Akabar sat in a shocked silence as the lizard bound his head wounds. He did not respond to the warrior’s touch or his tug on his robes or his prodding. He would not move. Dragonbait slung his sword over his shoulders, hefted the Turmishman in both his arms as if he were a child, and began moving in the direction of the dragon’s crash. The time had come to regroup his forces, such as they were.
23
Akabar’s Recovery, Moander’s Offer, and the Second Rescue Attempt
When Akabar awoke it was dark, and the light of a nearby fire played across the ground. The firelight glittered on the scales of an immense dragon. The bulk of the beast lay in shadow, but Akabar could see Dragonbait napping, curled up on the great beast’s snout. The rune-marked lizard had a green bandage tied about one of his legs. Between the mage and the fire loomed a huge shadow. The towering form knelt before him, holding out a huge silver flask.
“Drink this,” Olive said, pushing the flask to his lips.
The draught tasted horrible, but Akabar let it slide down his throat. His mouth felt like he had been eating dirt, and his flesh crawled with a cold, clammy feeling, as if he had been immersed in water too long. He looked down and saw he was naked, save for a couple of halfling cloaks knotted around him for warmth.
“My … clothes?” the mage puzzled. His voice was reedy, as though he’d been singing or shouting for hours.
Olive motioned to the fire. “I’m afraid what was left wasn’t worth keeping. Dragonbait thought you were dead, so we didn’t bring any of your spare clothing.” Her eyes brightened. “I emptied your pockets, though, and I brought your spell books.” She pointed to a backpack near his feet.
“What happened—oh, gods,” the mage moaned as his memory came rushing back. There’d been a fight in Yulash, then something hulking and oppressive had sat in his mind like a spider in a web. He wondered if this was how Alias felt after being forced to try to kill a priest and then the Wyvernspur noble.
“Take it easy,” Olive said sharply. She was an impatient ministering angel. She put both her hands on his shoulders to hold him down, though the mage had made no effort to rise. “The short version is, after your little adventure in Yulash, Dragonbait came back to camp to get my help. When you three had gone, I was left alone to deal with Mist, who chose that moment to drop in. You remember Mist from Cormyr? Right. Anyway, I subdued her by the old codes, and the three of us went after you and Its Ooziness.”
Olive paused for breath and to let what she had said sink into the Turmish mage’s fevered brain. Then she started again, “Unfortunately, Its Ooziness mopped up the floor with us. Misty got slammed around pretty bad, but with me at the helm the old girl managed to damage the Abomination. It ran away from us, not the other way around. Though we did get knocked out of the sky. However, the luck of the halflings was with me, and I managed to land on a Red Plume mercenary’s corpse. You sliced up Dragonbait a little before he could rescue you.” She paused and then concluded reluctantly, “We didn’t get Alias.”
“Alias,” muttered Akabar, trying to rise against the pressure of the halfling’s hands. “She’s still prisoner!”
“Reign in your horses,” the halfling ordered. “You’ve been out for about eight hours. Another few won’t make that much difference in catching up to that slithering compost heap, but it will make us all stronger. Dragonbait needs his beauty sleep so he can finish healing you and Misty. She snapped some wing bones when she fell, and she needs to restoke her furnaces before going into battle again. You need to study your spells. Drink more.”
Akabar took another swig of the drink Olive offered and made a face. “Is this a healing draught?”
Olive shook the flask and giggled. “Some call it that. It’s spiked honey mead. Last of my stock, too.”
Akabar felt his empty stomach rise, then settle. So much for the halfling’s skill as a nurse. “You say Dragonbait healed us. He did that before, when we were running from the Abomination in Yulash.”
Olive nodded. “Yes. Turns out the little sneak’s a paladin among his own people. He’s been keeping it secret, but healing us when we weren’t looking. Seems I can’t trust anyone these days.”
“A paladin?” Akabar murmured. “How do you know?”
“He told me,” Olive said. She dropped her voice to a whisper before going on. “Not only did he keep his profession secret all this time, but he can communicate. He doesn’t use real words like you or me. He puts out scents, like a perfume shop. We can’t understand him because our little noses aren’t refined enough, but Mist can. He talks to her and she translates, and then he confirms what she’s said by nodding his head. So you see, he does understand everything we’ve been saying.”
Akabar shook his head to clear it. The halfling sounded angry, but the mage could not understand what had upset her. “So?” he asked.
“So!” Olive exclaimed, then dropped her voice to a whisper. “We have a lizard paladin who’s too haughty to try communicating with us until an evil dragon comes along. This paladin has been traveling with us and spying on us for two rides. Doesn’t that make you the least bit angry?”
“Saurial,” Akabar mumbled suddenly, letting the word linger in his memory. A dark shadow hovered there, the residue of the Abomination’s visit to his mind. “Moander said Dragonbait was a saurial.”
“Moander—that’s the creeping crud?” Olive asked.
Akabar hesitated like a swimmer hovering at the edge of cold water. He wanted to forget the evil that had been inside him and used him so vilely. But he needed the information Moander had inadvertently left in his mind. He plunged in.
“Moander is a god. Or a piece of god. An old piece, kept in storage beneath Yulash, until Alias let him out. He’s taking her to Westgate, via Myth Drannor.”
Akabar’s body began to shake violently.
“What is it?” Olive demanded. “What’s wrong?”
“Gods, it was like … like having some disease that rots everything but your mind and leaves your body shambling around. I was conscious, but I had no control. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t see. I could hear things in my head, Moander’s thoughts, and Alias speaking, but I was tied and gagged in the darkness. And … and …” He looked up at the halfling. “I stabbed Dragonbait, didn’t I? You said I did. I remember. I was trying to kill him.”
“Apparently, he doesn’t hold it against you. He carried you back here and used the shirt off his back to bandage you.”
Akabar felt along the bandage on his head, glancing at the lizard lying on the dragon’s snout.
“I wounded the dragon, too, didn’t I?” he whispered.
“Less said about that the better,” Olive suggested. “It took all my eloquence to convince Mist you were included in the bargain for our protection until Alias was freed. She only relented because we need all the firepower we can muster.
“So Its Ooziness is a god, eh? Another thing our lizard friend neglected to mention.”
“Saurial,” Akabar corrected again. “Why are you suddenly so annoyed with him? He’s saved our lives.”
“No. He’s saved your life. I can take care of myself.” Olive did not bother to mention that she’d be digesting in Mist’s stomach now if not for the lizard. “I don’t need a sneaky, spying, goody-two-shoes wheedling his way into my trust.”
“What makes you so sure he’s a spy?”
“Use your brain, greengrocer,” Olive snorted. “What else would a paladin be doing traveling with us? You’re a merchant, and I’m halfling scum. And Alias—think! She tried to murder a priest and someone she thought was the king of Cormyr and then she let loose an evil god. Dragonbait sneaked off just when we were in the most trouble, and now he’s dragging us along on a suicide mission. He says it’s to rescue Alias, but suppose he’s really just interested in killing Moander? His type doesn’t really care about our problems.”