Dragons of the Dwarven Depths

by Margaret Weis

  “This is the attack on our camp Tika warned us about,” he said, marveling at his own calm. “I do not think the dragons know we have left. Tell the people they must remain quiet, and they must keep hidden! Their lives depend on it. A baby’s wail could give us away.”

  Goldmoon hastened away, in company with some of the other Plainsmen, and began explaining the danger.

  Here and there, a child whimpered, there were moans and stifled cries as the dragonfear spread, but Goldmoon and others were on hand to provide comfort with prayers to the gods. Soon silence, like a heavy, smothering blanket, settled over the camp. People crouched among the rocks and boulders in the shadow of the pass and clasped their children to their hearts, waiting.

  The dragons reached a point in the sky above the burned-out grove. Lunitari was half-full this night, and her light shone on red scales and on a helmed figure riding the lead dragon. Riverwind recognized the horned helm of Lord Verminaard. Behind him flew four more red dragons. As Riverwind watched, the flight of the dragons slowed. They began to perform slow and laborious turns in mid-air, their flight now taking them over the caves where the refugees had made their home.

  These were not the graceful, wheeling red dragons Riverwind had seen battling in the skies over Pax Tharkas. These dragons flew ponderously, and he once again had the impression they carried a heavy load.

  Gilthanas appeared at his elbow.

  “What of Laurana and the people on the other side of the trail?” he asked.

  Riverwind had been thinking of Hederick and those who had remained behind, and he could only shake his head, meaning that for them there was no hope. Then he realized this was not what Gilthanas meant. He meant those who had not yet ventured along the trail. They were camped out in the open, exposed on the side of the mountain with no shelter, nowhere to conceal themselves.

  “We have to get them across,” Gilthanas urged.

  “In the darkness? It’s too risky.” Riverwind shook his head. “We must hope the dragons will be content to attack the caves and not think to come this way.”

  He braced himself, prepared to watch the dragons breathe fire on the caves, but that did not happen. Instead, the dragons continued to circle the valley, flying lower and lower, spiraling down in formation. The dragon bearing Verminaard remained hovering overhead, watching from above. Riverwind was puzzled by this, and then he saw something even more puzzling.

  Bundles were falling off the backs of the dragons; at least, that’s how it appeared. Riverwind could not imagine what the dragons were dropping and then he sucked in his breath in horror.

  These were not bundles. They were draconians and they were leaping off the dragons’ backs! He could see the monster’s wings spread as they jumped, see the moonlight glint on their scaly hides and gleam off the tips of their swords.

  The draconians’ wings slowed their descent, giving them the ability to glide to a landing once they reached the ground. The draconians were not adept at dragon-jumping, or so it appeared. Some fell headlong into the thick stands of trees and many plunged, kicking and flailing, into the stream. Howls of rage split the frosty air. He could hear orders being shouted by those on the ground, as officers tried to sort through the confusion, find their men, and form them into ranks.

  That would happen soon enough. The draconians would march up to the caves and find their prey was gone. They would come searching for them.

  “You’re right,” he said to Gilthanas. “We must get the others across.” He shook his head softly. “The gods help us!”

  Walking the steep and narrow path had been difficult and frightening by day. Now he was going to ask these people to walk it by night, and they must do so in the darkness. And in silence.

  Riverwind made his way back across the treacherous trail and found Elistan and Laurana waiting for him.

  Elistan forestalled him. “We have already roused everyone and they are ready.”

  “Poor Hederick,” Laurana said quietly, watching the draconians start to swarm into the hills.

  Riverwind found it difficult to dredge up any pity for that man or those deluded enough to trust him. Nor did he have time to waste thinking about him. He looked at the assembled group. Their pale faces glimmered white in the darkness, but all were quiet, prepared. Riverwind hated to do what he had to do next, but there was no choice.

  “We must bind cloths around their mouths.”

  Elistan and Laurana both stared at him, perhaps wondering if he’d gone mad.

  “I don’t understand—” Laurana began.

  “Silence is our only hope of escaping,” Riverwind explained. “If someone should fall, the draconians might hear his screams.”

  Laurana blanched, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “Of course,” Elistan said quietly, and hurried off. “Are you all right?” he asked Laurana. “Yes,” she managed faintly.

  “Good.” Riverwind was brisk, matter-of-fact. “We have to get them started now. No time to waste. The draconians will attack the caves, but it won’t take them long to figure out we’re gone. Then they’ll come looking for us.”

  “Will we be safe in the pass?” Laurana asked.

  “I hope so,” Riverwind replied, trying to reassure himself as much as her. “We did not know the pass was there, and we have lived here for months. With luck and help from the gods, the draconians will not find us. If they do, we can defend ourselves against attack.”

  He stopped talking, sucked in a breath. He saw in dazzling brilliance, as though lightning had streaked across his mind, the pick-axe lying beneath the striped rock that did not belong there.

  “Make haste!” he told Laurana. “Keep them moving. Don’t let anyone stop.” He turned away, then turned back. “If anyone balks, he must remain behind. We don’t have time to mollycoddle people. Keep everyone moving!”

  He made his own way back across the treacherous trail, thinking, as he did so, that it was actually easier to cross in the darkness. He couldn’t see how far he had to fall or the sharp rocks waiting to break his body. The men who had done this same task today took up their places again, standing at intervals, ready to assist those who were already beginning to cross. Elistan remained at the start, saying reassuring words and giving Paladine’s blessing to all. Gags bound around their mouths, the people began to edge their way along the path.

  Riverwind paused to glance back in the direction of the camp. Some of the draconians were now running toward the caves. Once they reached the living area, they would be thrown into confusion when they found their victims were gone. They would think the people had retreated deeper into the caves, and they would search the tunnels and passages. Eventually, the draconians would realize the truth. The caves had been abandoned. Verminaard knew the refugees could not go north. The most logical route lay to the south. That’s where he would look first.

  Riverwind glanced to the east, wondering how many hours they had until daylight.

  He did not think he had many …

  “Come with me,” he said to his warriors. “You won’t need your weapons. You need pick-axes! And bring me some of the men who worked in the mines!”

  The first wave of draconians broke on the cliffs where the refugees had once dwelt. Howls meant to strike fear into the hearts of their victims changed to curses as they entered cave after cave and found crude furniture, toys, and clothes, and stores of food and water the refugees had been forced to leave behind.

  Riverwind took the miners to where Flint had left the pick-axe. He showed them the axe and the striped rock, explaining to them what he thought the dwarf was trying to tell them.

  The miners examined the area as best they could by moonlight and starlight, agreeing that this rock was a keystone. But whether it would work or not, they could not say.

  The crossing proceeded, though with agonizing slowness. Riverwind kept watch on the sky. There was as yet no light visible, but the stars were starting to fade.

  The last few people were creeping acr
oss. One, a young woman, staggered and fell to the ground. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she was shaking, but she had not made a sound. Goldmoon took hold of her and led her away.

  Laurana came next to last. Gilthanas, one of those doing duty on the cliff face, spoke to her in elven as he helped her across. She clasped his hand and kissed him.

  Elistan came across last. He carried a child on his back, the little boy’s hands clasped around his neck. The cleric’s steps were firm. He did not falter. The little boy’s mother, waiting on the other side, hid her face in her hands, unable to watch.

  “That was fun, Elistan,” said the little boy, pulling the gag off his mouth when they reached safety. “Can we do it again?”

  People laughed, though their laughter was shaky. The men left the trail, and everyone started to move into the pass.

  Back in the camp, the draconians emerged from the caves. The sky was light enough now that Riverwind could easily see what was transpiring. Verminaard’s dragon landed on the ground. Draconians swarmed around the Highlord. He leaned over the neck, conferring with his officers. At his command, the other three red dragons flew across the valley. One headed east. One flew west.

  One flew south, straight toward them.

  The dragon was not looking in their direction, however. The beast stared down below, searching the floor of the valley.

  “Quickly, quickly!” Riverwind urged in soft tones, herding the people as he had once herded his sheep. “Take shelter in the pass. Move as far back as you can.”

  The people hurried. There was no panic, and Riverwind was just thinking they might actually succeed in escaping, when a cry pierced the air, “Wait! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!”

  The dragon heard the voice. The beast lifted its head, shifted its gaze.

  Cursing, Riverwind turned around.

  Hederick was running along the trail, his flabby gut bobbing up and down as he ran, his face blotchy, his mouth gaping wide. His cronies trailed behind him, pushing and shoving each other in their panicked haste.

  Hederick came to the precipice. He looked at Riverwind, looked down, and his face paled.

  “I can’t cross that!”

  “The rest of us did,” said Riverwind coldly, and he pointed at the dragon, who had changed direction and was now flying toward them.

  Hederick’s friends shoved him aside, stepped onto the trail, and hurried across. Hederick, quivering in fear, crept along after them.

  He made it safely, and once on the other side, he came storming up to Riverwind, about to launch into demands. Riverwind seized hold of the man and gave him a shove into the arms of several Plainsmen, who caught hold of the High Theocrat and hustled him off into the pass.

  The dragon lifted its head and gave a great bellow.

  Riverwind ran for the place where the dwarf had left the pick-axe. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the dragon’s call had alerted Lord Verminaard. His dragon leapt off the ground and took to the skies. The draconians were starting to run in this direction as well. They could move faster over the ground than humans, for they used their wings to aid them. Hopping and leaping, they flowed over the trail like a scaly river.

  Verminaard’s dragon bore him swiftly toward the pass. The draconians were closing on the pass much faster than Riverwind could have believed possible.

  Riverwind seized hold of the pick-axe. He looked to see that the last few stragglers were safely inside the pass.

  “Paladine, be with us!” Riverwind prayed then, in a nod to Flint, he added, “Reorx, guide my hand.”

  Riverwind struck the striped rock with the pickaxe, hitting it at the place where the point had rested. The rock went bounding down the mountainside, and Riverwind scrambled backward. At first, nothing happened, and his heart sank. He looked to see the dragon swooping toward them. Verminaard had his hand outstretched, pointing at the pass, guiding the beast.

  Then the earth shuddered. There was a rending, grinding sound and it seemed to Riverwind’s astonished gaze as if the side of the mountain was on the move, rushing down on top of him.

  He turned and ran for the safety of the pass. Boulders bounded off other boulders and went sailing over his head. With a sound like rumbling thunder, the rock slide cascaded down the mountain side, taking with it the trail the refugees had just walked. The opening to the pass began to fill with chunks of stone.

  Riverwind flattened himself on the ground, his arms protecting his head. He could not see the dragon, but he could hear its frustrated roars. The rock slide continued for several more moments, then ended in sudden silence, broken only by a few rocks shifting or settling into place.

  Riverwind cautiously raised up to look. The face of the landscape had changed. The entrance to the pass was choked with enormous boulders. He heard the dragon’s wings flapping on the other side of the newly made stone wall. The dragon could not land. The rock slide had taken what level ground there was down the mountainside. He heard sounds as though the beast was making some attempt to claw its way through the debris into the pass. This must have proven ineffectual, for the dragon soon ceased its efforts.

  Riverwind looked skyward. Snow capped peaks soared high above him on either side. He wondered fearfully if the dragon would attempt to fly over the pass. The cleft in the mountain was steep and narrow; he doubted if the dragon would be able to fit inside. It would certainly risk injury to its wings. The dragon might still be able to deal destruction from far above.

  Riverwind waited tensely for the shadow of the massive red body and wings to blot out the dawn, but the dragon did not appear. Riverwind realized it had flown off only when he no longer felt the dragonfear. For the moment, they were safe.

  For the moment.

  Riverwind wended his way among the rocks to join the others. They were hugging each other and laughing, weeping and praying in thankfulness. Riverwind could not join in their celebration. He knew full well why Verminaard had not attacked. There was no need to risk his dragon in the pass when all he had to do was wait for them to come out the other side. As Tika had told them, there were draconians on the opposite side of the mountain. The refugees could not stay holed up in this pass forever. They must eventually come out, and the Highlord’s forces would undoubtedly be waiting for them.

  Their one hope was that Tanis, Flint, and the others could find the Gates to Thorbardin.

  Otherwise, the refugees would be at a literal dead end.

  BOOK TWO

  1

  Prince Grallen Returns. The Gates of

  Thorbardin. Now what?

  ed by Sturm under the magical influence of the enchanted helm, the companions wended their way up Cloudseeker, climbing along a steep defile that cut into the side of the mountain wall. The defile was one among many, and without the prince to guide them, they would have either never found it or would have chosen it by merest accident.

  Tanis continued to mark the trail for the refugees, wondering more than once as he did so if he was wasting his time. He often looked back the way they had come, hoping to see some sign that they were safe, but the pass was often shrouded in fog or low hanging clouds, and he could see nothing.

  The climb proved to be relatively easy. Whenever they came to a part of the defile that was steep and could have been hard to traverse, crude stairs carved into the rock wall provided safe passage. Not even Raistlin found the going difficult. A night’s rest had allowed him to recover his strength. He said that the pure, chill mountain air opened his lungs. He coughed less and was actually in a relatively good mood.

  The sun was bright, the sky cloudless. They could see the desolate plains spread out beneath them and far off in the distance the ruined fortress, looking, as Caramon said, like a skull on a platter. They made good time, at least as far as Tanis was able to judge, considering he had no idea where they were going. He asked Sturm more than once to point out their destination, but the knight only shook his helmed head, refusing to answer, and continued to climb. Tanis looked to Flint, but
the dwarf shrugged. He was obviously highly skeptical about all this.

  “If there is a gate in the side of the mountain, I don’t see it,” he huffed.

  As they climbed higher, the air grew colder and thinner. The humans, the half-elf, and the kender began to feel dizzy. Their breathing grew labored.

  “I hope we don’t have much further to go,” Tanis said, catching up to Sturm. “If we do, I’m afraid some of us aren’t going to make it.”

  He looked back at Raistlin, who had slumped down to the ground. So much for pure mountain air. Caramon leaned against a boulder. Tasslehoff was wobbly on his feet. Even Flint was breathing hard, though he refused to admit anything was wrong.

  Sturm raised his head and peered through the helm’s eyeslits. “Almost there.”

  He pointed to a stone ledge about five feet wide jutting out from the side of the mountain. The defile ended here. Tanis looked back at Flint, and to his surprise, the old dwarf’s eyes were bright, his face flushed. He stood smoothing his beard with his hand.

  “I think this is it, lad,” he said softly. “I think we’re close!”

  “Why? Do you see something?” Tanis asked.

  “Just a feeling I have,” said Flint. “It feels right to me.”

  Tanis looked around. “I feel nothing. I see nothing, no sign of any gate.”

  “You won’t,” Flint said proudly, “not with those half-elf, half-human eyes of yours. Admit it, my friend. You would have never found the way.”

  “I readily admit it,” said Tanis, adding with a smile,“Would you?”

  “I would have,” Flint insisted, “if I’d been interested in finding it, which I wasn’t up until now.”

  Tanis’s gaze scanned the vast gray expanse of rock before them. “If we do find the gate, will the mountain dwarves let us in?”

  “That’s not what I’m asking myself,” Flint returned.