by Don Perrin
“Sir,” said Gloth, “do you notice that it’s getting warmer down here?”
Kang had noticed, and he had thought it odd. Underground caverns always maintain the same temperature, winter and summer. But the heat was definitely rising in this one, and it was rising quite rapidly.
He rounded a bend to find that the Slith and his two scouts had halted again, staring into a chamber that opened up in the center of the tunnel. A bright reddish glow spread over them, its source was the chamber.
The path they were supposed to take ran straight into the chamber—a chamber that according to what Kang recalled of the map wasn’t supposed to be here.
Kang moved forward to join Slith. The Sivak stood at the entrance to the chamber, peering inside. The heat from the chamber was intense, hit Kang in wave that nearly bowled him over. The heat and the smell—sulfurous and acrid—caused his snout to wrinkle in revulsion.
“What is it?” Kang looked inside, advanced a step or two. That was as far as he could manage.
The chamber walls were not rough-hewn and timber-shored as had been the other walls in all of the other chambers and tunnels built by the dwarves. The stone in this one was smooth and polished and looked as if it had been melted, then hardened again. Waves of rock formed the walls, rivulets of stone cascaded down along the floor.
In the center of the floor was a gigantic pit.
The fiery red light, a thousand times more intense, welled up from the pit. Heat radiated from the pit, beat on the stone walls and continually hammered at Kang. But it was not only heat that assailed him.
Fear—gut-curling, bowel-wrenching terror—writhed inside him. He knew such fear, he recognized it, though he had never felt it this strongly. Hastily, Kang backed out of the chamber.
“Phew! That’s foul!”
Kang paused a moment to clear his head of the fumes. He felt the fear ease when he left the chamber, though it did not vanish completely.
He wondered what to do. His instinct was to run and keep on running, even if he ran into Thorbardin and an army of ten thousand dwarves. Ten thousand dwarves, ten million dwarves, were nothing compared to what might be living inside that pit.
Unfortunately, the treasure room lay on the other side of this chamber.
“There’s something in there, isn’t there, sir?” Slith said, eyeing his commander. “And whatever it is melts solid rock!”
“I saw a red dragon do that once,” offered Viss. “It was when I served under Dragon Highlord Verminaard. His dragon flamed some little village on the Plains. The stone glowed red-hot and made puddles all over the ground.”
“I’ve seen the same thing. But I don’t think this is a red dragon.” Kang didn’t add that he thought this was something much worse. “The rest of you scout around, see what you can find.”
Kang needed quiet, to be able to think. Stalling for time, he drew out the map.
“It’s not a red, is it, sir?” Slith asked quietly.
Kang shook his head. “I’ve been around reds before. So have you. I’ve felt dragonawe, but nothing like what I felt inside that chamber. Did you go in?”
“Yes, sir. Like you, I didn’t stay long. So what do we do now? I don’t remember this chamber being on the map.”
“It isn’t.” Kang looked over the map. “According to the map, the tunnel runs straight, without a bend or a turn—certainly without a lake of fire and a chamber of melted rock—for at least another two miles. So far, the map has been correct in every detail. I can’t imagine the Daewar neglecting to mention this.”
“Maybe it’s us, sir. Maybe we took a wrong turn.”
Kang went back over their route in his mind, compared it to the map. “It wasn’t that difficult! We passed the siding.” He looked down at the floor. “There are the iron rails. No, this has to be the right way.”
Kang studied the map again, had an idea. “Look, the siding circles around this part of the tunnel, comes out down here. That’s the route we will take. Move the men out quietly. Whatever is in there, I don’t want to disturb it. I—”
“Sir,” said a Sivak. “I think you better come see this.”
Kang didn’t like the sound of that. Whenever someone wanted him to come see something, it always meant trouble. No one ever asked him to come see a marvelous sunset or to come look at a bunch of baby ducks, swimming in a pond.
He walked over to the Sivak, who was peering intently at the wall outside the chamber.
“Look here, sir.” The Sivak pointed.
Kang looked. He said nothing. There wasn’t much to say.
On the wall, outside the chamber, was carved in the rock a five-headed dragon, the image of Takhisis, Queen of Darkness.
“What does it mean, sir?”
Kang ran his dry tongue over his teeth. “This is the favor. She wants us to face whatever is in there.”
“And whatever is in there seems likely to kill us. What good’s the wand, sir, if we don’t live to use it?” Slith was bitter. “We’ve got the wand. We’ll do her another favor some other day.”
Kang recalled his elation when he’d first looked at the wand, first felt its power. He hadn’t asked questions of his Queen then. He hadn’t doubted her wisdom. He hadn’t wavered in his faithfulness.
Was he to back out of his part of the bargain now? Was he to forswear his oath of fealty?
Kang was well aware that those who forsook their promises to his Dread Queen rarely received a chance to forsake any more. But he would not keep his promise out of fear, he said to himself proudly. He would keep his promise because he had made it. A matter of honor.
Kang fumbled at his leather harness, removed the medallion that was a symbol of his rank. He quietly handed the medallion to Slith.
“What’s this, sir?” Slith asked. He kept his hands at his side, refused to take it.
“You’re in command now, my friend,” Kang said. Reaching out, he attached the medallion to Slith’s harness. “And high time, too. Take the map, as well.” He handed it over. “You and the others continue on to find the dragon eggs. I’ll keep the wand and deal with this little matter.”
“No, sir,” Slith said stubbornly. He plucked the medallion from his armor, tried to hand the medallion back. “I won’t go and leave you alone, sir. None of us will.”
The Sivaks and the Bozaks gave forceful agreement.
Kang shook his head, crossed his arms over his broad chest.
Seeing that Kang refused to take back the medallion, Slith threw it to the floor. He folded his arms across his chest, planted his feet firmly. “No, sir. I won’t go.”
Kang found the medallion in the darkness, picked it up. Reaching down, he said steadily, “That’s an order, Slith.”
Slith glared at him. The Sivak may have acted on his own initiative from time to time, but he had never, in the all years they’d served together, disobeyed a direct order.
“Like the lord knight said, Subcommander,” Kang said quietly. “Discipline. Discipline is the one way, the only way, we can win out over chaos.”
Slith stood staring at his clawed feet, refusing to look at the medallion, refusing to look at Kang.
Kang waited patiently, confident that his second would come through. Slith had never failed him yet.
Still not looking at his commander, Slith snatched the medallion from Kang. The draconian thrust the pin through his harness. His hand shook, he had to try several times before he succeeded.
“Thank you, Slith,” Kang said, breathing out a sigh. “Good luck to you. To all of you.” His gaze included the entire troop.
The draconians mumbled something back; they were shocked and numb. Kang had been their commander from almost the very beginning. They couldn’t remember a time when Kang hadn’t led them.
Slith was a good officer. They’d soon adapt to his leadership.
“You’d best be off now,” Kang suggested. He couldn’t make it an order.
“Yes, sir,” Slith said. He hesitated a moment longer, as
if he had something else to say. But, in the end, he didn’t say it. Instead, his clawed hand reached out, grasped hold of Kang’s hand in the dark, and gave it a squeeze.
Turning, Slith glared at his subordinates. “What in the Abyss are you all staring at? You’ve had things easy in this outfit, but I’m in charge now. Lively there! March!”
Turning, Slith led his command—his command—back down the tunnel, the way they’d come. He didn’t look back.
The other draconians hesitated a moment, then they followed him and soon Kang was alone.
He faced the red-glowing chamber. Before he entered, he placed his hand on the symbol of the five-headed dragon drawn on the wall and asked for his Queen’s blessing.
Holding the wand in one hand, his sword in the other, he ran through his catalog of magical spells and began to walk steadily toward the pit.
Chapter Thirty-Five
By much arm-waving, shouts, threats and beard-pulling, Selquist finally managed to stop the dwarves’ panicked stampede.
“Stop it! Stop it! Have you all gone mad?” he yelled.
The dwarves straggled to halt, breathing heavily and glancing nervously down the tunnel. They had run almost all the way back to the newly repaired bridge.
“I am thoroughly disgusted with the lot of you.” Selquist snapped. “I’ve never seen such cowards!”
The military dwarves were sullen and defensive. “You didn’t see nothing,” said one. “ ’Cause you were way back at the end of the line. Back where it was safe.”
“I was guarding the rear,” said Selquist, with dignity. “And you wouldn’t catch me running from danger. I attacked the grell, after all. And you call yourselves hill dwarves! Gully dwarves is nearer the mark.”
The rebuke struck home, gully dwarves being generally acknowledged as the greatest cowards on the face of Krynn. The dwarves glowered at the insult, though some appeared to feel it was deserved. They hung their heads in shame.
Another voice spoke up defiantly. “You weren’t there, Daewar. The draconians were. And they’ve got the wand that sizzled old Moorthane. I’m not going in after them.”
Several of the dwarves muttered agreement.
Selquist stood on tiptoe, peered over heads. “Whose that back there? Vellmer?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” The thick-set, black-bearded brew master, whose face was always flushed, due to the continual need to taste-test his own products, stumped forward. He had a perpetually fierce expression, produced by a pair of bristling black eyebrows that met in the center of his forehead,
“You were Moorbrain’s lieutenant, weren’t you, Vellmer. I guess that means that you’ve taken over the troops following poor old Moorbrain’s unfortunate demise,” Selquist said.
Vellmer gave Selquist a shove that knocked him backward.
“You speak respectfully of the dead,” Vellmer snarled.
“That’s something I’ve never understood,” Selquist said. “You can bad-mouth a person all you want when he’s alive, but the moment he’s dead and can’t possibly hurt you anymore, you can’t say a word against him. Oh, never mind. I don’t want to quarrel.”
Selquist stepped forward, placed his hands affectionately on Vellmer’s shoulders.
“Look, Vellmer. You didn’t sign on for this. Moorbr—I mean dear old Moorthane was the one who was all fired up to go smash dragon eggs. Now, if you want to take your boys and head home, you know the way back, I presume?”
The brew master stiffened, regarded Selquist with dark suspicion. “I know the way,” he growled. “And I’ve a mind to do just that. We came down to smash dragon eggs. We didn’t know we were going to have to fight grells and draconians with magic wands.”
“One grell,” said Selquist. “Let’s be accurate. And it was pretty puny. But, go if you want.”
“We’re going,” said Vellmer and started off down the tunnel, accompanied by his men.
“That just means more treasure for the rest of us,” Selquist called. “You would have been eligible for Moorbrain’s share. One two-hundredth.”
The dwarves came to a halt.
“What’s this?” Vellmer demanded, missing the sound of marching boots behind him. He turned around, clumped back, grumbling all the way. “What good’s treasure if we’re not alive to spend it?”
“It was sort of a puny grell,” said one dwarf.
“And likely that’s the only one,” added another.
“What about the draconians?” Vellmer demanded.
“Maybe they’ll fall into a pit,” said yet another dwarf.
Selquist clapped Vellmer on the shoulder. “Too bad you have to rush off. We’ll take it from here. It will be a bit of a strain, carrying back all that treasure by ourselves, but we’ll manage.”
“All that treasure, you say.” Vellmer eyed Selquist. “There’s a lot of it? Steel and gold and silver and jewels and such?”
“More than you can imagine,” Selquist said.
Vellmer thought the matter over. “About those dragon eggs.” He frowned, looked extremely grave. “It’s our duty to smash ’em. I see that clearly now. And, once that’s done, we’ll help you carry the treasure.”
“You’re a true Niedar, Vellmer,” said Selquist, shaking the dwarf’s hand. “A gentleman and a brewer, as I’ve always said.”
“But how do we get past the draconians?” Auger wondered.
Selquist pulled out his map. “Bring those torches over here. Look, we don’t have to go the same way the draconians took. There’s a side tunnel that branches off, goes around, and then …” He stopped, squinted down at the map.
“Then what?” Vellmer peered over his shoulder. “Ends in an ink blot?”
Selquist glared at Auger.
“I’m sorry,” said Auger. “The quill dripped.”
“Never mind,” Selquist said crossly. “But, as you can see, once we’re past the blot, it’s straight on to the treasure. We better hurry. The draconians have got a pretty good head start.”
The dwarves formed two lines, one led by Vellmer and one by Selquist. The two leaders started off at run, setting the pace. The dwarves swung into step behind. Although these dwarves had been born and raised in the mountains, not beneath them, they had rock-dust in their blood, as the saying went. They traveled fast, making up for lost time, and soon found the siding.
“Listen!” Vellmer said, pausing. “Hear that?”
They all heard it—the sounds of clawed feet scraping against rock.
“The draconians!” Mortar cried. “They’re coming back this way!”
“Why are they doing that?” Selquist demanded, irritated. “They’ve proved a nuisance. I’m really beginning to be sorry I led them down here.”
“Quick!” Vellmer urged. “Hurry! Everyone into the tunnel before they see us!”
The dwarves bolted into the siding. They ran past the abandoned ore carts, kept running until they figured they were well out of sight and out of earshot of the draconians. Stopping to listen, the dwarves heard nothing.
“They must have marched on past. Maybe they’re giving up and going home,” Pestle said hopefully.
“I’m not so sure,” said Mortar in a low voice. “I feel sort of crawly inside. Like someone’s watching us.”
“All I can feel is the heat!” complained Auger, wiping sweat from his face. “It’s not supposed to be hot underground, is it?”
“No,” said Vellmer. “It’s not. It’s too hot, and something’s watching us. I can feel it. Something’s wrong.”
“Something’s right.” Selquist was studying his map. “This siding leads back to the main tunnel. The treasure chamber is right up ahead.”
Selquist increased his pace. His excitement was contagious. The other dwarves hastened along after him, faces flushed with heat and exultation. They rounded a bend in the tunnel, came within sight of a vast chamber.
“That has to be it!” Selquist cried.
“If it is, why is the treasure giving off a red light?”
Auger asked.
“The luster of gold!” Selquist said. He paused a moment to wipe the sweat from his eyes. “The gleam of rubies. The magical aura of spellbooks!”
“And is it supposed to smell that bad?” Mortar held his nose.
“That’s probably the dragon eggs,” said Selquist. “Likely they’re rotten, after all this time. Here! This is it!”
The tunnel in which they were traveling opened into an enormous chamber. The dwarves gathered around the opening, stared inside.
Red light radiated from a pit in the center of the cavern room. The heat was intense and forced the dwarves to shield their faces against it.
“We don’t have to worry about the dragon eggs,” Vellmer said darkly. “If they’re in there, they’re hard-boiled by now!”
“Selquist, this isn’t the treasure room. It’s the wrong shape. This room isn’t even on the map,” Mortar pointed out. “We must have come the wrong way!”
“Would you look at that!” said Pestle, awed. “The stone walls have melted! Like they were butter or something!”
The dwarves’ excitement was melting away, too. They stood outside the chamber, sweating and fingering their weapons nervously.
“This place has an unholy feel to it,” said Vellmer in a low voice.
“And it’s not supposed to be here,” Mortar reiterated.
“Either that or we’re not supposed to be here,” Pestle said, gulping.
“Bah!” Selquist spoke with considerably more spirit than he actually felt. His stomach was crawling around like it was looking for a way out of his body. “We’ve come across a lava pit. That’s all. The floor probably caved in some time after the treasure was hidden here, which is why this isn’t on the map. This chamber is merely a natural phenomenon, caused by … by …”
“Seismic tremors,” Mortar suggested.
“Thank you.” Selquist edged toward the chamber entrance, and looked inside, eyes squinted against the fiery light. “I can see an exit … way over there.”
The other dwarves crowded back into the entryway.
“You’re right.” Vellmer gave the exit his official seal of approval. “That’s the way out. Unfortunately, to get out, we have to go in.”
