Realms of the Dragons vol.1

WAYLAID

Marpenoth, the Year of the Unstrung Harp (1371 DR)

"You can't just go traipsing through Silverymoon Pass by yourself, girl! I don't care what sort of package you have to deliver, or to whom. It's the middle of winter! If an avalanche doesn't kill you, the beasts will! No book is worth all that."

Those words-delivered at Lynaelle Dawn-mantle's back as she had walked out the door of the Silverlode Arms two days previous-had seemed innocuous to the girl. But caught near the summit of the pass in a howling, stinging blizzard, with a huge white dragon rearing above her, Lynaelle realized with sudden clarity just how foolish she had been to ignore the proprietor's admonitions.

She desperately wished she was still sitting in the common room of the Silverlode, enjoying one of Hostwyn Bramblemark's fine meat-and-mushroom pies. Instead, gaping jaws of icy white descended toward the half-elf wizard from out of the swirling curtain of snow, a massive, tooth-lined cavern of a mouth that very easily could engulf her whole, and was just about to.

Lynaelle wanted to scream, to run, but she could not. She found herself rooted to the spot, stark terror holding her fast. She couldn't breathe. As the fangs neared her head, the girl clenched her eyes shut, trembling and praying to Mystra that the end would be quick.

The stabbing pain of death did not come.

Lynaelle opened one eye and found herself staring at another eye, an orb almost as big as her balled fist and the color of glacial ice. That lone eye regarded her from a mere foot or two away, staring at her with a mixture of curiosity and malevolent eagerness while the winter storm raged all around them. The larger eye was set into a bony face, all shiny blue-white, smooth and glistening, like the frozen skull of a bird with a hooked beak, but with hundreds of icicle-teeth as long as the half-elf s fingers. The head bobbed low at the end of a serpentine neck covered in thick, jagged plates.

A dragon.

Lynaelle's knees lost their strength, and she crumpled into the snow that surrounded her. She realized she was holding her breath and exhaled sharply, then drew one shuddering gasp of air. The act nearly made her pass out, for she caught the scent of the beast's own breath, a cold, chemical odor that made her cough and choke. It reminded her of the distilled goat urine the smith back in Galen's Ford used to use to temper his forge work.

A dragon.

The beast's neck stretched up and away, connecting to a body that loomed high above the girl, indistinct in the swirling haze of snow. Lynaelle could barely make out two broad, leathery wings, bent and ribbed like the bat's, fanning out to either side of the huge monster. Even at five paces away, they were nothing more than a slightly darker shade of gray in the overwhelming white of the snow storm. And still they blotted out all light. They could have easily reached and engulfed the girl where she cowered, still trembling. A dragon!

"You will serve," the beast said, it's voice deep and hard-edged, like the sound the glaciers made when they scraped together.

Just hearing the dragon's voice made Lynaelle's heart flutter wildly in her chest, and she cringed at the sound of the words, not understanding them but wanting to flee their harshness. She tried to make herself very small, sinking into the waist-deep snow, thinking only of escape. She thought to hide, to cast a spell to take her away from the dragon.

Terror prevented her from remembering any magic at that moment.

Before Lynaelle could even turn away, a great talon-tipped claw raised up and reached for her, digits extended wide. The girl screamed and flailed, trying to roll over in the drift and scramble away. But the cumbersomeness of her heavy clothes and fur-lined cloak, along with the weight of her pack and the depth of the snowdrift, impeded her efforts. The huge claw shot forward, enveloping her.

As the claw closed tightly around her, Lynaelle expected to be crushed. But the dragon's death grip did not squeeze her unduly, nor did the talons gouge into her flesh. Nonetheless, the power of the dragon's grasp was undeniable, and the girl knew she was trapped as surely as if she were bound in iron. She found her arms pinned tightly to her sides, her cloak bunched up awkwardly, half covering her head. She felt the book, the damnable book covered in oilcloth in her pack, poking painfully against her spine. Snow pressed in and packed all around her, also trapped in the dragon's grasp.

Lynaelle sobbed, her wail muffled in the fur of the cloak, and she felt herself lifted from the ground, hoisted into the air easily. She struggled between the desire to peer out and see where the beast was taking her and the terror-filled urge to bury her face and clench her eyes closed, as if that could shut the world out, make the dragon go away.

She felt a sudden lurch, and the air was whistling fiercely against her head, whipping the hood of her cloak off and causing her long, straw-colored hair to lash about. Snow pelted her exposed skin, stinging her face. Curiosity won out for a moment, and she opened her eyes a fraction to see, but there was nothing but an endless swirl of white. She could sense that she was aloft, that the dragon was flying, for there was a rhythmic rolling motion that she equated with the beating of the beast's wings. With the blizzard raging all around her, though, the girl couldn't make out her surroundings, and the wind and ice simply hurt too much.

Lynaelle closed her eyes again in pain and despair as the white dragon carried her away from Silverymoon Pass.

She would not reach Silverymoon, would never enroll at the Lady's College. She would never deliver the book. A gift from her teacher for an old friend in the city, it would instead wind up in some lost place in the mountains, its pages rotting away alongside her bones.

That thought made Lynaelle sob and struggle desperately for a moment, but the effort was futile, and eventually she gave up, sagging in the dragon's grip.

For what seemed like forever, they flew, Lynaelle's fear dulled somewhat by the rhythmic pumping of the dragon's motion. As the initial shock of her capture faded, she began to consider her predicament, as well as the cryptic words the creature had uttered upon claiming her.

If it meant to eat me, the girl thought hopefully, it would simply have done so.

Unless it intends to save me for later, she added. But what did it mean by "serve?"

The thought that perhaps the dragon intended to keep her as a prisoner crossed the girl's mind, and hope actually rose within her. Whatever awful circumstances would be thrust upon her as a dragon's slave, they were better than dying, and it meant Lynaelle might find a way of escaping. Perhaps she would even be able to put her magic to use.

The notion of inflicting any sort of harm on the wyrm with her limited ability was laughable to Lynaelle, but tricking it was not out of the question. If she got the chance.

The half-elfs thoughts were interrupted as she became aware that the brightness of daylight beyond her shut eyelids, weak though it had been, suddenly and sharply diminished. She also noted that, though she still felt the keen rush of icy air, she was no longer being pelted by flakes of snow.

Lynaelle opened her eyes and nearly screamed again.

The dragon was dropping like a stone through a great shaft of ice, a hole in a glacier that was nearly vertical and just large enough for the dragon to unfurl its wings. Overhead, the dim gray of the sky was a receding circle, while below, the shaft plunged into deeper and deeper darkness.

The great white beast fanned its wings out, drawing up sharply and slowing its descent. Lynaelle was jostled roughly as the beast beat its wings three or four times in rapid succession and settled onto a solid surface. As it dropped into a crouch, the dragon released the girl from its grasp, sending her tumbling across a floor of cracked and rent ice, covered by a dusting of snow. She wound up sprawled on her back, staring upward, the book pressing painfully into her from beneath.

Some light shone down through the shaft, and permeated the area with an eerie bluish glow. It was ample illumination for Lynaelle to see that she was in a large domed chamber, a hollow bubble in a great glacier of ice. The shaft through which she and the dragpn had descended opened through the ceiling of the chamber, near one side. The rounded walls of the domed room were slightly uneven, like a drawn curtain, though still smooth and solid like glass. There would be no climbing those surfaces, at least not without tools or magical aid. Only the floor seemed the least bit rough and uneven.

The chamber was an effective prison.

"You will serve me," the dragon said, its harsh, crunching voice reverberating through the chamber.

Lynaelle's attention was drawn instantly back to the beast, which loomed over her, its wings folded in against its body for the moment. Unlike before, out in the weather, she could see the dragon clearly then. It peered down at the girl, its fang-filled jaws open slightly in an unsettling way as it regarded her. Muscles rippled along its chest and flanks, chorded and strong, yet shielded by plates that overlapped all along the surface of the beast. Its body must have stretched a good twenty feet, ending in a tail equally as long and segmented. It reminded Lynaelle of the tail of a beast called a crocodile, pictures of which Ambriel had once shown her.

Lynaelle realized she was shivering from her wind-blasted ride and from lying on the icy floor of the chamber, so she sat up and drew her cloak around herself more tightly, staring fearfully at the dragon.

"Serve you?" she asked, startled by the timidity of her voice.

Unlike the dragon's, which had echoed loudly in the domed room, her own speech was hollow and faint. In a way, the girl was surprised she could speak at all.

"Yes," the dragon replied, settling on its haunches and craning its neck down so that its head hovered closer to its captive.

Lynaelle cringed involuntarily.

"I am Torixileos, Master of the Blizzard, Bringer of Icy Agony, and Lord of the Frozen Mountain," the dragon said, his cold and pungent breath washing over Lynaelle and making her flinch away. "You will help me, or I shall devour you!" he roared, making the floor rattle and causing Lynaelle to quake in terror and curl up into a ball. She brought her hands up over her head as she cowered, as though to placate or fend off the beast. Torixileos darted forward, bringing his head down close to Lynaelle and sniffing at her. "You would make a sorry meal," he said, his icicle-teeth mere inches from the girl's face, "but perhaps you will cure nicely if I froze you."

"No!" Lynaelle pleaded, flinching away and wrapping her arms more tightly around her head. "Please don't! I will serve you!"

She could feel tears running down her face as she lost all composure.

I don't want to die, she thought desperately, miserably. Please, she silently begged. Ambriel, come find me.

The dragon laughed, a great, thundering roar that shook the whole icy cavern and made the floor beneath

Lynaelle rumble. She screamed and tried to scramble away. But in her panic she could get very little traction on the slippery surface and only succeeded in slipping and sliding a couple of feet.

"Very wise, little morsel," Torixileos said, quieting. "You may serve me well. And if you do, then I might free you."

At such an offer of hope, Lynaelle stopped frantically trying to escape and turned back to face the dragon, abasing herself before it.

"Yes," she said, ashamed of her own cowardice but unable to find any courage under the gaze of the terrible beast. "I will do whatever you say. Tell me."

She hated how eager she was to please the dragon, but Lynaelle knew she would do anything, anything at all, to convince him not to eat her.

"I am yours to command," she added, shame making her voice waver.

"Then stand up," Torixileos ordered.

When Lynaelle slowly, carefully managed to get to her feet, the dragon swung his head toward one wall of the domed chamber and said, "Go through there."

For the first time, Lynaelle noticed a tunnel set into the icy wall, though she could see why it had escaped her notice before. It was partially shielded from her view because of the way it opened into the room, angled away from her and behind a lip of ice that jutted out on the near side. She began to make her way toward the opening, taking short, tentative steps. Her whole body was weak with terror, and she feared losing her footing on the slick floor as well. As she walked carefully across the open room toward the exit, Torixileos followed her with his head, giving Lynaelle shivers down her spine. Then the dragon began to pad after her, each of his steps a tremendous thump upon the glacial floor.

Lynaelle had to use every ounce of her willpower to fight the urge to run.

The half-elf followed the passage out of the domed cavern. It sloped gently downward and bent around to the right, then back to the left. As a result, she could not see where it was leading, though the dim light filtering through the ice from outside was bright enough for her exceptional eyesight to view everything clearly enough.

Finally, Lynaelle rounded the last bend in the passageway and came upon another large chamber, though it was more irregularly shaped than the previous cavern. It was clear to the half-elf that the room was actually ice-rimed stone, a shallow cave chiseled out of the mountain itself. Only the area surrounding the passage in which she stood, as well as a smaller section opposite and to her right, consisted of massive sheets of ice, more of the great floe that covered the mountain. The condition of the second chamber was more uneven, with numerous small shelves and ledges along the periphery, and jagged stone and rubble strewn across the floor. A handful of other holes and openings pierced the walls and ceiling, varying in size, distance, and angle.

The girl realized after a second glance that the other ice wall seemed different somehow. In addition to letting in more light than could be found anywhere else in the glacier, it had an unusual look to it, as though it wasn't part of the floe.

It's newer, Lynaelle decided. The ice is cleaner, fresher.

Lynaelle didn't realize she'd stopped moving until she felt Torixileos' icy breath on the back of her neck. Suppressing a shudder, she quickly stepped to one side to allow the dragon to enter. It was only then that she realized the white wyrm had been forced to crawl through the passage, snaking along on its belly with his wings furled tightly against his flanks. Once he was through the narrow tunnel and fully into the stone chamber, the dragon rose up again to his full height and peered down at the girl expectantly.

Lynaelle backed away from the creature until she felt the cold hardness of a wall pressing against her, stopping her. She waited there timorously for the beast to give her some indication of what he wanted from her.

"I have sealed the entrance," Torixileos said, nudging his nose in the direction of the fresh ice. "You cannot escape."

Dumbly, Lynaelle nodded, realizing at last why the ice looked so different. The dragon had created a barrier to seal her inside.

"There is now only one way out, and you cannot fly, little morsel. I can keep you here forever."

With those words, Torixileos bent his head back around to stare balefully right at the girl.

Lynaelle slid down the wall she had pressed herself against, feeling panic rising in her gut again. She began to shake her head, and opened her mouth to protest, but the dragon continued on.

"If you help me get my treasure back, I will let you live. Perhaps I will even take you back outside and set you free. But only if you obey. Will you be good, little morsel?"

Lynaelle found herself nodding emphatically, even as she flinched at the nickname the dragon had chosen to bestow upon her.

"Yes, sir," she said without thinking. "I will be good and help you."

"Yes," Torixileos said, bobbing his own head up and down, mimicking Lynaelle's eager nodding. "Help me get my treasure."

"But how?" the girl asked, confused and curious at the same time. "Where is your treasure?"

"Come here!" the dragon said, perhaps more loudly than he'd intended.

The whole room vibrated and shook with those words, and Lynaelle cringed again. Fearful that she might anger the beast if she didn't react promptly, Lynaelle scrambled to her feet and followed Torixileos's head as it swiveled around and he began to nuzzle with his nose the opening to a small tunnel on the opposite side of the room. She approached the small egress, which sat about chest-high to her, and waited for the dragon to move aside so she could peer in.

"I caught a thief trying to steal my treasure. I hurt it, but it escaped in there. I am too big to follow. You must bring them back to me."

Lynaelle recoiled from the small opening upon hearing that she and the dragon were not alone.

"A thief?" she exclaimed, afraid. "How did it-?"

She snapped her mouth shut when she realized that Torixileos was glaring at her.

"You will bring the thief and my treasure to me!" the dragon said loudly, bringing his head down level with Lynaelle's and staring at her directly. "You cannot escape, so you must do as I say!"

Again, Lynaelle found herself nodding, desperately trying to appease the fearsome beast before her. Whatever was in the hole, it could not be as dangerous as the angry white wyrm in front of her. She eyed the opening, which was large enough for her to traverse while walking, if she hunched over a bit. It was dark in the passage, and she could not see very far into it at all.

"What kind of thief is it?" she asked, deeming it prudent to learn as much as she could about whatever she was going to have to face before she actually went into the tunnel.

"A nasty orc!" Torixileos roared at her, blasting her off her feet with his chilling breath.

Lynaelle flailed her arms in front of her face, coughing and wheezing as the icy vapors chilled her skin and stung her lungs. She coughed and spit as she rolled over to her knees.

"Please," she begged, waving an arm to ward off further blasts. "I can't breathe!"

"You can see the thief from here," the dragon continued, ignoring Lynaelle's pleas. "It is wounded, not moving. Drag it back here so that I may eat it."

Lynaelle struggled to her feet again and moved to peer once more inside the passage, casting one fearful glance at Torixileos as she did so. The dragon was staring into the tunnel with one eye narrowed to a hateful slit. The girl stared into the darkness, but of course she could see nothing down the tunnel.

"It's very dark," the half-elf said carefully, then quickly added, "I will need some light to see by," before the dragon could misinterpret her words as a refusal.

Torixileos merely stared at Lynaelle, as though he could not comprehend what she was trying to say.

"I have no light," the dragon said at last. "Perhaps you are not such a good helper at all, and I should just eat you and find another."

"Wait!" Lynaelle said frantically, backing away and waving her hands in front of herself. "I can make light!"

The girl had not wanted to give up her secret, that she had magical ability, for she feared it would make the dragon suspicious and more wary of her, limiting her chance to escape. But she had no choice, she realized, and yanked off a glove to begin digging through an inner pocket.

She pulled out a tiny bit of moss, which glowed softly, giving off a pale green hue. Then, after slipping her glove back on, she placed the moss in the palm of her hand and began to cast a spell with it.

Just as quickly as she had begun, Lynaelle stopped again, realizing that Torixileos was rearing back from her, drawing in a deep breath. The half-elf went stark still, not daring to move, as the white wyrm stood poised over her, watching her intently. The dragon appeared ready to blast Lynaelle with his breath, but he did not.

"I do not like wizards," Torixileos said at last, eyes narrowing. "They are tricky and use their magic to try to hurt me." Then he bent low and cocked his head so that one eye was level with Lynaelle's face. His next words were delivered very slowly and deliberately. "I have eaten many wizards."

Lynaelle swallowed hard and nodded very gently, her heart pounding in her chest.

She eased her hands down to her sides and said, "I was only going to make some magical light. So I can see to get your treasure back for you." When the dragon didn't move, she felt panic rising again. "I want to be a good helper," the girl said, trying desperately to sound enthusiastic, "so you will be pleased with me."

Torixileos drew his head back.

"Yes," the creature said, his voice low. "My treasure. Go and get it now. Make your light, little-morsel, but do not try any tricks, or I will eat you."

Lynaelle nodded vigorously again and moved toward the opening.

"I promise," she said.

The girl very slowly and deliberately repositioned the moss in the palm of her hand and began to cast her spell. She mumbled a simple arcane phrase under her breath, nearly tongue-tied by words that at any other time she could have delivered with practiced ease.

Don't often have to cast with a dragon threatening to eat you, she thought as she finished the spell.

The pale green glow of moss transformed into a brighter white glow, like that of a torch, emanating from the glove on Lynaelle's hand. She held it there for a moment, fearful that the dragon might devour her despite her obedience, but when the beast simply blinked in the glow of the magical light, Lynaelle breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Then she turned her attention back to the passage.

Grabbing onto the side of the tunnel, she pulled herself up and stood just inside the opening. With her glowing glove thrust out in front of her, Lynaelle peered deeper into the depths of the passage.

The glitter of many sparkling things shone back at her, and she gasped softly.

The tunnel was not long, perhaps ten paces, and it opened into another chamber, that one also rimed in ice, at the far end. The brilliant shine of coins, jewels, and precious works of art reflected Lynaelle's light.

As Torixileos had promised, an orc lay at the far end of the tunnel, near where the passage opened into the treasure chamber. The creature was sprawled out on its stomach, facing away from Lynaelle. It wore thick fur like armor wrapped around its torso and limbs, kept snug against its body with tied straps of leather. Its back rose and fell softly with each breath. It was alive, but not moving.

Lynaelle wasn't sure whether to draw her dagger or use magic to kill the thing. She hesitated to move closer, unsure of the orc's condition.

"Drag it here so that I may eat it, then bring me my treasure," Torixileos said from behind her. "Now."

Shivering in apprehension, Lynaelle felt trapped between the dangers both behind and in front of her.

The dragon was by far the more terrifying threat, though, so she began to creep closer to the orc, her dagger held defensively in front of herself. She had never been very good with it, carrying the weapon only because Ambriel had insisted she have something else with which to defend herself when magic wasn't an option. Still, her fingers twitched with the desire to let loose with her spells, to sling a magical missile at the orc from a safe distance.

"Stop wasting time," the dragon growled, his voice reverberating down the passage. "I want my treasure!"

Lynaelle jumped at the sound, nearly cracking her head on the roof of the tunnel. The orc groaned softly, making her freeze in her tracks.

"Why can't you just breathe on it and kill it from there?" she asked timidly, cocking her head slightly to one side without taking her eyes off the humanoid. "Then I can get your treasure much more easily."

"Because it cannot-because I do not wish it!" the dragon roared, his chilling breath wafting over Lynaelle's back and making her jump again. "Now obey me, or I shall eat you! Hurry!"

Shaking her head miserably, Lynaelle took another tentative step closer to the orc. She clutched the dagger in a death grip, and she could see the blade trembling from her own fear. Then she took another step, and another. She was within two paces of the orc. She took a deep breath and steeled herself to lunge down for the killing blow, planning to grab the creature by its unruly green hair and yank her dagger sharply across its throat.

As she braced herself and prayed to Mystra for the courage to follow through, Lynaelle took another look at the treasure just beyond the orc, stalling.

What she saw amazed her. True to every tale of dragons the girl had ever heard, riches were scattered in every corner of the chamber. Coins spilled out of overflowing chests and formed huge, ice-caked piles all across the floor. Gems and jewelry sparkled everywhere, embedded in thick blocks of the frozen stuff. And everywhere that Lynaelle looked, artifacts of gold, silver, and adamantine were scattered, many of them coated in a crystal-clear sheen. Everything glinted in the light of Lynaelle's spell, sparkling and shining brightly. Even the chests, coated as they were in thick layers of ice, reflected the girl's illumination.

A low growl from behind her snapped Lynaelle out of her brief distraction, and she knew she could hesitate no longer. She took a final step toward the orc, her dagger still thrust out threateningly. When nothing happened, she nudged the orc with the toe of her boot.

The creature groaned softly and stirred.

"Stop it," the orc mumbled softly, barely loud enough for the girl to hear.

Startled, Lynaelle retreated a step, holding her dagger in front of herself with both hands.

"Kill it now, before it wakes up!" Torixileos roared from the far end.

Lynaelle glanced back toward the entrance to the tunnel and saw one of the dragon's forelegs shoved down the passage, its claws extended, grasping for her. She yelped in alarm and darted forward, terrified of being impaled on one of the deadly talons. In her haste, the half-elf stumbled over one of the orc's legs and went sprawling, landing next to the creature in a heap. Her gloved hand-the one with the magical light still emanating from it- hit the floor of the tunnel right next to the orc's face.

The glare of her spell made it flinch back, and it opened one eye to look at her. The other, she saw, was swollen shut. A gash across its forehead leaked dark blood.

Lynaelle shrieked once and jerked her hand away, scrambling on hands and knees to get beyond the orc. Abject terror lent her speed, but not grace. She slipped and skidded along the frozen floor, barely making any headway.

Behind the girl, the dragon's claw withdrew, replaced by the glaring eye of the beast again. As the orc lifted its head and peered around groggily, Lynaelle moved herself into a seated position with her feet closest to the orc's head. She raised one booted foot, aiming it at the humanoid's face, ready to kick it unconscious again.

"Yes," Torixileos gloated, watching. "Bring the thief to me! Shove it to me so that I may eat it!"

Lynaelle drew her foot back, prepared to pummel the orc, her heart thudding sharply in her chest. Terror was giving her strength. She thought she might just drive the orc down the tunnel to the waiting dragon with one powerful kick.

"Wait," the orc said weakly, looking at her with its one good eye. "I'm not the thief."

Lynaelle froze.

At the far end of the tunnel, Torixileos roared in fury and began to reach in with his clawed foreleg once more.

"What?" the girl said, taken aback.

"The… white," the orc panted, barely able to keep its head up,"… is the thief. My treasure… not his."

The orc sagged down again, unconscious once more. Lynaelle sat back, stunned.

How? she thought. So much treasure has to belong to a dragon. Then a realization hit the girl.

The ice.

Seeing that Torixileos had withdrawn his claws once more and that she didn't have much time, Lynaelle stood awkwardly and took hold of the orc by its collar.

She could hear the dragon drawing in a deep breath, and terror of what she knew was to come drove her.

Dragging the humanoid along the floor, thankful for the slick coating of ice there, Lynaelle scrambled desperately into the treasure chamber. Slipping and sliding, she pulled her counterpart around the corner of the tunnel, out of the direct line of fire, and lay down next to it, against the wall.

As the first arctic blast of the dragon's deadly breath came roaring down the tunnel, Lynaelle took hold of the orc and pulled it atop herself, shielding her body as best as she could from the chilling waves of cold. When the unconscious form was protecting her as much as possible, the girl buried her face in her cloak, hiding away from the frigid tempest that erupted in the cavern.

Even with the orc shielding her, Lynaelle thought she would freeze to death right then and there. Numbing cold washed over her, making her skin and bones ache. She groaned from the pain, her sound muffled by the cloak she wore. Finally, after a moment, the worst of the chill subsided, and she began to listen.

At first, there was nothing but the sound of the orc's breathing. Then she heard the dragon speak.

"Little morsel?"

Lynaelle held very still, holding her breath.

"Little morsel, I know you're in there. I can smell you. Come out, or I will breathe again."

Lynaelle was about to shout, "No!" at the dragon, to tell him to go away, but another sound from beyond the treasure chamber stopped her. It was another voice.

"Torixileos! You would dare?"

The voice was different than the white dragon's, but no less powerful. Smooth and warm like honey, it gave Lynaelle a sudden sense of comfort, like Ambriel's voice used to do.

Torixileos roared again, much louder than ever before, but the dragon's anger was dwarfed by a second roar. The two sounds together threatened to shake the mountain apart, and Lynaelle had to cover her ears with her hands to keep from crying out in anguish. The girl felt several intense thumps, felt the stone floor of the chamber beneath her bounce, and there was silence.

She waited a long time before crawling out from beneath the orc.

Very carefully, the girl examined the creature she had rescued from the white dragon, then she took off her pack and dug inside it until she found a small vial. Propping the orc's head into her lap, Lynaelle unstop-pered the vial and poured a little of the contents into the creature's mouth. It coughed and spluttered a bit, but swallowed most of the potion. Lynaelle carefully administered the rest of the healing draught, making sure nothing spilled.

After a few moments, the orc opened its eyes-both eyes, for the swelling had reduced considerably-and looked at her.

"Hello," the orc said. "Who are you?"

"I'm Lynaelle. Who are you? You're no orc, that's for sure."

The orc smiled.

"True enough," it said, sitting up and standing. "My name is Starglimmer."

Then, right before Lynaelle's eyes, the orc began to change. Its form shifted, bulged, grew larger yet sleeker. Its features transformed into a reptilian face, all shiny in the girl's magical light. The change had taken only a few heartbeats, but where the orc had stood previously, a silvery dragon, not much taller than Lynaelle herself, held himself proudly.

"Do I have you to thank for saving me from Torixileos and protecting my treasure?" the silver asked, his voice a slightly higher and softer version of the mysterious tones Lynaelle had heard challenging the white.

"I did nothing," Lynaelle said softly, shyly. "Only tried to save myself. Something else seems to have arrived and chased the white dragon away. I heard a second voice."

"That would be Mother," Starglimmer said, "coming to check on me. Torixileos wouldn't stick around if she's here. Come on," the dragon added, moving toward the tunnel.

Lynaelle followed the creature, too overwhelmed to speak.

Out beyond the tunnel leading to the treasure, the main chamber was empty, and as the pair moved toward the domed room with the ice shaft, a great form, larger even than Torixileos, dropped through the ceiling and landed elegantly.

"Mother!" Starglimmer said, rushing toward the much larger dragon, a silver that gleamed like a finely tempered blade in the eerie blue glow. "What happened?"

"Torixileos won't be bothering you ever again," the larger dragon said, and it was, indeed, the honeyed voice Lynaelle had heard before. The sound made the girl want to cry with joy, so comforting it was. "What happened?"

"Torixileos was here when I returned from a jaunt," Starglimmer said. "I had been out hunting with the orcs, hoping to catch wind of any raids they were planning. He caught me by surprise, and I barely managed to slip into a place too small for him to follow before I passed out."

"You should be more careful," the larger dragon admonished. "You're only barely old enough to be out on your own."

"I know," Starglimmer replied, and Lynaelle could hear embarrassment in the tone of his voice.

"Now," the mother said, looking down at Lynaelle, "Who is this?"

Lynaelle blushed as both of the wyrms regarded her.

"I'm Lynaelle Dawnmantle, a humble wizard on her way to Silverymoon."

"Then you are just as foolish as my son, here," the huge silver said. "No one should be using the pass this time of year, especially not young girls unescorted. How did you end up in here?"

"I was captured by Torixileos and brought here to help him recover 'his' treasure." When the larger dragon cocked her head sideways at that last comment, Lynaelle hurriedly added, "He told me that Starglimmer was actually an orc thief, but I didn't believe him."

"And how did you know, Lynaelle Dawnmantle?" the massive dragon asked, her voice rumbling, though it sounded to the girl as though there was appreciation in the creature's words. "How did you figure out that he was not what he seemed?"

"Just a guess, really," the half-elf replied. "No orc planning to thieve a dragon's treasure would haul the entire hoard deeper into the tunnels and freeze it there. But I didn't realize that Starglimmer wasn't really an orc until I began to wonder why Torixileos needed me to help him kill it. Why didn't the dragon just blast it with his icy breath? Once the 'ore' told me that Torixileos was actually the thief, I began to understand-that treasure definitely belongs to a dragon, not an orc.

"I remembered my teacher, Ambriel, telling me once that silver dragons often take on the form of humans and other people to interact with them. And like white dragons, silvers are at home in the cold. The cold can't hurt you, and you very easily could have protected your treasure by freezing it. An orc couldn't survive Torixileos' breath, but a silver dragon disguised as one could. I figured it out just in time."

"Very clever, little Lynaelle," the larger dragon said, seeming to smile. "And if this Ambriel you speak of is who I think he is, then he would know the truth of the matter about silvers."

Lynaelle's eyes widened slightly and she asked, "You know my teacher?"

"I believe I do. We were friends once, many years ago. We studied magic together at the Lady's College, where I still spend time, interacting with the students and teachers. I have not seen Ambriel in a long time. When next you see him, you must tell him that Symarra Brightmoon sends greetings."

In a very quiet, awestruck voice, Lynaelle swallowed and said, "I have a book for you, a gift from Ambriel."