As he climbed into the foothills, the dragon realized he was nearing one of his many stashes of treasure that were hidden around the valley of Felrenden. Then he saw the two gnomes huddled at the base of an outcropping. He surged forward, worry growing in his heart. One of the gnomes looked hurt.
When he was within a few feet, Palarandusk slowly materialized his head. One of the gnomes shrieked. The other, older gnome lay motionless. Palarandusk could see a large bruise forming on the side of his head. Was that Elder Gromann?
"Do not be afraid, little one," said the dragon. "Are you hurt?"
"Y-yes," the young gnome stammered, "I–I mean, no. I'm fine, but Elder Gromann is hurt. I came to find him when his wife said he hadn't come home from the celebration."
"What was that flash of light?"
"I don't know. I just got here myself and found Elder Gromann lying on the ground. I can't get him to wake up. Can you help us?"
"Let me see what I can do."
Palarandusk moved forward and began to materialize fully. A scent in the air stopped him. There were men about. Palarandusk had been the target of adventurers seeking trophies before. Perhaps the elder had been kidnapped by them to use as bait. In which case, he had walked right into their trap. In fact, he then noticed the rods spaced at intervals around the outcropping.
"Fool, it is too late. There will be no escape." The young gnome had become a human wrapped in a hooded cloak, slinking toward the edge of the ring.
"Erans ne!" another voice cried out to Palarandusk's left.
The dragon whirled to face it. Recognizing the command phrase, he began to dematerialize. Arcs of energy shot toward him from the ends of the rods, each arc a different color. As they neared the dragon, rather than striking him, they encircled him from his snout to the tip of his tail. He was suddenly solid again, and he couldn't move.
"Welcome, great Palarandusk." The old man who had shouted the Draconic words came forward to stand in front of the dragon at the perimeter of the snare. "You have been bound in an anti-magic stasis field. You are immobile, cut off from the Weave. You are mine. I could kill you, if I wished."
"Fortunately, you have something I need. I know that you possess magic from the fallen Empire of Netheril. I know you have used that magic to prolong your life. As you can see, I am not exactly young anymore." The man chuckled at his own joke. "In exchange for the magic you used, I will set you free."
Burlmarr tiptoed into his home. It was a few hours before sunrise, and he'd hear no end of it if he woke his parents. He slipped off his shoes and trousers and snuggled under the covers. There was too much to think about to fall right to sleep, however. He had spent the last few hours-he had lost track of just how long-talking with the Unseen Protector. He still couldn't believe he had spoken with a dragon, let alone a childhood-story-come-true.
The subject of their conversation had been just as amazing. Palarandusk had questioned him extensively about his sickness and his ability to apparently link to the dragon's senses of sight and hearing. After casting several spells, it had been determined that the ability was not magical in nature. Palarandusk knew of some individuals who had learned to manifest mental powers through a regimen of strict discipline that took months, even years of subconscious scrutiny and introspection. That Burlmarr did so without such training meant he was likely some sort of "wilder." The sickness was probably a symptom of his inability to control the power, a result of overtaxing his mind. It would lessen-and eventually go away, Burlmarr hoped-as his mastery over the ability grew.
That still left the reason of why Palarandusk was the target of the link. It might have been because of the place the Unseen Protector held in the subconscious of Ieirithymbul, but the dragon had never been more than bedtime tales to Burlmarr. Palarandusk felt it was more likely connected to the various spells that sustained him. Perhaps one or more of them were natural attractants of mental energy.
Burlmarr yawned and rolled onto his side. All his thinking had finally exhausted his mind. His eyes were dry and his eyelids heavy. He quit trying to keep them open.
No sooner were his eyes closed than he began to dream. He was up in the hills surrounding the valley the gnomes called home. It was night, but the area was lit by arcs of multi-colored energy. The arcs held him trapped, staring straight into the face of a bent old man.
Burlmarr sat bolt upright in bed. It wasn't a dream. Palarandusk was in trouble. He leaped out of bed and pulled his pants on. His mother rushed into his room as he was fastening the laces of his shoes.
"Is everything all right? Are you sick, Burlmarr?"
"I'm fine, Mother. I have to go."
"But it's the middle of the night."
"I'm sorry. A friend's in trouble. I'll explain later."
He brushed past her and raced out the door.
As Burlmarr climbed out of the valley, his pace began to slow, allowing his thoughts to catch up with his actions. Questions crept forward from the back of his mind. How was he going to find Palarandusk? He hadn't recognized anything in the quick view he got from the dragon's perspective. What was he going to do when he got there? He was no great hero, like Ardabad, Braeder, or Pheldaer. He could barely control what little power he did have. If something was powerful enough to capture the great dragon, what hope did he have against it?
Burlmarr shook his head, trying to break free from the doubts. It didn't matter. Palarandusk was his friend. He would find a way to help.
At least locating the dragon wouldn't really be a problem. Burlamarr could see a flickering, multi-colored light in the distance already. It was probably the energy that held Palarandusk.
After another hour of walking and climbing, Burlmarr ducked behind a boulder only a few yards away from Palarandusk and his captors. He couldn't tell if the dragon was in any sort of pain, but he knew he probably didn't have long to think of something. He had to disrupt the arcs of energy.
A rod shooting forth an arc of red energy stood just a short distance from where Burlmarr hid. Next to it, though, was an armored man with a greatsword strapped to his back. He was facing away from Burlmarr, but the gnome knew there was no way he could reach the rod without being seen. If only there was some way he could distract the man. Burlmarr considered one of the minor illusions he could create, but he didn't want to draw anyone else's attention with sounds or light.
At his wit's end, Burlmarr sat back and growled in frustration. He didn't come all that way just to be useless. He would think of something if he had to beat his head against the boulder until the sun came up.
That was it. He would use his head. If he had the ability to link with someone else's senses, perhaps he could temporarily shut those senses down. All he needed was a few seconds in which to race out and tear up the rod.
Not sure exactly how to proceed, Burlmarr focused on the armored man and reached out with his mind. He was surprised when he actually touched something. It was like a bundle of emotions and memories. The sensation almost overwhelmed Burlmarr and he pulled back instinctively.
Taking a deep breath, he probed again, and found another bundle. As soon as he touched it, he could smell sweat mixed with metal, feel the weight of steel plates on his shoulders, and hear the crackling of energy. Smiling with success, Burlmarr imagined each and every one of those senses shut off, and the sensations disappeared. He realized then that the emotions and memories were no longer there, either. It was as if the man's entire brain had shut down.
Without a moment to waste, Burlmarr sprinted for the rod and yanked it out of the ground with all his might. The arc of red energy sputtered and went out.
Burlmarr stood basking in his triumph, the rod held aloft. From the corner of his eye, he caught movement and turned. There was a sharp crack and Burlmarr fell backward to the ground, the rod in his hands cleanly cloven in two. The armored man had shaken off whatever Burlmarr had done to him, drawn his sword, and swung at the gnome. Only the fact that he had been holding the rod above his head when he turned
had saved him, the stout shaft deflecting the blade.
The armored man advanced on Burlmarr, and the gnome scrambled backward on the ground. In two long strides, the man was on the gnome and thrust his sword through Burlmarr's stomach, pinning him to the dirt. Burlmarr screamed in agony, blood flecking his lips.
From behind him, he heard Palarandusk roar. A huge shadow enveloped him, and he saw the dragon's jaws snap over the armored man, biting him in two. A chant began to Burlmarr's right and he turned his head to see the bent old man waving a staff before him.
"I don't think so," said the dragon. "I've had enough of your magic tonight."
Palarandusk began speaking rapidly in his own tongue. He finished first and a funnel of whirling wind appeared above the old man. It quickly descended upon him, beating him to the ground. When it finally touched down, it picked the old wizard up and swung him around inside its funnel, finally flinging him screaming into the night. Palarandusk then charged off in another direction, and Burlmarr heard shrieks that were silenced by the whoosh of flames.
Burlmarr's feet grew cold and he made an attempt to pull the blade from his midsection, but his strength was gone. He laid back, coughing up more blood. The stars in the night sky were growing dim, though Burlmarr was sure it was still a few hours before dawn. He blinked, and a scaly paw appeared above him. It grasped the sword hilt between its claws and removed the weapon. Another paw gently scooped up the gnome and brought him face to face with Palarandusk.
"I am sorry, little one. I would not have wished harm to come to you even if it meant my death." Tears where forming in the dragon's eyes. "I have no magic that would heal you. All I can do is promise that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. May Garl Glittergold give you a place of honor in the Golden Hills."
Burlmarr smiled at his friend, and closed his eyes.
A TALL TALE
J.L. Collins
The Year of the Tankard (1370 DR)
Flickering torches mounted on a pair of poles were the only guide for their eyes as they approached the decrepit barn. Once used for storage for the remote lumber camp, it had become home to old, worn out equipment, hay, and as refuge once a year for a peculiar traveling caravan.
They approached in silence, their voices having fallen in unsure expectation of what might await them inside. Myth, legend, rumors, each they knew well enough, but would they actually see what lived only in their imaginations? In their nightmares? The forest was quiet, and though their feet knew the paths and treeswell, their pace slowed, expectation turning to hesitation leading only to doubt, and fear.
The peeling paint and warped wood walls, once comforting reminders of seasons past, had become as eerie as the walls of a crumbled keep, with secrets etched into every stone. More than once they looked over their shoulders for eyes that were not there. They knew it was foolishness to expect to find anyone else in their isolated home, yet on that night they did not feel alone at all…
"I've seen a dragon!" exclaimed Nollo, an excited grin evident on his young face.
The three other boys, along with the half-elf girl, exchanged looks ranging from amusement to irritation at the claim. McDodd, as expected, was the first to voice his disbelief.
"The closest thing you've seen to a dragon, wagon-boy, is a sand snake bitin' you in your rear when you dropped your breeches to wet the sand!" The biggest of the boys, McDodd often used his size to intimidate the others into agreeing with him. It rarely worked.
Craster giggled, and though he was as small and skinny as Nollo he was filthy compared to the young boy's groomed appearance. His laugh regularly followed McDodd's biting remarks. Nollo frowned at McDodd's rebuttal. Though a few years younger, he did not back down from the larger boy's taunts.
"I have too seen a dragon. I even fed it! And they're called wyrms!" Nollo bit back the rest of his reply, as though realizing he might be saying too much.
McDodd inhaled, preparing another sarcastic remark when Kirsk held up his hand, causing the bigger boy to exhale sharply.
"What? You think he's actually tellin' the truth? He's as big a liar as his father," McDodd said.
He couldn't resist challenging Kirsk's attempt to silence him. Though physically bigger, McDodd stopped short of intimidating him into agreement, as Kirsk's quiet confidence unnerved the braggart. Kirsk glanced at the half-elf girl Syndar, catching her gaze with his deep blue, nearly black eyes, before turning back to Nollo.
"Tell us about your dragon, Nollo, and what you fed it." Kirsk's words were spoken with a gentle encouragement.
Nollo smiled and said, "I gave it deer meat, and some fish left over from my father's cooking pot. It was really hungry, so I stole another fish from the bucket, feeding it to him whole. His teeth were so big, he bit it in half and swallowed both bites at once!"
Nollo used his fingers to mimic the gaping jaws of his dinner companion.
McDodd could not hold back. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and Craster says a lot of stupid things."
Craster started laughing at McDodd's comment then sheepishly scratched the back of his neck with his black fingernails. He looked the beggar in his tattered breeches and patchwork tunic.
McDodd continued, "Everyone knows dragons eat cows, horses, and elves. Especially elves." His mouth turned into a cruel smile as he leered at Syndar.
She met McDodd's gaze evenly and said, "The only stupid one McDodd is you. A dragon wouldn't even eat you because you're so stupid. Dragons eat wild animals that roam too close to their lair. They even raid the occasional orchard if they want some sweet fruit. My mother told me about dragons from a book she keeps." Syndar spoke with the voice of a girl trying to be a woman, surrounded by boys who were not yet men. Kirsk smiled as she stuck her tongue out at McDodd who was shaking his head.
"Explain to me again why we let her up in our tree? Fruit? Is she saying dragons eat fruit? I think elves have fruit between their ears. It rots, becoming soft and mushy." McDodd gestured to his ear as he spoke. "Your mother won't know, she left the elven kingdoms to come live in a stupid boring lumber camp. I doubt she even owns a book. What good are books in a lumber camp? Next you're going to say that she's still teachin' you magic too, right?"
"She is you dullard! One day I'll turn you into toad and you'll beg me to turn you back, but I won't, because all I'll hear is some stupid frog and I'll kick you into a puddle and forget all about you."
Syndar's face turned an angry pink, and though blessed with the ageless beauty and grace of her elf mother, she already demonstrated the temper and strong-willed nature of her human father.
Kirsk intervened. "Leave it be, McDodd. If Syndar says she knows magic, then one day she'll show us. Nollo is our guest in the tree, let him finish his story."
Kirsk waited for McDodd to press the issue, but the bully relented, glaring before punching Nollo in the arm.
"You heard 'im. So what else did your dragon eat? Some of those stupid animals your father tries passing off as monsters? He should be arrested."
Nollo rubbed his arm. "No, he curled up and went to sleep."
Kirsk's curiosity got the better of him. "Nollo, dragons don't usually eat fish fed to them by humans. Why didn't the dragon didn't eat you instead?"
"Because he was caged," Nollo said. "I wouldn't feed a dragon if it wasn't caged. That's stupid."
His reply was so immediate, Kirsk almost believed him.
Craster laughed again, prompting McDodd to punch him.
"A cage?" McDodd pressed. "I doubt you saw a dragon in a cage. They happen to be as big as a castle and fly so high you can't see them."
McDodd waited for the boy's reply then looked surprised when Syndar supported the braggart.
"Nollo, that's a tall tale and you know it," she said. "Dragons are too strong. If they can carry a horse and rider into the air, they could break out of a cage pretty easy."
She smiled at the young boy, as if to encourage his story while keeping him honest.
Nollo sighed, s
taring out as a warm breeze wafted through the framed window of the tree house. A lantern on the floor cast shadows along the wall.
"You can keep them in cages if they're small enough," Nollo replied, his voice so quiet the others almost missed it.
"What do you mean small enough?" Kirsk persisted. "You mean like a baby dragon?"
Nollo glanced up, nervous, nodding slowly.
Kirsk smiled and asked, "Where is this baby dragon then?"
Nollo pulled a knife from the pocket of his soft breeches. Elegantly dressed with his embroidered shirt, he wiped some dirt from his polished boots and notched the wood by his feet.
"Not 'posed to say," he said. "My pappy would get mad."
McDodd opened his mouth, but Syndar spoke first. "Was it one of the carnivals back east? You said your father took you 'round the southern edge of the desert. My mother says tribes of men and wandering tent cities live within sight of the sands. Is that where you saw it?"
Nollo shook his head in silent disagreement, stabbing at the floor of the tree house.
To the surprise of all, Craster uttered their unspoken question: "You sayin' yer pappy got a caged dragon up in that barn?"
Nollo looked up too quickly, his expression betraying him.
"Who told you that?" the boy asked. "There's no dragon, I just… I saw one once. You're lying!"
Kirsk reached out a calloused hand to Nollo's shoulder and said, "It's all right Nollo, we know what's in the barn. Every year you and your father spend a tenday restocking for the journey west toward the Sword Coast. Every year we share tales, and every year you tell us about the beasts, wizards, and barbarians you encounter. We don't care if it's true, we just like your stories. It's better than listening to McDodd burp and break wind everyday, for sure."
Both Syndar and Craster laughed, causing the bigger boy to turn red, threatening Kirsk with a punch. Craster switched sides and encouraged the fight.
"Yeah, knock 'im, McDodd. Knock his teeth in!"
The Realms of the Dragons 2 a-10 Page 11