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Authors: R. A. Salvatore
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his eyes and turned about to view the Emerald Witch, splendid, as always, in her white gossamer gown, her green eyes sparkling, golden hair shining, even in the dull light. “Might be that ye know too much sometimes, me lady,” he replied with a grin.
“Sword in hand, sword in mind,” the witch reasoned.
“Ayuh,” the ranger confirmed. “And more in mind, and more in heart, is the task that sword ye showed me will bring to me.”
Brielle’s fair face clouded over. “One task at a time,” she said in all seriousness.
Belexus understood her fear. When she had shown to him the sword, she had told him, too, of the guardian she suspected, for only one creature in Ynis Aielle could likely hold such a vast treasure hoard; only one creature could keep for itself a sword such as that, unused through decades untold.
Belexus had fought a true dragon once, and though it was but a hatchling, the creature had nearly sizzled the ranger’s blood, and after Belexus had dealt it a mortalblow, in its wild death throes, its claws had torn deep ridges in the solid stone. What might a true adult dragon do, then, and how could Belexus ever hope to defeat it? For one brief instant, a cloud of doubt and weakness passed over his face. But it could not hold, for the memory of his dragon battle incited another thought, one of Andovar, for his companion had so often told the tale of Belexus and the dragon, to any who would hear, even if they had listened a hundred times before. And of course, coming from Andovar’s mouth, the tale of Belexus’ exploits had always sounded much grander, much more heroic.
“I have to go for the sword,” the ranger said resolutely, those memories of Andovar steeling his gaze and his jaw.
Brielle said nothing for a few, long moments. “When winter lets go of the Crystals,” she reasoned, but the stoic ranger was shaking his head before she ever finished the thought.
“This day,” he said. “I’ll not find the comfort of true sleep until Andovar’s avenged, and each day lets the rage burn me heart more deeply, and takes me strength. This moment’s not soon enough, I say, to start on the road that’ll put the wraith back in the dark domain.” He studied Brielle’s face for a long time, her posture, too, to try to find some hint of her feelings concerning his declaration. And in trying to see things through the witch’s eyes, the ranger recognized his words as a rash proclamation. Winter in the great Crystal Mountains could prove a more formidable foe than any ancient dragon! But, even with that discomforting thought so clear in mind, the ranger saw no choice before him, and he put up a firm, unyielding visage against the wave of reasonable protests he suspected Brielle would soon send his way.
“I know ye mean to go this day,” was what she said, and quietly, both her words and tone surprising Belexus. “I’m only wishing that I might be going with ye.”
He studied her some more, saw the pain in her green eyes, a resignation that showed she did not like the choice, but understood the necessity of it.
“But I canno’ go,” Brielle went on. “Me home’s not safe from Morgan Thalasi, not yet, and I’m fearing, too, that I’d be of little help to ye, to anyone, outside me domain.”
The way in which the words came forth, a great and rushed release, torn by truth from Brielle’s very heart, showed Belexus that she dearly wanted to join him, desperately wanted to remain by his side, friends and allies, but that she could not. He understood that she had thought long and hard on the dilemma, probably had lain awake throughout the night in search of some solution.
But there was none, Brielle knew, and the ranger knew, as well. Brielle could not go off into the Crystal Mountains now, with the dark shadow of Morgan Thalasi still lurking about, with the deep wound to the domain of magic and hordes of talons running wild in the west. Brielle’s place was Avalon, and no other, and only her
“Sword in hand, sword in mind,” the witch reasoned.
“Ayuh,” the ranger confirmed. “And more in mind, and more in heart, is the task that sword ye showed me will bring to me.”
Brielle’s fair face clouded over. “One task at a time,” she said in all seriousness.
Belexus understood her fear. When she had shown to him the sword, she had told him, too, of the guardian she suspected, for only one creature in Ynis Aielle could likely hold such a vast treasure hoard; only one creature could keep for itself a sword such as that, unused through decades untold.
Belexus had fought a true dragon once, and though it was but a hatchling, the creature had nearly sizzled the ranger’s blood, and after Belexus had dealt it a mortalblow, in its wild death throes, its claws had torn deep ridges in the solid stone. What might a true adult dragon do, then, and how could Belexus ever hope to defeat it? For one brief instant, a cloud of doubt and weakness passed over his face. But it could not hold, for the memory of his dragon battle incited another thought, one of Andovar, for his companion had so often told the tale of Belexus and the dragon, to any who would hear, even if they had listened a hundred times before. And of course, coming from Andovar’s mouth, the tale of Belexus’ exploits had always sounded much grander, much more heroic.
“I have to go for the sword,” the ranger said resolutely, those memories of Andovar steeling his gaze and his jaw.
Brielle said nothing for a few, long moments. “When winter lets go of the Crystals,” she reasoned, but the stoic ranger was shaking his head before she ever finished the thought.
“This day,” he said. “I’ll not find the comfort of true sleep until Andovar’s avenged, and each day lets the rage burn me heart more deeply, and takes me strength. This moment’s not soon enough, I say, to start on the road that’ll put the wraith back in the dark domain.” He studied Brielle’s face for a long time, her posture, too, to try to find some hint of her feelings concerning his declaration. And in trying to see things through the witch’s eyes, the ranger recognized his words as a rash proclamation. Winter in the great Crystal Mountains could prove a more formidable foe than any ancient dragon! But, even with that discomforting thought so clear in mind, the ranger saw no choice before him, and he put up a firm, unyielding visage against the wave of reasonable protests he suspected Brielle would soon send his way.
“I know ye mean to go this day,” was what she said, and quietly, both her words and tone surprising Belexus. “I’m only wishing that I might be going with ye.”
He studied her some more, saw the pain in her green eyes, a resignation that showed she did not like the choice, but understood the necessity of it.
“But I canno’ go,” Brielle went on. “Me home’s not safe from Morgan Thalasi, not yet, and I’m fearing, too, that I’d be of little help to ye, to anyone, outside me domain.”
The way in which the words came forth, a great and rushed release, torn by truth from Brielle’s very heart, showed Belexus that she dearly wanted to join him, desperately wanted to remain by his side, friends and allies, but that she could not. He understood that she had thought long and hard on the dilemma, probably had lain awake throughout the night in search of some solution.
But there was none, Brielle knew, and the ranger knew, as well. Brielle could not go off into the Crystal Mountains now, with the dark shadow of Morgan Thalasi still lurking about, with the deep wound to the domain of magic and hordes of talons running wild in the west. Brielle’s place was Avalon, and no other, and only her
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