Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [63]
I have not yet met the father, she replied tartly, so it is difficult to- Her touch faded. Hastily Azoun thrust another ring against the first. In an instant, it blazed up and was gone. Gods, would all magic prove so fleeting?
Come to me, my lord love. Filfaeril's voice was stronger now, almost pleading. Whatever Tana says or does, I need you. More than that, Cormyr needs you here, if only briefly.
I come in all commanded haste, Azoun sent wryly, ending the contact with the wordless rush of emotion that they used in lieu of a kiss across the miles between their lips.
"Warden," the king said smoothly, shaking the ashes of a crumbling ring off a blistered finger and sliding his last replacement onto it without heed for the pain, "affairs of state call me away, perhaps for a short time, but more likely for longer. You are to obey Swordlord Ethin Glammerhand as you would me, and guide all here safely and swiftly through this my royal forest. The good Swordlord is..
Azoun turned to find and identify Glammerhand, only to find him walking right behind them. "Here, my liege," the swordlord said promptly. "I have heard, and will obey. Your needs now?"
"Halt and rest the men, but speedily send to me the Lord Mage Arkenfrost."
Glammerhand bowed his head and turned to give the orders. Remaeras Arkenfrost was the ranking war wizard accompanying the army, and a calm, shrewd diplomat to boot-eminently suitable for teleporting himself and his king into the midst of a possibly tense court confrontation. He was also, as it happened, carrying many healing potions and other beneficial magics brought along to safeguard the king and officers. Azoun disliked many of what he liked to privately call "Vangey's Brood" because they were arrogant, ignorant of the real world, openly ambitious and overeager, or suffered from all of these faults at once, but there were exceptions-mages he liked on sight and respected increasingly the more he saw of them. Arkenfrost was one such mage.
Azoun felt a rush of warmth now as he saw the man hastening toward him in response to the subtlest of hand signals from Glammerhand. Ever-tired eyes like those of a hangdog hound, pepper-and-salt beard, well-tailored but dark and plain robes worn over warrior's boots… what a war wizard who served Cormyr before his own interests should be. Perhaps they could say and do the right things to rein in the more fractious nobles and set things to rights at court, then return to this army soon.
"Your Majesty?" the wizard asked, kneeling as if he was an oath-sworn warrior. Some of Vangey's Brood never knelt, even at the most formal state occasions.
"Good Lord Mage," Azoun greeted him, clasping the mage's work-hardened hands firmly and drawing Arkenfrost to his feet, "I've urgent need to be at court, at the side of my queen. How soon can the two of-"
Something blotted out the sun overhead. Something dark and large. Very large.
Almost instinctively Azoun drew in under the shading boughs of the nearest tree as he peered up at the biggest red dragon he'd ever seen.
Just above the treetops it hung, gliding more slowly than he'd thought the lightest bird could manage, its sharp eyes fixed on the warriors of Cormyr. Dragoneers and lionars suddenly erupted into a whirlwind of shouting, trembling, and vomiting. Some men drew their swords and hacked wildly at those nearby, or at the empty air. One man stared fixedly ahead and began to foam at the mouth, while another sank down drooling something yellow from his blackening, bloated face. Others began to scratch feverishly, whimpering, and Azoun saw a bristling green mold spreading over the limbs of one such victim, coating armor and flesh alike with horrifying speed.
"They come for us! They come!" one man bellowed, attacking the nearest