The City of Splendors_ A Waterdeep Novel - Ed Greenwood [158]
To its gaze, the pulsing ward was almost blinding, but even as he fought to clear his sight, Beldar saw something moving beyond its bright curve-something silver and scaled.
When the half-dragon came into clear view, one of its hands was empty. At least one dark bulk was bobbing along behind it. Beldar hissed a curse and turned away, seeking-
The first bright flash and roar almost lifted him off his feet, but he got turned around again in time to see the snarling half-wyrm swing the smoking, twisted stub of its sword at the second hurtling skull.
Steel shards clanged and sang off stone in all directions in the roiling heart of the blast that followed, and Beldar winced and shrank away as the third skull came flying out of the mist. The half-dragon hurled a dagger at it and flung itself back, crashing into the bladesman behind it. Beldar found himself seeking the floor, too, as-
The skull exploded.
The roar of its rending echoed strangely, making his ears ring, but nothing tore at Beldar this time, and he heard no cries of pain.
When he turned back to face the ward, it was pulsing as if nothing had befallen, and the portal behind it was gone. The Dathran had thrown them all out into the sewers to settle this on their own.
The half-dragon was already struggling to its-his?-feet, and Beldar strode forward and glared at the creature, closing his left eye in case this would help the beholder graft unleash its full power.
Beldar felt a strange warmth in his head, a dark stirring that flared into excitement, even hunger…
* * * * *
Elven magic was not alone in seeking Beldar Roaringhorn. Mrelder, Golskyn, and Hoth bent over a large scrying bowl, watching Beldar's attempt to use his beholder eye.
"He's a bold one, to hurl magic so soon after the graft," the priest said approvingly.
Stupid, more like. Mrelder knew better than to say those words aloud.
"Look at that magnificent creature," Golskyn breathed, his lone remaining human eye shining as he gazed at the half-dragon. "What a marvel. A natural melding of man and monster."
The epitome of your insane aspirations, his son thought silently.
"A good sign," the priest continued. "Waterdeep's future ruler has the sense to consort with superior beings. Very good."
And with those words Golskyn ambled away, not seeming to notice that the "magnificent creature" and "Waterdeep's future ruler" seemed bent upon mutual destruction.
His father, Mrelder concluded grimly, was utterly insane.
Glancing up from the bowl, he found himself looking into the eyes of Hoth and saw his own opinion of Golskyn mirrored there.
Hoth held his gaze, not in challenge but inquiry. He seemed to be waiting for something.
A moment later, Mrelder realized Golskyn's many-armed second-in-command was awaiting instructions. From him!
This had possibilities!
"This place isn't far," Mrelder said calmly, pointing into the bowl. "Take two men in all haste to help Lord Roaringhorn. If possible, retrieve the half-dragon alive. If we can't convert him, I'm sure we can find another use for him."
Hoth offered neither scorn nor argument. His nod was curt but respectful, and he turned and left the room at a run. The young sorcerer watched him go, feeling a smile slowly spreading across his own face.
* * * * *
The half-dragon was on its feet with another blade in its grasp now, eyes glaring angry gold at Beldar as it strode to meet him.
Roaringhorn's new eye quivered, and the beast rocked back on its booted heels, grunting in pain. It had short, backswept silver horns instead of ears, Beldar saw, as it staggered under whatever wounding magic his eye had visited upon it.
Then it opened its jaws and spat at him-a white, frostlike roaring that sprang out, spreading swift and wide in a deadly racing chill that told Beldar all too painfully that he wasn't the only one able to unleash magic.
He flung himself back, ducking into a side-passage that reeked chokingly