Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [123]
Even that realization left her more numb than panicked. She felt dizzy and hollow, perhaps because the anguish of losing a sister, father, and kingdom all at once was simply more than she could bear. The sensation was similar to her longing for Rowen, a cold deep ache that never went away, that was always there ready to pull her down into a swirling black void of despair. It was a feeling to which she could never surrender, not even for a moment. Too much depended on her-and she was thinking not only of Cormyr. Her child would be coming soon, and she wanted to have a kingdom for it to be born into.
When Tanalasta grew aware of her environment again, she found herself surrounded by a host of disheartened faces. Melot Silversword and Barrimore Longbrooke were huddled together, looking terrified and whispering something about Sembia. Even Ildamoar Hardcastle and Roland Emmarask looked pale and dismayed. Clearly, everyone in the room thought the war lost, and it soon would be if Tanalasta did not do something to restore their confidence.
The princess thought first of going north to assume command of the royal army "until her father recovered," but-thankfully-the thought flashed from her mind as quickly as it appeared. Even were she as clever a tactician as Alusair (and she knew she was not), and even were her presence as inspiring as that of King Azoun (and she knew it was not), an immensely pregnant woman who could barely waddle-much less lead a charge into battle-would not inspire the royal army to stand firm against Nalavarauthatoryl and her orcs.
But she knew who could.
Tanalasta braced her hands on the arms of the chair. "Lord Longbrooke, I am sure that you and Lord Silversword would not be discussing calling for the aid of Sembian troops." When the two men shook their heads, she pushed herself up. "Good. I doubt Vangerdahast would approve."
"Vangerdahast?" gasped Roland Emmarask. "Then you know where he is?"
"Better than that. I think Harvestmaster Foley has determined a way to free him." Tanalasta turned to the priest. "Isn't that so, Owden?"
Owden smiled and inclined his head, a sure sign of his displeasure. "When was the princess suggesting? Given tonight to complete my studies, I could possibly be ready by dawn."
"I was thinking sooner." Tanalasta removed Rowen's holy symbol from around her neck and passed it to the priest. "Perhaps now would be good."
Owden was too subtle and loyal to let anyone but Tanalasta see the annoyance in his eyes. He had first proposed opening a gate into Vangerdahast's prison with the understanding that he would trace the route by himself, so the princess would not be endangered by such an unpredictable spell. When it had grown apparent that Owden did not have a strong enough emotional connection to find Vangerdahast through Rowen's holy symbol, however, Tanalasta had begun to press for her own involvement. So far, the priest had steadfastly refused, claiming she was as likely to be sucked into Vangerdahast's dimension as the reverse. Until now, Tanalasta had acquiesced.
When Owden did not readily agree, Tanalasta turned to the door guard. "Send for Battlelord Steelhand."
"That won't be necessary," Owden said. He motioned Tanalasta back to her chair. "The princess is right. The time has come to open the door and see what spills out."
Owden dangled the holy symbol in front of Tanalasta's eyes and began to swing it back and forth. "Concentrate. Picture Vangerdahast's face."
Tanalasta followed the silver amulet with her eyes and pictured Vangerdahast as she had last seen him, strangely young and haunted, with a bushy black beard and a crown of iron ringing his ragged mane of hair. The image melded with the symbol and began to swing back and forth,