Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [166]
The priests hesitated, several mouths opening to launch uncertain protests, and glanced at the angry warriors.
The royal magician looked at Owden Foley, then at Battlelord Steelhand, giving them both a nod that mingled unspoken thanks and a request. The two priests returned the nod, turned, and began to shoo their fellow clerics away, raising and spreading their arms in unison to form a moving fence that swept all the holiness a little down the hill.
Vangerdahast nodded again, satisfaction in his face, and turned back to where Azoun lay. Alusair and her fellow war captains gathered around the king, eyes darting from the face of the wizard to that of their king, and back again at Vangerdahast.
"My liege," said the royal magician, in a voice that for a brief, fleeting moment held the hint of a sob, "I have obeyed and in so doing learned bright news. The Princess Tanalasta has been delivered of a son, whom I understand is to be known as Azoun the Fifth. Cormyr's new prince will bear a worthy name onto the throne, when the time is right."
"That-is good," the king gasped, and panted for a moment in the aftermath of a sudden spasm of pain. For a moment he sagged back, face going gray, and his war captains threw out cradling hands like so many bloody, sweat-drenched, armored nursemaids, to hold him nearly in a sitting position. Ilberd Crownsilver choked back what could only be a sob as the king struggled to clutch at his balance and find the strength to sit upright.
After a few terrible, convulsed breaths, Azoun found it, somewhere deep within, and looked up to give them all a savage smile-almost a sneer-of contempt for his own weakness. The smile softened into genuine, gentle warmth as he looked around from familiar face to familiar face. Alusair glided forward, eyes dark and face as white as polished bone. Her lips were parted as if to speak, but she said nothing, her sword forgotten in her hand.
Her father looked at her, then up at the sky, and offered his next words to it. "It's been a good ride," he remarked conversationally to the scudding gray clouds, "but if my striving counts for anything, let my son have a better one, O you watching gods."
The king threw off the gentle hands that held him, and surged to his feet, a lion once more. Swaying, as hands reached out to steady him then fell away in uncertainty, not wanting to insult Azoun in his last moments, he stared around at his realm for one last time, his eyes already going dull. His gaze wandered from one face to another, and his lips trembled on the edge of a smile. Azoun's hand slipped twice on the hilt of his sword before he drew it forth with the grace of long-won skill, and raised it. If he noticed that it shivered like a blade of grass in a high wind, he gave no sign of doing so.
"I will not say farewell," the fourth Azoun to rule the Forest Kingdom told those standing around him almost fiercely, "because I'll be here, in the night wind, watching over the land I love, with cold steel for her foes, and whispered comfort for her defenders."
The sword fell from his trembling fingers, but Alusair was as quick as a snake, plucking it from the air to hold it up, and raising it into his grasp again.
Azoun's body shook and shuddered as he put failing arms around her. "Take this to your mother," he said, as he turned to kiss her cheek.
His lips brushed her skin, then he gasped in ragged pain and sagged, his full weight on her. Alusair turned to hold him up, and their lips touched.
Azoun's breath was hot and sweet, and tasted like blood and flame. A last tiny lightning played about their joined lips, but Alusair never flinched, even as dragonfire shook her like a leaf in a storm.
Her father moaned in pain, whispered "Filfaeril" in the heart of it, sagged again, then pulled back his head with a lion's roar of exultation.
For a moment Azoun clutched his daughter fiercely, strength returning in a rush until his embrace was almost bruising, then he thrust himself free from her, whirled around on his heels to look at all of those watching him