Gold Dragon Codex (19 page)

“By Paladine,” Sandon breathed. “He’s taken the poison.” Indeed, the baron’s lips had a distinctly blue tinge, and his hands, clenched as they were, shook with each movement. Sandon sniffed the air, trying to smell the bittersweet aroma of yellow lakrak. .

“Poisoned?” Kine spluttered, not understanding. “Someone poisoned him? But who—”

Sandon leaped out from behind the bushes and cried out, “Father!”

Everyone spun. Vilfrand’s hand leaped to his sword,
half drawing it from his scabbard before he realized who he was facing. Behind him, Yattak let out a little squeal and ducked backward, his chubby legs quavering under his robe. “Sandon!” Vilfrand growled. “Come here! Now!”

Malaise was returning. Sandon saw the last rays of sunlight glinting from the figure of the draconian as she passed over the townsfolk and gained altitude to approach the tower’s height once more. The sun was halfway beneath the horizon now, sinking ever deeper with each passing breath. “Dad! What have you done?” Sandon yelled in desperation.

The baron fixed his eyes on his son. “You shouldn’t be here, Sandon. I didn’t want you to see this.” He shook his head. “I told you. It’s the only way to get the dragon …”

His father’s words in the throne room rang like alarm bells in Sandon’s mind. The only way to get the dragon. Not get the dragon as in find the dragon—he wanted to kill the dragon! Baron Camiel hadn’t meant the gold dragon. He was talking about the Blue!

Baron Camiel had poisoned himself. It was hard for Sandon to believe, but it had to be true. He’d done it so that when the Blue came to take him, the dragon would be eating poison. Baron Camiel was giving his life for a chance to kill the dragon. It all came crashing down
on Sandon. His knees shook, and he had to struggle to remain standing.

How severely I misjudged him, thought Sandon.

“By Paladine!” Vilfred snarled, seeing Kine. “What is he doing here? Yattak! Blast him off the tower!”

The wizard balked, scrabbling at his belt pouches. Without missing a beat, Kine pushed through the brush, jerking his sword free and returning Vilfrand’s fierce glower.

“He took the lakrak!” Sandon said. He crossed to his father and reached for him. “He’s poisoned himself.”

The variety of expressions across the crowd was astonishing. Kine looked saddened and sober in the face of Vilfrand’s brandished weapon. Umar looked confused. Yattak looked as if he’d been slapped across the face. “My … my wine sweetener?” He gasped weakly, clutching his heart. “The baron stole my sweetener? The thief! I thought that bottle of lakrak was lost forever! And I’d been blaming his poor sainted wife!”

Vilfrand, on the other hand, just got more angry. Sandon could see Malaise drawing ever closer, her wings positioning to land her on the tower. Sandon could see Vilfrand calculating, glancing from the soldier to the swooping draconian, his eyes flicking to Baron Camiel. “Not a word, Vilfrand,” the baron managed weakly. “If
Malaise hears … if the dragon knows … everything will be for nothing.”

Only a moment later, there was a swoosh of wind, a wide flapping of wings, and the flight marshal dropped onto the parapet, stepping down into the bowl of the tower plaza with a confident stride. “What’s going on here?” she demanded, glancing from the stumbling wizard, his panicked assistant, to Kine and Vilfrand’s swords.

“We are summoning Lazuli.” Baron Camiel brushed Sandon aside. He raised his hand, lifting the great horn to his lips. Before Sandon—or anyone else—could stop him, the Baron of Hartfall blew a long, sober note. It rang forth, augmented by the magic of the horn, resounding from mountain to mountain across the wide valley.

o!” Vilfrand cried, reaching, too late, to grab the horn and pull it out of his brother’s hands. Shocked, Sandon felt panic rising in his chest, his pounding heart threatening to drown out even the arcing note of the ancestral horn. What was going on? Somewhere far away, the blue dragon was now rising, lifting his head to listen to the call through the mountain pass. The spell that protected the valley would no longer save them—the baron’s horn was an invitation, open and encouraging, that allowed the dragon to enter.

The baron struggled to appear aloof, but the poison was already taking its toll. Like Baroness Lehna before him, his death was only a matter of time. Crucial, agonizing minutes would wind down like sand falling through an hourglass until his lungs failed and he drew no more breath. Camiel’s only hope was for the dragon
to arrive before the poison weakened him and he could no longer stand.

“Malaise!” Vilfrand shouted as he threw the horn angrily to the ground. “The baron is poisoned.”

Sandon’s heart froze. What was Vilfrand doing? Telling the dragon’s minion wouldn’t save Camiel. She wouldn’t help him, and even if she wanted to, Sandon knew of nothing that could counteract the poison. If Lazuli became aware that the baron was poisoned, he wouldn’t eat Baron Camiel. Vilfrand knew this was their only hope …

“When Lazuli feasts on the baron, the great dragon will sicken and die,” Vilfrand spat. “Camiel’s tricking him. He’s trying to kill Lazuli.”

Malaise hissed, and her eyes narrowed to slits. “Treachery!”

She could say that again. Sandon forced himself to breathe. His father stood heavily, feet planted to keep his body from swaying, staring up at the sky with desperate, total intent. His breathing was rapid, and sweat beaded on his forehead like raindrops on a pane of glass. He’d been willing to give his life to save his barony—but now Vilfrand was making his sacrifice worthless. Sandon choked out the words, “Uncle Vilfrand, why?”

Both Vilfrand and Malaise spun toward Sandon, the first in anger, the second as if she’d just remembered the boy was there at all. “Even if the baron has betrayed his promise to my master”—Malaise sneered, extending one long, clawed finger to point at the boy—“Lazuli will still have his tribute of noble blood. Come here, boy!”

Kine pushed past Sandon, taking a battle stance to face the hissing draconian. “I’ll see you both dead first!” he snarled.

Beyond Malaise, Vilfrand shook his head and sighed. “I didn’t mean for it to come to this, Sandon. I was willing to let you live—provided you turned over the barony to me, of course. I had four years to convince you to leave. I thought you would go become a knight like you always wanted. I might even have ‘run off the dragon,’ Lazuli, just to prove to you and the rest of the barony that I should have been on the throne in the first place.” His face hardened. “Your mother never should have chosen Camiel. My dear, handsome, stupid, naive brother. You’re a lot like him, Sandon, very good hearted—and very, very stupid.”

Sandon recoiled. He didn’t even think to reach for the weapon at his belt despite the sharpness in his uncle’s eyes. Baron Camiel took a jolting step toward his son, clenching his hands tightly at his sides. “Don’t
you dare … touch my son …” he gasped, his breath heavy and wheezing.

Vilfrand spun on him. “What will you do, Brother?” he gloated. “Maybe you didn’t think this poison thing through. Whether you like it or not, you’re as good as dead—and now so is Sandon, all because of you. You couldn’t just do what I told you to do, could you? It’s always about what you want—prestige in battle, the barony, Lehna’s hand in marriage. Just like every other time, you assume you know best. All I asked for was a sword and shield, a steed, some money to go to the war and make my name. I wanted to become a Knight of Solamnia! You refused me that small concession, even as you married the woman I loved. You demanded I stay here. Well, I don’t serve you anymore, Brother!”

“Vilfrand!” Camiel panted. “I never asked—”

“No. You just assumed. You said that Hartfall needed me. In my eyes and the eyes of the barony, that was as good as a command.”

“I didn’t want you to go to war. Didn’t … want you to … die …” Camiel was having trouble breathing.

Vilfrand shoved him. “A convenient excuse. The truth is that you wanted me to rot here. You couldn’t stand the idea that I might go to war and gain glory when you had to stay home and raise a family. You had all
the money in the world—a dragon’s hoard—right under your feet, and you wouldn’t give me one piece of steel.”

“I told you. I never had that money …”

“Liar!” Vilfrand’s retort was as harsh as a slap. “The gold dragon left it here! Lehna brought in the gnome, they built a vault, and she protected it with a password. I found it in her journal after she died. ‘Nod-nasa.’ You don’t prepare a password if you don’t have something to hide, Camiel!” Enraged, Vilfrand sneered at his brother. “When I have the money, I’ll give it to Lazuli and he’ll use it to rebuild his army in the service of the Dark Queen. I’ll rule the barony, I’ll be a hero for driving the dragon away, and I’ll finally have what I want—a life free of you.”

Nod-nasa? Sandon stored the word away in his memory as he struggled to understand what Vilfrand was saying. There was no vault—that much, Sandon was certain of—so that had to be the password to activate the gold dragon construct!

A dark smudge climbed over the horizon, rising into the clouds above the faraway mountains. Malaise saw it too, and her long muzzle curled into a sinister smile. While Kine was keeping an eye on Vilfrand, Malaise snatched at Sandon’s arm, trying to jerk him to her. Sandon pulled back so hard that he nearly fell over,
the cloth of his sleeve shredding to ribbons between the draconian’s claws. “Get away from me!” Sandon gulped, scrambling backward. His father swung at Malaise, trying to pull her back, but the powerful draconian shrugged off the baron’s hand. Weak as a kitten, Camiel lurched forward, falling to his knees with the effort. “Leave my son … alone!”

“If all that is true,” Sandon cried out, “then why did you tell Malaise, Vilfrand? Why not let my father kill the dragon? You’d still get what you want—the money in the vault, the baronial throne—you didn’t have to give anything away.”

Turning on the balls of his feet, Vilfrand pointed his sword down at the youth’s neck. “You aren’t listening to me. Either way, I get the baronial throne. But let my wonderful, noble older brother die the hero? Never.” He went on, snarling, “I’m going to be the one who makes Lazuli leave the valley. I’m going to be the hero. For once in my life, I’m going to outdo my brother at something important, and when I become baron, no one in the valley will even remember his name.”

“I will.” Sandon looked into Vilfrand’s face and openly defied him. “I’m going to tell everyone what you’re doing, Vilfrand.”

“Not from the inside of Lazuli’s belly, you won’t.”
Vilfrand lifted his sword and swung it at Sandon’s leg. His plan was obviously to wound the boy so that Malaise could catch him, but Sandon wasn’t just going to stand still and let that happen. With a cry, the youth leaped away from his uncle’s sword, fumbling for the sheathed blade at his belt. There wasn’t time to get it out, and Vilfrand was quicker than Sandon.

A long sword swung out from the side, catching Vilfrand’s blade evenly along the length and deflecting the attack. Sandon caught sight of the hilt—a kingfisher, a crown, and a rose entwined—and then saw Kine’s face above it. The soldier was enraged. His skin was red, his eyes staring and intense, and his hand shook on his sword’s hilt.

“Sandon,” Kine said, his voice was cold with fury, “get out of here.”

“I can’t leave! Dad—”

Kine’s anger exploded out of him in a roar. “There’s nothing here that can help him!” He stepped between Sandon and Vilfrand, fending off a second blow from the soldier.

Malaise snuck to the side, twisting her hands in the formation of a spell. Her fingers flickered out swiftly, pulling and pushing, snarling the fabric of magic until sparks began to fly from her claws. Her
spell launched out from her palm, blue flame crackling in the air, swirling toward Sandon’s face. He pitched himself to the side desperately, hoping to avoid the main thrust of the blast. Behind him, the draconian hissed in exultation, watching the little blue mote swish through the air toward its target. Sandon rolled over onto his back and scrambled backward as it got closer and closer.

Suddenly, water flew up in front of Sandon. The spray of the arcing wave rolled up from the ground in a whoosh, catching the fiery ball just before it struck him. The flaming mote ignited, as Sandon had known it would, but instead of flames licking across his flesh, burning him alive, there was nothing but a drenching spray of water. The flame was doused as soon as it exploded, drowned in the unexpected wall of water.