"Hey guys, magic!"
He tossed the vial away and it shattered on the floor. Three of the dragonkin immediately leaped to that spot and began lapping at the spilled potion. A half dozen more tried to yank them back, to get a lick in themselves.
Frivaldi pulled the spinel out of his pack, holding it carefully.
"That's not what the saga said," the young dwarf said. " 'It's purpose-" He hurled the spinel up into the air. "-to slay dragons blue.'"
As the spinel raced toward the ceiling, the clutch of dragonkin leaped into the air, wings beating furiously. One grabbed it-and immediately erupted into a blue glow as the faerie fire spell the gem contained was activated. A second dragonkin rose behind it, wings flapping furiously, and slammed its fists down in a hammerlike blow on the top of the first one's head. The spinel dropped. Another dragonkin swooped in, grabbing it-and also began to glow with an eerie blue light. A third dragonkin grabbed the gem, only to have it knocked from its hand by a flying tackle, then a fourth…
The rest of the dragonkin rose into the air, eager to join in the sport. The dragonkin leader roared something at them, but they refused to listen. Teeth gnashing, the leader leaped into the air.
Durin heard a sound behind him: the smooth slide of metal on metal and the creak of a hinge. He turned.
The iron golem had raised its head. Its metal muscles flexed, wings flared open-and it lunged upward, snapping one of the glowing dragonkin out of the air. A severed leg tumbled out of its jaws, landing with a wet, bloody thud beside Durin.
"Yes!" Frivaldi yelled, punching a fist into the air. "Go get 'em, golem!"
By then, more than half of the dragonkin had touched the gem. Their leader-obviously smarter than the rest-railed at them, screeching in Draconian, then gave it up and fled through the illusionary wall. The golem tossed its head, flicking what remained of the bloody corpse aside, then roared its victory-a hollow sound like thunder reverberating through a bell. The dragonkin holding the gem gave a shrill squeak of fear, then dropped the spinel and bolted through the wall after its leader. The others followed as fast as their wings would carry them.
"Go!" Frivaldi cried at the golem, pointing at the illusionary wall. "Finish them off."
The golem reared up-then seemed to totter. A wing fell off, landing with a tremendous boom as it hit the stone floor.
"Huh?" Frivaldi asked, standing and blinking up at the golem. "Is it defective?"
The jaw fell off, narrowly missing the young dwarf. Sword-blade teeth bounced out of it and skittered across the floor.
Durin groaned as he realized what was happening.
"It's not defective," he yelled over the clatter of scales raining down from the golem. "The saga said 'dragon,' not 'dragons.' The golem killed a blue dragon-singular-and fulfilled Torunn's command. Now the elemental bound inside it is free."
Dropping his axe, he hurled himself at Frivaldi. The stupid, blundering fool. The Bane of Caeruleus-the artifact Durin had poured decades of his life into searching for-was falling apart. Ruined. Had it remained intact, it might have at last been used for its intended purpose. But instead…
His fists closed around Frivaldi's throat as rage pounded in his ears. Standard delving procedure be damned. He was going to kill that stupid, impulsive, undisciplined-Something slammed into Durin's head from above, knocking him unconscious.
Frivaldi yanked the cork out of the vial with his teeth, opened Durin's mouth, and poured the remainder of the healing potion down his throat. Durin sputtered. The wound in his shoulder closed, the bloody dent in his scalp disappeared, and his eyes fluttered open.
"What… what happened?" he croaked, sitting up.
Frivaldi picked up a sphere of iron the size of a mace head.
"One of the eyeballs fell out of the Bane of Caeruleus," he said. "It landed on your head."
As Frivaldi started to toss it aside, Durin spotted a mark on the sphere, next to the post that had mounted the eye in its socket.
He caught Frivaldi's wrist and said, "Let me have that."
Frivaldi hesitated then said, "You're not going to hit me with it, are you?"
Durin yanked the sphere out of his hands. Peering closely at it, he saw a spiral of runes that had been etched into the back of the eyeball, around the mounting post. They were tiny, each no larger than an oat grain. Fascinated, Durin started to read.
"I recovered your pack," Frivaldi said, holding it out like a peace offering. "I found it on the floor after the golem … ah … after the dragonkin fled. One of them must have dropped it. The side pouches are all torn up-the dragonkin must have sensed the magical items inside, and not been able to get at them-but the main pouch is intact. Lucky thing, too. That's where the healing potion was."
Durin glanced at the pack. It was a sorry sight, with its side pouches hanging in tatters and talon gouges through the Delver's "D" embossed on the main flap. No matter. It could be repaired. He continued to read the inscription, his excitement mounting.
Frivaldi lowered the pack and said, "Sorry about the golem. Are you still angry?"
Durin reached the end of the inscription.
"By all the gods," he muttered, his heart pounding like a war drum. He glanced up at Frivaldi. "If it wasn't for you…"
Durin's face felt oddly tight; a moment later he realized he was grinning. Frivaldi took a step back, stumbling over one of the chunks of iron.
"I'm sorry. Really I am, Durin."
Durin chuckled and said, "Nothing to be sorry about, boy." He hefted the sphere. "Do you know what this inscription is?"
Frivaldi shook his head.
"The complete text of the spell used to create the Bane of Caeruleus. If you hadn't activated the golem, it might never have been discovered. But now…"
Frivaldi's eyes widened and he said, "Now we can make as many Banes as we like?"
"Exactly," Durin said. "And to fight any color of dragon we choose."
He picked up his shredded pack and tucked the sphere into its central section, then carefully tied the main flap shut.
"One thing more," he told Frivaldi. "Thank you for saving my life."
Frivaldi grinned.
"I figured I had to," he said. "Standard delving procedure. Uh … Precious ARTifacts Need Expedient Rescue."
"PARTNER," Durin muttered after a moment's thought. "Partner," he repeated, clasping Frivaldi's hand.
AN ICY HEART
Voronica Whitney-Robinson
16 Alturiak, the Year of Rogue Dragons (1373 DR)
Chorael slowly climbed out of the water, feeling sluggish. The sand was rough under her shell as she began the measured crawl along the bank of Lake Thaylambar. Though she was more vulnerable on land than she was in the water, she could still reach surprising speeds if she had to. But it was not one of those nights. With the moon riding high and full, it was a night for something rare and wonderful.
She moved her large body deliberately and methodically over the ground, searching for just the right location. Though none of the others believed that any dragon turtle had ever become a guardian in, the region, Chorael felt certain one had. She had loved that spot from the moment shed discovered it. It was where she always chose to lay her clutch of eggs. The location brought her luck and she had no reason to believe things would be any different.
Chorael pushed away some branches and rocks and began to dig a small hole with her blue-green, clawed hands, occasionally using her sharp beak to break up roots and such. The ground, though somewhat soft to begin with after the daily evening rains controlled by the Red Wizards, gave way easily under her insistent touch. She carefully fashioned the hole into a burrow of sorts, packing the sides and tamping them to keep them stable. When she was satisfied that it was just deep enough, she turned around and climbed partially out. Then she did what she had come to do: lay her eggs.