

"Am I cured?" he whispered.

Auberon only smiled thinly. "Try to shift, my son. Become the dragon."

Eeshan screwed his eyes shut, clenched his fists, and gasped. He opened his eyes. "I can't. It's gone. The curse is gone." He fell to his knees and embraced Auberon's legs. "Thank you, Auberon. Thank you. Thank you . . ."

Laira shook her head slowly, a hollowness in her chest.

It's worse than murder, she thought. To steal a man's magic, to remove the dragon from inside him . . .

"Auberon, what have you done?" she whispered.

The bearded druid walked toward her, a small smile on his face, and his eyes were sad.

"Only what has been done to me." The old druid reached into his robes. He pulled out a single green scale which hung around his neck on a leather string. "This was my scale once. I was a sinner. I was lonely, afraid, ill . . . until the Cured Druids found me and healed me." He turned back toward his comrades. "My friends! Show me your scales."