Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [162]
"Despite," the king gasped through lips that dripped black, oily blood in a constant stream now, "much provocation to the contrary-" he coughed, shoulders shuddering in a spasm of agony that forced his head down for one choking moment before he shook off the pain and looked grimly up again, "-you have always been my friend. More than that, the greatest friend Cormyr has had. Better than us all." His voice faded, and he murmured faintly, head sinking again, "Better than us all…"
Vangerdahast stepped forward, a frown of concern preceding him, and drew something from beneath his beard-the last of his hidden magical somethings. With a sudden wrench, he broke the fine chain that had held it hidden there against his throat. The eyes of many of the watching knights narrowed. The dancing ends of chain were green with age.
The royal magician stretched forth his hand with whatever it was clutched and hidden in his grasp to touch the king, but Azoun threw back his head and squared his shoulders again, almost defiantly, black blood raining down around him.
"By that friendship," he growled, eyes like two sudden flames as he stared into the wizard's gaze, "I charge you-stretch forth your magic and touch my daughter Tanalasta. Tell her she is to take the crown and… rule now."
Someone among those crowded around gasped, and Azoun nodded as if answering a disbelieving question. "Oh, yes," he said almost gently, "I'm done. The king too old and stubborn to fall is fallen at last. Not all the magic in you, Vangey-not all the magic in fair Faerun-can save me now. Tana must rule. Tell her."
The wizard nodded slowly, his hand stretching forth once more. Azoun glared up at him and snarled, "Tell her!"
Vangerdahast's fingers touched the king. Azoun shivered, huddling back as if he'd been drenched with icy water, his face twisting in silent pain.
One of the war captains-a young man who bore the name Crownsilver-started forward with an oath, plucking out his dagger, only to come to a frozen halt as Azoun flung up a forbidding hand. King and warrior spoke together, the one wearily and the other furiously, "What is it you hold, wizard?"
"My greatest treasure," Vangerdahast said in a voice that sounded for a moment like that of a small, high-voiced woman on the verge of tears. "The only bone I was able to find that was once part of the mage Amedahast. A little of her power is left in it, I think."
Ilberd Crownsilver stepped back, tears streaming down his cheeks. Vangerdahast raised the yellowing lump from Azoun's breast, where it seemed to fleetingly leave tiny wisps of smoke behind, and touched it to the king's mouth. The king stiffened.
Men watched like so many silent statues.
The red, searing pain suddenly left Azoun's eyes, melting away like shadows fleeing a bright sun. Men gasped, and there were more muttered oaths on the hilltop.
Color came back into the king's face, and his cracked, bleeding lips grew whole. The watchers leaned forward to stare in wonder, the old wizard still standing before the king with his hand thrust forward, as if lunging with a blade, holding the bone firmly in the royal jaws.
There was wonder on Azoun Obarskyr's face too. He drew in a slow, deep, shuddering breath, and they saw the ashes fading from his skin, leaving smooth, unburnt flesh behind. Old muscles rippled-but even as Ilberd Crownsilver drew breath for an exultant shout, the talisman crumbled, yellowed bone fading to brown dust that fell away into the air and was gone… leaving just two old men staring into each other's eyes. The ashes and bloody ruin did not return to where they'd been banished from the king's flesh, but neither did they fade farther.
After a moment, Vangerdahast let his empty fingers fall away.
In their wake Azoun shook his head slowly, and managed a smile. "Not this time, I'm afraid," he said calmly.
Vangerdahast stood still and silent.
The king's smile faded and he said, "Are you going to obey