Anthologies 11 - The Year of the Rogue Dragons by Forgotten Realms

Author:Forgotten Realms [Realms, Forgotten]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wizards od the Coast
Published: 2012-09-01T18:12:27+00:00

"At first," Phenotar replied, "I thought it was a simple insect bite. But I ran some more tests. That's when I discovered that someone had poisoned Brother Arranoth.

"Adder's root," the herbalist added. "Very deadly."

"Then Arranoth was—" Drakken began.

"He was already dead when the wounds to the throat were made," Brother Phenotar finished. "I examined the throat wounds further and I discovered tiny slivers of metal. Whatever made the wounds wasn't natural."

Drakken felt his knees begin to buckle as relief flooded through him. He wasn't the one who'd killed the sub-prior! All of the hours of self-recrimination and hatred seemed like a dream. The Brother Herbalist's discoveries put a part of his mind at rest, while another part began to whirl with dark possibilities.

He stammered his thanks to Brother Phenotar and took his leave. If he hadn't killed the sub-prior, then

Brother Arranoth's murderer was still at large—and had gone to quite some length to incriminate him. Looking at the darkening spring sky, Drakken headed back to his cell. He had only a few hours to prepare for his meeting with whoever left that note.

-—«Cfc—*

Drakken stood quietly in the Upper Cellar, one hand resting lightly on a stack of wooden crates, the other fingering a small set of prayer beads hanging from a belt loop sewn into his simple robe. Despite a bitter chill permeating the dank cellar, the half dragon's spirits were higher than they had been in months. Brother Phenotar's discovery had lifted a dark weight hanging upon his shoulders ever since he'd known of the sub-prior's death. Sure of his own innocence, Drakken could barely contain his relief. He only hoped that whoever had dropped him the mysterious note could shed some more light on Brother Arranoth's murder.

The half dragon was so wrapped up in speculation that he only had a moment's warning before the attack. His keen sense of smell caught a faint musky scent an instant before two figures shimmered into existence before him. Sharpened steel arced toward him in the darkness, but the half-dragon had already begun to move, ducking beneath the whistling edge of one blade. As he turned, a second blade caught in the folds of his robe, slowing him down. He lashed out with a heavily muscled foot, catching one of his attackers in the gut. The assailant let out an explosive grunt and doubled over. Without hesitation, Drakken dived past the assassin and rolled to his feet.

Even in the tomblike darkness of the cellar, his dragon's vision caught sight of his attackers. Both were human. One, a beefy warrior who, by the look of

him had once been an extraordinarily muscled man since gone to fat, wielded a wicked looking curved axe. His companion, a whipcord slim human with a well-groomed goatee, twirled a simple short sword in one hand and a hooked dagger in the other.

Despite the half-dragon's disadvantage, Drakken found his blood beginning to warm at the nearness of death. The beast slumbering deep within him began to awaken, and this time, he didn't fight it.

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