Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [103]
"Owden, the crown!" She thrust her hand out behind her, then pointed at the wizards who had been hiding behind the huge desk. "And get your box down there!"
The wizards flipped the top off the desk, exposing the large iron box that had been concealed beneath the walnut veneer, and shoved the heavy crate toward the hole. In the room below, Luthax finally seemed to realize even he could not regenerate his wounds as fast as his attackers were inflicting them. He stop struggling and closed his eyes in concentration. A low rumble shook the tower. The wall tapestries began to undulate rhythmically, and tiny bits of mortar started to drop from the seams between the stones.
"Move!" Tanalasta ordered, waving the wizards and their box toward the hole.
Owden slapped the crown into her hand, then hurled his shoulder into the iron box. The heavy crate slid forward, then tumbled over the edge and crashed onto the top of Luthax's skull. The ghazneth went limp and fell to his back, the box resting atop his chest, the crown of his head smashed flat.
The shaking ceased and the smoke started to clear, then the dent in Luthax's skull began to pop back to normal. Tanalasta pulled her weathercloak off Korvarr's charred form and used it to dampen the flames at the edge of the hole. She swung her legs over the side and raised an arm to Owden.
"Lower me down."
Owden's eyes grew wide. "That must be fifteen feet."
"Which is too far to jump," she said, "but I will if I must."
"Not necessary." Owden clasped her wrist and dropped to his belly, then lowered her over the edge. "A little help below!"
Several pairs of hands reached up and caught hold of Tanalasta's legs, then gently set her on the floor below. Though the whole process took no more than thirty seconds, by the time she stepped around the iron box to kneel at Luthax's side, his smashed skull had returned to normal.
Tanalasta held the ancient crown over his black, bald pate. "Luthax the Mighty, High Castellan of the War Wizards, as a true Obarskyr and heir to the Dragon Throne, I grant you the thing you most desire, the desire that made you betray what you loved most." As the princess spoke, Luthax's eyes shot open. She slapped the crown on his head, then finished the speech Alaphondar had written for her. "The Crown of Draxius Obarskyr is yours."
"No!" Luthax's hand shot up and caught the princess on the side of the head.
Her ear exploded with pain and everything went black. For a moment she thought Alaphondar must have been wrong, then her vision cleared and she saw the fire leave Luthax's eyes. The shadow lifted from his face, and Tanalasta found herself looking into the bitter eyes of a hateful, power-mad old wizard.
Luthax's arm came up again, but this time a dragoneer blocked it in mid swing. The wizard's eyes widened in shock. He jerked his hand free and began to scratch at the crown, trying in vain to slip a finger beneath the circlet and fling it away. He succeeded only in tearing four bloody furrows down the side of his head.
Tanalasta sighed in relief. "It's no use, Luthax." She raised a hand and let out a weary groan as someone pulled her to feet. "You wanted that crown, and now it's yours."
"Yes, so I did." His voice sound brittle and petty. "But what do you want? I have it, I think."
Luthax's gaze dropped to his flabby chest, where Tanalasta was surprised to see a silver chain supporting a silver belt buckle shaped like a budding sunflower.
The buckle was as familiar to her as the holy symbol she wore around her own neck. It was the same buckle Rowen Cormaeril had worn on his leather scout's belt, the same buckle that