Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [155]
"This Cormyr," Azoun told her almost gently, "that you burn and tear apart and visit plagues and goblin infestations and insect swarms and the like on, Lorelei Alavara, is the fair land you care so much about."
"How dare you?" The dragon almost sobbed, rearing up above him in a tall and terrible way. She threw herself down upon him, broken wings spread, snarling, "Have my life too, then, human! Strike me down. Or is it you that shall go down first, eh?"
They rolled, the human frantically, to avoid being crushed, and the dragon after him, seeking to grind him into bloody pulp with her great weight. She clawed at him as she went, gouging great furrows in the earth. Goblins fled down the slopes of the hill crying in terror.
* * * * *
After a dazed and drifting time, Ilberd Crownsilver remembered his name. He remembered his fall, and the terrible lunge of the dragon before it, and the battle before that. He was lying sprawled on his back with the same gray, tattered-smoke clouds above him that had hung over him then… and he was lying on cold, still, and unpleasantly sharp goblins. He was seized with the sudden desire to get up and stand again and know his fate-even if it was to die under the blades of scores of cruel earfangs.
The young nobleman struggled to his feet, the world heaving and rocking through his swimming eyes. Something red-his own sticky blood, he discovered, looking at his fingertips calmly-was streaming into his right eye, and he'd hurt something low on the left side of his belly that involved torn armor and more blood beneath.
"Well, you did want to taste glory," he growled to himself. "Tastes a lot like blood to me, but there it is, hey?" He coughed weakly, spat out a lot of blood, and looked around. There were goblins in plenty, wandering the field dazedly or picking over bodies for blades and helms, but none near. Some of them even seemed to be fleeing from the hill he was standing on.
Ilberd looked back up the hill to where he'd stood with the king against the Devil Dragon-in time to see that great wyrm hurl herself down on Azoun and roll about trying to claw at him, for all Faerun as if king and dragon were two children brawling in the dirt.
"Glory," he said in disgust and spat blood again. His helm and dagger were gone in his fall, somewhere, but his sword was still in its scabbard. He drew it, deliberately, admired its weight and heft in his hand one last time, and started up the hill.
Cormyr needed him-and if that was good enough for his king, dying in the dirt up there under a dragon's jaws, well… it was good enough for him. Smiling, Ilberd Crownsilver went to find his doom.
* * * * *
"This is madness, Nalavara," Azoun gasped, as they rolled apart and clambered upright, each in their own way. "We both fight for Cormyr-to guard and keep unstained the land we love!"
The red dragon's eyes glittered. "Clever words," she hissed. "Humans are always spewing more snake-tongued cleverness. Die, human king!"
Her flame this time was but a few wisps that barely challenged the failing defensive magics of his blade, but her bite was as swift and savage as ever. Armor plate shrieked under a tooth as she crushed Azoun's left shoulder and sent him staggering back, despite his thrusts into her chin with both warsword and scepter.
"I strike in sorrow," he gasped, as the golden light flooded around him once more, "and apologize to you for the sin of Andar Obarskyr and for the sins of my father and grandsire and forefathers back to Andar in keeping secret the murder Andar did-and for my own part in doing so, too. Will offering you my life for that of your beloved end all this?"
The red dragon drew back and stared at him in amazement,