Part 11 (1/2)

Fires hissed in protest and clouds of steam rose about the lake. Hot droplets splattered back from the force of the breath, nipping at Oliver and Luthien, who could only close their eyes and hold on.

It went on for what seemed like minutes, Balthazar's unending breath drawing Brind'Amour's powers out to their limits. When Luthien dared to peek out, it seemed to him as though the watery wall was inevitably thinning. Then it fell flat suddenly, and Luthien thought he was surely doomed.

But ended, too, was the dragon's breath, and Luthien could hardly see the ma.s.sive wyrm through the cloud of thick steam. He heard splas.h.i.+ng, though, as Balthazar steadily advanced.

”What are you doing to my rope?” he heard Oliver gasp. He looked at the halfling, then followed Oliver's incredulous gaze to the water and the loose end of the rope. Luthien's eyes widened as well when he saw the spectacle: Brind'Amour had somehow transformed that end of the rope into a living serpent, which was now swimming toward the far bank and the wizard.

The water then churned under the companions-they had almost forgotten about the turtle!

The snake/rope crawled onto the sh.o.r.e and, following Brind'Amour's frantic directions, looped itself about a rock and began to tighten, pulling the companions up at an angle away from the water and the turtle.

Oliver looked back and nearly fainted dead away, staring into the evil and angry eyes of the dragon not more than a dozen feet away. The halfling tried to speak, but got his lips all tied together, and instead began tapping Luthien frantically on the shoulder.

”h.e.l.lO, THIEF AND LIAR,” Balthazar said calmly. Luthien didn't have to look back to know that he was about to become lunch.

The dragon jerked suddenly; there came a huge splash from below. Oliver looked down as Balthazar looked down-to see the snapping maw of the turtle tightly clamped on the dragon's great leg.

The rope was taut, then, and Luthien began half crawling, half sliding toward the far sh.o.r.e.

Hot water splashed over the companions as the behemoths battled in the lake. The dragon roared and breathed forth and a new cloud of steam joined the first, and the agonized shriek of the startled and wounded turtle cut the air. Luthien finally let go of the rope altogether as they neared the sh.o.r.e and dropped onto the beach, Oliver still clutched tightly to his back and neck.

”Run on!” Brind'Amour prodded them. The wizard understood that the turtle would not last long against the likes of Balthazar. He looked back to the lake one final time, sent forth another black-crackling bolt of energy, and ran after Luthien. Then he produced a magical light, for Oliver had left the still-burning torch on the far bank.

The three had barely exited the chamber, climbing back into the corridor strewn with broken stalagmites, when they heard Balthazar splash ash.o.r.e, calling out, ”THIEVES!” and ”LIARS!”

Now the landscape favored the wyrm, with the three companions having to scramble over and around the tumbled blocks. Luthien finally spotted the fist-sized swirl of blue glowing energy, but he heard the dragon right behind them and did not think he had any chance of making it.

Brind'Amour, chanting wildly, grabbed the young man's shoulder suddenly-Oliver's, as well-and all three took off from the ground, flying, speeding for the wall.

Balthazar roared and loosed another line of flames. Oliver screamed and covered his head, thinking that he would smash into the stone. The lights of the tunnel expanded, as if to catch them, and the dragon's breath was licking again at their backsides as they entered the wizard's tunnel.

Chapter 12.

TALES FROM BETTER DAYS.

Small wisps of smoke rose from their clothes as they tumbled back into the wizard's cave, all three in one ball. Brind'Amour, showing surprising agility, extracted himself first and rose laughing.

”Old Balthazar will be steaming about that one for a hundred years!” the wizard roared.

Luthien eyed him, stone-faced, his stern gaze diminis.h.i.+ng the wizard's howls to a coughing chuckle.

”Young Bedwyr,” Brind'Amour scolded. ”Really, you must learn to laugh when the adventure is at its end. Laugh because you are alive, my boy! Laugh because you stole an item from a dragon's h.o.a.rd ...”

”More than one,” Oliver corrected, producing several gemstones from his seemingly bottomless pockets.

”All the more reason to laugh!” Brind'Amour cried. Oliver began juggling three of the stones, admiring their glitters in the flickering torchlight, and Brind'Amour raised his fist in a salute to the halfling.

Luthien did not crack the slightest hint of a smile. ”Balthazar?” he asked.

”Balthazar?” Brind'Amour echoed.

”You called the dragon Balthazar,” Luthien explained. ”How did you know?”

Brind'Amour seemed uneasy for just a moment, as though he had been caught in a trap. ”Why, I watched you through my crystal ball, of course,” the wizard replied so suddenly and exuberantly that Luthien knew he was lying. ”The dragon named himself-to Oliver, of course.”

”He did,” Oliver remarked to an obviously unconvinced Luthien.

”You knew the name before the dragon declared it,” Luthien pressed grimly. He heard a clinking sound as Oliver stopped his juggling, one gem falling to the stone floor. And Brind'Amour stopped his chuckling, as well, in the blink of an eye. The atmosphere that only a moment ago seemed to Oliver and the wizard to be a victory celebration now loomed thick with tension. It almost appeared to Oliver that Luthien would strike out at Brind'Amour. ”Your tale of a cyclopian king was a lie.”

Brind'Amour gave a strained smile. ”Dear young Luthien Bedwyr,” he began solemnly, ”if I had told you that a dragon awaited you at the other end of the magical tunnel, would you have gone through?”

”Very good point,” Oliver conceded. He looked up at Luthien, hoping that his friend would just let the whole thing go at that.

”We could have been killed,” Luthien said evenly. ”And you sent us in there, expecting us to die.”

Brind'Amour shrugged, seeming unimpressed by that statement. The wizard's casual att.i.tude only spurred Luthien on. A barely perceptible growl escaped the young Bedwyr's lips; his fists were clenched tightly at his sides.

”Luthien,” Oliver whispered, trying to bring him back to a rational level. ”Luthien.”

”Am I to apologize?” Brind'Amour spat suddenly, incredulously, and his unexpected verbal offensive set Luthien back on his heels. ”Are you so selfish?”

Now Luthien's face screwed up with confusion, not having any idea of what the wizard might be talking about.

”And do you believe that I would have allowed the two of you to walk into such danger unless there was a very good reason?” Brind'Amour went on, snapping his fingers in the air in front of Luthien's face.

”And your 'very good reason' justifies the lie and is worth the price of our lives?” Luthien snapped back.

”Yes!” Brind'Amour a.s.sured him in no uncertain terms. ”There are more important things in the world than your safety, dear boy.”

Luthien started to react with typical anger, but he caught a faraway look in Brind'Amour's blue eyes that held his response in check.

”Do you not believe that I grieve every day for those men who went in search of my staff before you and did not return?” the wizard asked somberly. A great wash of pity came over Luthien, as if somehow the gravity of the wizard's words had already touched his sensibilities. He looked at Oliver for support, honestly wondering if he had been caught by some sort of enchantment, but the halfling appeared similarly overwhelmed, similarly caught up in the wizard's emotions.

”Do you know from where a wizard gains his power?” the man asked, and Brind'Amour suddenly seemed very old to the companions. Old and weary.

”His staff?” Oliver answered, a perfectly reasonable a.s.sumption given the task he and Luthien had just completed.

”No, no,” Brind'Amour replied. ”A staff is merely a focus for the power, a tool that allows a wizard to concentrate his energies. But those energies,” he went on, rubbing his thumb across his fingertips in front of his face as though he could feel the mysterious powers within his hand. ”Do you know where they come from?”

Luthien and Oliver exchanged questioning expressions, neither having any answers.

”From the universe!” Brind'Amour cried abruptly, powerfully, moving both of the friends back a step. ”From the fires of the sun and the energy of a thunderstorm. From the heavenly bodies, from the heavens themselves!”

”You sound more like a priest,” Oliver remarked dryly, but his sarcasm was met with unexpected excitement.

”Exactly!” Brind'Amour replied. ”Priests. That is what the ancient brotherhood of wizards considered themselves. The word 'wizard' means no more than 'wise man,' and it is a wise man indeed who can fathom the complete realities of the universe, the physical and the spiritual, for the two are not so far apart. Many priests do not understand the physical. Many of our recent inventors have no sense of the spiritual. But a wizard...” His voice trailed away, and his blue eyes sparkled with pride and that faraway look. ”A wizard knows both, my boys, and always keeps both in mind. There are spiritual consequences to every physical act, and the physical being has no choice except to follow the course of the soul.