Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [49]
The cry elicited a cacophony of chortled commands and sloshing paddles from the goblins, but Vangerdahast had no time to react before a hand grabbed him by the beard and hauled him onto a small rock ledge.
"I am growing tired of saving you, Old Snoop," said the same husky voice he had heard earlier. A powerful hand caught Vangerdahast's wrist and plucked the enchanted crow's leg from his palm. "Were I you, I would not rely on my good graces again."
Vangerdahast's heart sank, for there were only a handful of individuals who knew him by Tanalasta's favorite nickname-and Rowen Cormaeril was one of them.
"Stay here, old fool." Rowen dropped off the ledge and slipped into the water as silently as an owl slips into the air.
"Rowen, wait!" Vangerdahast rolled to his belly in the darkness and began to feel for the edge.
The goblins' voices rose in a sudden panic, then a tremendous wind roared through the passage, stirring the water into a splashing frenzy and threatening to tear the wizard from his perch. Vangerdahast pressed his face to the ledge and dug his fingers into the dirt, working his hand cautiously forward until he came to a loose rock.
When the wind finally slackened to a mere tempest, he sat up and rubbed his fingers over the stone's slickness, casting a spell of continual light upon it. He would have preferred to give himself the ability to see in darkness, but that particular enchantment required either an agate or a pinch of dried carrot to activate it, and he had lost most of his spell components when Rowen pulled him out of his weathercloak at the goblin tower.
A deep glow arose within the rock, flooding the passage with magical light and illuminating the ghazneth at the bend of the passage. Though the wind was roaring past his head and the water crashing against him in waves, Rowen stood upright without any hint of effort, his long hair hanging to his collar motionless, straight, and utterly undisturbed.
Finally, no more sounds were heard from the goblins, and the wind slackened to a mere bluster. Rowen glanced back once, then looked away and started around the corner without causing the water to ripple or purl even slightly.
"No you don't, Rowen Cormaeril!" Vangerdahast swung his legs over the lip of the ledge and dropped into the water, then splashed down the passage after the ghazneth. "Come back here, coward! Stand and present yourself!"
Much to Vangerdahast's surprise, he rounded the corner and found himself looking up into Rowen Cormaeril's murky face. With a sturdy brow, prominent cheeks, and cleft chin, the scout's features were still chiseled and handsome. They were also more gaunt and pronounced than Vangerdahast remembered, so that the overall effect was one of power and domination.
"Do I look like a royal scout to you?" Rowen's hand seemed to twitch. Vangerdahast found his wrist locked in the ghazneth's grasp. "The time when I must take orders from you is long past."
"No one has released…" Vangerdahast had to swallow to wet his dry throat. "No one has released you from your oath. I am the king's Royal Magician and superior to every soldier in the land. You will do as I as command… unless the blood of all Cormaerils runs treasonous."
Rowen's eyes grew white with anger. His grasp began to tighten, and Vangerdahast's fingers came open of their own accord. The ghazneth glared at him for a long moment, perhaps debating whether to continue squeezing, then plucked the glowing stone from Vangerdahast's hand and began to absorb its magic.
"For someone reputed to be the most cunning man in Cormyr, you are certainly the fool," said Rowen. "I would think you would know the consequences of using magic by now."
Vangerdahast began to breathe easier. "I do, but you have made yourself difficult to reach. It was the only way to find you."
"You have found me now." Rowen absorbed the last of the light from