guardianship of the gnomes of Ieirithymbul.
The caravan had just arrived and the gnomes were gathering to help unload the provisions brought from Leilon. He was glad to see that everyone had made it back safely, though he regretted not having been able to escort them home. Unfortunately, some aggressive Forgebar dwarves had needed persuading that their intentions for Ieirithymbul and its mines were misguided. It would take the dwarves months to recover and find their way back to the surface.
By the time he made it back to the caravan, they were only a day out from the village. So Palarandusk returned to drift amongst his beloved children, eavesdropping on their plans, their dreams, and their quarrels. It made the sacrifices worthwhile to think he played a part in shaping their lives. Protecting the little village may not be as glorious as his days of defending Neverwinter, but the intimacy he had with the gnomes of Ieirithymbul was much more satisfying. He knew their names, watched many grow up, wept for their losses, and celebrated their successes alongside them.
It was the celebrations and feasts that he enjoyed the most. During those times, the normally taciturn gnomes opened themselves up to reveal their zest for life, and Palarandusk would bask in the energy like a lizard on a rock at highsun. For that reason, he was looking forward to the celebration that would take place the following night. He had listened in on the elders' plans. It would be a typical feast, like all the past ones the gnomes threw when the last caravan returned before the snows blocked the passes, but Palarandusk would enjoy himself no less. There would be plenty to see.
Burlmarr sat at the edge of the green, watching the dancers spin around the crackling bonfire in the center of the celebration area. He felt dizzy and flushed, though he hadn't touched a drop of the ale provided by Master Brimmloch for the festivities. It was likely the sickness. He had gotten his hopes up that he could make it through the party-there had been no episodes the day before-but he should have known better. He lowered his head into his hands, his temples throbbing. Perhaps it was time to go home.
He stood up, and suddenly he could see the entire village green, but from above, as though he was a bird flying overhead in the night sky. The sudden change in perspective overwhelmed Burlmarr and he lurched forward, stumbling a few steps before losing his balance and plopping to the ground.
Burlmarr squeezed his eyes shut. He could still see the green from above, but without the conflicting information from his own vantage, the vertigo quickly passed. He remained seated, however, rooted to the spot by fear and uncertainty.
What was happening to him? It was almost as if he were seeing through someone else's eyes.
In his mind, he watched as those eyes drifted across the green, pausing occasionally to focus on a pair dancing, or some animated discussion that Burlmarr couldn't hear. Then he watched as the eyes got closer and closer to a young gnome huddled on the ground, his hands covering his face. Burlmarr moved his hand to reach an itch, and the gnome in his mind's eye did the same.
Burlmarr gasped. The eyes were looking right at him. He was watching himself!
Struck by an impulse, Burlmarr rose unsteadily to his feet and swept his arm out in front and above him. He touched nothing, but the motion of his arm slowed momentarily at the arc of its swing, as though the air in that area was congealing. A wave of nausea swept over him, and he thought he heard someone grunt. Burlmarr sat back down, trembling.
'Who's there?'
'Can you see me, little one?' The question whispered in his ear like a gentle rumble.
'N-no. But I can see me. I mean, even though I have my eyes closed, I can still see, but it's like I'm seeing what somebody else sees.' Excitement and terror had taken hold of Burlmarr's voice. The words rushed out like the waters of a swollen river over its banks. 'Except now I'm not only seeing things, but I'm hearing voices, too. I'm starting to think I may be drunk, even though I didn't have any ale. Or maybe this is a fever dream. I've been really sick lately.'
'No, little one, you are neither intoxicated nor ill. I can assure you that I am very real, but this would not be the appropriate place to prove that. Can you still see what I am seeing?'
Burlmarr nodded as the view shifted to look away from the green and out into the night.
'Good. Use my eyes to follow me. I would like to talk with you for a bit and learn more.'
In his mind, Burlmarr moved between buildings, making his way toward the edge of the village, but he hadn't taken a step. The excitement that had been pumping through Burlmarr's veins suddenly crashed against a dam of caution. What was he doing, prepared to wander out of the village in the middle of the night after some disembodied voice? What if the voice belonged to some creature that was trying to lure him away so it could feast on his heart?
But Burlmarr knew it was no soul-sucking, flesh-eating monster he was being asked to follow. No, the whole thing was too much like his dreams. He didn't know how, but he was sure he was seeing through the eyes of a dragon. And in the back of his mind, the childhood stories the village elders told whispered to him a hope of who that dragon might be.
Flushed once more with excitement, Burlmarr walked after the voice. His steps were hesitant and awkward. It was disorienting to use another's eyes. His legs were distrustful of the sensory information, their movements jerky like a puppet on strings. When the view in his mind halted a few yards ahead of him, Burlmarr had to resist the urge to stop, continuing forward until he appeared in the picture in his mind.
Soon, they left behind the sounds of the village and its celebration. Buildings were replaced by sparsely wooded hills, the pale moon bathing the terrain in its cold light.
They began to climb up into the treeline when Burlmarr's vision went black.
'I–I can't see,' Burlmarr said.
He strained his ears, trying to capture some sound that would indicate his companion had not continued on and left him, but all he heard was the night breeze amongst the trees.
'Open your eyes.'
Burlmarr cried out, jumping backward and losing his balance. His arms flailed and his eyes popped open to see the stars in the sky as he fell on his rear.
'I am sorry, little one. I did not mean to startle you.'
'That's… that's all right. What happened?'
'I would guess that the link between our senses was broken somehow.'
'Right. Of course.' Burlmarr felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. 'So, what do we do now?'
'I suppose we could introduce ourselves,' the voice replied. Burlmarr thought he detected a note of amusement.
'All right. I guess I'll go first. My name is Burlmarr. I'm a gnome from the village of Ieirithymbul, but you already knew that. Um, I'm apprenticed to Master Thintagast. I live with my mother and father. I have…'
'That is quite enough,' the voice chuckled, a deep rumbling that gently rattled Burlmarr. 'There will be plenty of time for me to learn your life's story. For now, it is enough that we know each others' names.'
'But I don't know yours.'
'Oh, I think you do. Or at least you know one of them. Do you really have no idea who I am?'
'Well, I have a guess, but I can hardly believe that it would actually be you.'
'Would you like to know for sure? Would you like see who you are truly speaking with?'
Burlmarr opened his mouth to shout yes, but his voice got stuck in his throat and all he could do was vigorously nod his head.
'Very well,' the voice said, and a blunt snout twice the size of Burlmarr's head appeared not six feet away, long, tubular whiskers of gold and white trailing from a scaly jaw. Two eyes of molten gold winked into existence, glowing from underneath a pair of horns that swept back to a long, sinewy neck. Twin frills ran down the length of the neck from the back of the dragon's head to just above its thickly corded shoulders. Great wings, oversized replicas of the neck frills, sprouted from its shoulders to sweep back along the length of its body to the tip of its tail. The dragon's form swamped Burlmarr's field of vision, blotting out the countryside, but Burlmarr was not afraid. No gnome of Ieirithymbul could ever fear the majestic creature that stood before him.
'I am Palarandusk, once called the Sun Dragon.' The wyrm's lips parted in a toothy smile that conveyed a sense of warmth and friendship. 'You know me as the Unseen Protector.'
Elder Gromann plodded home. Revelers were still about, but he was tired, and he hadn't seen his wife in a while. Kay-lindrra was probably already in bed, waiting for him, and she didn't like sleeping alone.
