Realms of the Dragons vol.1 a-9

by Коллектив Авторов

  They led their horses into the inn yard, which was shaded by a line of tall, dusty poplars. A young stable boy with ungainly long arms and legs and a mop of sandy hair hurried out to meet them, blinking in the sunlight. He stood staring at the travelers while Geth-red returned his empty gaze.

  "See to our mounts, lad," Gethred called. "Don't let them drink yet, they're hot. Bring in our saddlebags and packs when you're done."

  "Yes, sir!"

  "Now, lad, where can a fellow find something to wash the dust of the road from his throat?"

  "Right through there, sir," the stable boy said. He pointed at the inn's door. "There's a taproom inside." He stared at the travelers again, his face working awkwardly as he struggled with something he wanted to say. Erzimar exchanged glances with his companions as they waited. Bragor turned away with a dour curse, tired of waiting, but then the lad broke free of his paralysis with a small hop and asked in an excited rush, "Are you here about the dragon?"

  Erzimar simply nodded at the boy. The stable boy gaped in amazement as the travelers shook the road dust from their cloaks and went into the warm gloom of the inn's common room. Heavy footsteps sounded on creaking floorboards, and the innkeeper appeared-a short, stout fellow with sweat gleaming on his bald head. His face was sallow, with gray stubble discoloring his jowls and small, quick eyes.

  "Good day, travelers," he began. "I am Rothas, the master of this house. How many rooms will you be needing, then?"

  "We'll take three," Gethred said. "And we'll take any good ale you've got in your ice cellar, and something to eat, too. The quicker, the better."

  "Of course, sir…"

  The innkeeper hesitated, in much the same way that the stable boy had.

  Erzimar took pity on the fellow and said, "Yes, Rothas, we've come about the dragon."

  Two hours later, Erzimar felt almost comfortable again. His thirst was well quenched, he had a good meal under his ribs, and he'd even found half an hour to dunk himself in the cold lake nearby. He sat alongside Gethred, Bragor, Murgolm, and Isildra in five wooden chairs that had been lined up along one wall of the inn's common room. Opposite them sat the half-dozen aldermen of Pelldith Lake. Two dozen more onlookers clustered in the back of the room, silent and watchful.

  The aldermen included the innkeeper Rothas, and the cooper Ethern, the fellow Erzimar had seen as he rode into town.

  "We're all here, alderman," the wizard said. "Let's hear what you have to say."

  The elders looked at each other, and the cooper Ethern stood up. He knotted his strong hands together as he spoke.

  "Thank you for answering our call," he began. "When will the rest of your party arrive?"

  "We're it," Gethred said with a crooked smile. "The Company of the Argent Hawk, five strong. I am Gethred Hesthell of Everlund. This is the Vigilant Isildra of the Temple of Helm, Bragor Ironhand, Murgolm Stoyevsk of Vaasa, and Erzimar Dal Tirza of Innarlith, our wizard."

  Ethern studied them, rubbing thoughtfully at his long jaw, then asked, "Will five of you be enough?"

  "That depends on your dragon," Erzimar replied. "We can't help you if you've got an ancient red to deal with. If that's the case, I would advise you to pack up your belongings and abandon the town." He noted the stricken expressions on the elders' faces, and added, "Anything short of that, we can likely help."

  "It's big, but not that big," the cooper said. "Strong, quick, with a heart as black as a rotten tree. A wicked beast."

  "And it's damnably clever, too," Rothas muttered.

  Erzimar leaned back in his chair and studied the elders. He could see at once that they were scared. Frightened out of their wits, really. No one wanted to meet his eyes. The townsfolk stared at the floorboards or shifted their feet, nervous.

  "Listen, Ethern-for what it's worth, we've slain dragons before. We took a black up near the High Moor, and a young but strong red in the Sword Mountains. We know what we're about. Now, tell us the tale from the start."

  The cooper looked at his fellow elders, who offered weary shrugs and nods for answers.

  He turned back to the Argent Hawks and said, "It started about four tendays ago. We started losing livestock. That's not unusual-trolls raid the outlying homesteads from time to time. But we couldn't find any tracks. It was rainy then, and the pastures muddy. Trolls dragging off cows would have left plenty of footprints.

  "Of course, we figured out later that the dragon was taking the livestock on the wing. Anyway, after this had gone on for several nights, we assembled a company of watchmen to guard the pastures. Two dozen archers, in groups of four, plus a few folk who have experience fighting monsters: Elzur, our town sorcerer; Brother Stort, a cleric of Lathander; and Selran, here-" the cooper nodded at a tall, sandy-haired fellow who stood in the back of the room, staring blankly at the floor-"who's stalked gnolls in the hills."

  "Didn't know enough to be scared, yet," Rothas, the innkeeper, said.

  "Five nights passed with nothing out of the ordinary," the cooper went on, "and some folks thought that whatever it was had moved on. But on the sixth night… on the sixth night it was the dark of the moon. As best we could make out later, it came against Elzur and the archers with him, and killed them all with its breath before they even knew it was there. Then it turned on a nearby homestead. Counting Elzur and our watchmen, ten people dead in one night. That's a hard thing in a town the size of Pelldith Lake."

  "I can imagine," Erzimar said. "Go on."

  The cooper cleared his throat and said, "Well, we knew we had real trouble. We sent for a company of adventurers, a band of sellswords who were exploring some old ruins nearby. They agreed to help us out. The Fellowship of the Sundered Shield, or the Shield Fellows, they called themselves.

  "The Shield Fellows searched the countryside for a couple of days-Selran went with 'em, because no one knows the lands nearby better-and they found a dragon's cave in the hills a few miles off Two tendays ago they set off to go deal with the monster. But none of them came back. The dragon killed them all. Only Selran returned to tell the tale."

  Erzimar shifted in his seat, looked up at the straw-haired tracker leaning against the back wall, and asked, "You saw the dragon take them?"

  The fellow looked up. His face was streaked with sweat, and his eyes seemed pale and unfocused, as if he looked on distant and terrible things.

  "No," Selran managed. "They hired me to serve as a guide to the area, and to help watch their mounts. I did not enter the cave. The dragon called out to me when it was done. Told me to run back home and carry its demands for tribute." He cast his gaze down to the dusty floorboards again. "Its name is Serpestrillvyth."

  "Did you pay its tribute?" Erzimar asked Ethern.

  "We tried. We scraped together a thousand gold coins, twenty head of cattle, six casks of good wine-it wasn't easy. Then, when we sent the wagon to the place the dragon had told us to, a band of trolls attacked and took it all. We think the dragon put them up to it, because the very next day it killed a little boy, and told his father that the town had better come up with another ransom to replace the one the trolls took."

  Bragor the dwarf nodded, his beard spilling over his mailed chest, and said, "Aye, that's an old dragonish trick. Steal the ransom you demanded, and get paid twice."

  "We argued long and hard over whether or not to pay again. Alderman Torbath argued most vehemently against it. He pointed out that we might as well spend the coin to hire dragonslayers to rid ourselves of the monster."

  Erzimar looked at the elders and asked, "I'm sorry, but I don't recall-which one of you is Torbath?"

  The cooper looked away and said, "He's not here, sir. He's dead. The dragon crept right into the middle of town one night and killed him in his bed."

  "It found out that Torbath was going to be trouble, and it took care of him," the innkeeper said. He coughed awkwardly. "After that, we sent out word that we needed a dragonslayer."

  "The dragon seems well informed about the town," Gethred murmured to the wi
zard in Elvish.

  "It's not unexpected," Erzimar replied in the same language. "It could be a sorcerer of some skill; a lot of dragons are. A few divination spells would easily let it keep an eye on things here. I've warded us against scrying, just in case."

  "It could have someone spying for it."

  "Or it could have spies, yes. We won't rule out anything yef,"Erzimar answered. He turned his attention to the tracker leaning against the back wall, and spoke in Common again. "Selran, did you see the dragon?"

  "I did. Just a glimpse of the monster, as it called out to me from its cave."

  "What color was it, and how big? The size of a horse? An oxcart? A house?"

  "I'm not sure about the color. It was dark. As far as the size, I would say it was as big as a large draft horse." The tracker looked around the taproom. "It could fit through that door, but not by much. It would pretty much fill this room with its wings and tail and all."

  Erzimar nodded. An adult, most likely, but not particularly old and strong, at least as dragons went. Dragons grew throughout their lives, and the really old ones could be tremendously large and powerful. He glanced back to the town's spokesman.

  "Have you seen it breathe anything? Fire, acid, lightning?"

  "Its breath is a foul, choking, poisonous mist. It can kill everyone in a good-sized farmhouse by blowing its poison in a door or window."

  "Those who die from its breath-is their skin eaten away? Puckered and split?"

  Ethern paled, but he nodded and said, "Yes, that's the way of it."

  "It's a green, then. No doubt about it," Bragor muttered.

  He leaned over to Murgolm and explained the conversation to the Vaasan in Dwarvish.

  "Can you help us?" Rothas the innkeeper asked.

  "Yes," said Erzimar. "It's not to be taken lightly, but we've defeated dragons of that size before. Not a green, but we know what we need to do, I think." He glanced at his companions, searching for dissent and finding none. Then he turned back to the aldermen. "Let's discuss a suitable fee for slaying your dragon."

  They rested in Pelldith Lake for the rest of the day and all of the next. The company armed and provisioned for an expedition to the dragon's lair, and they hired the tracker Selran to show them the way. They rode out into the hills above the town in the brief cool hour just after sunrise. Selran rode in the lead, dressed in a sweat-stained jerkin of leather sewn with iron rings, a long bow of yew across his back.

  The day was still and sweltering. A distant line of thunderheads slowly gathered in the hazy west, but the low thunder rumbled throughout the afternoon without ever drawing closer. They climbed over endless thicket-covered ridges and splashed through boggy dells, shallow and scummy after the summer drought.

  An hour before dusk Selran led them to a ruined hunter's lodge by a reedy lake.

  "We're still five miles from the dragon's cave," the ranger said. "I don't dare bring the horses any closer, or it might sniff them out and find us in the night."

  "We'll fortify this place with our spells, just in case," Erzimar replied. "It wouldn't do to let Serpestrillvyth catch us sleeping."

  While the mage worked his magic and laid his wards, Gethred and Murgolm tended to the horses, and Bragor saw to the cooking as best he could without lighting a fire. Isildra and Selran stood guard, watching the darkening sky and the warm, still woods. The ranger stood in the shadows of the trees and watched the Argent Hawks at their tasks, his face set in a stony frown.

  "What is it, Selran?" Isildra asked. "What troubles you?"

  "It is nothing," he said. Then, after a moment, he sighed and sat down on an old stump that had been cut for the lodge. "It's just that… you're so much like the others."

  "The others?" Isildra looked at him blankly for a moment, then she nodded. "Oh. The Fellowship of the Sundered Shield."

  Selran nodded expressionlessly and said, "I brought them to the cave by a different path-it would have been foolish to follow the same trail twice. But this seems just like…" He seemed to struggle with himself, searching for the right words perhaps, then he gave in with an odd shrug. "I fear for you all."

  The cleric of Helm nodded and said, "We shall be careful, Selran. Extremely careful."

  "The Shield Fellows said the same."

  Erzimar returned from setting his magical defenses and joined the conversation with a quick smile. "Yes, but you forget-we have an advantage over the Sundered Shields. We know this dragon has killed a company of dragonslayers. Nothing serves to sharpen one's sense of caution as well as an example like theirs."

  Isildra set a hand on Selran's arm and said, "Helm rewards vigilance, Selran. Keep your eyes open, and speak up when something troubles you. We will listen. You know this dragon, you know this terrain. Your intuition may be our best weapon."

  The ranger sank down on a stump, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the empty woods across the lake.

  "I doubt it," he said softly. "It's a damnably clever dragon."

  They set a half-on, half-off watch throughout the night, and even those who were not on watch slept with weapons close at hand and mail shirts or breastplates loosely fastened, ready to rise and fight at a moment's notice. But the night passed without danger, though at one point Selran cried out in his sleep and gave them all a bad start.

  Afterward, Gethred pulled Erzimar aside, and the two moved a little ways off from the camp. The half-elf kept watch over Erzimar's shoulder, his hand on his sword hilt as he spoke.

  "What do you think of the ranger?" he asked softly in Elvish.

  "He seems shaky to me" Erzimar admitted. "I don't know that I can blame him, though. Consider the courage it must take to return to the den of a dragon after you've seen it kill a whole band of heroes."

  "More courage than to go the first time, I suppose. Still… I don't think we should count on him, if it comes to that."

  Erzimar shrugged and replied, "If he bolts, I don't see the harm in it. My plans do not depend on Selran in any way, shape, or form. I would feel badly for the fellow, though. If he does go, I hope he can find it in his heart to forgive himself later."

  Gethred snorted.

  "I hope I can find it in mine to forgive, him, too,"he said Gethred looked into the wizard's face, and his eyes were dark and serious. "Don't expect him to help much, Erzimar."

  Shortly before sunrise, they left the camp on foot and followed Selran over the nearby ridge. The ranger led them along the wooded hillside for several miles before they began to descend toward a boulder-choked riverbed. The stream was dark and slow in the summer heat, trickling through the dusty rocks. Selran finally called another halt in a dense copse another half mile farther on.

  "There," he said in a whisper. "This side, two hundred yards."

  Erzimar followed the ranger's gaze and saw the cave-a wide, horizontal gash about man-high but close to thirty feet from side to side. It was low, only a few feet above the dry boulders and bleached snags marking the river's high water mark, but it looked like it sloped upward sharply inside.

  "I see it," he said. "This is close enough. Before we go any farther, I must see to our magical protections."

  The ranger looked up sharply and asked, "You have spells to protect you?"

  "Isildra will use her holy prayers to ward against the dragon's breath and strengthen and fortify us. I will armor us all against its teeth and claws and enchant us with spells of dark-seeing. And I'll lay spells of dragonbane on our weapons, too."

  "Can you turn us invisible?"

  "I can, but it won't help much. Dragons see through most such spells with ease." Erzimar looked up at the tall tracker, and lowered his voice. "Now, are you staying here, or do you wish to accompany us inside? I need to know before I begin my spells."

  Selran paled. He licked his lips and fixed his eyes on the cave mouth. He visibly shuddered, and passed his hand over his eyes.

  I should not have asked, Erzimar chided himself. I have shamed him.

  The wizard could only imagine the
mortal terror the ranger wrestled with.

  "You need not go, Selran," he added quietly. "I would not mind a sentry outside to guard against the dragon circling behind us undetected."

  "No," Selran said. "No, I will go."

  Gethred, who was standing near, clapped one mailed hand on the ranger's shoulder before turning away to look after his weapons.

  Erzimar and Isildra quickly and quietly began their spells and enchantments, while the rest of the company stood guard against any sudden attack. The priestess murmured her sacred words and sprinkled holy water over each of the Argent Hawks, her holy symbol glowing blue with the Vigilant God's power. Erzimar confidently rasped out the words of spell after spell, dusting his companions with pinches of ground diamond and weaving potent abjurations over them. So protected, a swordsman could withstand all but the most powerful blows, and deal terrible wounds with his enchanted blade. When he finished with the last spell, he picked up his staff and gestured at the dragon's lair.

  "Quick, but not careless," said the wizard. "The spells will not last forever."

  Gethred nodded and set out in the lead, trotting toward the cave in a low crouch. Bragor and Murgolm followed, weapons bared. Then Erzimar and Isildra broke cover and followed, keeping close to the fighters in front of them. Selran loped quietly a few steps behind, his bow strung and an arrow grasped in one hand. They crossed the desiccated streambed easily, and scrambled up toward the dark cave above. Stones scraped and crunched beneath their boots, and Erzimar winced with each one.

  It must know we're coming, he thought. Dragons have uncannily keen senses. It'll know we're here.

  His stomach twisted at the thought of the dragon waiting on them, but the wizard steeled himself and stayed close to his companions. Ducking below the overhanging rock at the mouth of the cave, the Hawks stole inside, blinking as they went from the sun-bright streambed to the deep shadows of the cave. Erzimar caught a whiff of the dragon's scent-a harsh, acrid smell like a tanner's vat, painful in the nose and throat.