Elven Star – The Death Gate Cycle 2. Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman

“Take the damn hat and-”

“Hush!” breathed Durndrun.

The dragon had slowly turned its head and was focusing on them. The red eyes narrowed.

“You!” the dragon snarled in a voice that rocked the foundations of the lord’s house.

The old man was attempting to beat some sort of shape back into his battered hat. At the sound of the thundering “You!” he peered around bleary-eyed and eventually caught sight of the gigantic green head rearing upward, level with the treetops.

“Ah ha!” cried the old man, staggering backward. He pointed a shaking, accusing finger. “You overgrown frog! You tried to drown me!”

“Frog!”

The dragon’s head shot upward, its front feet dug deep into the moss, shaking the ground. Aleatha stumbled and fell with a scream. Paithan and Lord Durndrun took advantage of the dragon’s distraction to run to the woman’s aid. Paithan crouched by her side, his arms around her- Lord Durndrun stood above her, his weapon raised. From the house came the wails of the women, certain that this was the end.

The dragon’s head dove downward, the wind of its passing ripped the leaves from the trees. Most of the elves hurled themselves flat; a few of the bravest held their ground. Lord Durndrun fired a bolt. Shrieking in protest, it struck the green, iridescent scales, bounced off, landed on the moss, and slithered away in the undergrowth. The dragon, seemingly, didn’t notice. His head stopped only a few feet from that of the old man.

“You sorry excuse for a wizard! You’re damn right I tried to drown you! But now I’ve changed my mind. Drowning’s too good for you, you moth-eaten relic! After I’ve dined on elf flesh, beginning with that toothsome blond appetizer over there, I’m going to rip the bones out of your skin one by one, starting with your little finger-”

“Oh, yeah?” shouted the old man. He jammed his hat on his head, threw his staff to the ground, and once again began rolling up his sleeves. “We’ll see about that!”

“I’ll fire now, while he’s not looking,” whispered Lord Durndrun. “Paithan, you and Aleatha make a run for it-”

“You’re a fool, Durndrun! We can’t fight that beast! Wait and see what the old man can do. He told me he controls the dragon!”

“Paithan!” Aleatha dug her nails into his arm. “He’s a crazy old human. Listen to his lordship!”

“Shhh!”

The old man’s voice was rising in a high-pitched quaver. Closing his eyes, he wiggled his fingers in the dragon’s general direction and began to chant, swaying back and forth in time to the rhythm of his words.

The dragon’s mouth parted, the wickedly sharp teeth glistened in the twilight, the tongue flicked dangerously.

Aleatha closed her eyes and buried her head in Lord Durndrun’s shoulder, jostling the railbow, which squeaked in annoyance. The lord juggled the weapon, clumsily clasped his arm around the woman and held her tightly.

“You speak human! What’s he saying, Paithan?”

When young I started seeking, for love and things in dreaming I set out with clouds a’streaming and a hat upon my head. I began with grave intention hoping for divine intervention; nothing could prepare me for the things I learned instead.

At first I looked for battle seeking mail and sword to rattle but they herded us like cattle and we never did see a fight. I stood in fields for hours, among the pikes and flowers; I decided it was time to go and snuck away at night.

I’ve been roamin’ five and twenty, seen war and king and shanty, I’ve known handsome men aplenty who’ve yet to kiss a girl. Yes, I’ve roamed the whole world over, seen men both drunk and sober but I’ve never seen a man can drink as much as Bonnie Earl.

Paithan gasped, gulped. “I’m-I’m not certain. I suppose it must-er-be magic!” He began looking around on the ground for a large tree branch, anything he could use as a weapon. He didn’t think this was the time to tell the lord that the old man was attempting to spellbind a dragon by singing one of Thillia’s most popular drinking songs.

I moved in royal places a king took me to ‘s spaces,

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