She was still two paces away when the balcony above, smoldering in the aftermath of a spell, tore loose and crashed down on them.
* * * * *
'Hah!' Darndreth Goldsword cried triumphantly, as something splintered and the door sagged open. 'Out, lads! Out!'
The dozen or so nobles of the Rightful Conspiracy surged forward as one, panting in fear and weariness. This had all gone so wrong-dragons, by the gods!-wizards everywhere! More grim men with swords than they'd been able to muster in the first place! And all the doors spell-sealed, too!
This was the only one they'd been able to get open, and now they'd have to run far and fast before the Obarskyrs set the hounds of the realm on-
Darndreth staggered back with a cry, almost spitting himself on half a dozen swords. 'Who-?'
'No one important,' the lady who stood outside replied calmly, her eyes large and dark in the glow of the conjured dagger and whip-sword in her hands. 'Just someone who grew bored in Can-dlekeep and looked in a scrying-stone to see what was happening back in Marsember. Not that I found anything surprising.'
'Stand back!' one noble shouted.
'Make way or we'll kill you!' the youngest Goldsword added, in a snarl.
The lady slashed his thrusting sword aside with her own, the meeting of blades numbing his arm as if he'd touched lightning. 'You may try,' she commented pleasantly.
'Who are you?'
'The Lady Noumea Cardellith,' she answered, parrying his furious attack, 'of Sembia. Stay within, traitors, and face justice.'
'Justice! You're not even of Cormyr!' a noble panted furiously, trying to reach his sword past Darndreth's shoulder to stab her.
'No matter. I stand for peace and honesty, whenever possible … to slaughter a ruling house always plunges a land into strife and outlawry and suffering, and the lurking monsters and dark cabals alike come prowling … or have you so swiftly forgotten what befell in Tethyr?'
'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 well: 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.
* * * * *
