A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [15]
Trailing hay, Suskar laughed and lumbered forward, long knife in hand. The horse had broken its neck, and lay still but for one feebly kicking back leg. There were no saddlebags-but the rider, now, all silken finery… and was that the gleam of gold?
"In at him, Baerm-don't let him flee!" he roared, as the lad on the ground ceased spitting and retching to scramble wild-eyed to his feet, and whirl away.
Whirl and limp, badly, stumping comically through the hayfield, arms windmilling for balance, with Baerm leaping after him.
One long and dirty arm caught the stumbling lad by a shoulder, spun him around into a kicking fall-and Baerm drove both his fists into the lad's gut, with the expected result.
"Beef and carrots," Suskar said disgustedly, as he stopped above the twisting, spewing silk-clad tangle that a grinning Baerm was standing guard over. "Why is it always beef and carrots? Does all Aglirta dine on nothing else?"
"Well," someone growled from just behind him, "you could try a meal of-cold steel!"
Suskar stiffened as something cold and sharp slid into his back, bringing a numbness that burned, and then burst out of his belly, dark and wet and pointed.
Baerm gaped at it, aghast, for what seemed a very long time before his gaze rose, almost reluctantly, to look up over Suskar's shoulder. And then he screamed.
"Ah," that gruff voice greeted him, "you are pleased to see me. I like that."
Baerm hadn't taken more than two running strides after whirling to flee when a heavy, hard-thrown mace struck the base of his skull and brought him red oblivion.
Suskar's groaning body struck the ground close by, and bounced. Flaeros winced, shaking his head to try to rid himself of the agony raging in it, and gasped, "W-who-?"
"My parents, whose tongues must have been nimble, named me Glarsimber Belklarravus," the gruff voice said from above him, as strong fingers caught up a fistful of fine silk, and hauled.
Flaeros blinked, suddenly upright and staring into a face he knew… from that magnificent whelming in Flowfoam, where the Smiling Wolf of Sart had been named-"B-Baron Brightpennant!" he gasped.
"Aye, that would be my newer name," the jowly, fierce-sideburned face agreed, as its owner sheathed his sword and strode a few steps to pluck up a mace. "So bright-born that I'm not used to it, yet. You, of course, are the bard Flaeros Delcamper."
"Y-yes! By the Three, my thanks, Lord! I'd've-you-you saved my life!"
The baron shrugged, smiled, and clapped an arm around the bard's shoulders that almost sent him wobbling groundward again.
"Come, lad, back to the road," Glarsimber said briskly. "You were in some haste, as I recall."
"Yes," Haeros agreed, stumbling. His head was still ringing-it had all been so sudden, and-
He frowned. "My Lord Baron," he said, "the Three must surely be smiling upon me, to have brought you so far from Aglirta to rescue me!"
At his elbow, the baron chuckled, and muttered something that sounded like, "No fool here."
They walked on together a few hay-trampling paces before Haeros dared to look up at his rescuer and prompt, "Baron?"
Glarsimber grinned crookedly-and then looked away towards the sea. "Well, lad," he told the air in front of him, "I was sent here, to-do a thing."
Flaeros gasped. "You must be on a mission commanded by Blackgult!"
The baron shrugged, grinned even more lopsidedly, and said only, "Perhaps."
The deep blue smoke writhed a little higher, and the wizard standing beneath it held up the Dwaer in his hand and chuckled.
"Think of it, think how to do it, and-'tis done. No dozens of spells and days of hunting up rare powders and words of binding. No wonder the Lady of Jewels defeated the Spellmaster, and strolled so languidly through a dozen spell-duels since."
Jhavarr Bowdragon's smile widened. "And Blackgult has another two of these, doesn't he? I'm almost forced