“Back to the entrance above?” Elyn asked.
“Aye,” answered Thork, “for it has four advantages: one, there are sheltering boulders at each side, giving us concealment; two, he will be coming from sunshine into darkness; three, he will have less room to move freely and thus will be easier to smite; and, four, he will not be alerted by the light of our lantern, for we will not need it there at the opening.”
“If what they say about Dragonsight is true,” said Elyn, “then be it light or dark, it is of no moment, for whether or no we have a lit lantern, he will see us, no matter. And if what they say about a Dragon’s powers is true, then whether or no we are concealed will not matter either, for he will know we are hidden within. Yet I, too, think the entrance is the best place for ambuscade, for he will be alighting ’pon the ledge, and mayhap be off balance. If so, then that may be the time to strike, between the eyes in the moment of his awkwardness. If not, then when he thrusts his head into the opening. . ”
And so, back up the slanted tunnel floor they went, back through the twists and turns, back past the belching fumaroles, back out from the heat and toward the day. And behind, a great gleaming pile of riches beyond imagination fell into darkness once more. And ahead lay the place where two warriors sought to waylay a Dragon.
Yet, ere the twain reached the opening, while it was yet some hundred paces or so removed, they heard an enraged roar.
Black Kalgalath had returned.
The two sprinted toward the wide mouth of the cavern, Elyn shouting: “I’ll take the right side, you take the left!” knowing that the right-handed Dwarf could swing harder, swing truer, if the opponent were to his weapon side rather than to his shield.
Again came an earsplitting roar, closer.
Heart pounding, Elyn skidded into position, partially concealed by the rocks flanking the cavern entrance. And she could see the great ebon bulk of Black Kalgalath descending, wings flared and churning, flailing directly toward the cavern opening, legs extended, nearly to the ledge, landing.
Thork, too, saw the great Drake’s vast leathery pinions hammering air, the Dragon ungainly as he brought his massive bulk down upon the shelf. Be he off balance, then that may be the time to strike. Between the eyes in the moment of his awkwardness.
Thork raised the hammer and stepped forth, Kalgalath shrieking in anger, Elyn’s voice lost: “No, Thork, no! Not yet!”
The wing blast whelmed down upon the Dwarf, dashing him backwards, knocking his feet from under him, the hammer lost to his grip and skidding aclatter down the sloping stone into the tunnel, Thork rolling, gaining his feet, darting for the Kammerling, his back to the Dragon.
And Black Kalgalath, now upon the ledge, drew in his breath.
Adon! The Dragonfire! Thork will be-No!
Elyn stepped forth from concealment, shouting, “Wyrm! Here!” and she raised her silver-runed black-oxen horn to her lips and blew a ringing blast: Raw! Raw! Raw!
And Black Kalgalath turned his head and loosed his fire, the flame roaring forth in a torrent, whelming into Elyn, blasting her backwards, slamming her into stone, fire searing over her, burning, destroying.
Thork turned with the hammer in hand and saw her whelmed back-“Elyn!”-hurled to the stone by raging fire. And without thought for his own safety he ran to her and knelt at her side, cradling her in his arms.
And she was burned beyond recognition.
“Elyn!”
She could not see, or feel, yet she heard Thork’s voice-“Elyn!”-calling from far off, the sound of wind all about her as she fell down and down, down toward the Night, down toward swift Death. And she struggled to call out to Thork, to call out what was in her heart, to cry out that one paramount thing ere the darkness came, to speak one last time ere the wings of Night embraced her, ere it was too late, to speak one last time unto her Thork:
“Beloved,” she whispered, and then she was gone.
And Black Kalgalath roared his laughter and stalked forth, thrusting his wide Drake’s head into the entrance, adamantine claws set to rend this weakling before him. Yet in that moment his senses detected that there was a token of power within.-The Kammerling! Fear shot through him, his Dragon eyes seeing past the glamour to the true hammer below. Yet wait! It is not empowered!
“Fools! Did you think to defeat me? I am Kalgalath, slayer of fools.”
At the sound of Kalgalath’s voice, Thork gently lowered Elyn to the stone. Weeping in rage, he took up his shield and fitted it unto his arm, and turned toward this killer who had slain his Elyn, Thork’s very soul consumed by a wrath that penetrated into unfathomed depths of fury, of anger unplumbed, as he reached for the hammer.
“Pah, fool!”-Kalgalath’s voice was filled with scorn-“You know not even how to bring potency to the token.” And he drew in his breath to cleanse his cavern of these vermin, as Thork took up the hammer, the Dwarf’s rage beyond bearing.
And the moment that his grip took the helve in hand, the Kammerling flared into life, the glamour burning away, bright light erupting.
And flame blasted forth from Kalgalath’s throat, thundering over Thork. But the Dwarf had raised his shield, and fire burned away the cloth covering, searing to the glittering skin below. Yet this was no ordinary shield: this was Dragonhide; and the burning jet splashed upon the adamant surface and was fended; flaring outward all about, flames roaring past. Even so, Thork’s leggings were set ablaze, and his hair and beard, yet in his wrath he paid no heed to the burning, for in that moment the Dragonfire died, and a rainbow glitter sprang forth before the Dwarf, the shield opalescent and shining.
And the Rage Hammer burned in Thork’s right hand, powered by a fury beyond bearing, glaring into Black Kalgalath’s eyes, both inner and outer, the shattering light blinding him, the Drake backing away.
“Yaahhh!” cried Thork, running forward, with shining shield and flaring hammer, his face distorted beyond recognition, clothes and beard and hair aflame.
And driven by all the power and fury of his wide Dwarven shoulders, CRACK! Thork smashed the burning Rage Hammer into the forehead of the Fire-drake, the hammer crashing into and through the skull, embedding in bone, lodging in the Dragon’s brain, driving him hindward, Black Kalgalath roaring in agony, thrashing about like a great snake, spewing flame, wings windmilling, teetering on the edge of the ledge, blazing Thork grimly hanging on to the hammer helve, trying to jerk the Kammerling free, trying to smite the Drake once more as he was wrenched back and forth again and again by Black Kalgalath’s wild flailing.
And in his uncontrolled lashing, the Dragon smashed Thork into the side of the mountain, whelming the burning Dwarf against stone, stunning him, the Drake flinging his head back, Thork, bedazed, losing his grip, hurling free, and plummeting like a guttering torch down the face of the sheer stone wall below.
With great brazen bellows, Black Kalgalath took to the air, flames gushing, his flight wild and looping, beyond his control.
Up and up he went, spinning up through the wide canyons between the towering clouds above, up and up, to fly past seeing in the high blue sky beyond.
And as Thork fell afire, below him the stone split, and a great hand reached out and caught him! and drew him inside, into the living stone itself!
Huge forms crowded about, monstrous hands smothering the flames, great crystalline eyes peering: sapphirine, emeraldine, rubescent, xanthic.
Yet the burned Dwarf was stunned, uncomprehending, seeing only a glittering in the darkness, knowing not that these were Utruni, ere blackness consumed his mind.
And then from one of the figures came a deep voice-“Dakhu!”-the word urgent; and all gemstone eyes turned upward, as if sighting something far above the mountain, peering past the dark stone roof of the crevice they had drawn Thork into.