'Spoken just like a Waterdhavian,' the Hillsfarian scowled. 'Put your faith in your lords and your Blackstaf f. Tell me, what actions did they take the last time this happened? What will they do to defend Hillsfar?'
'From what I've heard of Hillsfar,' the gnome said, 'it's a shame that dragon didn't raze it to the ground.'
'Hold it now, little friend,' said the barkeep. 'The Lathand'rites run Beregost and they don't look kindly on that sort of talk. So either you-'
The gnome leaped off his stool in Khalt's direction. 'Don't you know?' he proclaimed. 'If you walked into his city, you'd be tossed in jail and fed to monsters in an arena!'
Khalt didn't say a word in response and kept his gaze trained on the pair across the room, but lowered his hand to the hilt of his dagger.
The two across the room, lost in conversation, took no notice of the disturbance.
'If you don't stop harassing my customers,' said the bar-keep, his voice barely raised, 'you'll be spending the night in a cell instead of in your nice, warm bed.'
The gnome walked upstairs, huffing, and the various merchants returned to their conversation, switching suddenly to topics far away from dragons. But the tension stayed and Khalt's hand remained on his dagger.
Fools, Khalt thought. The world is blazing and they gossip over it. Pettiness turns them against each other. Truly the Rage will bring out the worst in all folks, dragons and otherwise.
Khalt watched Chalintash turn and look directly at him.
He extended a finger and pointed. And Khalt saw the anger sleeping in his eyes.
With a cool breeze and a rustle of leaves, the dragon swept among the branches like a flash of lightning, its slender body weaving in and out of the majestic trees with seemingly impossible speed and grace. Its long, thin tail slashed its way through the passing branches but disturbed nary a tree, while what sunlight flowed through the thick boughs caught the dragon's polished wings and sent silver light filtering all across the shadowed settlement below. Each of the Trunalor stopped and beheld the spectacle playing out in the high trees, even those who had seen it a thousand times before. It was a marvelous vision, to be sure, but it had far greater significance to those elves. It meant thatTrinculo had returned.
Each time, they suspected that he would not come back. Few voiced it, except perhaps in those periods when he had vanished and wandered Faerun for years on end. Mercury dragons were creatures ruled by whims, who catered to the moment's impulse and the instant's pleasure. Some called it freedom, others irresponsibility, but mercury dragons could rarely be tied down. The bonds of friendship and honor that held Trinculo to the Trunalor, the wild elves of Amtar, were tight indeed.
Khalt Laathine never doubted that his friend would always return. The dragon tattoo on Khalt's cheek was a constant mark of their connection. He knew Trinculo better than anyone, and even as the mirror-scaled dragon touched down amid the green shadows, he could tell something was wrong. As the children of the tribe came to greet him, his smiles were forced, his laughter mirthless.
Khalt finished setting a new snare on the perimeter of the camp and walked over to join them.
'Child of Avachel,' said Ferla, the tribe's leader and shaman. Under centuries of his leadership, the Trunalor had survived near-constant hostilities from their many enemies, including gnolls and other evils spilling out of the Gate of Iron Fangs to the southwest and the degenerate drow-spawned men of Dambrath, who had hunted the Trunalor for sport for centuries. 'We welcome you back to the heart of the forest. What news do you bring of the outside?'
Trinculo's vast silver bulk seemed to melt around him as his form shrank and contracted into the appearance he usually took with the Trunalor, of a white-haired yet youthful wild elf dressed in outlandish green and purple robes. The form was much more accommodating within the tight nest of trees, and he enjoyed interacting with the elves on their own level. Trinculo was so full of energy he could barely withstand a moment of stillness. He wore on the nerves of many Trunalor but he was so relentlessly upbeat and good-natured as to win over even the most hard-hearted.
'Much news, Treeclimber,' said Trinculo. His clownish spirit was often put to use deflating Ferla's occasional stoicism, but now Trinculo seemed almost as serious as the shaman. He spoke slowly, for one thing, uncharacteristic for him-when excited he could speak so quickly that no one could understand his words. 'I won't be able to stay long.'
'So you have said many times,' said Khalt, emerging behind Ferla. 'Even those times when you ended up staying decades.'
Trinculo let out a ring of liquid laughter that cheered the hearts of all who heard it. He stepped forward and embraced his friend. 'It's true this time, Khalt,' he said. 'There's much I must tell you.'
When Trinculo was properly greeted by all the folk of the tribe, Ferla, Khalt, and he retired to Ferla's shadowed glade, sacred to Rillifane Rallathil. Trinculo paced constantly and spoke in fast bursts. He told them that the wy vern their scouts had battled near the Landrise was not alone in its apparent madness. He saw much more evidence of the same phenomenon, and heard travelers discuss such on the road to Three Swords. Finally, he received a magical missive from an ally of his, a copper dragon.
'Some sort of sickness is enveloping dragonkind. Fits of insanity, afflicting dragons of all kinds. This isn't the first time this has happened, but this is different… I don't know how, exactly. I don't have many details. Chalintash was concerned for the security of the message.'
'A sickness of dragons,' Ferla repeated, as if to dispel the ramifications of such a thing.
'Are you in danger?' asked Khalt.
'I don't believe I am,' Trinculo said, in his haste running the words together. Khalt doubted his answer. 'I don't know if this will affect the Trunalor. You can deal with the wyverns easily, but there may be other dragons lairing in the forest that I don't know about. Try not to attract their attention. And if the blues in the Gnollwatch Mountains rouse, we can only hope they point their claws at Dambrath and not here.'
'But you cannot stay to help us face these possible dangers?' said Ferla, a hint of accusation in his voice.
'No,' Trinculo said, his eyes drifting downward. 'I have my own mission. I'm going to meet Chalintash for more information. I'm afraid I can't keep to Avachel's pledge right now.'
The silvery dragon Khalt bore on his face was not Trinculo, though Trinculo often liked to pretend that it was. It was the Jester. Some knew him as Aasterinian, but to Khalt he had no name but Avachel. Many centuries before, the vicious Arkaiun Empire, the barbarians who fell to the dark elves beneath their homeland, interbred with them and became the Dambraii, terrorized their neighbors without mercy. They enslaved the gentle folk of Luiren and even dared challenge Halruaa, and among their conquests they sought the Forest of Amtar, invading the trees with a force armed with flame and axe.
But Avachel, a great quicksilver wyrm who spent his time traveling far and wide, happened upon the war and joined the elves against the Arkaiun. Many Trunalor died in the defense of their homeland, but the Arkaiun were repelled and never returned to the Amtar with such numbers. Erevan Ilesere, the Seldarine's Unseen Trickster and the god of elf rogues and wanderers, took notice of Avachel's actions and took him as a companion. In time, Avachel became a god in his own right, revered by all the goodly woodland races, and a diligent protector of wild elves across Faerun. When Trinculo pledged his undying loyalty to Avachel, his spirit was forever bound to the wild elves, and he spent much of his life living and fighting with them.
'I will not lie to you,' Ferla said. 'I would rather you stay. Our tribe values your counsel, your aid, and your spirit. I cannot hold you here, but I must ask, is there not danger to our tribe that you might defend us from better than any?'
Trinculo nodded solemnly. 'Yes, Ferla, there's danger everywhere now. I don't want to leave, but I think I can best protect us all far away from here. Chalintash and his allies want me to go on a mission. He says that I might help put an end to the Rage.'
'You cannot be dissuaded, I see,' Ferla concluded. 'I wish you luck and speed. May Avachel's strength never fail you.'
'I hope you'll offer the same wish to me,' Khalt said. 'I shall accompany Trinculo in his task.'
'Khalt, no!' Trinculo protested.
'You are needed here, Khalt,' Ferla reminded him.
'Trinculo is in need,' Khalt said. 'He has helped us so many times, it's only right we do the same. I was
