In many horror stories, a conversation that clearly involved only three people would end up with an extra person, or three people walking at night would cast four shadows, and so on.
Such things were not actually uncommon for Dick. After all, he was surrounded by people who came and went without a trace. Those ruthless Wardens, ten-thousand-year-old girls whose minds were still not particularly mature, often played such tricks. There had even been an embarrassing occasion when Dick got up for water at night and found two girls in his house wearing his Ritual Armor and play-fighting with his longsword, as though playing house.
But on a battlefield where lives hung in the balance, something like this happening again was terrifying.
Erigor turned and thrust his sword, but the greatsword's edge stopped dead. Before its sharp blade was a slender finger.
Dick and Jaina took a step back. They saw him!
He wore elaborate, magnificent Black-Rune Robes, and on his head sat a laurel wreath much like the Crown of the Fire Festival Dick had just given Jaina, though somewhat prettier. This unexpected arrival had long black hair and black eyes, and he toyed with an unusual scepter.
The scepter was black throughout, elegant and stately in design. A fiery-red gemstone like a small, round melon was set at its tip. Beneath it, four protruding, curved fangs guarded the gemstone, adding a touch of menace to the work of art. In the rather dim dragon's lair, the gemstone and the fel runes upon it glittered, tracing streak after streak of brilliant light through the air as his fingers moved.
"Nefarian!"
Dick recognized him from the scepter named Lok'amir il Romathis, or "Hand of Nefarian" in Draconic. He immediately drew the battle-axe from his back and stood firmly before Young