Dragons of the Dwarven Depths

by Margaret Weis

  “The Dragon Highlord did not come to attack us, High Theocrat,” said Sturm. “Lord Verminaard came to find us, and he succeeded. He now knows where we are.”

  “What will he do about it?” Hederick asked, spreading his hands. His supporters, gathered around him, all sagely nodded their heads. “Nothing, that’s what. Because there’s nothing he can do! He cannot bring troops through the pass. If he returns with the dragon, we will simply remain in the caves. Not even Lord Verminaard can burn down this mountain!”

  “Don’t be too sure of that,” Tanis muttered.

  He exchanged glances with Riverwind. Both of them remembered vividly the destruction of Riverwind’s village in Que-shu, the solid rock walls that had melted away like fresh churned butter.

  Tanis glanced at Elistan, wondering when the Revered Son was going to speak. Tanis was starting to have serious doubts about Elistan and his gods of Light. Elistan had proclaimed that the Dragon Highlord had been killed with help from the gods, yet the evil Highlord was not dead. Tanis wanted very much to ask Elistan why the gods of light had not been able to prevent Verminaard from coming back from the dead. Now was not the time to question the Revered Son’s faith, however. The High Theocrat was looking for an opportunity to denounce these new gods and return to the Seeker gods he and his followers had been promoting to their own private advantage. Tanis guessed that Hederick and his bunch were already at work to undermine Elistan’s teachings. They didn’t need his help.

  I’ll speak to Elistan in private, Tanis thought. Meanwhile, the Revered Son could at least give me his support, not just sit there in silence. If he’s as wise as Laurana claims, he’ll see that we can’t stay here.

  “Our danger grows by the minute, good gentlefolk,” Sturm was saying, speaking to the assembly. “Verminaard knows where we are. He did not seek us out for the sake of his health! He has a plan in mind, you may be sure of that. To do nothing is to doom us all to certain death.”

  One of the delegates, a woman named Maritta, rose to her feet. She was middle-aged, stout, and plain looking, but she was also a woman of courage and of sense who had played a valuable role in helping the refugees escape Pax Tharkas. She admired Elistan and had little use for Hederick. Clasping her hands over her midriff, she faced the High Theocrat.

  “You, sir, claim that we will be safe from the dragon if we stay here, but the dragon is not our only enemy. Winter is another foe, just as deadly. What happens when our food supplies run low and the game has vanished? When the bitter cold and lack of proper food brings sickness and death to the elderly and the young?”

  She rounded on Tanis. “And you, Half-Elven. You want us to leave. Very well, then. Where do we go? Answer me that! Would you have us set out with no destination in mind, to wind up lost in the wilderness or starving to death on some frozen mountainside?”

  Before Tanis could answer, there was a blast of chill air. The elaborate screen of branches and animal hides that covered Hederick’s cavern rustled and was shoved aside. Torchlight flickered in the wind, the flames of the fire wavered. Everyone looked round to see who had arrived.

  Raistlin entered the meeting area. The mage wore his cowl pulled low over his head.

  “It has started to snow,” he reported.

  “Does he enjoy bringing bad news?” Sturm muttered.

  “What’s he doing here?” Flint demanded.

  “I asked him to come. I told him what time to be here,” Tanis said, irritated. “I wonder why he’s late!”

  “So he could make a dramatic entrance,” said Sturm.

  Raistlin walked over to stand near the fire. The mage moved slowly, taking his time, well aware that all eyes were on him, though few with any friendly feeling. He cared nothing about being universally disliked, however. Tanis thought that perhaps Raistlin even reveled in it.

  “Don’t let me interrupt, Half-Elven,” Raistlin said, coughing softly. He held his hands over the blaze to warm himself. The firelight reflected eerily on his glistening golden skin. “You were about to say something regarding the dwarven kingdom.”

  Tanis hadn’t said a word about this yet. He hadn’t been going to spring it on people in this abrupt fashion.

  “I have been thinking we could find safe haven in the kingdom of Thorbardin—” he began reluctantly.

  His proposal caused an outburst.

  “Dwarves!” cried Hederick, frowning. “We’ll have nothing to do with dwarves!”

  His sentiment was loudly echoed by his supporters. Riverwind looked grim and shook his head. “My people will not travel to Thorbardin.”

  “Now see here, the lot of you,” said Maritta. “You guzzle dwarf spirits and you’re quick to take their money when dwarves come to your shops—”

  “That doesn’t mean we have to live with them.” Hederick made a stiff and condescending bow to Flint. “Present company excepted, of course.”

  Flint had nothing to say in return—a bad sign. Ordinarily he would have given the Theocrat the sharp edge of his tongue. As it was, the dwarf sat in silence, whittling on a piece of wood. Tanis gave an inward sigh. He had known all along that his biggest obstacle to his plan of traveling to the dwarven kingdom was going to be this stubborn old dwarf.

  The argument raged. Tanis glanced at Raistlin, who stood by the fire, warming his hands, a slight smile on his thin lips. He tossed this fireball into our midst for a reason, Tanis thought. Raistlin has something in mind. What, I wonder?

  “No one is even certain if there are still dwarves beneath the mountain,” stated Hederick.

  Flint stirred at that, but still said nothing.

  “I have no objection to traveling to Thorbardin,” said Maritta, “but it is well known that the dwarves shut the gates to their kingdom three hundred years ago.”

  “That is the truth,” said Flint, “and I say let their gates stay shut!”

  Startled silence fell. People stared at the dwarf in wonder.

  “You’re not helping,” Tanis said in a low aside.

  “You know my feelings,” Flint returned dourly. “I’ll not set one foot beneath the mountain! Even if we could find the gates, which we can’t. They’ve been lost for three hundred years.”

  “So it is not safe to stay here, and we have no place to go. Where does that leave us?” Maritta asked.

  “Here,” said Hederick.

  Everyone began talking at once. The cave was rapidly heating up, what with the fire and so many warm bodies. Tanis was starting to sweat. He did not like confined spaces, did not like breathing the same air that had been breathed over and over by others. He was tempted to leave, and let everyone take care of themselves. The noise level grew, the din of the arguing reverberating off the rock walls. Then Raistlin gave a gentle cough.

  “If I may speak,” he began in his soft, damaged voice, and a hush fell. “I know how to find the key to Thorbardin. The secret lies beneath Skullcap.”

  Everyone stared at him in silence, not understanding what he meant, all except Flint.

  The dwarf’s face was grim, his jaw clenched. His breath came in grunts, and he whittled at the wood so hard the chips flew. He kept his eyes on his work.

  “You have our attention, Raistlin,” said Tanis. “What is Skullcap? Where is it and what do you mean that the secret to Thorbardin lies beneath it.”

  “I really know very little about the place,” Raistlin said. “Odd bits I’ve picked up in my studies over the years. Flint can tell us more—”

  “Yes, but he won’t,” said Flint.

  Raistlin opened his mouth to speak again, but he was interrupted. The screen door was once again swept aside, this time with ominous-sounding cracking noises, as though large hands were fumbling at it.

  Caramon came blundering inside. “Tanis,” he said worriedly, “have you seen Raist? I can’t find— Oh! There you are.”

  He glanced around at the assembly and flushed. “Beg pardon. I didn’t know—”

  “What are you doing here, Brother?” Raistlin dem
anded.

  Caramon looked sheepish. “It’s just— You were with me one minute and gone the next. I didn’t know where you went. I thought—”

  “No, you didn’t,” Raistlin snapped. “You never think. You have no idea what the word means. I am not a child who dares not venture outdoors without holding my nursemaid’s hand! Who is minding the kender?”

  “I … uh … tied him to a table leg …”

  This produced a laugh. Raistlin cast a furious glance at his twin, and Caramon retreated to a shadowy corner.

  “I’ll just … wait over here.”

  “Flint,” said Tanis. “What is Skullcap? Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  Flint maintained his stubborn, angry silence.

  Raistlin was also no longer inclined to speak. Twitching aside the skirts of his red robes, the mage sat down upon an overturned crate and drew his cowl up over his head.

  “Raistlin, tell us what you meant—” Tanis said.

  Raistlin shook his head. “It seems you are all more interested in laughing at my fool brother.”

  “Let him sulk,” Sturm said, disgusted.

  Flint flung down his knife and the piece of wood that was now little more than a splinter. The knife clattered on the stone floor of the cavern at his feet. Flint’s eyes, in their maze of wrinkles, blazed. His long beard quivered. The dwarf was short, of stocky build, with big-boned arms and wrists and the strong, capable hands of the master craftsman. He and Tanis had been friends for countless years, their friendship dating back to the half-elf’s unhappy youth. Flint’s voice was gruff and deep, seeming to rise up from the bones of the earth.

  “I will tell you the story of Skullcap,” said Flint in fierce tones. “I’ll make it short and sweet. I am a hill dwarf, a Niedar, as my people are known, and proud to be one! Centuries ago, my people left the mountain home of Thorbardin. We chose to live in the world, not under it. We opened up trade with humans and elves. Goods flowed from out of the mountain through us to others. Because of us, our cousins, the mountain dwarves, prospered. Then came the Cataclysm.

  “The fall of the fiery mountain on Krynn is generations removed from most of you humans but not from me. My own grandfather lived through it. He saw the rain of fire that fell from the heavens. He felt the earth heave and shake beneath his feet, saw the land split and crack. Our homes were destroyed. Our livelihood was ruined, for no crops would grow. The human cities lay in rubble, and the elves withdrew from the world in anger.

  “Our children cried with hunger and shivered with the cold. Ogres, goblins, human thugs and robbers were on the march. They raided our lands, killing many of our people. We went to our cousins who lived beneath the mountain. We begged them to take us in, save us from starvation and the other evils that now stalked the land.”

  Flint’s voice grew grim. “The High King, Duncan, slammed the door in our beards! He would not let us inside the mountain and he sent out an army to keep us at bay.

  “Then there came among us an evil greater than any we had yet known. Sadly, we mistook that evil for our salvation. His name was Fistandantilus—”

  Caramon made a sound, something like a gasp.Raistlin shot his twin a warning glance from beneath his cowl, and Caramon fell silent.

  “Fistandantilus was a human wizard. He wore the black robes, and that should have been a warning to us, but our own hearts were black with hatred, and we didn’t question his motives. This Fistandantilus told us that we should be lying snug and safe beneath the mountain, with plenty to eat, and no fear of harm. Using powerful magic, he raised a mighty fortress near Thorbardin and then raised a mighty army of dwarves and humans and sent them to attack Thorbardin.

  “The dwarves of Thorbardin left their mountain home and came to meet us in the valley. Long the battle raged, and many dwarves died on both sides. We were no match for our cousins, however. When it became clear that defeat was inevitable, Fistandantilus flew into a great rage. He swore that no dwarf would have his wondrous fortress. He used his magic to set off a blast that blew up the fortress and brought it down on top of him. The blast killed thousands of dwarves on both sides. The fortress collapsed, the ruins forming the shape of a skull, and that is how it came by its name—Skullcap.”

  “Seeing this, the Neidar who survived took it as a sign. My people withdrew from the valley, carrying their dead with them. The mountain dwarves shut the gates of Thorbardin and sealed them, not that any of us would have set foot inside them anyway after that,” Flint added bitterly. “Not if they had begged us! And we still won’t!”

  He plunked down on the outcropping of rock he was using as a chair, picked up his knife, and thrust it into his belt.

  “Could the key to Thorbardin lie in Skullcap?” Tanis asked.

  Flint shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not likely anyone will ever know. The place is cursed.”

  “Cursed! Bah!” Raistlin scoffed. “Skullcap is a ruined fortress, a pile of rubble, nothing more. Any ghosts that walk there do so only in the feeble minds of the ignorant.”

  “Feeble minds, is it!” Flint returned. “I suppose we were all feeble-minded in Darken Wood.”

  “That was different,” Raistlin said coolly. “The only reason you think Skullcap is cursed is because it was built by an archmage, and all wizards are evil, according to you.”

  “Now, Raistlin, calm down,” Tanis said. “None of us thinks that.”

  “Some of us do,” Sturm muttered.

  Elistan rose to his feet. “I believe I have a solution.”

  Hederick opened his mouth, but Elistan forestalled him. “You have had your turn, High Theocrat. I ask that you be patient for a moment to listen to me.”

  Hederick gave a sour smile. “Of course, Elistan. We all are eager to hear what you have to say.”

  “Mistress Maritta has stated our dilemma quite clearly and concisely. We face danger if we stay and do nothing but even more danger if we rush off in haste without taking proper care or knowing where we are going. Here is what I propose.

  “We send representatives south to seek out the dwarven kingdom to see if we can find the gate, and if we do, ask the dwarves for their aid.”

  Flint snorted and opened his mouth. Tanis trod on his boot, and the dwarf kept quiet.

  “If the dwarves are willing to shelter us,” Elistan continued, “we can make the journey to Thorbardin before the harshest months of winter set in. Such a journey should be undertaken immediately,” Elistan added gravely. “I agree with Tanis and the others that the danger we face here grows greater with every day that passes. That being said, despite the mage’s suggestion—” Elistan bowed to Raistlin “—I do not think there would be time to make a side trip to Skullcap.”

  “You will think differently when you stand knocking on the side of a mountain that will not open,” Raistlin said, his eyes narrow slits.

  Before Elistan could reply, Hederick spoke up.

  “That is an excellent idea, Revered Son. I propose that we send Tanis Half-Elven on this expedition, along with his friend, the dwarf. Set a dwarf to catch a dwarf, I always say.”

  Hederick laughed at his little joke.

  Tanis was amazed at this sudden acquiescence and immediately suspicious. He’d expected Hederick to take a firm stand against any suggestion of leaving and here he was forwarding the plan. Tanis glanced around the assembly to see what the others thought. Elistan shrugged, as though to say he didn’t understand either, but they should take advantage of the High Theocrat’s sudden shift in position to gain their objective. Riverwind was silent and impassive. He didn’t like the idea of going to Thorbardin. He and his people might still decide to set off on their own. That gave Tanis an idea.

  “I agree to go,” said Tanis, “and Flint will go with me—”

  “He will?” Flint reared up his head in astonishment.

  “He will,” Tanis said, trodding again on the dwarf’s boot and saying quietly, “I’ll explain later.”

  He raised his voice. “In m
y absence, the High Theocrat and Elistan can handle the spiritual needs of the people. I propose that Riverwind of the Que-shu, take command of their safety.”

  Now it was Riverwind who looked astonished.

  “An excellent idea,” said Elistan. “All of us witnessed Riverwind’s bravery in the battle at Pax Tharkas. Only today, we saw that he and his people overcame their terror of the dragon to attack the beast.”

  Hederick was thinking so hard that Tanis could see the man’s thought process written on his face. First his brows came together and lips tightened. The High Theocrat wasn’t sure he liked the idea now, even though he himself had proposed that Tanis and Flint go to Thorbardin. The Theocrat was certain the half-elf must have some nefarious scheme to put Riverwind in charge. Hederick’s narrow-eyed gaze went to the Plainsman, went to the buckskin tunic and breeches, and then his face cleared. Riverwind was a savage, a barbarian. Untaught, unschooled, he would be easy to manipulate—or so Hederick figured. Things could be worse. Tanis might have picked that insufferable Solamnic knight, Sturm Brightblade, to be the leader in his absence. Such were Hederick’s thoughts.

  Tanis had almost chosen Sturm. The words had been on his lips, when he’d reconsidered. Not only did Tanis hope by this to persuade Riverwind and his people to stay, Tanis was convinced that Riverwind would be a better leader. Sturm saw everything as either black or white, nothing in shades of gray. He was too strict, unbending, unyielding. Riverwind was the better choice.

  The High Theocrat smiled expansively. “If the Plainsman will accept the task, I have no objection.”

  Riverwind was about to reject it. Goldmoon put her hands over his arm and looked up at him. She said nothing in words, but he understood.

  “I will think about it,” Riverwind said, after a pause.

  Goldmoon smiled at him. He clasped her hands with his own. Hederick’s supporters gathered around him to discuss matters. Maritta joined Laurana and both began talking to Elistan. The meeting was breaking up.

  “What is this about me going to Thorbardin?” Flint demanded. “I’ll not set foot beneath the mountain!”