Saskia started to correct the dragon then stopped. Perhaps she was a witch; what of it? Unless she found some weapons, and quickly, she would be a dead witch. The Company of the Chimera was a hundred strong and had allies throughout the heart of Sembia and all the Dales. Saskia smiled openly at the thought of a running battle with an entire mercenary company. It was the sort of feat that only a barbarian could hope to pull off.
At the back of the stables were two crates of weapons, cast-offs and rejects from the company's cache. Saskia rummaged through the crates, discarding the weak and delicate, finally settling on a stout shortspear and a brace of heavy throwing daggers.
Aeristhax flew to her shoulder, growling softly.
The mountain-born has raised the alarm.
Saskia nodded and together the pair slipped outside.
Dawn was coming quickly, the village awakening with the crack of drover whips. Saskia cut two horses from the corral, not troubling with a saddle or reins, simply tying on halters. She was almost finished when a voice called for her to stop.
Saskia turned to see Grummond standing on the edge of the corral. The healer wore a coat of burnished chain mail and carried an ore's recurve bow. A handful of black-shafted war arrows were thrust into the ground at his feet.
"You nearly killed the captain," said Grummond as he knocked an arrow and took aim. A dozen other Chimeras fell in line behind him. "We can't let you go."
Saskia swung easily onto the back of the first horse. She was answered with the sharp snap of a bowstring. Aeristhax hissed in anger as the arrow cut its way toward them.
Saskia waved her hand the way another woman might have batted at a fly. Intuitive sorcery, pent up for years, coursed through her, directing the weft and warp of the Weave. The arrow ricocheted off an invisible wall and shot into the sky, tracing a long black arc through the dawn.
Saskia howled in triumph and raised her spear high, her body crackling with power. The Chimeras broke into a charge then skidded to a stop. The barbarian was glowing with an unearthly blue radiance. Grummond waved them back, his bow forgotten.
Aeristhax gave a coughing hiss and took to wing. Saskia kicked hard at her mount and the horses leaped into a gallop, following the dragon north to freedom.
Night came peacefully to Tassledale. Aeristhax hunted in long, lazy circles on the last winds of the fading day, while Saskia made camp on the rocky crest of a hill overlooking the village of Archtassel. She had ridden until the horses could go no farther. The mounts rested, grazing on the meager autumn grasses. The lights of Archtassel slowly winked to life as mothers called their children home and farmers made their way back from the fields.
Surveying their peaceful tranquility, Saskia understood why dragons rampaged through such lands. Like every living thing, civilizations were meant to rise and fall. Ripe fruit was meant to be plucked.
But thoughts of conquest could wait for the morrow.
Saskia knelt on the ground before a pile of twigs and dead wood. At a word the fire sprang to life, the wood cracking and popping as mundane flames settled in, a trail of sweet smelling smoke curling into the chill night air. Saskia warmed herself at the fire's side and whittled a stick into a skewer while she waited for Aeris to return with dinner.
Above her the Five Wanderers shone brightly, twinkling as they made their chaotic way across the heavens. Saskia looked up from her fire and measured their progress.
HOW BURLMARR SAVED THE UNSEEN PROTECTOR
Kameron M. Franklin
Uktar, the Year of the Gauntlet (1369 DR)
It would probably be the last caravan to Leilon before winter brought snow to the passes of the Sword Mountains. Burlmarr hovered over the circled wagons, listening to the gnomes as they sat around the campfire discussing the weather. Or, at least that's what he imagined they were discussing. He couldn't actually hear their voices, but he could see their lips move, and he knew what time of year it was, so that seemed like the logical thing they would be talking about.
The fire had nearly burned itself down to glowing coals when the traders finally turned in. A solitary gnome tossed another log on the embers and crouched down to stoke the flames back to life with a few long breaths. He stood up, stretched, and spent a moment gazing at the night sky before trundling over to a wagon and lifting a crossbow from the back. After loading it, the gnome began an inspection of the wagon circle, keeping one eye on the shadows that occupied the rocky terrain around them.
Burlmarr made his own rounds, tirelessly floating back and forth over the camp. The mountains were far from safe. Ore raiders or marauding monsters often made their way through the passes from the north, looking for anything that would provide enough sustenance to last them through the harsh conditions of the coming months. The caravan would be an irresistible target.
Movement in the shadows up the mountainside to the north of the campsite caught Burlmarr's attention. He swept the terrain with eyes that could see well beyond a thousand feet, and easily spotted the source of the disturbance a few hundred yards away. In black and white vision that ignored the lack of light, he saw a warband of ores making its way toward the sleeping gnomes. With a thought, Burlmarr glided up to meet them and get a better look.
He could count about fifty of them as he got closer, creeping from the boulders and outcroppings that dotted that side of the pass. They wore piecemeal armor of stiff hide and metal scales, some with crude helmets covering their porcine heads and others only unkempt masses of gray dreadlocks. Even so poorly armed, there were more than enough to overwhelm the caravan, but not a number that would give Burlmarr any trouble. It would probably be best if he confronted them away from the gnomes' campsite. The only thing left was to decide on the best tactics to use. That's when he noticed the hill giant bringing up the rear.
The brute stood about ten feet tall, but would probably have been at least six inches taller where it not stooped over enough that its thick, powerful arms hung past its knees. The giant wore a patchwork of hides, some with the fur still on it. As the brute strode down the mountain, it was picking up boulders with one hand and stacking them in the crook of its other arm.
As mighty as he was, Burlmarr could not be everywhere at once. The ores were spread too far apart for him to eliminate in one attack, and he had to stop the giant before it was close enough to hurl those rocks onto the unsuspecting caravan.
Burlmarr's foreclaws materialized first. Then he was looking down at the ores past his blunt snout covered in scales and whiskers of faded white and deep gold. He opened wide and shot a cone of flame into the midst of the warband. The fire swept through the rear ranks of the ores and raced over the hill giant, consuming them in its hunger. Burlmarr turned to face the remaining ores, only to see them running wildly down the mountain toward the camp. He cursed himself for a fool. Of course the survivors would panic and run when he appeared in their midst. He had to act fast. The ores would reach the gnomes in seconds.
Burlmarr stretched out his right foreclaw and spoke.
"Svent throden ghiks mirth krahkxiss!"
A thick bolt of electricity lanced out from a claw and struck the nearest ore then arced to the next, and the next, and the next, until the twenty or so remaining raiders all lay motionless on the mountainside, smoke wafting from charred holes in their torsos. The gnomes were safe.
Burlmarr wept as he melted back into the blackness of the night.
"Mother!"
Burlmarr barely got the word out before he retched again, though this time he was able to lean over the bed enough that the remaining contents of his stomach spilled onto the floor instead of the bed sheets. Dizzy and weak, he swooned and nearly toppled out of the bed, but his mother appeared just in time to lay him back against the pillows.
"Oh, my poor boy, just look at you."
"I'm sorry, Mother. I didn't mean to make a mess. My head just hurts so bad."
"Did you have another one of those dreams?"
Burlmarr nodded slightly, hoping to avoid
making the throbbing worse. It was the third night in a row he'd had the dream, which was always a little different. Mostly a different location, though once he could hear instead of see. He knew they were all the same dream because in every one, he was a dragon. The same dragon, he was pretty sure.
And there were always gnomes. Gnomes from the village. Gnomes he knew.
"Well, we can't have you sleeping in soiled linens," his mother said.
She helped him out of bed and walked him over to the hearth, where she lowered him to the floor. After wrapping a blanket around him, she rolled up the bed sheets and used them to clean the mess. Burlmarr's eyelids began to droop, so he lay down before the glowing embers in the fireplace and drifted off to sleep before his mother could finish making the bed with fresh sheets.
The caravan arrived in Leilon just before supper time. After unloading the ore they brought and purchasing winter supplies for the village, the gnomes made their way to the Knight's Goblet to get a late meal. The tavern catered to travelers, and was known for its roast boar served with thick slices of nutty-flavored bread. It was quiet in the common room as the gnomes sat at their table eating. Trade was slow that time of year. Most merchant companies had stopped sending their caravans through the passes for fear of getting caught in a mountain storm.
"There was something going on up in the mountains last night, I tell you," one of the gnomes insisted through a mouthful of boar and bread. "Fire and lightning was flashing all over the place."
"Would you stop with this, already," another of the gnomes groaned. "It was nothing more than a storm."
"How could it have been a storm if there weren't no clouds in the sky," the first gnome protested. "Besides, I'm pretty sure I saw him."
"Who?"
"You know. The Unseen Protector."
The whole table went silent as everyone stopped eating to stare at the gnome. Then they broke out in raucous laughter.
"That's nothing but a fireside story told to children by the village elders."
"I did see him." The gnome's face was flushed and his voice was defensive. "A great gold dragon, just like the stories say."
"If it was the Unseen Protector," one of the others blurted out between guffaws, "then how did you see him?"
The gnomes slapped the table and held their bellies as laughter overtook them again. The lone gnome stood up, his face a mixture of fury and embarrassment, and left the table.
Daikon had heard enough as well. From his vantage at a nearby table, his back to the gnomes, he was just another human and had been able to eavesdrop on the entire conversation without drawing attention to himself. It was time to report back on his success.
His hooded cloak wrapped tightly around him, Daikon left the warmth and light of the inn's common room and walked out into the dark street, his breath a puff of white before him in the chill night air. It was a brisk walk to the camp in the hills outside of town where his men waited. Thoughts of power kept him warm. The Archmage Arcane had been vague in his promises, but Daikon had enough ambition to fill in the blanks himself.
He nodded to his bodyguards as he emerged from the shadows at the camp's perimeter. His assistant slept under the cart that had been used to haul the bribe they'd taken to gain the hill giant's help. That would have to be retrieved before some scavengers stumbled upon it, or the Archmage Arcane would be displeased. Daikon made a mental note not to bring it up just yet.
Rummaging through his pack in the rear of the cart, Daikon removed a gray lump of stone. He crawled into the back of the cart, the stone cupped in his hands. With a deep, steadying breath, Daikon closed his eyes and envisioned a frail, withered man, his frame bent with old age.
This is Daikon. The hill giant's forces attacked the caravan and were destroyed by what the gnomes called their 'Unseen Protector.' You were right.
Of course I was right, came the surly reply. Now quit wasting my time. I don't want to hear from you again until you have confirmed the Protector's identity.
Daikon kept his mind clear until he returned the stone to its place in his backpack. It didn't hurt to be safe. Only when it was tucked away did he once again ponder why the Archmage Arcane had sent him on his mission. What was so important that not even the archmage's closest aides could be trusted? Why had he been chosen, summoned from the Sea Tower in the middle of the night then teleported to the small town of Leilon as soon as he'd agreed?
There were rumors that Arklem Greeth was preparing to step down, that a successor would be named. Perhaps the mission was a test of his loyalty and ability. Not that Daikon expected to be named archmage so soon, but there would definitely be some shifting of positions once the new Archmage Arcane was pronounced.
With a smug smile, Daikon hopped out of the cart and kicked his assistant. It was time to make some plans.
The gnomes woke up early, ate a quick breakfast, and moved their wagons out before most of Leilon stirred. The past night's mirth was replaced with an air of expectation and urgency. Everyone couldn't wait to get home.
As the caravan climbed the mountain trail, the golden touch of the morning sun on the snow caps kept everyone's spirits light and cheerful. They stopped for lunch near where they had camped the last night on the trail. There were no charred remains left on the mountainside. One of them mentioned that the Unseen Protector must have removed all the bodies and even the gnome who swore he had seen the battle laughed.
Laughter turned to gurgles, blood spilling from his mouth, when a crossbow bolt pierced his throat. Another bolt sunk into the chest of the gnome across from him, followed by a missile of colored light that smote the gnome to the left.
The remaining gnome sprinted for his wagon, desperately wishing the Unseen Protector was real and would suddenly appear. He dived underneath and curled up in a ball next to one of the wheels, shaking in fear.
"Come out, little friend," a voice called from somewhere out of sight. "We want to talk."
The gnome didn't move, but his eyes darted back and forth trying to locate the source of the voice. It sounded very familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. If it was a friend, he needed to warn them about the ambushers.
"You should find a place to hide," he called out, "we were just ambushed. They… they killed everyone else. The attackers could still be around."
"We took care of them. You have nothing to worry about. Come, talk."
"A-all right," the gnome stammered as he crawled out from under the wagon. "I'm coming out."
Daikon's bodyguard dumped the last gnome beside the rest, lining them up in a row and rolling them onto their backs. Daikon returned from where they had left their cart and waved for everyone to gather around the bodies.
"Now that we have all the information we need to locate Ieirithymbul, along with the names and daily routines of enough gnomes who live there, it's time for the final act that will make our infiltration of the village possible."
Daikon opened the bag he had gone to retrieve and pulled out a silver pendant with a crystal embedded in its center. He held it in front of them and they leaned in to get a closer look. The crystal was so clear he knew they could see their own reflections.
"I have three others like this," Daikon continued. "They were crafted by the Brotherhood and provided for us by the Archmage Arcane so that we could complete this task for him. When the wearer puts on the pendant, his form is altered to that which he first envisions in his mind. He keeps that form as long as he wears the pendant."
"When I give you your pendant, I want you to first spend a few moments concentrating on one of these." Daikon nudged the dead gnome nearest him. "Once you have the image firmly in your mind, put the pendant on."
When he was sure they understood, Daikon handed each a pendant and assigned them a gnome to study. He let the others go first to be sure they did it right. Each stood over their particular gnome for a few moments before slowly fastening the pendant around their necks. As they did, their forms shimmered and shrank until they resembled the gnom
e lying at their feet. After his assistant's transformation was complete, Daikon placed the final pendant around his neck and underwent his own.
"All right, we're finished with these," he said, motioning to the bodies. "Dump them in a ravine or something where they won't be found, along with our cart. Then let's load up in their wagons and get moving. It's still a few days ride until we get to the village."
Burlmarr sat on a stool, hunkered over a spinning grinding wheel. He held the rough piece of quartz in his hands against the wheel to remove waste and give it the general shape one of the older apprentices used to practice the facet cuts Master Thintagast taught. He paused for a moment to allow Ambry thynn, a fellow apprentice who was furiously pumping the pedal that powered the grinder, to stop for a breath and pour water over the wheel. Through a window in the far wall, Burlmarr could see townsfolk passing by under the bright sun. It wasn't easy keeping his thoughts on the task at hand.
The caravan should be returning from Leilon any day now. Will everything be ready for the celebration in time?
"I know I'll be ready," Burlmarr replied, keeping his eye on the quartz as the wheel wore it down. "I just hope I don't get sick again."
"Ready for what?" Ambry thynn asked between breaths.
"You asked me if I would be ready for the party the elders are going to throw when the caravan returns."
"I did not."
"Yes, you did. I heard…" Burlmarr looked up to see Ambrythynn's brow furrowed and the corner of his mouth turned up in a way that said he had no idea what Burlmarr was talking about. "Never mind."
I'm going to ask Lissa to marry me. I've already spoken to her father, and he's agreed to help build us a house if I complete my apprenticeship by next Greengrass.
"By Greengrass?" Burlmarr couldn't keep the incredulity from his voice. "Don't you think that's a little soon, considering we both just started with Master Thintagast this past summer? Besides, I thought you had your eye on Maree Blimthalloon?" "What are you talking about?"
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