"Hah! You can't stand against us! One woman, alone?"
"I don't have to," Noumea gasped, as a blade drove her own sword aside and two others thrust into her. "I only have to delay you, until-"
Glarasteer Rhauligan struck the knot of nobles from behind like a deadly storm, four Highknights with him-and only five of the traitors had time to start pleading. Their frantic attempts to make deals went unanswered.
* * * * *
Vangerdahast gently parted Myrmeen's arms and set her aside. "Tis done, lady," he said gently. "Our time together. They've come."
He waved above the wide expanse where Joysil had felled so many trees-and the Lady Lord of Arabel found herself looking up at a sky full of dragons.
The song dragon arrowed down into a wing-fluttering landing in front of their shattered window, the other wyrms wheeling and banking watchfully above.
"Mage," Joysil said, "we flew to war-and this threat to Cormyr from Red Wizards and traitor-nobles, at least, has been ended."
"In return," the former Royal Magician replied, silver and green fires briefly shining forth in a visible web that made more than one dragon hiss and rear back, "look, and see the truth of my words: I've bound my dragonbindings to my own life. If I perish, they go with me."
"And so?"
"And so I'm ready," he said roughly, using a chair to climb up onto the kitchen counter. From there he walked out onto what had recently been his gardens and a pleasant glade, adding, "for you to slay me."
Behind him, Myrmeen clutched a kitchen chair so hard with trembling-white hands that the wood groaned. Silent tears spilled from her eyes as she watched Vangerdahast walk to his death.
An amethyst-scaled wyrm glided down, jaws opening to breathe on the lone, trudging man-but Joysil threw out a wing to shield the retired Mage Royal, and cried, "Cease!"
Vangerdahast stood very still beneath that vast wing, as dragon after dragon thudded to earth, landing in a great ring around Joysil.
"We fought well together," she said in her voice of gentle thunder, "but this human has ended the threat we gathered to destroy. He need not die. I offer you my hoard, to divide among you if you now disperse and never return to harm this Vangerdahast."
Myrmeen had heard a dragon rumble in thought once before, but when a dozen of them were at it, the field shook to their purring din. Then the great head of Aeglyl Dreadclaw nodded, and the fang dragon growled, "The fray was . . . good, yes. I am content."
That set head after head to nodding, until all the wyrms had agreed.
"Seek you then the spire of the ruined keep atop Claw Peak," the song dragon told them all, "and shatter it. Within it is a cavern stuffed full of speaking gems."
"Speaking gems!" several wyrms echoed eagerly-and there was a general rush into the skies.
"What," Vangerdahast asked, watching dragons dwindle into tiny specks among distant clouds, "are speaking gems?"
Joysil snorted. "Magical things, wizard-nothing you should be meddling with. Some four thousand-odd I had from the Church of Shar years ago . . . when I saw the world somewhat differently." Those turquoise eyes stared into the old wizard's for a moment longer before she asked, "What is it you really want to ask me?"
Vangerdahast sighed. "My life. Why did you spare it?"
"I went to confer with the oldest, wisest dragon of my kind, who took me to someone you know all too welclass="underline" Elminster of Shadowdale. He offered a solution."
It was Vangerdahast's turn to sigh. "I might have known. And that would be?"
Myrmeen saw something out of the corner of her eye. She let out a little cry of alarm as she whirled around, snatching for her sword-and the Old Mage rising from the hitherto-empty seat of Vangerdahast's favorite chair obligingly offered it to her.
"Old friend," he said to the retired Royal Magician, stepping past Myrmeen, "why not this: Use thy own spells to bind thyself as thy kingdom's guardian? Become a dragon. We Chosen can aid thee in that aim with spells to do so that will transform thee, lengthen thy years, and enhance thy vigor."
Vangerdahast frowned. "One dragon, to defend a realm? Not even the Devil Dragon could stand against. . ."
"No," Joysil said in her soft thunder. "Not one. I've long sought a purpose to go on living, and I believe I've found it. I'll willingly join you in stasis, as your consort."
Vangerdahast gaped at her. Then, very slowly, he turned to peer back into the ruined kitchen of his sanctum, at the tearful woman standing there.
"No," Myrmeen whispered, face white and working. "No, I cannot give up being human. I-I . . . Vangey, forgive me!"
"There's naught to forgive, lass," two old wizards said in unison. Then they stopped and traded uneasy grins.
Myrmeen burst into tears, and groped for Elminster's arm. When he proffered it, she clung to him, dragged herself upright, and fought down her weeping until she managed to gulp, "Yet it would g-give me g-great pride and pleasure to bear and raise your heir, Lord Vangerdahast, to be trained as a wizard loyal to Cormyr."
Elminster lifted an eyebrow. "Mystra smile, but ye work swifter than I do, Vangey!"
Out across the trampled grass, Vangerdahast made reply-with a very old and very rude gesture.
* * * * *
A blood-drenched, battered figure rose from a heap of the dead in the shattered ruins of Thundaerlyn Hall, shook aside some ashen, still-smoking splinters of balcony, and limped across the rubble-strewn floor, a notched and bent sword in hand.
"Mother?"
Another figure arose serenely out of heaped bodies not far away.
"I'm not dead yet," the Dowager Queen replied with a weak smile, wiping blood from the sword in her own hand with the hem of her jeweled gown. She surveyed Alusair critically. "Which is more than I can say for you. You always did like getting dirty, didn't you?"
"Indeed," Alusair said with a sudden laugh, embracing her mother. "And I still do."
Purple Dragons, Highknights, and War Wizards were eyeing them from a discreet distance and shuffling closer. Filfaeril chuckled and told her daughter, "Come, find us that portal back to Suzail, or we'll have to spend the rest of the night answering questions!"
* * * * *
"Come, lass," Elminster said to Myrmeen, "ye need to eat. There'll be naught to see now for some days, until all our castings are done."
He turned away to lead the weary and saddened Lady Lord of Arabel to a chair-only to freeze as a voice thundered behind him. Joysil's voice.
"Mage, I've learned of your recent wranglings with a certain young lass of Waterdeep-where is she right now?"
Something in that grim tone made Elminster spin around, letting go of Myrmeen's hand and stepping away from her in haste.
"Ah," Elminster replied with a grin, "ye know the saying about wizards never letting slip their secrets?"
"Almost as well as I know the one about how tasty wizards can be," the song dragon growled. "So I'll amend my question into two lesser ones: Do you know where she is, and is she safe?"
"Aye, and I hope so. Thy interest in her proceeds from-?"
"Dragons eat their secrets, man. Let me unfold this my way. There's one more thing to be said. We know each other rather better than you realize."
"Oh?" El asked, spreading his fingers to display the rings on them-rings that winked with the light of awakened magic. "Is there an old score ye need settled? Some share of my hoards, perhaps? Or is it my skin ye seek?"
"Once we sought each other's skin, Elminster of Shadowdale- ardently and often."
The Old Mage's eyes narrowed. "What name and shape did ye wear then?"