The Black Bouquet
Page 29
Finally, after what felt like an hour of frenzied struggle, even though it had only been a few seconds, Raryn charged in on the dragon’s flank and chopped at it with his ice-axe. From that point forward, though his attention stayed focused on the wyrm, Dorn nonetheless caught glimpses of his comrades when the frenzied chaos of the battle brought them momentarily into view.
Raryn drove the axe into the creature’s body. It pivoted, jerking the weapon from his grip, and clawed at him. Raryn jumped back, avoiding that attack, but the reptile wasn’t done. It kept on turning, and its tail lashed the dwarf across his barrel chest. Raryn flew through the air and slammed down hard—hard enough, by the look of it, to break his bones—but scrambled up and grabbed for the hilt of his dagger.
Using his small size to good advantage, Will darted under the reptile’s belly and jammed his curved sword through the scales, making a long incision as if he was gutting a deer. The wyrm slammed its stomach flat on the ground, sending a jolt through the earth. Its weight would have pulverized anyone caught beneath, but the halfling flung himself clear.
A translucent mace sprang into existence, and as if wielded by an invisible warrior, battered the ruff of jagged, bony plates behind the dragon’s blazing eyes and snapping jaws. Having seen the trick before, Dorn knew Pavel had conjured the effect. A few seconds later, the priest himself advanced on the creature, the mace of steel and wood in his own fist shining like the sun.
Dorn did his best to stay in front of the drake and attack relentlessly, trying to keep the reptile’s attention fixed on him while his friends hacked, bashed, and stabbed it from the sides and rear. He himself gradually cut its mask into a crosshatch of bloody gashes. Still, the wyrm wouldn’t even falter, much less go down.
Eaten away by acid, the bastard sword snapped in two. As he fumbled for the shorter blade he carried as backup, or for fighting in close quarters, a column of dazzling yellow fire hurtled down from the darkening sky to strike the drake between the wings. Dorn knew Pavel wasn’t sufficiently learned—or wise, or saintly … however it worked—to cast such a powerful spell from his own innate capabilities. He’d used a precious scroll, divine magic the arcanists of Thentia couldn’t replace, because in his estimation it was the only way to put the dragon down.
The ooze drake convulsed, but only for a second. It rounded on the man it had plainly identified as the principal spellcaster among its opponents. Its head shot forward at the end of the long neck and caught Pavel in its jaws. Teeth gnashing, it reared high, on the brink of chewing him up and swallowing him down.
No time for the short sword. Dorn lunged in and ripped with his iron claws. Heedless of their own safety, Raryn and Will attacked just as furiously.
At last, reeking of burned flesh, the wyrm collapsed. The three hunters scrambled just as frantically backward to keep it from landing on top of them, then rushed to its head to determine if Pavel was still alive.
They couldn’t tell until they pried the fangs apart and pulled him free. He was breathing shallowly, but might not be for long. His wounds were deep, bleeding profusely, and he was the healer. Who, then, would heal him?
In Stores April 2004
from Wizards of the Coast
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Richard Lee Byers is the author of more than fifteen novels, including The Shattered Mask and R.A. Salvatore’s War of the Spider Queen, Book I: Dissolution. A resident of the Tampa Bay area, the setting for much of his horror fiction, he spends a good deal of his free time fencing foil, epeé, and saber, often competing in local tournaments.
The Rogues
THE BLACK BOUQUET
©2003 Wizards of the Coast LLC
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Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2003100824
eISBN: 978-0-7869-5693-7
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