Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [70]
Narm threw him a frightened look and then fell to his knees beside his chosen's unmoving form, scattering coins in all directions. "Shandril!" he pleaded at her ear, laying a timid hand upon her shoulder. "Shandril! Can you hear?" He shook her gently. Beneath his hand, his lady moaned and moved one hand. "Shandril!" he said with sudden urgency, and shook her. "Sh-" and he broke off as Elminster's staff tapped him firmly on the shoulder.
"And how is she to heal her wits if ye awaken her with shakings and other such violence?" the sage asked gently. "Leave be for a time, and see how she does on her own." Lanseril nodded, but it was Elminster's face Narm was staring up at, throat tight and eyes very full, when Florin shouted. Elminster's head snapped up, his eyes lighting like lamps as he looked to where the ranger's blade pointed. '"Ware, all!" came Florin's voice, and all about them knights drew weapons, and looked.
Far off in the sky to the north a dark winged shape moved, drawing nearer. It was large and serpentine.
"Dragon!" Florin and Elminster said together, and the knights began to move.
"Gods' laughter!" Torm muttered as he ran past, jingling and bulging with loot, "will this never end?"
The adventurers scattered, seeking the cover of the larger boulders. Merith and Florin arrI’ved on the run to where Narm and Lanseril sat by Shandril.
Elminster stood over them, apparently unconcerned but watching the sky. Then he put his staff in the crook of his arm and quietly began to work a spell.
Narm looked up to him for guidance, but it was Florin who spoke. "We must move your lady," he said, and jerked his head toward a spur of rock far off to the right. "There, I hold that place best for protection. Stay with her there, unless you have spells up sleeves and down boots that we don’t know about." His tone, for all its gentleness, was a command, and Narm made no protest as they gently lifted Shandril together and bore her in stumbling haste across the scattered rock and treasure.
Jhessail and Elminster were both casting spells.
Rathan was quaffing hastily from a skin Torm was holding. The cleric held his mace ready in his hand.
"This is not a good time for us to fight a dragon,"
Narm said in helpless frustration, as they laid Shandril down gently in the lee of the rocks.
"Lad," Florin told him with rare humor, "it's never a good time to fight a dragon." The knights turned away from the young spellcaster quickly, Lanseril squeezing his shoulder for a moment, and were gone across the open rubble-pit, weapons flashing as they were drawn. A faint belch echoed in their wake.
Torm turned once to wave and grin as the dragon roared down upon them.
Orlgaun came down out of the chilly heights in a long glide, great black wings spread stiffly. Upon its back, Lord Manshoon waved his hands and spoke grim words of magic. Eight balls of fire sprang from his fingertips, flashing past Orlgaun's black neck like shafts from a bow, trailing flame. Down they sizzled.
Orlgaun arched its giant wings like sails to slow its dI’ve.
There was a flash and a ground-shaking roar as the balls of flame exploded. Fire leaped briefly toward the sky. In the inferno Manshoon saw shapes staggering, yet standing against him. He drew a wand from his belt even as Orlgaun eagerly lowered its neck and spat blue-green acid. The spray sizzled as it struck dying flames and still-hot rocks. Orlgaun hissed triumphantly as one of his enemies fell. The dragon was turning and climbing steeply as the cold gray flank of one of the Thunder Peaks rushed up to meet it.
The great wings beat once, twice, and then there was a sudden, sickening shudder beneath Manshoon. The vast body faltered and twisted. Manshoon grabbed at a razor-sharp bony fin on the wyrm's neck to keep his seat and yelled, juggling the wand for a few anxious moments. Orlgaun convulsed again, and sheered off sideways in the air with breath-robbing speed, revealing their foe.
In the air behind them flew a human in full coat-of-plate, shield up before him, long naked sword