A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [112]
Ah, well. They don't make archwizards like they used to.
Mulgor was used to restless sheep, here in the uplands with so many wolves and foxes and stalking bears.
That was why he liked Ul's Hollow so much: a grassy bowl with nary a tree or thornshrub for a hunting beast to hide behind, two bare hills on either side of it that a shepherd could keep watch from, plenty of bustard and dunfeather to fill his cookpot with and keep his bowwork sharp… and he could get clear shots at predators, too.
He could still see that wolf, two summers back, tumbling over with his bolt in its eye. Right down yonder, it had been. Yes, this was a good place, and almost his own, these days, with so many gone to wars and not come back. It'd be a hard winter for some, and he'd get better coin for his mutton.
Then he could buy old Throrkan's fields, at last. Overgrown and neglected, these five years, now-but his sheep would make short work of that. The hills, behind, too-Throrkan took just enough grapes for his own use, to slump about in drunken grumbling day after day, but there was enough there for proper vinting, and wine to sell downriver. Esdevan Mulgor, Fine Wines and Fleece. Three smile down, but that had a fine ring to it! Why, h-
What the bebolten sty was that?
All of his sheep were on the move, flooding forward in the same direction-not stampeded, but trotting purposefully towards the lip of the dell. He sprang to his feet, bow in hand, and launched himself down the slope as fast as he could, heedless of a possible fall. Gods, they could all be over the edge in a moment, and-
The world rocked under him, hurling his thudding feet skyward, and the sky seemed to explode with a dark roar.
The ground slapped Esdevan Mulgor, hard. He was lying on the side of his face, dazed, his bow gone. The sheep! This storm would send them scattering, for sure! He scrambled up, gulping. From wine merchant to nothing, in a single thunderclap!
He'd best-Mulgor stopped, jaw dropping, and just stared. The sheep had all crowded to the front of the dell in a long line, their heads turned to watch one thing-and there they stood frozen, as still as so many dirty white statues. There was no storm in the sky above them, only high white clouds like finger ribbons.
They were staring downriver, at Flowfoam Isle. Or at what was rising in the sky above it. As high as a mountain it loomed, huge and black and coiled-a snake! Taller than the Old Claw, taller than the Mombeacon- taller than all the Windfangs!
It must be the Serpent bards spoke of, that was bound into Slumber by the king. And that meant… that meant King Kelgrael must be-
"No," Esdevan Mulgor whispered. "Oh, no." If the Serpent was loose in the world, there'd soon be no Aglirta, but a dead waste… or a dark realm of hissing, wriggling Serpent-priests and slaves.
He stared at it, towering above the distant palace. It reared up-he could see one black, gold-rimmed eye clearly, and for one heart-freezing moment thought it had noticed him, and was glaring right at him-and shook its coils out, gloating in its power. Throwing back its head, it opened jaws that must be wider than two Ul's Hollows-and with its fangs bared, struck, plunging its head down into the palace.
Kelgrael must be dead already-and someone else down mere must be dying, right now. A snake that size would take a lot of feeding…
And there he was, with his sheep a white, welcoming beacon on the green hillside. Mulgor started to shake, and then looked around wildly. His bow… if it came hunting this way, he'd need his bow…
Stones fell like rain amid snarling dust, and cracks raced across the floor and wall and ceiling. Up and down the dark, forgotten halls and rooms of these Flowfoam cellars, the stones groaned loudly, threatening collapse… and then it all died away, and the glowing bones of Gadaster Mulkyn settled back into their proper places, reassembling themselves into a skeleton-or what was left of a skeleton, after Ingryl Ambelter's ravagings.
Careless and reckless Gadaster's onetime apprentice had certainly been. Not content