“What’s that?”
“Help . . . I hope.” Krasus might have warned her not to tell anyone, but surely he did not expect her to leave Falstad guessing. The dwarf might think her mad if she started talking to herself.
Everything is quite visible, the wizard announced, causing her to start. Thank you.
“What’s wrong? Why did you jump?”
“Falstad, you know that the Kirin Tor sent Rhonin on a mission?”
“Aye, and not the foolish one he mentioned, either. Why?”
“This medallion is from the wizard who chose him, who sent him on his true quest—part of which, I think, required Rhonin to enter the mountain.”
“For what reason?” He did not sound at all surprised.
“That has not been made completely clear to me so far. As for this medallion, it enables one of those wizards, Krasus, to speak with me.”
“But I can’t hear anything.”
“That, unfortunately, is how it works.”
“Typical wizardry,” the dwarf remarked, using the same tone of voice he had used when commenting on his hill cousins’ deficiencies.
You had best move on, suggested Krasus. Time is, as they say, of the essence.
“Did something just happen to you? You jumped again!”
“As I said, you cannot hear him, but I can. He wants us to move on. He says he can guide us!”
“He can see?”
“Through the crystal.”
Falstad walked up to the medallion, thrusting a finger at the stone. “I swear by the Aerie that if you play us false, my ghost’ll hunt you down, spellcaster! I swear it!”
Tell the dwarf our goals are similar.
Vereesa repeated the statement to Falstad, who grudgingly accepted it. The elf, too, had reservations, ones she kept to herself. Krasus had said that their goals were “similar.” That did not mean that they were one and the same.
Despite those thoughts, she passed on Krasus’s first instructions to the letter, assuming that he would at least get them inside. His directions seemed peculiar at first, for they forced the pair to circumnavigate part of the mountain in a manner that seemed far too time-consuming. However, the wizard then led them along an easier path that quickly brought them to a tall but narrow cave mouth that Vereesa assumed had to be their way in. If not, then she would certainly have a word with their dubious guide.
An old dwarven mine, Krasus said. The orcs think it leads nowhere.
Vereesa studied it as best she could in the dark. “Why have Rom and his people not used it if it leads inside?”
Because they have been patiently waiting.
She wanted to ask what they waited for, but suddenly Falstad grabbed at her arm.
“Hear that!” the gryphon-rider whispered. “Something coming!”
They backed behind an outcropping—just in time. A fearsome shape strode purposefully toward the area of the cave, hissing as it came. Vereesa noted a draconic head peering around, red orbs faintly glowing in the night.
“And there’s an even better reason why they’ve not used that way before,” Falstad muttered. “Knew it was too good to be true!”
The dragon’s head stiffened. The beast turned toward the general direction of the two.
You must remain silent. A dragon’s ears can be very sharp.
The elf did not bother to relay that unnecessary knowledge. Gripping her sword, she watched as the behemoth took a few steps toward where they hid. Not nearly so great in size as Deathwing, but nonetheless large enough to dispatch her and Falstad with ease.
Wings suddenly stretched behind the head—wings that, with her night vision, the ranger could see had developed malformed. Small wonder this dragon acted as guard dog for the orcs.
And where was its handler, for that matter? The orcs never left a dragon alone, even one cursed never to fly.
A barked command quickly answered that question. From far behind the beast came a floating torch that gradually revealed itself to be in the hand of a hulking orc. In his other hand he carried a sword nearly as long as Vereesa. The guard yelled something to the dragon, who hissed furiously. The orc repeated his order.
Slowly, the beast began to turn from where the pair hid. Vereesa held her breath, hoping that the warrior and his hound would hurry off.
At that moment, the gem in the medallion suddenly flared so bright it lit up the entire area around the outcropping.
“Smother that!” Falstad whispered.
The ranger tried, but it was already too late. Not only did the dragon turn back, but this time the orc reacted, too. Torch and blade before him, he started toward their hiding place. The crimson leviathan stalked behind him, ready to move at his command.
Remove the medallion from around your neck, Krasus commanded. Be prepared to throw it in the direction of the dragon.
“But—”
Do it.
Quickly removing the talisman, Vereesa readied it in her hand. Falstad glanced at his companion, but held his tongue.
The orc drew nearer. Alone, he represented enough of a challenge, but with the dragon at his side, the ranger and her companion had little hope.
Tell the dwarf to step out, reveal himself.
“He wants you to go out there, Falstad,” she muttered, not sure why she even bothered to tell the dwarf such folly.
“Would he prefer I walk into the mouth of the dragon or just lie down in front of the beast and let it gnaw on me at its leisure?”
There is little time.
Again she repeated the wizard’s words. Falstad blinked, took a deep breath, and nodded. Stormhammer ready, he slipped around Vereesa and past the protection of the rocks.
The dragon roared. The orc grunted, tusked mouth widening in an anticipatory grin.
“Dwarf!” he growled. “Good! Was gettin’ bored out here! You’ll make good sport before you’re fed to Zarasz here! He’s been feelin’ hungry!”
“’Tis you and yours who’ll make for good sport, pigface! I was getting a little cool out here! Crushing in your thick skull will warm my bones up, all right!”
Both orc and beast advanced.
Throw the talisman at the dragon now. Be certain it lands near the vicinity of his mouth.
The command sounded so absurd that at first Vereesa doubted that she had heard correctly. Then it occurred to her that perhaps Krasus could cast a spell through the medallion, one that would at least incapacitate the savage creature.
Throw it now, before your friend loses his life.
Falstad! The ranger leapt out, surprising both sentries. She took one fast glance at the orc—then, with expert aim, threw the medallion at the mouth of the dragon.
The dragon stretched forward with equally amazing accuracy, catching the talisman in his jaws.
Vereesa swore. Surely Krasus had not expected that.
However, a peculiar thing happened, one that caused all three warriors to pause. Instead of either swallowing or tossing aside the medallion, the leviathan stood still, cocking his head. In his mouth, a red aura erupted, but one that seemed to have no ill effect on the dragon.
To everyone’s bewilderment, the behemoth sat down.
Not at all pleased by this turn, the orc shouted a command. The dragon, however, did not seem to hear him, instead looking as if he listened to another voice far away.
“Your hound’s found a toy to play with, orc!” mocked Falstad. “Looks like you’ll have to fight your own battles for once!”
In response, the tusked warrior thrust his torch forward, nearly setting the dwarf’s beard ablaze. Cursing, Falstad brought his stormhammer into play, coming close to crushing the orc’s outstretched arm. That, in turn, enabled the guard to make a jab with his sword.
Vereesa stood undecided. She wanted to help Falstad, but did not know if at any moment the dragon might suddenly break out of his peculiar trance and rejoin his handler. If that happened, someone had to be ready to face the beast.