Кейт Новак - Song of the Saurials

“What?” the ranger exclaimed.

“Moander’s minions must have created the hill from all the plants and trees they’ve cut down in the vale,” Alias said. “Moander grows on decaying things. When I first released the god from its prison in Yulash last year, it plunged into a refuse pit and soaked it up, ate some soldiers’ corpses, and then headed for the elven wood to tear up a few hundred acres of trees.”

“This body is a bit smaller than Moander was in the Elven Woods,” Olive noted.

“You can’t be serious!” Breck said.

“I have scried on my people for months as they built this new body, but I had no idea it was so huge,” Grypht said. “I never attempted to view it all at once. I never imagined the scale they’ve built it to.” From the hamlike smell the wizard emitted, Alias could tell that Grypht was extremely worried.

“Grypht didn’t realize it was so large, either,” Alias explained to the adventurers who couldn’t understand saurial.

“If Moander’s last body was bigger than this one, how did you ever destroy it?” Breck asked incredulously.

“We burned it … with the help of a red dragon,” Akabar said.

Grypht shook his head unhappily. “That must be why the minions have been casting special enchantments on this new body to protect it from fire,” he said.

“Grypht says this one’s protected from fire,” Alias translated. From the surprised look on Akabar’s face, she could see the mage hadn’t counted on this possibility.

“Well, what are we supposed to do with it, then?” Breck asked. Fear and frustration had begun to creep into his voice.

“Grypht could disintegrate it,” Olive suggested.

“Perhaps,” the wizard mumbled. “Given a thousand years.”

“It’s simply too big,” Akabar replied. “It would take hundreds of wizards working years and years.”

“Then gate it into another dimension,” the halfling said.

“It would take the power of a god to create a gate large enough,” Akabar said.

“As long as the seed isn’t brought to it, the body isn’t important. Right?” Zhara declared. “Without its minions, Moander is helpless. Somehow we must free the saurials from the Darkbringer’s possession.”

“Is that possible?” Alias asked.

“There are ways to free those who haven’t been possessed too long,” Grypht replied. “Those who were possessed first, at the same time Kyre was, harbor too many tendrils of possession. Even if we succeeded in destroying all the tendrils in their bodies, so much of their flesh is rotted away that they would die anyway. But those are blessedly few. Most of our people could be saved by a cure disease spell. That will destroy the tendrils that possess them. If we cannot get near them easily, we can cast cold spells on them instead. That will also destroy the tendrils.”

After Finder had translated Grypht’s words into Realms common, Akabar said, “But cold spells could kill the saurials.”

“No,” Dragonbait said. “We saurials don’t react to cold the same way you humans do.” The paladin turned to Alias. “Remember what happened to me last winter in Shadowdale when I was watching you skate on the duck pond?”

“You fell asleep, and we couldn’t get you to wake up until we brought you back inside the inn,” Alias recalled.

The paladin nodded. “Cold doesn’t harm saurials the way it harms you humans—damaging your flesh and hurting your lungs, pulling so much heat from your bodies that you could die. Instead, our scales protect the flesh. We fall into a torpor so we breathe less cold air, and we stop moving, which conserves heat. The larger we are, the less prone we are to the effect, but we can’t control it. Even the High One,” Dragonbait said, nodding in Grypht’s direction, “would fall into the cold sleep if he stayed outdoors in Shadowdale in winter for more than an hour or so.”

Alias translated all this for Akabar.

“Well, maybe we’ll get lucky and the vale will have an early frost,” Olive said.

Finder shook his head. “Part of the vale’s magic keeps it especially warm in the winter,” he said.

“There are over a hundred of my people down there,” Grypht said. “We will need the help of warriors to capture them without harming them and priests who can cast spells to cure diseases and mages who know magical cold spells.”

Alias translated Grypht’s words.

“If Finder can teleport me back to Shadowdale,” Breck said, “I’ll muster a force of fighters and spellcasters.”

“I can take you to Elminster’s tower,” Finder said, “but I can’t wait for you. If Morala discovers I’ve returned, she may insist I be returned to prison. I refuse to risk leaving my daughter to face Moander without me.”

Breck nodded in agreement. Finder was right—Morala could be aggravatingly stubborn. She might refuse to recognize their need for Finder’s help.

“If you can’t find mages to teleport you back here to this place by tomorrow noon,” Finder said, “I’ll return for your forces then.”

“He should take Zhara with him,” Akabar said. “If she is with him in Shadowdale, Moander won’t be able to detect them as they raise the forces we need to combat its minions.”

Zhara frowned. “I don’t want to be parted from you, husband,” she said.

“It’s only for a day,” Akabar replied.

For a moment, Zhara looked as if she might argue further, but instead she said to Alias, “You will look out for my Akabar?”

“He’ll be fine,” Alias said, surprised that Zhara would entrust the mage to her care.

“That is not what I asked,” the priestess said.

The swordswoman stole a glance at Akabar; he looked embarrassed by Zhara’s request.

Zhara stepped closer to Alias and whispered to her, “Please. It is not true, what you said, that he does not care for you. He once destroyed Moander to save you. I know you care for him as well.”

Alias sighed. She didn’t approve of the way Akabar shared his love with so many women, and she couldn’t believe his marriage to Zhara had nothing to do with Zhara’s resemblance to herself, but she couldn’t deny the priestess’s words. Akabar had risked his life to save her because they were friends, and she still cared deeply for him.

“Yes … I’ll look out for him,” she promised. She could see Dragonbait looking at her expectantly. He didn’t need to speak or even sign for her to know what was on his mind.

“I’m sorry I hit you and for the things I said,” the swordswoman apologized to Zhara. “I guess you aren’t so bad, as priestesses go.”

A smile flickered across Zhara’s face. “And you aren’t so bad for a northern barbarian who smells of wet wool,” she said.

Alias laughed. She held out her arms wrists upward.

Zhara laid her own arms over Alias’s, and they both clasped their hands over the other’s forearm in an adventurer’s embrace. The magical brand on Alias’s arm tingled, just as it did when Dragonbait touched it, and Alias realized Zhara must feel the same sensation from the brand Phalse had put on her.

“Till next season, sister,” Alias whispered.

“Tymora’s luck be yours,” Zhara replied.

Akabar moved to his wife’s side, and Alias stepped back. She looked away as Akabar embraced Zhara and kissed her.

“If Breck and Zhara are to return here by tomorrow, they have to leave before then,” Finder noted wryly.

Akabar nodded and stepped away from his wife. Zhara took Finder’s and Breck’s hands and the bard sang out a note.

Less than a minute after the three disappeared, Finder reappeared alone. “Lhaeo said Elminster hasn’t returned yet,” the bard reported.

“Morala said the sage was all right when she scried for him. Could Moander really prevent him from returning home?” Alias asked.