“What about the other two?” asked Pete.
“We take ’em with us,” Jaymes suggested. “Let’s pile some dirt around them over in the corner.”
Finally they had one keg positioned, while the other two were, hopefully, insulated from the anticipated explosion.
“Let’s light the fuse, and then go down that hallway and around the corner, far into my room. There’s a storage closet in the back where we can shut the door and hide,” Carbo said. “You might want to put your hands over your ears, too.”
Pete turned his face to the massive rock. “Oh, Mistress?” he called. “Mistress Sheedra?”
“Yes, Petey?” came the sibilant response.
“Put your ear real close to the rock. You will hear me torture the nasties before you hear their dying screams.”
“Oh, Petey. I like that.”
They quickly made a fuse out of the same black powder. After a final examination of the keg, Pete touched a spark to the line of powder, which immediately began to fizzle and pop, burning toward the keg. The companions dashed into the hall, around the corner, and down the narrow hallway into Pete’s small sleeping chamber. They were barely able to jam themselves into the small closet and pull the door shut, lacing their hands over their ears, before they heard a stunning explosion that rocked the closet, knocked the wind from their lungs, and left their ears ringing.
The closet door sagged inward but held. Jaymes was the first to recover, staggering to his feet, pulling the gnomes and dwarf up too. He charged out of the room and up the hall with his sword in his hand. The shop was revealed as a mess of wreckage and choking smoke. Large cauldrons had been overturned, the benches smashed, with smoldering bits of debris everywhere. The smoke was thick, but he saw that the blast had worked and the heavy boulder had been expelled into the outer corridor by the explosion.
Wasting no time, he charged into the hall and looked around, waving his hand to clear away the smoke. The rock had been tossed six or eight feet. A taloned foot and a slinky black body stuck out from under it, twitching. Its huge head was out of sight.
Dram came out and joined him, chuckling at the sight.
“Musta been listening ‘real close’ at the door, like Pete suggested. I guess she got popped over the head.”
“Let’s get going-come on!” Jaymes barked.
By then the three gnomes had emerged into the hallway, Carbo and Salty Pete each carrying one of the extra kegs of powder they had prepared. Together the companions raced up the muddy corridor, into the adjoining passage, back to the pit. With profound relief Jaymes saw the rope still dangled from the opening overhead.
“Quick!” Dram urged, racing to the rope, taking hold of the bottom to brace it for the gnomes. Overhead the sky was a hazy blue, a promise of freedom and fresh air awaiting them.
The daylight vanished, replaced by a shadow darker than night. The black dragon loomed above them, the bulk of her massive body blocking out the light.
“Uh-oh!” Pete cried suddenly, pointing upward. “It’s Sheedra. She must have gotten out from under the boulder, and slipped out her bolt hole, and come around here. I think she’s mad!”
“Right, back the way we came!” cried Dram. He pushed Carbo and Sulfie, who had just reached the bottom of the rope, then followed them, sprinting back toward Pete’s workshop.
Sheedra slithered down through the hole like a monstrous snake diving into a rabbit’s burrow. She was immense, black, and scaly, with muscular shoulders and a wedge of a head that lashed from side to side, yellow eyes staring into the darkness. Her huge wings flapped, completely filling the round chamber, and she hissed with a sound of a volcanic steam leak.
“Petey!” she called, her voice stern, crackling. “Nasties tried to kill me!”
“Run!” screamed Sulfie, sprinting as fast as her little legs could carry her. Her brothers, and Dram, came behind. Jaymes, however, stepped into the darkness of a side corridor, crouching low, his blade-flames extinguished-held low.
“There are the nasties-hssst!” spat the monstrous serpent, her forked tongue flashing in the darkness.
Serpentine jaws gaped. The warrior heard a gurgle of bubbling pressure, then a gout of caustic acid streamed past him. Someone screamed loudly down the twisting passage.
Jaymes twisted the hilt of his sword in his two hands, outlining him and the weapon in blue flame. The dragon took no notice of him, however, slithering after the fleeing gnomes and dwarf.
The warrior raised the sword before him, flames surging brightly from the blade. Another stream of acid spewed down the corridor, away from him-the mere vapors brought tears to his eyes.
Jaymes stepped into the corridor and from behind charged the black dragon, which was coiling to fling herself after the gnomes. She roared loudly as the flaming sword pierced her skin. Sheedra’s head snapped around, like a striking cobra, but the swordsman was already beside her, and with one brutal slash he chopped through her neck. Drooling acid, jaws gaping, the black head tumbled free. Sheedra’s body thrashed wildly, its huge tail smashing Jaymes to the side. By the time he sat up, however, the corpse was gurgling, and the black dragon was dead.
“Carbo’s burned!” Sulfie was sobbing, as she and Pete carried the stricken gnome back into the chamber. Carbo’s tunic was half dissolved, and the upper part of his body and his head were covered with terrible wounds.
“There’ll be more spawn coming,” Pete warned, as Dram scrambled up the rope. “We gotta get him out of here fast!”
“Then climb for all you’re worth!” the human said. “I’ll take Carbo.”
As gently as possible Jaymes picked up the wounded gnome, who was moaning in pain, his beard singed away by the blast. The warrior held him under one arm and tugged on the line with the other, relying on the dwarf to haul him up
At the lip of the hole Sulfie and Salty Pete grabbed their brother. Jaymes pulled himself out, and all the companions were on the ground.
“We’ve got to move!” snapped the human, once again snatching up the injured gnome.
They sprinted for the trail, Dram and Sulfie leading the way, Salty Pete close behind. They darted around the mossy trees, making for the scent of air and glimpse of daylight at the edge of the swamp. Carbo lost consciousness sometime before they reached the edge of the Brackens, but still they ran, splashing through puddles, pushing through the foliage that closed in when the trail petered out. They didn’t slow down until they had burst from the swamp, scaled the embankment, and once again could look down upon the Brackens from the arid safety of the plain.
CHAPTER TWENTY — SIX
A nkhar slept on the ground, just like the rest of his army-no tent or cot to distinguish the leader of the horde from his rugged troops. The long march from Cornellus’s stronghold had made his limbs and eyelids feel heavy. Wrapped in a great bearskin sleeping robe-a gift from Blackgaard’s lancers-he was already bedded down for the night when Laka came to see him.
The half giant welcomed the counsel of his foster mother. They crouched beside the dying embers of his fire, while a dozen painted hobgoblins stood in a ring around them, facing outward and guarding against any approach.
The old crone waved her rattle at Ankhar, the skull talisman she had made from the head of the dead captain of the Garnet knights. The eyes glowed green, and Ankhar watched the bony jaw, still studded with immaculate white teeth, start to move.
“The Crowns are now broken,” hissed the death’s head.
“Shattered and lost.
“They wait for your justice,
“While dreading the cost.”