Wildly, Jorunhast tore his gaze away and looked about. Half of the soldiers were dead, and there was still no sign of the elders. Where had they gone? The mage was close enough to use the wand of flame, but it might bounce back off the dragon’s scales to consume him as well. And if he missed and cooked a certain crown prince
The wizard ran to the gaping wound along the dragon’s belly, now seeping thick, deep purplish blood. He glanced up to see the young prince still clinging to the hide beside the dragon’s mouth. As he watched, Azoun drove his blade deep into the wyrm’s eye. Dark, gold-flecked fluid sprayed out.
Jorunhast hastily bent his head away from the bloody rain he knew would come and shoved the thin wand into the open wound and shouted the command word. The wand pulsed, and a jet of flame shot deep into the creature’s body.
The dragon spasmed, its body arching and flexing from the agony of the ravaging fire inside and the blade in its eye. A huge clawed paw swept Jorunhast off his feet. He lost his grip on the wand, and his last sight was of Azoun driving his blade deep into Thauglor’s reptilian brain with both bands.
Blackness overwhelmed the young mage when he struck the ground. It seemed to last for only a moment, but when he picked himself up, the dragon was sprawled dead on the floor of the wash. Priests moved among the fallen soldiers. A priestess of Lathander put her hand on Jorunhast’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off and stumbled back toward the dragon’s flank, where Gerrin and Thanderahast stood talking to Azoun.
Lord Wyvernspur was badly burned, the left side of his face and entire body raw and bleeding beneath the slimy ointments of the priests. Thanderahast was similarly burned and anointed, and in addition sported purplish ridges rising along the side of his head, bruises from some sudden impact.
Azoun seemed unharmed by his adventure. Jorunhast wondered at the luck of children, fools, and royalty.
“You are back with us, lad,” said the elder mage. “We could not return as soon as we’d hoped, but I see the pair of you were capable of handling things.”
“It was a good plan,” said the young mage, still lightheaded. He blinked hard in the sunlight, then added, “I lost your wand, I’m afraid.”
Thanderahast chuckled. “A small loss, easily forgiven. Azoun told me of your bravery in charging the dragon and in waiting for the right moment to strike with the wand. We were worried you had panicked.”
Jorunhast stared at the younger man. Hadn’t he told them the mage had frozen up when the dragon first attacked? That he had tried to stop Azoun from entering the battle?
Azoun cocked his head and said, “It’s good to see you back standing up. Want some help looking for that wand?”
Jorunhast gaped at the young prince for a moment, and then, slowly, nodded.
Gerrin and Thanderahast flagged down the priestess of Lathander for information about the wounded, leaving Azoun and Jorunhast alone. The two young men paced off to the trampled area near the dragon’s body. They made vague sweeps in the splayed grass with the sides of their feet, looking for little and finding less.
At length, Jorunhast said, “I only charged in after you because you were going to get yourself killed.”
“I know,” said the slender man. “And they probably think something like that, but they never have to know. Despite it all, you did pretty well today.”
Words burned in Jorunhast’s throat like the black dragon’s bile. Finally he spat them out. “So did you.” And then he added, “Sire.”
Azoun flashed a wide smile. “Mind you, I don’t trust you, and I still don’t like you. But with the beating old Thanderahast has taken, it’s likely you’ll be my wizard when my time comes. So I might as well get used to you.”
The young wizard sighed. “And I to you. But do me one favor, my lord: No more charging into combat.”
“Only when you’re behind me with your magic,” said the future king. “Only when you’re behind me.”
The young prince strode away, leaving Jorunhast to think that Azoun’s voice was not so tinny after all.
Chapter 23: Encounters and Expeditions
Year of the Gauntlet (1369 DR)
“I do believe, dear, that we can finally say that Arabel has become truly civilized,” Darlutheene Ambershields declared, opening her violet eyes very wide and waving a ring-encrusted hand. Gems flashed and sparkled in the light of near highsun for a dazzling instant before her hand dipped, rising again with a fresh glass of cordial.
“Why, Darlutheene-that outpost of uncultured bumpkins?” Blaerla Roaringhorn asked in disbelief, opening her own brown eyes very wide as well. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Well,” Darlutheene purred, “with the news this morning-of nobles found knifed in their beds, and the knives still buried in them, bearing the arms of rival noble houses-I do believe the intrigues of Mabel are finally approaching those of Suzail!”
“No!” Blaerla gasped, color flooding into her cheeks and eyes sparkling with fresh excitement. “Nobles? Knifed in their beds? Why?”
Darlutheene waved a languid, cordial-bearing hand and fluttered her long lashes. They were dusted with gold this morning. “They say that Princess Alusair led her band of noble young rapscallions into the city over the rooftops, to-” she lowered her voice dramatically-“work their deadly slaughter.”
“But why would she do that?” Blaerla asked, brown eyebrows furrowed in genuine puzzlement. Then she added cattily, “I thought she liked nobles in their beds-male nobles, and lots of them.”
Darlutheene gave a little crow of laughter that made her several chins shake heartily, then slapped at her confidante’s arm with perfumed fingertips. “Ah, shrewdly said, Blaerla! Shrewdly said!”
Blaerla flushed with genuine pleasure and held out her own glass for a refill. Darlutheene awarded her with a delicate pouring of her best ruby-hued Elixir du Vole and continued. “Why, dear, don’t you see? She’s removing nobles who’ve declared their loyalty to our dear court wizard-because certain noble houses, I’ve heard, are hiring mages in Sembia, Westgate, and farther afield to organize a raid on the palace! She needs to be sure that the families working for the wizard won’t foil them!”
Blaerla squealed with excitement, almost-but not quite-spilling her cordial in her bouncing breathlessness. Her low-cut gown briefly displayed movement akin to a ship breaking up in heavy, rolling waves. Darlutheene could only watch in fascination as the perfume wafted forth from her friend’s heavily gem-and-fine-chain-adorned front. Blaerla asked, “Raid the palace? Why? Oh, Darlutheene Ambershields, before all the gods, tell me why!”
“I have heard they’re coming for the king, of course,” Darlutheene said smugly. “To wrest him away-sickbed and all-from Vangerdahast’s clutches. Of course, with all the evil spells that have been laid on him by now, they’re probably too late. For all we know, Azoun could be a zombie under our dear Royal Magician’s control, even as we speak!”
“Oh!” Blaerla squealed, clutching her glass to her ample bosom, “this is all so exciting!” She felt the cold glass against her flesh, remembered what she was holding, and drained it in a single gulp.
Holding it out for more, she said triumphantly, “We are truly favored of the gods to dwell here in Suzail, with the eyes of all the world upon us, while all these… dramatic, important things are happening!”
Darlutheene patted her friend’s cheek fondly, seeming not to see the empty glass held out to her. “Yes, yes, dear,” she said fondly. “Of course we are.”
Had Blaerla not been quite so excited, the two fine-gowned ladies might have heard a brief commotion in the street below. The Purple Dragon sword captain Lareth Gulur, a veteran of the Tuigan War, had just nodded a wordless greeting to a war wizard he knew slightly-Ensibal Threen, a mild-mannered sort-when out of the crowd strode a noble in deep-blue velvet and white shimmersheen, his fingers bristling with rings. One of the Silverswords, Lareth thought, wrinkling his brow as he delved in his memories for the man’s name. He was rather chubby, with long blond hair and a wispy mustache of the same hue-gods, don’t these young fools know what they look like, with a few brave hairs sprouting from otherwise bare upper lips?