With a strangled shout, Dram charged the creature from behind. The dwarf’s axe split the spawn’s head open, and it collapsed, one wing flopping into the pool of acid left from its earlier blast. Carbo and Sulfie climbed to their feet, wide-eyed and trembling.
Jaymes had his sword in his hand and was looking up at where the dragon spawn had been lurking. He spotted a platform high up in a sturdy tree. Another black, reptilian form crouched there with slitted eyes-then the second dragon spawn leaped at him, spitting acid. He twisted away so that only a few drops landed on his cape and trousers, foaming on the woolen cloth.
The spawn landed a few feet away, hissing and flapping in menace. Glowering, Jaymes twisted the hilt of the sword in his hands. Immediately the weapon blazed to life, blue flames running up and down its keen steel edge. The dragon spawn recoiled, rearing onto its hind legs-but its reaction was too slow. With twin slashes, the warrior gashed its breast, then cut its head from its lashing neck. He stepped on the acid that hissed and bubbled on the ground but quickly wiped his boots on some ferns. The acid ate away at the plants, spewing foul gas as it soaked into the dirt.
Both spawn bled greenish, viscous blood from their wounds. Jaymes scanned the treetops. The swamp was utterly silent-no longer were the birds cawing and frogs croaking. For the moment, there was no sign of another threat.
“Quick-into the pit!” whispered Dram. “Get out of sight!”
He uncoiled his rope and tied it to a tree, tossing the other end across the mud and into a hole nearby the others had not noticed. It looked to be about thirty feet deep. Carbo descended quickly, hand over hand, followed by Sulfie, and Jaymes. They all scaled downward until their feet struck the bottom of a muddy chamber. Dram came last.
Enough daylight filtered down for Jaymes to make out several tunnels branching outward from this round subterranean lair. The air smelled terrible, and they had to strain not to choke or cough, blinking watery eyes, covering their noses as best they could. The human found that if he bent, he could breath a little easier-the worst of the vapors seemed to rise toward the damp and dripping ceiling, flowing up and out the vent hole.
“Does this smell like your brother too?” Dram asked.
“Yep. Follow the stink,” Carbo urged. “I can’t see!”
Jaymes drew the sword he had sheathed during the descent, and once again flames flickered along the blade. The blue light was faint but enough for them to make out a few details. The chamber showed signs of crude excavation, as if animals had burrowed it out of the soft dirt. There were no shoring timbers supporting the ceiling or arching above the tunnel mouths for four small passages leading deeper.
“Over here,” Sulfie said, sniffing at one of the passages. “Pete’s over here, somewhere!”
They moved into the passage that boasted the worst stink, straining to see in the murk. The flickering sword helped a little. At least the side passage had a high enough ceiling that even Jaymes could walk upright. Roots and tendrils dangling down looked, in the blue illumination, like furry, wriggling tentacles, and they eyed these warily as they progressed.
Shortly they came to a fork, where the wide passage began a gradual descent and a smaller corridor continued on another level. The two gnomes sniffed carefully but could not reach a consensus.
“Might as well try the wide one,” Dram suggested. “It gets more use, seems like.”
Jaymes took the lead, holding the sword at his shoulder so the others could see better. The floor was slimy with rivulets of water. With each forward step the path seemed to get steeper, and Jaymes began to slip and slide.
The warrior paused, squinting ahead.
“Unless Salty Pete has grown gills, this is the wrong way,” he declared. “There’s more and more water down there, filling the whole tunnel. Looks like this might be an underwater bolt-hole.”
“No gills-so let’s try the other way,” Sulfie said. Dram extended a hand to help the warrior back up the steep, slick slope. Soon they reached the previous juncture and this time took the narrower corridor.
They had not gone far before they spotted the glow of firelight ahead, spilling into the corridor from a large room off to a side. Jaymes doused the sword-fire, and they all crept forward.
They came to a chamber that looked like a crude blacksmith’s shop, with a mound of coals glowing in a huge pit and several cluttered benches along the far wall. A small figure bustled about, tossing logs onto the fire, then running back to stir something in a large cauldron.
“Pete!” shouted Sulfie, rushing forward.
The gnome looked up, gaping in surprise, then wrapped his arms around his sister and brother in a frantic hug. He was bearded like Carbo, though with a shock of graying hair where his brother was bald.
“No! Yes! You guys!” he declared. “Wow-I can’t believe it! After all this time. Have I got a story to tell you! You’d never believe-” He paused, looking around in confusion. “Wait,” he said. “How come Sheedra let you in here?”
“Who’s Sheedra?” Dram asked.
A slithering figure with dark scales, invisible in the shadows, slid past the doorway. Something huge and black.
Jaymes spun, his sword in his hands, but he was too late. A large, gray rock tumbled into place, blocking the doorway as neatly as a cork in a bottle.
They were trapped.
CHAPTER TWENTY — FIVE
Jaymes and Dram hurled themselves at the boulder, driving their shoulders against the slick stone surface, legs pumping, boots churning on the muddy floor as they strained to move it out of the way. They gasped and grunted, strained and cursed, finally collapsing.
The rock hadn’t budged an inch.
“It weighs too much. You’ll never be able to get it out of there. Even the dragon spawn can’t move it. Only Sheedra can,” Salty Pete explained.
“Who in Reorx’s name is Sheedra!” demanded Dram, between gasps for air. He sat in the mud, his back against the immovable rock.
“She’s the black dragon who lives here. She uses that rock to keep me locked in when she goes away. Now I guess she’s using it to keep you guys locked in here too.”
“Why hasn’t she killed you?” Jaymes asked, shaking his head. “Two years in a dragon’s lair must be some kind of record.
“Oh, she protects me, actually. The spawns would have pulled me apart and eaten me up right away, if not for her,” Pete admitted.
“Why?” asked Sulfie, as she glanced at the various kettles and cauldrons around the firepit.
“I think she wanted someone to talk to. She even sings, a little, and the spawns don’t care about singing or talking. They’re pretty stupid.”
“Great. Violent and stupid, too. How many spawn are there around here anyway?” asked Dram.
Pete shrugged. “Maybe twelve. Or a few more. They all look alike, so it’s hard to count them, and some are in the lair while others are always prowling around in the swamp. I never see the whole group of them all together.”
“It’s so terrible, you being kept prisoner down here,” said Carbo.
“Well, it hasn’t been so bad. Sheedra lets me eat better than her spawn,” Salty Pete explained. “Probably because I keep her fire going, and I make her stuff. I think that’s why she had the dragon spawn capture me. They can’t build and can’t cook either. Like I say, they’re pretty stupid.”
The little gnome’s face brightened proudly. “She really likes my frog chowder.” Then his expression darkened, and he shook his head sadly. “Not that I would recommend it. Nothing like the carrots and lettuce we used to get in Dungarden. And beef! Oh, I remember beef!”
“Tell us more about Sheedra,” Dram encouraged.
“Well, she’s a black dragon, like I said. I think she’s been living here a long time-one of her songs is about fighting the Golden General in the Lance War. Her friends all got killed in some big battle, and she got her wing burned off and crawled into the Brackens and made this her hideout. She’s lived here since then.”