D& D - Mystara 02 Dragonking of Mystara

by Thorarinn Gunnarsson

  "Something isn't right," Solveig said softly. "How much will you need to disrobe to get into that armor?"

  "Too much," he told her. "I'd never have time to get out of these boots."

  "If we can take out one of them, even slow him down, then I might be able to cover you long enough."

  "It might come to that," Thelvyn replied. "Still, I'm not entirely helpless. Be ready. I'm going to try something."

  As furious as he was for finding himself trapped like this, he knew he had other ways of defending himself. Using a magical spell at his command, he summoned a sphere of light and sent it up among the tree branches. The light was bright enough to cast a soft glow through the intersection and chase away most of the deep shadows. Perhaps someone would see it and summon help. For the moment, their attackers hesitated.

  The assassins moved together at the same instant, leaping forward with their swords raised high. Thelvyn brought up his own small sword in response; his instinct was to duck and leap aside as the massive blade of his opponent sliced down, but he couldn't leave Solveig's back unprotected. All he could do was to catch the attacker's sword with his own and deflect it aside.

  The sword was nearly ripped from his hands by the force of the blow. The assassin recovered quickly, turning his blade under Thelvyn's, catching him unprepared, with his arms in an awkward position. He was unprepared for the crushing strength of his enemy, who had overpowered him to his disadvantage. Although Thelvyn possessed all the height and strength of his unknown race, he was facing an opponent whose physical power he could only describe as unnatural.

  Thelvyn was forced to draw back to retain his grip on his sword, bumping against Solveig's back. He had to recover quickly, but he was surprised to find his enemy gave him the moment he needed by drawing back as well. When the assassin raised his massive sword for a second powerful sweep, Thelvyn turned the blow aside before the heavy blade could gather speed. Dropping low, he passed beneath the assassin's blade and came up quickly behind his opponent. The blow he delivered with his small weapon hardly scratched the leather armor beneath his enemy's cloak, but it served its purpose.

  Thelvyn had realized his only advantage was speed. He desperately needed the room to move quickly, to leap clear and spare the fragile blade of his sword. Fortunately the assassin ignored Solveig's now exposed back and followed him out onto the square. Solveig and her opponent were trading blows furiously.

  The dark assassin tried to match Thelvyn pace for pace, occasionally stepping in quickly to slash with his sword. Thelvyn was mystified by his opponent's caution despite seeming to have an overwhelming advantage. He realized almost too late that he was still being tested, and his enemy was holding back until he was certain that Thelvyn was isolated from his powers as Dragonlord. That fact alone allowed Thelvyn to hold his own, but it was obvious the true contest was yet to begin.

  Suddenly the assassin lunged at him in sudden fury, striking over and over again and again in an effort to break Thelvyn's sword. It was all Thelvyn could do to turn or evade the blows from his enemy's massive sword, and he grew increasingly desperate. He knew he was unlikely to win a defensive battle. He had to find a way to end this somehow.

  Finally Thelvyn sensed that his enemy was beginning to tire at last. The assassin had been doing most of the work, trying to match Thelvyn's quickness despite the burden of his armor, at the same time throwing all his strength behind his blows with the heavy sword. When at last one of his strokes went a little too wide, Thelvyn rushed in beneath his reach and pushed the dark assassin backward as hard as he could. The assassin stumbled a couple of quick steps backward before falling over onto the cobblestones.

  Thelvyn quickly thought better of trying to finish him off while he was down, knowing how easy it would be for something to go wrong if he tried to close with a large, stronger enemy who was also armored and better armed. Instead he leaped back, hoping to buy a few moments to rid himself of the clothing and boots that prevented him from becoming the Dragonlord. In his haste, he tripped and fell. Fearful of becoming tangled in his cape while he was down, he jerked it loose and tossed it aside as he rolled away from his enemy, then leaped to his feet.

  The assassin was still struggling to rise, burdened by his armor. That gave Thelvyn a moment more to pull off his jacket and remove the massive decorative belt he wore, although he despaired of ever removing his boots. The assassin came at him, determined to finish him before he found some way to get into his armor.

  The contest resumed as before. Thelvyn used his quickness as his only advantage, doing whatever he could to avoid his foe's massive blade. He forced himself to remain calm, reminding himself that he was clever enough to survive if he was careful. His enemy seemed to be tiring, but not much more quickly than Thelvyn. Indeed, he was beginning to wonder if he faced a man at all. The assassin was completely concealed in a dark cape, his face hidden within the shadows of the deep hood.

  Thelvyn's sword had been nicked and bent by the unrelenting assault of powerful bows, and he knew that the weapon could fail at any time. The moment came sooner than he had expected when his sword broke suddenly just above the hilt. He leaped backward swiftly, avoiding the assassin's blade, then cast another spell of light directly into his opponent's face.

  His opponent was blinded by the spell, and that allowed Thelvyn a moment to see how Solveig fared. Although the two assassins seemed identical, her adversary appeared to be less strong, an even match for the tall Northlands warrior.

  Thelvyn's attention was drawn back to his own enemy when he saw the assassin somehow dispel the magical light that blinded him. The cloaked figure rubbed his eyes, his face still hidden within the hood, then reached for the sword he had dropped. He seemed unable to find it at first, as if his vision remained blurry.

  Knowing he was weaponless, Thelvyn threw himself at the stranger to keep him from regaining his sword. This time the assassin wasn't taken completely off guard and braced himself. The impact knocked Thelvyn backward. He rolled aside desperately as the assassin attacked, hissing in fury. In growing desperation, Thelvyn realized he was no match for the size and crushing strength of the strange warrior. He jumped aside, nearly falling once more in his haste to put some distance between them.

  The assassin failed to pursue him at once, standing in the street with his legs braced firmly, and Thelvyn realized almost too late that the strange warrior was now commanding a spell of powerful magic. Thelvyn summoned an invisible shield, the only defense he could think of in his alarm. An instant later, a great spear of intense flame leaped out from the assassin's hands, crashing against the shield with tremendous force. In his experience, only the flames of a dragon rivaled its intensity. Whoever the stranger was, he was not only a powerful warrior but also a skilled magician, a deadly combination that was almost unheard of. Thelvyn was at a loss to know how to fight him.

  As soon as the flames died, Thelvyn stood ready to act quickly. He had only one option left to him, and he was acting now more by instinct and desperation than plan.

  Summoning clerical powers he had not called upon since becoming the Dragonlord, powers of almost unprecedented strength, he raised his arms and began his own attack. A spear of invisible force leaped out from his hands to strike the assassin, blasting him with such intensity that he was hurled backward against the trunk of a tree. The force of that blow should have been enough to kill a horse, but the stranger shook his head and began to rise unsteadily. Thelvyn hit him again, flattening him against the tree once more. Slowly he slid down the trunk and collapsed to the ground.

  Thelvyn hesitated, wondering if the fight was done, but the hesitation was nearly his undoing. The assassin stirred weakly, not even attempting to rise, then made a sudden gesture with his hand. Thelvyn felt the invisible missile strike his shoulder, smashing against the bone with such force that it hurtled him backward to the hard stones of the street. He wasn't aware at first that it had ripped deep into his shoulder all the way to the bone. When he tried to m
ove, his shoulder protested with a fierce burning pain, and his left arm failed to respond.

  The assassin knew that he had won, and he took his time as he returned to the street to collect his sword. As indestructible as the strange warrior seemed, Thelvyn's last attack had indeed left him dazed. He paused to retrieve his sword, then walked slowly over to finish his prey. Thelvyn could hardly move at first, managing only to sit up awkwardly. He was weaponless, too confused by his pain to command his magic. All he could do now was to leave himself open to the influence of his patron, hoping that the Immortal who had always watched over him would grant him the powers to defend himself.

  But he was not to know if he could have saved himself. Solveig rushed to his assistance, shouting some dire Northlands oath as she came at the assassin from behind. She had managed to defeat her own opponent, and his body lay in a dark heap several yards away. But this one was by far the more powerful of the two attackers. He met her attack blade to blade, disdaining the use of magic, and Thelvyn knew he was playing with her in a battle she could not hope to win. All she could do now was to buy Thelvyn the time he needed to get himself into the armor of the Dragonlord.

  With extreme effort, Thelvyn bent forward but found that he couldn't remove his boots one-handed. In his desperation, he climbed to his feet and hurried across the cobblestones to collect his discarded belt. He drew the dagger and used the blade to slice open the side of each boot so that he could kick them aside. Free to act at last, he rose painfully and teleported into his armor.

  The assassin stood motionless, watching him as he drew the massive sword from its belt and hefted it awkwardly with his one good hand. Solveig moved cautiously out of the way. Then the assassin turned sharply to look down the street behind him, and Thelvyn turned to see that Kharendaen was charging to the attack, a vast dark form running in a swift, leaping gait like some immense cat.

  Seeing that his own position had become hopeless, the assassin turned and disappeared into the trees of the small park. Thelvyn released a powerful bolt from the blade of the sword, which discharged against a tree trunk. The tree was shattered by the impact and collapsed, the top part slowly falling over with a loud crash. But Thelvyn knew that his one-handed aim had been so unsteady that he couldn't possibly have hit the fleeing assassin. Thelvyn returned the sword to his belt and removed his helmet, teleporting it out of the way.

  Then he saw that Solveig was wounded, sinking into Kharendaen's claws as the dragon hurried to catch her. Thelvyn rushed over to her, and he could see at once that her injuries were terrible. She had been completely run through by the assassin's sword. The blade had entered between her ribs just below her left breast and emerged again from her back. Somehow she had continued to fight, drawing upon her fierce Northlands fury to give her strength, and buying him the time he had needed.

  "We have to get her home," Thelvyn said desperately. "A healer might—"

  "It is too late to find help for her," Kharendaen said. "She does not have much time left to her. If I cannot save her, no one can."

  Thelvyn had forgotten for the moment that Kharendaen was a senior cleric. His concern was that the Great One would not look with favor upon the use of such powers for the sake of one who was not a dragon, especially at a time when he had removed himself from the affairs of dragons. Kharendaen lifted Solveig gently, sitting back on her haunches while she cradled the tall warrior in her claws like a sleeping child. The healing magic was not denied; Solveig's form began to glow with a soft light of icy blue.

  "I have done what I can for now," Kharendaen said after a moment. "Her danger is no longer as great, but we must take her home and find skilled help for her at once."

  She turned to walk home on her hind legs so that she could carry Solveig gently, then paused, staring. The lifeless body of the assassin Solveig had slain began to change, shifting, flowing, and expanding in shape until it became that of a black dragon.

  *****

  Kharendaen remained in the yard outside the front door of the house, holding Solveig until the healer arrived. Under the circumstances, Thelvyn had sent a city guard at once to fetch the king's personal healer, knowing that Jherridan would not deny him. Until the healer arrived, Kharendaen did not allow the Northland warrior out of her sight, fearful that her abilities as a cleric might still be needed. But the healer arrived shortly in a carriage that had been lent to him by one of the worthies at the ambassador's reception. He took one look at Solveig and ordered her brought inside at once, allowing only his servants to accompany him. He had much work to do that night, and he needed to have everyone out of the way.

  "I guess I don't need to ask what happened," Kharendaen said. "What about you, Dragonlord? I can see that you favor your left arm. I suspect there must be some reason you don't want to come out of that armor."

  "I was hit by a magic projectile," Thelvyn explained. "I really don't think it's all that bad, but I prefer to stay in the armor until I'm ready to have it tended to."

  "I think we should do something about it immediately," Kharendaen told him firmly. "A single strike from such a missile can be extremely deadly, and I do not trust you to know how badly you are wounded."

  Kharendaen took him into her lair while a servant was sent into the house to fetch medical supplies. When everything was ready, Thelvyn teleported out of the armor. It was the first chance even he had to assess his injuries. He had been prepared for the worst, knowing that he had no movement or feeling in his left arm. Indeed, the impact had shattered his collarbone and the outer end of his shoulder blade, ripping skin and muscle apart as the missile progressed through the front of his shoulder and then tore its way out the back. A few inches to the right and it would have nearly taken off his head.

  Except for the intervention of magic, Thelvyn would never have hoped to have the use of his arm again. But Kharendaen applied her clerical talents to the task in the most intense spell that Thelvyn had ever witnessed, and it seemed that the Great One was inclined to favor him. In all the old stories, there was always some magic spell or potion powerful enough that even a man near death would leap up again ready to fight. Such things did exist, but healing magic that powerful was rare, and even Kharendaen did not possess it. Her spells moved the shattered bones back into place and fused them, repairing torn muscles and tendons. Even so, Thelvyn could expect not to be back to normal for several days.

  "I must return to the place of your battle," the dragon said when they were nearly done. "I need to determine whether you were attacked by dragons who had been enchanted to take human form, or if the transformation of the dead assassin to the form of a dragon was a trick to lay false blame."

  "I suspect that they were real dragons," Thelvyn said. "The one I fought was extremely strong. His strength was unnatural, and he was both a skilled warrior and a powerful wizard. Everything suggests that he was not mortal."

  "Not mortal, perhaps, but not necessarily dragon," Kharendaen answered. "A dragon may be a skilled warrior, but with the fighting skills of a dragon. When a dragon is enchanted into human form, putting a sword in his hand does not make him able to use it well. Yet you say that he was skilled."

  "He seemed to be," Thelvyn said, trying to think. "He might have just been quick and strong, like a dragon. I suppose there's no proof one way or the other."

  "I will determine the truth beyond all doubt," she told him. "You go in the house and see how your friend is doing, but I think that you should stay with me this night."

  Kharendaen left to complete her task, no doubt frightening the city guard and any remaining late-night revelers half to death. She wasn't at all in the habit of going out into the streets, especially not at night. Solveig had since been taken to her room, and the healer had done all he could. Now he would have to allow matters to work on their own for a time before he could begin using new spells and potions to lead her step by step to a complete recovery.

  "She has a long and difficult road ahead of her," he explained to Thelvyn. "I do not e
xpect her to be able to walk about for at least five days, and full recovery will require a month or more. I will stay this night, in the event she takes a bad turn."

  "But she will recover?" Thelvyn insisted, greatly concerned. "What I mean is, she will regain her full strength and agility as a warrior?"

  "Oh, yes," the healer insisted. "Given time and the proper techniques in healing, it will be as if she had never been injured. But I will say that the dragon saved her life. You might even say, technically speaking, that she was dead, except that your dragon kept calling her back to life. Anyway, she is going to be restless for a time while the potions do their work. You can go in and see her now."

  Thelvyn opened the door quietly and stepped inside. Solveig was settled back on a great mound of pillows that kept her body inclined. A small lamp cast a soft light on the table beside her. She was bandaged and dressed in a white shirt, and she didn't appear much the worse, aside from the fact that she looked very pale and tired.

  "So the assassin got you as well?" she asked.

  "Magic dart," he explained, sitting in the chair beside the bed so that he could face her. "Kharendaen says I should be fine in a few days."

  "I'm told that your dragon saved my life," Solveig remarked. "I'm afraid I don't remember what happened. I'm . . . impressed."

  "Listen, I can't say how sorry I am about this," Thelvyn insisted. "I feel like this is all the fault of my own pride and vanity."

  "No, it's not your fault. I invited myself, remember. If you had gone to the reception alone as you had planned, I would have never been in danger."

  "Well, I've learned my lesson," Thelvyn assured her. "I'll never wear shoes again, not even to the king's wedding."

  Solveig tried to laugh, but it hurt too much. "Are you sure that this isn't his doing? He said he was going to get back at you."

  Thelvyn ignored her comment, knowing it was only a joke. "The one you killed turned into a black dragon," he told her. "That was why they were so hard to fight. Kharendaen has gone to confirm whether or not they were really dragons in enchanted form. If they were rogue or renegade dragons, that was probably the best chance they will ever have of getting rid of me. It almost worked."