"No one steals from Kraxx", roared the topaz, swiping its powerful fore claws across her foe's throat.
The undead dragon let out a strangled cry, trying feebly to fight back with only one wing and the rest of its body trapped under the larger dragon's weight.
"You have no wards against me out here," taunted Kraxx.
The topaz dragon bit down on the dracolich's chest and shook her head. Bits of gore-soaked flesh rained down on the blackened sand and the pirates had to cover their heads. The undead dragon struggled on, thrashing under the attack.
A moment more, and its body went slack, succumbing to the larger dragon.
Still Kraxx did not slow her assault. The topaz dragon went to work on the carcass. Tearing bits of flesh away from the bones like a hungry seagull. Littering the beach with the undead dragon's remains.
Finally, Clay had to turn away. There were some things even a pirate couldn't stomach.
Clay leaned against the rail of his ship, smiling as he looked out at the retreating volcano. They sailed northwest, around the point of the Chultan peninsula toward the Shining Sea. He absently twirled a gold piece between his fingers, and his smile grew even larger as he thought about the pile of treasure safely resting in Expatriate's hold. Not even the egg of a topaz dragon would have fetched that much coin. Not a bad couple days of work, he thought.
High over his head, the mainsail billowed, full of as much wind as she could carry. At the top of the mast the Jolly Roger flew, and at its side a new flag waved in the magical breeze. It bore the silhouette of a dragon-yellow and orange with glowing red eyes.
WICKLESS IN THE NETHER
R.A. Salvatore
The Year of the Banner (1368 DR)
For a long time and across many storefronts and kiosks, he could not be seen because he did not want to be seen. For Artemis Entreri, with so many years of living in the shadows, it was as easy as that. He moved along Wall Way, a solitary figure perusing the mercantile district of the Damarran Capital of Helio-gabalus on a stormy night. Torrential rains sent small rivers running along the sides of the cobblestoned street, named because of its proximity to Heliogabalus's towering outer wall.
A flash of lightning revealed the figure as he stood in front of one of the two opposing collector's shops set on the road loop known as Wall's Around. He was wrapped in a slick black cloak, shining with wetness. He had the drape pulled over both his shoulders in the inclement weather, but it was back on his right side enough to show the jeweled hilt of his signature dagger. He wore a flat-topped hat with a tight round brim, quite extraordinary in a land of simple hoods and scarves. Still, that hat paled in comparison to the one worn by the slender figure that drifted past him in the next flash of lightning, a great floppy, wide-brimmed affair, with one side pinned up and a gigantic feather reaching out from it.
"As we thought," the figure whispered as he passed by, neither of them making any movement that would indicate to even a careful observer that they were conversing. "Third on the right."
The slender figure continued on his way, his fine boots clicking loudly on the wet cobblestones.
A moment later, Entreri moved to the doorway of the collector's shop, Tazmikella's Bag of Silver, and with a look around, slipped inside.
A young couple sat behind one table, giggling and hardly taking notice of him. Across from them, a middle-aged man fidgeted with some small statues, dusting each and grumbling to himself as he replaced them on the shelves. He was plump and as round of face as he was of belly, which was considerable, with apple red cheeks and bright lips. Though his eyes were large, he seemed to be constantly squinting.
"Well, good enough," he said to Entreri. "If you came in to get out of the rain, then you're a smart one, not to doubt. Look around-perhaps you'll even consider purchasing something. Now, there's a thought that few in this town seem to be having! Yes, yes, why buy anything when one can just walk into the shop and ogle it?"
Entreri stared at him, but did not respond, either with words nor any expression.
"As you will, then," the man went on. "Just do please keep your wetness from the new carpets. Someone might want to actually buy one, after all."
Hardly paying the little man any more heed, Entreri moved to the right, as hed been instructed, to the third candlestick set in the shop's front window. Its base was in the shape of a squatting toad-a most unattractive piece, Entreri thought, though he rarely took the time to consider beauty. He picked up the fourth candlestick first, feigned a quick look over it, then set it down and took the second, then the third. The assassin slid one sensitive finger beneath the base of the candlestick. He felt the variation in texture almost immediately, from silver to wax.
A flash of lightning outside sent his thoughts back to the tavern and the napkin the serving wench had put down on the table. He recalled the verse on that old, dirty rag, and felt the wax again.
"Wickless in the nether," he whispered.
"What's that?" asked the little man.
"I said that I do enjoy the feel of this piece," Entreri lied. "The storm has ruined my candles. I came only to replace them, but now I find this most interesting candlestick."
"You want to buy that?" asked the merchant, his tone showing that actual sales really weren't a common event.
"Fifty silver pieces?" Entreri asked.
The little man scoffed at him and said, "It's weight alone would take twice that melted down."
"It is pure silver?" Entreri asked, feigning surprise, for of course, he already knew that it was and had already estimated its worth to within a few coppers.
"Nothing but the best," said the little round man as he hopped over. "Fifty gold would be closer to the price than fifty silver."
Entreri moved to replace the candlestick, but stopped just before it went down on the window sill. He stood holding it for a few long moments.
"I will offer thirty gold," he said. "A fair price."
"Fair?" said the shopkeeper. "Why, it cost us forty just to acquire it!"
"Forty, then."
"Forty-two," insisted the little man.
Entreri shrugged and pulled a pouch from his belt. He tossed it up and down in his open palm for a moment or two, then tipped it over and spilled out a few coins. Another toss to test the weight, and he flipped it to the little man.
"Forty-two," he agreed. "Perhaps even forty-three."
Tucking the extra gold into another pouch, the assassin took the candlestick and moved for the door.
"Wait," said the little man. "Is there anything else I might interest you in? You haven't even purchased a candle, I mean, and the night is dark. And did you not come for candles? How fine that candlestick shapes the shadows when a proper light is placed atop it."
Giggling at another table made the little man realize that he was speaking to himself, however, for Entreri was already gone.
Outside, another lightning flash illuminated the street, so bright and prolonged that Entreri could read the sign on the collector's shop opposite: Ilnezhara's Gold Coins.
With a glance each way, Entreri moved off, his boots not making a sound on the wet cobblestones. He had a long way to walk, all the way to the southern section of the city, but he moved swiftly with little foot traffic to hinder him. He arrived at the unremarkable building a short while later, and looked around, as had been his habit for many years, before moving up the back staircase to the second floor and the door to his apartment. Another look confirmed that he was alone, and he slipped through.
The room was warm and inviting, with a fire blazing in the hearth and candles burning in the many arms of the decorated candelabra that seemed everywhere. Entreri shrugged off his cloak as he entered and flipped it onto the rack by the door where a similar fine traveling cloak hung, drying. His hat went up next, taking its place before its more sizeable companion.
Entreri wiped the remaining moisture from his face with one arm, while he unfastened his belt with, his other hand. He stopped short, though, and pulled out his jeweled dagger, launching it into an end-over-end flight across the room. It crossed over his small bed and dived into a silhouette he had painted on the wall-a representation of a lithe figure with a ridiculously large hat. As always, the dagger struck true, just a few inches above the bed and right in the groin area of the silhouette.
"Ouch, I suppose," Jarlaxle said.
"At least," said Entreri.
When he looked at his partner, Entreri nearly stepped back in surprise, for Jarlaxle had his eye patch up on his forehead, showing Entreri both his eyes at once for the very first time.
"I do find it rather unsettling," said the drow, "that you would wish something from that region protruding over your bed."