Realms of the Dragons II by Edited by Philip Athans

Author:Edited by Philip Athans [Athans, Philip]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-7869-3808-7
Publisher: Fanversion Publishing
Published: 2018-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Syndar struggled with the squawking wyrmling as as she made her way to the heavy door of the mill. Slamming her slender body into the door, she forced it open. Leaning with their combined weight, she managed to close it again.

Her hair stood up on end. With a cry she dropped to her knees as a bolt of lightning burned through the door, passing within feet of her. Slamming into a large steel saw, it splintered into a cascade of arcing lights. As the momentary brilliance of light vanished, Syndar raced for the stairs to the catwalks above. A roar from outside nearly deafened her, and she gritted her teeth, forcing her legs to move.

She ran across wooden walkways straddling piles of fresh cut trees. The smell of wood and sap mingled with burnt hair and blood. The building shook as a terrible blow shattered the door. A second lash of the blue’s tail forced a larger opening. The gnarled horn of the blue’s snout slipped inside the mill, slowly panning its head side to side.

The wyrmling squawked again, causing the blue to snap its scaled head in their direction. Tears stained her cheeks as Syndar ran, hoping to find another set of stairs down out of the mill. Winding her way through coarse bags of wood chips, a dark form appeared in an opening and she shrieked as Kirsk caught her in his arms.

“Syndar! It’s me! It’s me.” Pulling himself the rest of the way inside the opening using chains that hung down to the ground below, Kirsk swatted away the thrashing tail of the wyrmling. “We can scare it off, but you have to listen. You have to stand exactly where I say, and not run no matter what. I promise you won’t be hurt.”

Syndar shook her head, then opened her eyes when she realized the wyrmling wasn’t struggling. It looked at her with obvious intelligence.

Kirsk was covered in mud, leaves, and smelled of burnt skin, but she met his deep blue gaze with her own green eyes, looking for strength.

Her quiet reply was determined. “I trust you, Kirsk.”

Creeping back along the catwalks, Syndar moved opposite where the blue stood thrashing its tail, unable to fly over the tall stacks of logs.

Lowering himself quietly to a table laden with saws and axes, Kirsk grabbed an axe. He crept away as the blue left long claw marks in the logs, attempting to climb them.

Syndar breathed deeply, standing very still as the wyrmling perched on her shoulders, its long tail wrapped around her waist. Her lips moved in silent repetition, reciting an incantation practiced over and over. Her voice rose as she did, and the blue snuffed loudly, turning on all fours at the familiar sound of spellcasting.

The dragon took several steps forward, seeking to blast the half-elf right off the catwalk, when multi-colored globes of light started dancing harmlessly in front of the blue’s eyes. Snapping its head back in expectation of a biting spell, the blue roared in defiance as the futile dancing lights winked in the air.

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