Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [57]
Orvendel merely shook his head. "That's done."
"I think the princess is saying we would like some privacy," said Alaphondar, gently shooing the youth toward Korvarr. "If you are going to be a sage, you must start paying as much attention to what people do not say as to what they do."
A cloud came over Orvendel's face, but he finally seemed to realize that his presence was something of an intrusion and backed away. "That's all right, I'll come back later." He reached the circle of bodyguards and turned, saying, "Maybe when the king gets here."
Tanalasta sent Korvarr after the boy with a flick of her eyes, then looked to her mother.
Before she could apologize, Filfaeril asked, "That boy is part of your army?"
"Not really," Tanalasta explained, "but he knows these woods better than the wolves do. He leads out the supply trains, and quietly keeps Korvarr in good ale."
A rare frown creased the queen's brow, and she looked pensively after the boy.
"Really, Mother," said Tanalasta. "You can't be thinking that Orvendel-"
"How could I?" interrupted Filfaeril. "I didn't know about him until now, but Korvarr is still on the list."
"Korvarr?" Tanalasta rolled her eyes. "That's not possible. You saw what he did when Sarmon turned him into a hummingbird."
As Tanalasta finished, the ewer and mugs Orvendel had brought began to shake. Suddenly sharing in her mother's suspicions, the princess leaped up and swept the tray off the table. The ewer shattered on a stone and spilled nothing but red wine onto the ground.
The whole ridge started to shake and rumble, and an alarm horn sounded in the top of the oak-once, twice, then something crashed into the branches and it came to a strangled halt. The queen's bodyguards and war wizards started forward, as did the princess's, and something long and green dropped to the table between Tanalasta and her mother. The princess was still trying to identify it when the thing twined itself into a coil and raised its head to strike at the queen.
"Ghazneths!" Tanalasta screamed.
Tanalasta lashed out and caught the serpent by its coil, jerking the thing away from her mother even as it unfurled itself to strike. Filfaeril cried out and pushed away from the table, tumbling over backward in her chair. The snake's head hung in the air above the queen, swinging back and forth for just an instant, then shot around in a half circle and planted its fangs high in Tanalasta's breast.
A torrent of liquid fire gushed through Tanalasta's chest and spread slowly outward. The arm holding the snake grew weak and numb and dropped limp at her side. She croaked out a surprised cry and staggered back two steps and fell.
The ridge was shaken by a tremendous eruption. Pieces of slope began to slough off the escarpment and crash into the valley below. Tanalasta barely heard the roar, for a terrible ringing had filled her ears. She looked toward the sound and saw a fissure of magma opening down the spine of the ridge, spewing clouds of sulfur-stinking smoke and curtains of churning fire high into the air. The great oak listed across the fiery gap, and its trunk burst instantly into flames.
The heat made Tanalasta feel queasy and confused. She tried to roll away and found herself too weak. She managed to turn her head, then saw a dark silhouette swooping down out of the smoking boughs above her. She recognized the wedge-shaped face of Xanthon Cormaeril-those red, ovoid eyes were hard to overlook, even with a head full of fog-then saw a flurry of crossbow bolts catch the ghazneth in the side, peppering him with so much iron that he veered over the escarpment and sank out of sight.
A distant crackle came to Tanalasta above the ringing in her ears, then there was a red flash and the anguished voices of burning dragoneers. Her vision narrowed and began to darken, and somewhere far away Korvarr began to shout orders and curses.
Owden Foley appeared above her, then she felt something rip free of her breast. It was a pair of fangs. How could she have forgotten the snake? Owden's rough hand slipped under her weathercloak