Highmoon, Deepingdale
Midsummer, the Year of Wild Magic
(1372 DR)
A tressym landed lightly on the windowsill: an orange tabby with diaphanous wings the color of cream. It folded its wings and looked expectantly at the old man for a moment before letting out a plaintive meow. The old man continued peering into the scrying bowl.
As everyone knows, ignoring a cat is the surest way to guarantee that it will seek your attention. This is no less true for tressym. They may be smarter than the average Dalesman, but their intelligence only seems to enflame their gluttony for affection. The winged tabby stepped down lightly, gliding onto the stone altar that the old man observed with total concentration. Staring periodically at the scrying sorcerer, he began rubbing his whiskers against the man�s arms and nuzzling his hoary beard, meowing all the while. It wasn�t until the cat began rubbing its nose against the bowl, spilling some water and disturbing the frantic images within with expanding ripples, that the sorcerer relented and pulled tabby onto his lap. He was careful to protect the tressym�s delicate wings.
Allowing his awareness to pull away from the scrying bowl�the figures were still walking along the tiles, though now they were forced to dodge jermlaine javelins at the same time�the old man pulled the tabby close to his face. He called a simple spell from his mind as the furred creature playfully pushed back his wide-brimmed hat with one paw. �Good morning, little one. And what is your name?�
The tressym meowed.
The old man chuckled with a hoarse wheeze. �Oh, Tiger, is it?� Tiger meowed in reply. �What a fine name for a very fine cat such as yourself.� Tiger just looked at him expectantly. �Tressym, right, of course, that�s what I meant, my little hunting tiger.� He stroked the tressym softly as he watched the jermlaine flee, and the five adventurers gather before an innocuous set of stairs. They seemed intent on making sure there were no traps before proceeding further. �See Tiger, they�re learning.�
He carefully brushed the thin wings, taking care not to ruffle the delicate feathers and taking particular care to scratch the spot where wings met torso. Tiger purred inquisitively. �Oh, yes, little Tiger. I know how difficult it is to reach that spot when you have wings.� Tiger closed his eyes in feline ecstasy, not seeming to care about the old man�s answers. �But listen, my friend. I need to pay attention to what these fellows are doing up here.� Without bothering to wait for Tiger�s irritated wail, he lifted the tressym up and put him down on the dusty floorboards, turning his attention back to the five candidates.
Tiger was still meowing, rubbing back and forth against the sorcerer�s mottled grey robe. He had only a second of warning before a red-scaled fury leapt from on top of the dresser, dive-bombing the unsuspecting tressym, claws outstretched, growling and hissing with wrath.
The two tiny creatures met and rolled, claws and spit flying, until Tiger was able to take flight. He paused briefly on the windowsill, ears taut against his head, to hiss one last time at his attacker.
Nicias took to the air himself, hovering on red wings so thin that the morning light shone through them, illuminating the tiny blood vessels running through them like eldritch cobwebs. His long tail curved behind him to poise above his head, the barbed stinger waving menacingly.
Come on back here, fuzzball. I�ll put you to sleep so long you�ll wake up tomorrow.
Tiger flew away, allowing the pseudodragon to land with satisfied aplomb at his friend�s side. Osvith! he telepathically yelled to the fleeing tressym. These feldurking tressym, I swear. No respect for their elders. So, Illy, where are up to?
�Was that really necessary, Nic? It was just a cat looking for a good rubdown.�
Damn straight it was necessary! Always coming in open windows like they�re the lords of the sky, thinking that they�re the wizard�s favorite. First you, and then the world, that�s what I say�they won�t stop until they�ve put every respectable pseudodragon out on the streets, and then where will we be? I�ll tell, we�ll have a tressym monopoly on the familiar business.
�Nic��
The little dragon, preening now at the sorcerer�s side, didn�t stop for more than a breath. And the gall in that overglorified kitten! Calling himself Tiger. Tiger! Ridiculous! Ludicrous! Preposterous, even�why, that�s as downright silly as me calling myself 'Red Dragon'�"
�Ahem,� said the wizened old man, taking his eyes off the bowl for the first time since Nicias started his tirade. �As I recall, you refer to yourself as 'red dragon' all the time.�
Nicias blew a tiny snort of smoke in surprise and froze in the midst his animated expostulation. No�really?
�Indeed. And you�re not exactly undemanding yourself.�
He seemed to shrug off the reminder with admirable ease. Well. Ahem. You know my memory these days, Illy, pushing forty and all that. And don�t confuse me with those double negatives, I told you that. Without missing a beat�in fact, nearly without starting a new sentence, he continued: So which one got fried on the steps?
�No one.�
Not one? You�re not telling me that these blateroons figured out the riddle.
�No, I don�t think they did. But they knew that it signified something, so they used the spider husk to test each step until it got �fried,� as you so elegantly put it.�
Aw, no, Illy�you mean they cheated!
�Nonsense, Nic. They�re using everything they have in their arsenal. An admirable quality, necessary in the psychological makeup of a survivor. If these are the men that were foretold�if I�m right in my reading of the prophecies�then they�ll need to be that resourceful just to stay alive.�
I don�t know, Illy�I�ve the same prophecies that you have, and I don�t see whatever it is that you say you see. He stopped to think. If you follow me.
�Argentus��Ilyuandiralan, or �Illy� as Nic insisted on calling him�simply ignored the tiny dragon. The ghostly figures, milling around a trophy room hanging with weapons, suddenly intruded into the conversation. �Pa�s Sword... Hey, listen: Password is let slaughter!� With the excited shout, a sharp click signaled that the iron door barring the way had unlocked. �See, Nic? They�re rather sharp, I�d say.�
Yeah, sharp as a spoon. Nic flapped up to perch on the sorcerer�s shoulders, peering into the flickering bowl. Hey, Illy, are you sure you want to go through with this? They�re about to get to that dragon.
�I know, Nic. That�s the point.� The Argentus sighed slowly, rubbing his liver-spotted hands through balding hair.
The five figures�dirty, bloody, and tired�warily approached the grand room, examining the four central columns and the skeletons flanking the huge mirror.
Nicias grew more serious as he latched his hind claws onto the sorcerer�s skull and peered at him, upside down, while hanging over his head. They could die, you know.
�Yes.� He tried, but he could not keep the emotion out of his voice. �I know, my friend. Four other groups like this one have already died in that gauntlet. I thought that they might be the ones, but I was wrong.�
Nicias crawled down Argentus� arm, flicking his tail to point at the scrying bowl. And if you�re wrong about them?
Argentus swallowed thickly. �Then they�ll die in there.� He looked down, as though the five young men of an unnamed adventuring group were already dead. The gentleman hin, the Waterdhavian prodigy, the wild dwarf prince on his wyrgrm, the stinking unshaven and horrendously foreign druid, and the young dwarf that welcomed greed as a saintly quality. Already dead, their blood running down the whirling coins of his guardian dragon, their dreams and souls and destinies ended suddenly and brutally in a dank dungeon far from home. �I can�t help it, Nic. I have to know if they are the ones that were prophesied, whose destiny it is to end the Rage. There�s not much time left.�
Well, why can�t we work together? The adventurers were drawing close to the inscription�Tirianisporitius�and were hard at work deciphering it. I think they might be fun. Especially that Tossel fellow. The tiny dragon chirped, the pseudodragon equivalent to a chuckle. Do you know what he said to me before they left? Listen, this is hilarious. I said, So you�re name is Tossel? And he was like, �Yes, I am Tossel Blinghamma.� So... do you toss other things? �Yes, from time to time.� Like salads? I asked, and he totally went for it. �Yes, salads, vy do you ask?� He chirped again in raucous laughter.
Nic stopped suddenly when he realized that Argentus was still watching the scrying bowl, still and solemn as a tombstone. I don�t get it, Illy. I mean, why can�t you just help them?
�No, Nic!� The violence in Argentus� normally placid voice jolted Nic into the air, wings flapping to keep him aloft. The sudden wind drew ripples across the scrying bowl just as a storm across a pond. �If I�m right, then there will come a time that they will need to stand on their own, a time when I cannot help them. It�s no better for them to live now if it is only to watch me abandon them to their deaths at a later time.�
�Transport us.� The measured voice, steely with resolve, said the pass phrase that turned the mirror into a dark passage to the unknown. The band of five gripped their weapons, fingered their spell components, and readied themselves for whatever might wait for them through that perilous portal.
Argentus and Nicias crowded over the tiny bowl, muscles taut with suspense. If only he could understand how much this kills me each time, Argentus thought. I hope you don�t think less of me, my friend. The band of five entered the dark mirror, emerging in an identical chamber, except that this one was filled with treasure. As they stepped onto the carved flagstones, the piled coins began to move, swirling into a whirlpool of gold, a cyclone of silver and gems that sprouted legs, wings, and tail.
�May Tamara watch over you, my friends,� he said, naming the draconic goddess of mercy. He added silently, And forgive me for what I have done, whatever your fates may be.
Hlal too, added Nic, naming the trickster dragon deity. And I suppose Abbathor has some vested interest in this, too, since that Tossel fellow is one of his priests. And the dirty one must worship�
�Quiet, Nic.�
Sure, boss.
The two dragons watched the five adventurers battle the coin dragon. The last group had come tried to wear the creature down, coming back seven times before they finally panicked, forgetting the password that allowed them to escape and dooming themselves to slaughter. Another stood their ground until the gold was painted with blood. The other two hadn�t even made it that far. Argentus could barely watch as the coin dragon breathed, catching the wizard, the druid, and the priest in a single blast of precious shrapnel. The hin instinctively tried to impale its heart, only to find that the construct did not live, and had no heart to still. Sagerious shot his last missile at the dragon, knowing that he was defenseless against the thing�s approaching gemstone claws. �No...� whispered Argentus.
But then the wild dwarf, leaping and hooting like a wild monkey, leapt atop the whirlwind of gold and stabbed it clumsily with the unfamiliar falchion. Argentus� eyes went wide with delighted surprise�they knew to use the magical weapons! At the same time, the other dwarf, brandishing the magical gauntlet, bellowed at the dragon, � �Ey, dragon! Get off my golt!�, diving under it and pummeling its chest. Between the energy bolt and the ferocious dwarves, the coin dragon was destroyed. Hundreds of coins and gemstones clattered about the stone floor as the vortex collapsed.
�Nic! They did it! They�re alive! "
Bahamut�s balls. Yes they are�and in one shot, too. Pretty impressive against that coin dragon.
Roaring triumphantly, the wild dwarf searched frantically for his enemy�s heart, �so that I can eat it and gain it�s strength,� he explained, only to receive a long explanation from the aristocratic hin why he wouldn�t be able to find one. The humans went straight for the cluster of books in the corner�the blank books Argentus had sent them to find�while Tossel basked, half-buried, in a pile of gold, running the precious coins through his fingers like water and giggling all the while. Then his hands closed on the hilt of a sword, forged in the shape of a dragon�s head, with tiny rubies for eyes�rubies, thought Argentus, that will allow me to watch them so long as they keep this sword�and a tempered blade engraved with the name �Hoardmaster�. Argentus grinned as he watched Tossel half-jokingly look from side to side to see if anyone was watching, then try to tuck the sword into his cloak. Yes, if Tossel has anything to say about it, the Hoardmaster should stay with them for a long time.
Argentus� mind reeled with the implications, knowing in his heart that he had found the heroes that he had sought for so many years. �The ones that were foretold... the band that Imryll told me would come... It must be them. It must be!� He paced the bare room, muttering to himself.
Nicias continued watching the bowl, scratching the back of his head with a hind claw. So, what now, Illy? They�re the chosen ones, yadda yadda. Our work is done here, I take it?
�No, Nic. There is still much to be done. Thraxata grows restless, Zhents roam the woods, and the Storm King gathers his army. Foreign agents are at work in Brindinford, and Dyson plots genocide in old Cormanthor. Already Gulthias gathers forces in his desert fortress for the return of Ashardalon. These young heroes have many hard battles ahead of them, and they will need help to prepare.�
Prepare? So now you are helping them. Doesn�t that violate some kind of rule in the Prophet�s Handbook?
Argentus smiled. �Of course, Nicias�I should know better by now than to try to escape from your penetrating insight and ancient wisdom.� Nicias chose to ignore his sarcastic tone and took it as a compliment, purring softly in pleasure. �Of course I�m not going to help them�they need to stand on their own feet from the beginning, or else they shall grow to rely on me instead of trusting in their own abilities.�
So, what did you have in mind?
Argentus shambled over to the open window, looking out to the exquisite garden in the courtyard of the Leaves of Learning. Nicias fluttered beside him, eyeing the pride of tressym with playful malice and the promise of many grand chases. Old bones creaked, in this form, though as soon as he�as soon as she�was away from this place, she would return to her natural body, that of a silver wyrm of unimaginable age, each year only adding to her store of wisdom, only heightening her physical power. For now satisfied with this wrecked old form, she leaned on the windowsill and said absently, �Just a few nudges in the right direction.�
