Коллектив авторов - The Realms of the Dragons 2

Syndar rushed down to Kirsk's prone body. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, and she was almost afraid to touch him. Moonlight revealed the blood trickling from his mouth, his lips twitching, struggling to draw air. Gathering Kirsk against her she listened for his next breath. More tears ran down her cheeks when she was rewarded with a rattling exhale.

But her joy was short-lived. A shadow obscured the moon- light, and she heard the sound of heavy wings returning. Eyes widening in horror, she looked up to see the roof buckle as a massive dragon settled onto the ruined structure, the remaining beams supporting the roof snapping and cracking in protest.

The monster shifted, allowing moonlight to creep back into the barn, as a scaled neck slithered into view, dropping down into the jagged opening. The dragon's head slid back into a massive hardened plate. Through her terror Syndar noted scales glinting in soft brassy tones, not blue. The wyrmling squawked loudly, scurrying toward the brass dragon.

Spying the wyrmling, the brass roared in what could only have been relief. When the dragon reached down with a huge talon, the excited baby crawled up the scaled limb.

Syndar clutched Kirsk tightly, waiting to die. The dragon's snout lowered farther into the opening, studying the youth amidst the ruins of the mill. Syndar felt her matted and tangled blond hair waft with each smoky breath from the brass, and she dared to look death in the face.

The dragon watched her for a long moment before withdrawing its head. Reaching with a clawed talon, it tore loose a gleaming scale from its underside that tumbled down, slicing into the hardened earth as it landed upright. A storm of dust swirled as the dragon launched itself into the air upon mighty wings. Threatening to collapse once more, the roof held, just.

Shaking, unable to cry, Syndar stroked Kirsk's brow. She stared at the dragon scale as the dust settled. In the stark calmness of that moment she noted its shape was deformed somehow, two leathery straps clinging to the inside of the scale. A scale that looked less and less the skin of an animal, and more and more like a magnificent shield.

Beccard Rellock ran toward the barn, ignoring the shouts and cries as most of the men in the lumber camp sprinted toward the wood mill. Followed by his wagon team, they each ran in a different direction after the horses that survived the vicious attack of the blue dragon. Beccard ran through the trees, praying aloud that he would not find what he most feared. He stopped short as a pair of gloved hands grabbed him in mid-stride, spinning him around to face two shadows emerging from the trees. One was a bearded human in dull chain mail with a pair of swords on his belt and an axe strapped to his back. The other was a slender but no less dangerous looking elf. Supple leather adorned his lithe form, and a longbow, arrow notched but not drawn, was ready in his hands.

Beccard's fear intensified, and he took a step backward, even as he realized he couldn't outrun the two strangers, for they were not part of the lumber camp.

The human ranger spoke first. "You made a mistake Rellock, a big mistake."

The elf spoke in a quiet voice, and even through the elegant words of the Elvish language, Beccard could sense the anger directed at him.

The bearded human nodded, never taking his eyes off Beccard, and said, "You know who we are Rellock, and you know what we do."

Beccard nodded, swallowing, realizing he might not actually die, but that his danger was still very real.

"Please, my son might be in there… I have to find him," Beccard pleaded as he pointed to the ruined barn.

The elf spoke again, and the ranger translated: "That wasn't a two-headed cat you bought, it was a life. A life just like yours, just like mine. You couldn't possibly believe you'd haul it all the way to Suzail or Waterdeep like some cheap animal that does tricks for food."

Beccard shook his head, frantically glancing in the direction of the barn, looking for any sign of movement. It was the lack of it that terrified him.

He turned back to the pair before him and said, "I know. That's why I came here. It's quiet, remote. I didn't think anyone would find me here. I needed time to decide where to go. I had seen-" he gestured to the elf-"his kind following, but once we reached the camp here, they disappeared. I didn't know who else to tell."

The elf made one final comment, looking to the sky then back to Beccard.

The bearded ranger said, "Someone did find you. Someone big, blue, and angry. Brass is the natural enemy of the blue. You're fortunate the mother came along when she did. Scared the blue off before he tore this encampment to pieces. If there are any dead here tonight, Rellock, their blood is on your hands."

Beccard nodded once more, his intent to run to the barn obvious. The ranger grabbed him once more.

"If you ever want to earn one of these the right way, you stop making selfish decisions, and start making selfless ones."

The ranger unfolded his tunic collar underneath his chain mail. For a moment he flashed a pin carved in the likeness of a crescent moon and a harp, each inlaid with a sparkling dust.

The pin was gone as quickly as it appeared, and the two Harpers did likewise. Beccard barely saw them disappear into the darkness before he scrambled back toward the barn.

Beccard lifted away splintered boards to find the body of his son. Scooping the young boy into his arms, he gasped when Nollo squinted one eye at him.

"By the gods, Nollo!"

Nollo murmured in reply, then stiffened.

Beccard whispered, "It's safe son. The big one flew away. It flew away."

Beccard was surprised when Nollo jumped to his feet, disregarding his cuts and bruises, looking around the barn. "Pap, the baby…"

Beccard hugged his son close, realizing what the entire journey had almost cost him.

"Gone, boy. It took it and flew away."

Hugging his father at first, Nollo pushed away suddenly and said, "Don't be mad, Pappy. I remembered!"

The young boy limped over to McDodd who was being helped to his feet by other men. Nimbly snatching the bully's purse, Nollo returned. Upending the purse he counted three copper coins.

"One for him," Nollo said as he pointed to Craster lying in a wagon, "and two for him!" He pointed to McDodd.

Beccard was too disoriented to ask questions, but Nollo smiled as he explained, "One each for a look, and one extra for him."

Nollo pointed back to McDodd.

Beccard asked the obvious: "Why one extra, Nollo?"

"Because, Pap! He's wyrm-touched!"

Mid Hammer, the Year of Wild Magic (1372 DR)

The Red Wizard Nusair Darkul peered into the crystal globe before him. The visage of his master, Nevron, the Zulkir of Conjuration, stared back. The zulkir's ironlike face held a sneer that was old, angry, and as powerful from far away as it was in person. Nusair gulped down the knot in his throat that always seemed to accompany his late night meetings with the powerful conjurer. The zulkir had little use for the Guild of Foreign Trade, where he had assigned Nusair. In Nusair's opinion, it was an office designed for little more than to spy on Samas Kul, the guild's ambitious master. Nevron usually showed his contempt with short-tempered " tirades at Nusair. But that night, the zulkir paid close attention to what Nusair had to say. Nevron's angry voice boomed out from the globe, "What news have you of this discovery?"

"The Scalamagdrion lies closer to us than you might think, Master-merely across the Alamber, in Mulhorand," Nusair responded, keeping his tone as respectful as possible to head off any potential rant by the zulkir.

He had tracked the powerful book from its discovery in Myth Drannor, two hundred years past, all the way to where it had come to rest: in a collector's home, deep in the capital of Thay's long-time enemy, Mulhorand. Nusair's contacts within the enclaves had located and tracked the artifact. In some small way he regretted letting the zulkir in on the discovery. But the opportunity to ingratiate himself to Nevron was too great a thing to resist. His recovery of The Scalamagdrion could mean the difference between wasting away as a mid-level bureaucrat in the guild for the rest of his life, and earning the favor of Nevron, one of the seven most powerful Red Wizards in Thay.