Rounding the corner, Gill was greeted with the antechamber. The empty antechamber. He let out a sigh of relief and took a quick look around, realising he had come to the back of the cavern—it went no farther. His gaze then returned to what he had been trying to ignore while seeing if there was any danger present. Shaped like an enormous bird’s nest was a great pile of gold. Coins, goblets, plate—an example of almost anything that could be made from gold was present. He tried to pick up a coin, but it had been fused to the mass. There was more fortune there than any man could spend in ten lifetimes, but he would need a hammer and a chisel to get it out.
Satisfied that there was nothing else of note present—namely the dragon—Guillot headed back to the main chamber, walking more quickly and taking less care of his footing. He had gone only a few paces into the main chamber when he stubbed his toe on something hard and let out a swear. His heart jumped into his throat, and he scanned the room very carefully in case his exclamation had wakened a slumbering dragon that his initial inspection had missed. When he was satisfied there was no danger, he looked down at what he’d bumped into. The blue glow seemed different around it, not so intense, as though the object was sucking in the light around it.
He knelt, being careful of his spear, and prodded at the thing with a gloved hand. It seemed metallic and was partially buried. Curious, Guillot set down the spear and worked the object free. It was a small spherical pot with a flat bottom and an ornate rim that looked to be carved with symbols; he couldn’t make them out in the odd blue light. It fit neatly into the palm of his hand. To his mind, it was too small to be a drinking vessel—not for the quantities he usually drank, at least. Perhaps it had been used to store spices or something, and the lid had been lost. In the ethereal blue glow, the dull metal looked like pewter, or perhaps lead. In the old stories, dragons were said to have coveted precious metals like gold, silver, and platinum, and this was definitely not any of those.
When he held it closer, he realised there were swirling blue lines on its surface, just like the ones on his sword. He pulled the sword half out of its sheath and tapped the object against the hilt. It rang out like a soft, musical note—just like what happened any time two Telastrian blades were struck against one another—confirming his suspicion that the little bowl was indeed made of Telastrian steel. The blue lines on its surface seemed to be drawing in the glow of his night vision. The ethereal blue glow made the experience so surreal that he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t just imagining it. Nonetheless, it was a curious thing to see.
“What have you got there?” dal Sason said, approaching.
“I don’t know. A small pot of some sort. Seems to be made of Telastrian steel. Worth an absolute fortune back in Mirabay, I reckon.”
“Curious how it got here,” dal Sason said.
“My thoughts exactly,” Guillot said.
“Part of the dragon’s haul of treasure?” dal Sason said.
Guillot laughed. “Oh, you haven’t seen the half of it, but we’ve got a bigger fish to fry, so it’ll have to wait. Leverre, can any of your people tell how long since the dragon was last here?”
“I don’t know, but we can try.” He and the other Spurriers conferred for a moment, then spread out around the cavern and began to do something that looked like they all badly needed to use the outhouse. Dal Sason gave Guillot an uncomfortable look. Guillot shrugged. After the way Hallot had freshened him up, he wasn’t going to criticise magic any time soon.
Leverre opened his eyes and looked straight at Guillot. “It’s been here recently,” he said. He looked at the cup in Gill’s hand. “What’s that?”
“No idea,” Gill said, dropping it into the purse on his belt. “Found it on the ground.”
Leverre opened his mouth to say something, then abruptly turned his head to the cavern’s entrance. “I think it’s coming back!”
Guillot’s heart started to race again. Part of his mind wanted to fall back on his substantial military training and experience, but the voice of doubt screamed that it was all irrelevant, that to use methods applied to other men would get them all burned to a crisp, eaten, then dropped from a great height to fertilise the valley below.
“Spread out,” he said. “Try to take cover. If we can surprise it, all the better, but be prepared for the fact that it might already know we’re here.”
As he looked around for concealment, Gill realised the blue glow had faded and taken on a greenish tinge.
“Leverre,” he said. “The glow is fading.”
Leverre reached forward to touch Guillot’s forehead just as the glaringly bright opening of the cavern was plunged into shade.
“Get down,” Guillot shouted. He grabbed Leverre by the scruff of the neck even as the other man restored his night vision. They fell into the hollow of an outcrop of rock, Guillot letting out a groan as Leverre landed on top of him. The cavern exploded with light and heat as a jet of flame filled the air. Guillot could feel the touch of the super-heated air against his skin, but the outcrop they lay behind spared them from the worst of the blast. Someone had not been so lucky—Guillot could hear an agonised scream from somewhere. His heart sank as he wondered who it was. It sounded like a man’s voice, but there was so much noise in the echoey cavern that he couldn’t tell.
The flames continued for what seemed like an eternity. Gill squeezed his eyes shut as sizzling air rushed over him and wondered how long the beast could keep it up—surely it had to run out at some point?
“Are you all right?” Leverre shouted.
Even so close, it was a struggle to hear him. “Yes. You?”
“It’s hot!”
“I’d noticed.”
As suddenly as it had started, the fire stopped. The cavern fell completely silent; the blood thundering through Guillot’s body was the only sound. He tried to breathe as quietly as he could, difficult though it was with Leverre’s weight on top of him. Would the beast think they were all dead?
“What do we do now?” Leverre said.
Guillot opened his eyes. He could see smoke rising from Leverre’s head where patches of hair had been singed. Patting his own head, Guillot was thankful to find he seemed to have been spared.
“I suppose we should try to kill it,” he said. He looked at his belek spear, which had fallen nearby. The once-thick shaft had been charred to not much more than half its former size. “Do you reckon it has any fire left?”
Leverre looked at him, wide-eyed and silent. Guillot could hear the scratching of the dragon’s feet as it came farther into the cavern. He shuffled out from under Leverre and rolled across the ground to grab the spear. With little alternative, he stood up and turned to face the dragon. Despite his best efforts, he could not stop himself from gasping at what he beheld.
The creature was huge, almost entirely filling the cavern mouth. It was covered in polished black scales, part serpent, part—he didn’t how else to describe it. It stood on four limbs; two enormous wings were neatly folded on its back. Its tail was so long that the end still lay outside the cavern, and he could see several wicked-looking barbs on it. Poised on a long neck extending from muscular shoulders, its head resembled the shape of a dog’s, with an elongated snout containing an array of razor-sharp teeth. A small horn rose at the tip of its nose between two large nostrils, and it had a pair of horns on the crown of its head that curved backwards into wicked points. Its eyes were huge amber orbs; Guillot saw they had black, slit pupils like a cat’s, constantly changing size and shape as the beast regarded its surroundings.