Crown of Fire by Ed Greenwood

Author:Ed Greenwood
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Epic, Magic, Canadian, Fantasy fiction, Fiction, Fantasy, Forgotten realms (Imaginary place), General, Good and evil
ISBN: 9780786936199
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast
Published: 2005-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

TOO LITTLE TIME, TOO MUCH

DEATH

Splendid, heroic deaths? Only in tales, ballads, and books, kitten. Death in battle is always brutal, painful. and messy-and there's never time enough then for those heroic scenes legends tell of. Too little time, loo much death. There's never time enough in life for any splendid or heroic things, kitten.

Remember that-and make time before you must die. Ifyou do that, you wil1 have forged a better life than most.

Laeral of Waterdeep

quoted in Words to an Apprentice Ithryn Halast

Year of the Weeping Moon

"Delg! Delg!" Shandril's eyes spilled over as she ran, heedless, across the trampled grass.

The battle raged around her, Mirt grunting with effort amid the crashes of steel on steel. Unheeding, Shandril wept tears of fire and fell on her knees beside the dwarf.

Delg was reaching a trembling, clenched hand to her, eyes glittering in agony. "Sh-Shan…" he gasped faintly, blood on his lips. "For…" His eyes were still beseeching her a breath later, when they went dark.

In his ears, Delg heard the soft crackling of flames. The Lady Sharindlar had come for him, and his time in Faerun was done. Tears blurred his last sight of the human lass he'd given his life for, and he couldn't even tell her of the love he'd come to feel for her… Raging against the Zhentarim who had brought him death, Delg Ironstar went down into the everlasting darkness, waving his axe.

"No!" Shandril threw her arms around the hairy, sweatsoaked body, but the dwarf's eyes stared past her, dull and unmoving. She knew they'd never see her-or anything else-again, and she clutched Delg tightly, her face pressed against his hard, strong-smelling chain mail. And she cried.

In the rocks high above, Mairara curled her lip in the darkness and gestured with both hands. The crippled gargoyle turned on broken wings to swoop down on the unguarded, weeping maiden.

Shandril cried uncontrollably, body shaking.

Mirt roared out as he ran for her. The Old Wolf finally reached her, shook her, and bellowed, "Shan!

Shan! We need yer spellfire, now!"

Shandril stared up through a rain of tears that would not stop falling, and saw the gargoyle veer off for another pass.

Mirt shook her roughly. "No time, lass! We've-"

A spell raked them from the rocks above, bolts of crackling lightning that made Mirt grunt and bite his lip as they jolted him. Shuddering, his hand reached out and tightly grasped the haft of Delg's axe.

Shandril was oblivious, her face buried in the old dwarf's sweat-soaked leathers. She wept silently.

"Gods aid me now!" Mirt cursed. He hurled the sobbing girl away and spun around.

Just in time. A Zhentilar blade was already cutting the air toward his neck. Mirt raised his left hand.

Delg's notched axe in it, and blocked the attacking sword. The impact shook both men, and the old merchant's own curving long saber was in the mans throat and out again while they were both still shaking.

Another Zhent was hurrying at Mirt. The warrior held his blade low and deadly as he charged in,

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