Ed Greenwood: Death of the Dragon

The royal magician stretched forth his hand with whatever it was clutched and hidden in his grasp to touch the king, but Azoun threw back his head and squared his shoulders again, almost defiantly, black blood raining down around him.

“By that friendship,” he growled, eyes like two sudden flames as he stared into the wizard’s gaze, “I charge you-stretch forth your magic and touch my daughter Tanalasta. Tell her she is to take the crown and… rule now.”

Someone among those crowded around gasped, and Azoun nodded as if answering a disbelieving question. “Oh, yes,” he said almost gently, “I’m done. The king too old and stubborn to fall is fallen at last. Not all the magic in you, Vangey-not all the magic in fair Faerun-can save me now. Tana must rule. Tell her.”

The wizard nodded slowly, his hand stretching forth once more. Azoun glared up at him and snarled,

“Tell her!”

Vangerdahast’s fingers touched the king. Azoun shivered, huddling back as if he’d been drenched with icy water, his face twisting in silent pain.

One of the war captains-a young man who bore the name Crownsilver-started forward with an oath, plucking out his dagger, only to come to a frozen halt as Azoun flung up a forbidding hand. King and warrior spoke together, the one wearily and the other furiously, “What is it you hold, wizard?”

“My greatest treasure,” Vangerdahast said in a voice that sounded for a moment like that of a small, high-voiced woman on the verge of tears. “The only bone I was able to find that was once part of the mage Amedahast. A little of her power is left in it, I think.”

Ilberd Crownsilver stepped back, tears streaming down his cheeks. Vangerdahast raised the yellowing lump from Azoun’s breast, where it seemed to fleetingly leave tiny wisps of smoke behind, and touched it to the king’s mouth. The king stiffened.

Men watched like so many silent statues.

The red, searing pain suddenly left Azoun’s eyes, melting away like shadows fleeing a bright sun. Men gasped, and there were more muttered oaths on the hilltop.

Color came back into the king’s face, and his cracked, bleeding lips grew whole. The watchers leaned forward to stare in wonder, the old wizard still standing before the king with his hand thrust forward, as if lunging with a blade, holding the bone firmly in the royal jaws.

There was wonder on Azoun Obarskyr’s face too. He drew in a slow, deep, shuddering breath, and they saw the ashes fading from his skin, leaving smooth, unburnt flesh behind. Old muscles rippled-but even as Ilberd Crownsilver drew breath for an exultant shout, the talisman crumbled, yellowed bone fading to brown dust that fell away into the air and was gone… leaving just two old men staring into each other’s eyes. The ashes and bloody ruin did not return to where they’d been banished from the king’s flesh, but neither did they fade farther.

After a moment, Vangerdahast let his empty fingers fall away.

In their wake Azoun shook his head slowly, and managed a smile. “Not this time, I’m afraid,” he said calmly.

Vangerdahast stood still and silent.

The king’s smile faded and he said, “Are you going to obey me this once, old friend? For the realm?”

The wizard’s voice, when it came, sounded like the rusting hinges of a very old gate. “Of course.”

Vangerdahast turned like a weary mountain and strode a safe dozen paces away, lifting his left palm out in front of him to cup the shimmer of the spell to come. He paid no heed to the armored giants in his path, but they melted or stumbled away in front of him as if he was the striding god of war himself.

All but one.

A single dark and slender figure stepped to meet Vangerdahast, blocking his way. A hand shot out above the wizard’s, breaking his concentration. The royal magician’s head snapped up, his eyes darkening with anger.

“Save the spell,” Alusair murmured. “I tried to reach Tanalasta earlier, and-” she dipped her head and managed to choke out the last word, as suspicious war captains drifted closer on all sides, eyes narrowing as they cocked their heads to listen for treachery. “-silence.”

Vangerdahast may have looked like an old, dirty hermit in plain rags, but as he turned very slowly to look at the approaching warriors with the magnificent Purple Dragons on their breasts, his eyes were cold. He met their gazes, and the knights fell back.

“Secrets of the realm,” the wizard said shortly, and at his words they retreated two swift paces in unison like so many trained dogs, leaving Alusair and Vangerdahast standing alone again.

“I’ll try your mother,” the royal magician muttered, not looking at her, and as Alusair threw back her head and gasped for air, she discovered that the sky was bright with tears. She realized that she was weeping, her face streaming with so many tears that her chin was dripping.

The Steel Princess brushed an impatient forearm across her face, not caring if the armor tore away skin, and shook her head as a dog coming out of a pond shakes away water. Her watery vision cleared enough to show her the nearest war captains, their faces wet with tears, too. They knew what was about to befall here on this hill.

Silvery threads of whispering air were curling about Vangerdahast’s shoulders-the magic he used when he wanted to speak aloud to someone distant but to have their words and his face cloaked from those standing nearby. Suspicion was spreading across the faces of some war captains as they watched those dancing threads gather. Alusair caught their eyes and reached out deliberately and laid a hand on the wizard’s neck to ensure she’d be privy to the farspoken conversation. Vangerdahast’s response was to move a little closer to her, to ease her reach.

“Filfaeril,” the royal magician said gravely, without preamble, “your Azoun hangs near death, and I cannot comfort you with the expectation of a recovery. The magics on him keep him asleep and make it dangerous for us to approach, but in his last wakefulness Azoun spoke to me of how precious your love has been to him, and to give you his last salute. He also commanded me to learn, and tell him, of Tanalasta’s fate, and that of the child she bears. What news?”

“Good Vangerdahast,” came a clear, cold voice out of the empty air, for all the world as if the Dragon Queen stood in front of the wizard, “my eldest daughter is dead-she died true and fearless, destroying Boldovar to save us all here-but her babe lives. It is a boy, another Azoun for Cormyr. I pray you, if your wisdom makes these our words private, that you not burden the heart of my lord and love Azoun with word of Tanalasta’s passing, in his own last moments. Just… just…” Filfaeril’s voice wavered on the edge of a sob, just for a moment, then steadied again into cold resolve. “Tell him, Vangey, just how much I love him. Farewell, my Azoun. Our love will endure when our bodies cannot.”

Her voice broke entirely, and was a pleading agony as she whispered, “If you love me, old wizard, can you not bring me to him?”

Alusair felt a tremor pass through Vangerdahast then that marked his own sob bursting forth-a tremor that was promptly and with iron determination mastered, head bowed, as the royal magician murmured, “Oh, Lady Queen, I dare not try, lest I doom us all, your other daughter most of all. If this magic goes wild…

“I understand,” Filfaeril whispered. “Oh, gods, Vangey, keep Alusair safe and… and ease my Azoun’s passing. If you have any magic, later, to show me what you saw and thought of his dying, I command you show me. I must see.”

“Lady, you shall,” Vangerdahast said gently. “Fare you well.” He ended the spell with a weary wave of his hand, and turned to Alusair. “For the safety of the crown, I dared not bring her here,” he said, sounding ashamed. “I want you to kn-“