• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Nalavara's eye widened to its normal proportions, which was to say about as broad and long as a spacious work table. "First, Elminster, you must wish for something to eat. You will need a clear head for the work to come."

"Work? You must be jesting," Vangerdahast scoffed. "That's why I have a ring of wishes-and I'm not about to waste the last one on a pot of porridge."

An angry shudder shook the stairs, then Nalavara rumbled, "One wish only?"

"Only one, so be certain of yourself."

Vangerdahast was not exactly lying. The truth was he had no idea how many wishes remained to the ring. It had been handed down to him through a long line of royal magicians, and if any of them had ever known the number it contained, the secret had died long before it reached Vangerdahast.

"Tell me what to wish," the royal magician said, "and I'll have us out of here."

A long ribbon of flame snorted from Nalavara's distant nostril. "A fool I am not," she rumbled. "Come and bind yourself to my horn, and I will tell."

Vangerdahast did as he was asked, but the horn was as large as a tree trunk, and even his over-large belt was not long enough to reach. He explained this to Nalavara, then wrapped his arms around the horn and said, "I give you my word I won't let go."

Nalavara snorted angrily, then said, "Be warned-if you try to leave me behind, the wish will not work."

"Leave you behind?" Vangerdahast echoed. "Never. My word is as good as my name."

"That is less of a comfort than you think, Elminster," the dragon rumbled. "Know that if you try to cheat me-"

"Yes, yes, I can imagine," Vangerdahast said. "You will look me up in Shadowdale, and I shall forever after have reason to regret my perfidy. Now, are we going to cast our wish or not?"

"Very well," grumbled Nalavara. "The secret is not to wish us out of the city, but to wish the city back in time. You must call upon the ring to fill it again with goblins."

"Goblins?"

"The Grodd Goblins," Nalavara said. "That returns the city to the time when goblins ruled the land. From there, we must use our own spells to travel to our own times-have you a time-walking spell?"

"No," Vangerdahast grumbled. "Though it hardly matters."

He released the dragon's horn and jumped off her head, then started down the plaza filled with disappointment and despair. Had there been any real chance of the spell working, Nalavara would certainly have insisted on holding him in her mouth-then she'd bite him in two once the wish was made.

"Wait!" Nalavara boomed. "Without me, the spell will work not!"

"And not with you either," he called back. "Whatever you want, Nalavara, it isn't to be free of this place. Red dragons are not so trusting."

To Vangerdahast's great surprise, Nalavara did not explode into a fit of anger. Instead, she began to chuckle, shaking the plaza so violently he lost his footing and had to sit.

"Come now, Elminster," she rumbled. "You know I am more than a dragon, and I know you are not who you claim to be."

Seeing that the virtues of deception had long exhausted themselves, Vangerdahast also began to laugh, a deep, mad laugh begot more of weariness and despair than humor-but a laugh nonetheless. He was one of only two men living who knew the name Alavara and what it meant to Cormyr, and it struck him as absurdly funny to find himself trapped alone with her in a deserted goblin city.

Lorelei Alavara was an elf maiden, quite beautiful by all accounts, who had lived in the Wolf Woods when the first humans began to intrude. She had been betrothed to Thatoryl Elian, a handsome young hunter foolish enough to argue with a band of human poachers over whose arrow had killed a bear. The argument ended only when Thatoryl became the first Wolf Woods elf to be murdered by human hands. Lorelei Alavara's grief knew no bounds, and she plotted constantly with King Iliphar to make war on the humans and drive them from the land. It was she who organized the slaughter of Mondar Bleth in the days before Cormyr was a kingdom, and who slew a thousand