"The thieves are not mighty. They are cowardly and small," the dragon said, looking at each of the pirates in turn. "And that is the problem. They have taken my egg into the volcano where they have wards and magical protections against one of my kind. Out here, I would crush them, but I cannot follow them into their lair."
"What's in it for us?" asked the captain. "If what you say is true, and we did come here for your egg, then what's stopping us from just taking it and carrying it off in our ship?"
The dragon snorted, blowing another plume of watery vapor out that nearly reached Clay.
"If you do I will destroy your ship and kill you all."
"Let me get this straight," said the captain. "Either we risk our lives trying to retrieve your egg from the inside of the volcano, or we die." Clay crossed his arms over his chest. "That's not much of a deal."
"If you succeed," said the dragon, "I will let you go-unharmed."
"That's very kind of you."
"I have gold," added the dragon. "Lot's of gold."
A smile spread across Clay's face. "What did you say your name was?"
"Kraxx," replied the dragon.
Captain Clay placed his palms together and bowed as hed seen men do in his travels to far Kara Tur.
"Well, Kraxx, I think you have yourself a deal."
The dragon lifted one of her wings, pointing deeper into the jungle.
"The thieves took my egg into a lava tube on the southern slope," Kraxx said as she turned and headed toward the beach. "I will be awaiting your return, beside your ship. If you are not back by nightfall, your crew will die."
At the southern slope, just where the dragon said it would be, a circular opening led into the rough basalt mountain. Unlike the rest of the jungle, the base of the volcano was completely void of all vegetation. The smell of burned plants and sulfur filled the air.
"Well, maties," said Clay, gripping the hilt of one of his daggers, "it's down the hatch for us."
The captain entered the dark opening. One step over the threshold and Clay's damp skin became instantly dry. It was as if his whole body had been wrapped tight in a curtain of hot, dry air, and he felt as if he'd just stepped inside the bellows of an iron forge. Every strip of exposed flesh was pressed back by the oppressive heat, and the captain had to squint to keep his eyes from drying out quicker than he could blink.
The passage was narrow-barely wide enough for two men abreast-and dark except for the sunlight coming in from outside. Ahead, it appeared as if the tunnel they were following made a very subtle turn to the right. Clay couldn't make out much more. The light simply didn't penetrate that far. Clay looked back over his shoulder.
"Tabor," he called quietly.
"Aye."
"You're going to need to take the lead," said Clay. He stepped aside to let the dwarf pass. "In this darkness, my eyes are about as good as a Veldornian mainsail."
"You're too hard on the Veldornians," quipped the dwarf as he made his way past his captain. "They may not have much use for a sail, but even they could make one that works better than your old human eyes."
Both Mansa and Hadar let out a snicker.
Clay ushered the half-ore up next to the dwarf. Hadar grunted, then he and the dwarf headed down the passage.
The farther they went, the darker it became. Soon Clay couldn't see anything at all. He followed the sounds of the half-ore's footsteps and ran his hand along the wall to make sure he didn't fall over. At first the wall was rough, like pumice. Clay just let his fingertips rest against the rough surface, using the feeling of solid stone to reassure him as they plunged deeper into the volcano. But after a time, the stone became smooth. The deep crevices and sharp ridges gave way to a soft, almost polished feel, and the walls grew warmer.
"This volcano reminds me of the Peak of Flame," said Mansa.
"It's not the Peak of Flame," said Hadar.
"But what if it is?" replied the portly pirate. "Maybe Dendar the Night Serpent took the dragon's egg."
"This isn't the Peak of Flame," repeated the half-ore.
"I'm just sayin'. We don't know where we are. This could be the Peak, and if it is, and the Serpent took the dragon's egg, then this is the beginning of the end."
Clay heard a scuffle, then he felt his chin run smack into Hadar's back.
"This isn't the Peak of Flame", Hadar said one more time.
They continued on. Around the next corner Clay began to see a faint red-orange glow. The smooth rock reflected the light, making the ground and the walls look quite slick. The farther they went, the brighter the light became. The curve in the passage continued around and finally opened into a large chamber.
A snaking pool of bubbling lava split the room in half. A walkway of hardened stone ran along each edge toward an opening on the other end. The red-orange of the molten stuff lit the room, exposing several jagged shelves and pillars of cooled lava.
"Look out!" shouted Tabor.
A dark figure fell upon them, concealed from above by one of the basalt shelves. Clay shifted to his right, bringing his dagger up with his left hand. The creature landed square upon the polished steel blade, and it let out a terrible noise-a scream that sounded like the combined anguish of a man and a wolf.
Still unable to make out what was attacking him, Clay pulled his impaled blade from the creature and swung back across its body. The beast lifted its head, its eyes locking with Clay's. The captain's dagger connected with the creature's neck, and the beast slumped to the ground, thrashing once then falling still.
Clay stepped back from the body. For lack of a better name, the creature on the ground before him was a dwarf. It was short and squat, and it's arms, chest, and legs were thick with ropy muscle. But other than general size and shape, the thing had no other resemblance to the civilized Tabor.
"Tabor, it's your cousin," quipped the half-ore.
"Laugh it up, pig boy," spat the dwarf.
"Enough." Clay leaned over the creature and asked, "What is this thing?"
"Looks like a wild dwarf," Tabor replied.
"A wild dwarf?"
"Not our greatest moment," Tabor admitted.
A loud hoot echoed through the chamber, and there wasn't time for further discussion. More of the scraggly figures dropped from the overhead shelves, filling the room. Clay and his mates were under attack by nearly two dozen wild dwarves.
In an instant Tabor had his rapier out and skewered the first of the mangy dwarves through the gut. Hadar ran another through with his stump knife. Mansa grabbed one by the forearms, locked into a grapple, but that was all Clay saw. The chamber turned into a flurry of claws and flying steel. The pirate captain knocked one attacker to the ground, burying a thrown dagger in his eye socket. Dodging left and right, slashing at eyes and avoiding teeth, he danced with the growling foes.
At one point he heard Mansa shout some words of praise to Umberlee. There was a brief flash of yellow light and half of the dwarves cowered from the portly pirate as if they had seen a pit fiend. In the clearing they left, Clay could see the bodies of at least half a dozen of the wild dwarves, lying at the feet of his mates. He'd killed three himself, and several were either cowering against the far wall or outright fleeing the chamber.
Hadar cut another through the belly, lifting a second off the ground with his good hand and hurling it into the bubbling lava. The creature let out a howling wail, and it thrashed like a man overboard in a tempest. Tendrils of black smoke rose from the dwarf's body, and its sustained cry of pain grew in pitch. Those bits of exposed flesh that weren't already submerged in the magma burst into flame, and in a flash of orange-yellow, the flailing dwarf was consumed.
Two of the wild dwarves stood before Tabor, menacing him with their claws, but the well-dressed pirate held them both at bay with the tip of his rapier. He was cut across the face, and his normally well-kept pantaloons had a large tear across his thigh. Though bloodied, he looked no worse for the fight than just a couple of scrapes.
T
he half-ore was another story. From head to toe he was covered in blood. There was no way to know if it was his own or the blood of his foes. Most of the time, he wielded his stump knife with great finesse. But sometimes his bloodlust got to him, and he became a bit more messy.
"What I wouldn't give to be back in the Copper Coronet right now," mumbled the captain under his breath.
Clay remained mostly untouched. The first of the mangy creatures had caught hold of his left hand with its grimy claws. He had a painful cut along his thumb and down his forearm, but he'd had worse. During the course of the fight, all four pirates had worked their way into the middle of the room. They were precariously close to the pool of lava, and the captain took a step back from the edge, just for good measure.
Turning to check on Mansa, he heard the first mate yell, "Look out!"
Clay glanced up just in time to see another wave of dwarves climbing toward them. Unlike those they had fought in the first wave, some carried heavy clubs and several even had good steel weapons. If it was the whole tribe, Clay had no intention of parlaying with their leader.
"Run!" he shouted.
Reaching the opening on the other end, Clay glanced back over his shoulder. Tabor was right on his heels. Mansa was several steps behind, and Hadar was covering the rear. There must have been at least fifty wild dwarves already on the cavern floor, and more poured down the walls.
Ducking his head, Clay plunged himself into, the pitch-black tunnel, fleeing what was surely a massacre. His right hand on the wall, his eyes open as wide as they would go, Clay charged through the tunnel as fast as his feet could carry him. At any moment he expected to be knocked flat by a low hanging stalagmite. Behind him he could hear the labored breathing of his mates and the cacophony of footsteps of their pursuers.
The dark cavern took a sharp right turn, and Clay nearly lost his balance making the corner.
"Hard starboard," he shouted, then he dashed on.
Around the corner, the light began to grow. Bursting out of the darkness, Clay entered a large, hollowed-out chamber. The floor roiled and popped, being little more than a lake of molten lava. A narrow ledge snaked its way halfway across the chamber along the cavern walls. Overhead, huge stalactites hung from a shadowy ceiling, looking like inverted mountaintops.
In the center of the molten lake, splayed out over a mound of hardened black stone were five glowing pillars arranged in a semicircle. They seemed to defy everything about the place. Made from a translucent blue stone lit from inside by a brilliant white light, the pillars looked like huge icicles, light and cool in the smoldering bowls of an active volcano. In the center of the crystals, inscribed on the basalt of the cavern floor, was a series of arcane runes, lit just like the pillars, each touching the next until together they made a half-moon shape. At the focal point of the two crescents sat a tremendous gemstone.
"Praise the Bitch Queen," blurted Mansa.
The first mate froze, his eyes locked on the precious stone as if it were a siren. As big as the world's largest half ling, the teardrop-shaped topaz glowed a deep orange-red, lit by the molten lava.
"The dragon's egg," whispered Clay.
The island the egg sat upon was surrounded on all sides by burbling lava, except for a small walkway that led to a large opening at the far end of the cavern.
The first of the dwarves began pouring into the chamber. The mangy creatures seemed to almost roll over one another in a frenzy to reach the four pirates. Hadar was already in a crouch, ready to take the first of them. Tabor pushed past Mansa to back up the half-ore. Balancing on the ledge of hardened lava, he held his rapier poised to strike.
"We're trapped," Clay said as he looked to the hardened lava island. It was too far to jump. He pulled his daggers and prepared to fight. "If you've got any bright ideas or last words, now would be a good time to voice 'em."
The scrabbling sounds of the wild dwarves racing around the edge of the chamber came to an abrupt stop. The riling mass turned toward the small entrance to the cavern and collectively dropped to their knees.
Through the sudden silence, a voice boomed through the cave, "Who dares enter the chamber of Ras Nsi?"
From out of the darkness a figure appeared. Tall and lean, his skin looked pale and unhealthy even in the ruddy red glow of the molten lake. His eyes were sunken and his head shaved. But the most remarkable feature was a blue triangle, tattooed in the middle of the man's forehead.
Clay turned to Hadar and asked, "Ras Nsi?"
The half-ore replied, "A bara who hunted down and exterminated the Eshowe people for their crimes against Ubato." Hadar glanced back at his captain. "That was four thousand years ago."
"You recognize that mark?" Clay asked, pointing to his own forehead.
"It's from Mezo," said the half-ore. "The holy city."
"What does it mean?"
Hadar's lip curled up, and he turned his gaze to the tattooed man.
"It means he's a criminal," said the half-ore, "and he's been banished from the city."
"Aye," said the captain. "The kind of man who gives respectable criminals a bad name."
The tattooed man walked farther into the room, around several of the prostrate dwarfs.
"Bow to Ras Nsi," he bellowed. "I command you."
"We are the officers of Expatriate, the scourge of the Shining Sea," Clay shouted back. "We take commands from no one."
The tattooed man raised his hands in the air and began chanting. His voice grew deeper, echoing off the basalt walls, doubling then redoubling as it built upon itself. Then he bit off his last word, throwing his arms out to his sides.
The shadows seemed to coalesce, unhitching themselves from the basalt and wrapping themselves around the pale, tattooed man. His body began to grow, changing shape. His head lifted toward the top of the cavern. His arms extended, turning long and wispy, unfolding and unfolding again until they looked like the sails of a pirate ship. And his fingers grew sharp, transforming into wicked-looking claws.
The man claiming to be Ras Nsi transformed completely into a skeletal, undead dragon. Clay swallowed hard.
"That's a pretty good trick for a guy four thousand years old," said the captain.
The undead dragon clawed at the ground once, and opened it skeletal mouth with a screech. Jags of lightning shot from the creature's open jaw, banishing the remaining shadows with an eerie blue-white light.
All four pirates scattered, diving to the deck. Clay felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as the magical bolts struck the wall just over his head and ricocheted toward the ceiling. The magical energies bounced back and forth between two stalactites, and bits of broken stone crumbled to the floor.
A loud snap filled the chamber, and Clay looked up to see the larger of the two stalactites shake once then plummet toward him. Kicking his feet over his head, the pirate captain rolled backward. Coming to his feet, Clay hurled himself against the cavern wall, trying to make his body as small as possible.
The tip of the stalactite impacted the floor, just where Clay had been lying. The stone shelf collapsed under the weight, and the inverted mountaintop slipped sideways into the molten lake. Toppling to one side, the broken end of the stalactite crashed down atop the hardened lava island right beside the dragon's egg.
The other three pirates got to their feet, and so too did the wild dwarves.
"We'll never take 'em lads," shouted the captain.
With that, Clay jumped on the fallen stalactite and made for the other side as if he were running across a boarding plank. The blackened stone hadn't fully come to rest, and it shifted as the captain crossed it. Used to the shifting movement of the ocean, Clay took one more step then leaped over the lake of lava toward the island at its center. For a brief moment, the pirate captain hung in the air, his legs suspended over nothing but instant burning death. Then his toe touched down, and he dived forward, clawing at the solid rock.
The sharp pumice tore at his hands and shredded his pantaloons, but the tin
y island was stable, and he wasn't sinking into the lava. Scrambling to his feet, he moved away from the edge and turned to help his mates.
Tabor and Hadar were already across the makeshift boarding plank. The dwarf leaped off, tumbling once then coming to his feet with a practiced flair. The half-ore was less dramatic, but his strong legs hurled him over the molten lake without much difficulty.
Mansa, however, was a different story.
The first mate had lost his balance, and he clung to the side of the slowly sinking stalactite. Right behind him, the wild dwarves had made it to the edge and were beginning to climb onto the stone bridge.
Without blinking, Clay jumped back onto the perilous basalt column.
"Hadar, Tabor, grab hold of this end."
The dwarf and the half-ore did as they were told.
With two great bounding leaps, Clay was at his first mate's side. With one hand he grabbed the back of Mansa's tunic. With the other, he hurled one of his daggers at the first of the oncoming wild dwarves.
The mangy little creature took the blade in the chest and reeled back, falling into the next dwarf and blocking the path.
With Clay's help, Mansa managed to get to his knees.
"Good enough," said the captain.
Turning around, Clay charged back toward the island, the egg, and his two other mates, partially dragging Mansa behind him.
"Shove it in," he shouted.
Hadar and Tabor didn't hesitate. Both men leaned in and pushed the stalactite with all of their might. The column made a brief grinding sound, then the end that had landed on the island came free.
Clay pulled Mansa forward and shouted, "Jump, you swabbie."
He hurled himself once again over the bubbling lake of lava. One instant he was in midair, the next he was crashing into Tabor and flopping to the ground.
Mansa had a similar landing, smashing into the solid, outstretched arms of the half-ore.
Without the support of the island the fallen stalactite turned sideways and slipped completely under the scorching lava. Those wild dwarves still standing on it fell in as well, trashing momentarily then dissolving in a cone of flame and smoke.
Realms of the Dragons vol.1 a-9 Page 11
