“Damn.” The floor dropped out from under him, and he had to swim now. It was difficult swimming while holding onto the glaive. There was no torchlight here, only scattered patches of luminous moss that clung to the ceiling and helped to guide him. He considered turning around but thought, Maybe that’s what the water was intended to do, dissuade visitors. “I’m a drenched rat in a maze,” he muttered. “I was a fool to think I could find the Black on my own.”
Was it really as simple as Maldred said? The shadow dragon wanted the swamp and didn’t want to fight Sable himself?
“It’s all too simple,” Dhamon decided as he turned down another watery corridor. He didn’t doubt that the shadow dragon wanted the Black dead, but the reason had to be more convoluted than simply desiring the swamp. Things were never so simple as far as dragons were concerned. There had to be another explanation.
“But what?” Dhamon treaded water, finding himself at a juncture of two passageways. “Just what does the damn shadow dragon want? And why does he need me?”
He chose the branch that led off to the right and began swimming a little faster. He heard sibilant voices up ahead, two or three spawn. He could deal with them.
“Did you hear ssssomething?”
“Heard man talking.”
“Where man?”
The spawn voices buzzed, sometimes in the common tongue, sometimes in their odd, hissing language.
“Where man?”
“Man supposssed to be here?”
“Where?”
“Here!” Dhamon shouted as he erupted from the water. He had swum quietly around a curve and entered a cavern, spotting the scaly threesome sitting on a ledge just above the water. He jumped up onto the ledge, swinging the glaive and sending the blade deep into the chest of the closest spawn.
The thing burst into acid before its companions could act, showering Dhamon with the caustic liquid, for he couldn’t jump out of the way in time. Ignoring the pain, he pressed his attack, sweeping the polearm in a wide arc and cutting the second spawn in two. The weapon was indeed enchanted, but Dhamon’s great strength gave it additional power.
“As strong as any four or five men,” he recalled Maldred saying. He was at least as strong as that many men, all because of the shadow dragon.
And if the shadow dragon had planted its magic inside Dhamon a few years ago, as he had claimed, that meant there was indeed nothing simple behind what the dragon wanted. There had to be something intended beyond sending Dhamon after the Black. Just what in the many levels of the Abyss was the true scheme?
“What does the damn dragon want?” Dhamon shouted in frustration.
Hearing him, the last spawn scuttled fearfully backward. It inhaled and breathed, but Dhamon ducked just in time and was hit by little of its hurtful breath.
“I won’t kill you,” Dhamon promised, as he continued to stalk the frightened creature. “If you give me some information.” Now I am truly the liar, he thought. I intend to kill you after you’ve told me what I want to know.
“Man want what?” the spawn asked as it dodged out of Dhamon’s reach.
“I just want out of here. Take me up to the street.”
The spawn glared at him but nodded. “Take you to ssstreet. Yesss.”
“No.” Dhamon inwardly cursed himself for what he was about to say. In a heartbeat’s time he’d made his decision, changed his mind. “Take me to Sable’s lair.” Perhaps, he guessed, the shadow dragon seeks something hidden in the Black’s lair.
The spawn vehemently shook its head and exhaled noisily, but Dhamon hugged the cavern wall and again was spared the acid breath. “Sssable kill me if I do.”
“I’ll kill you if you don’t,” Dhamon shot back. “Besides, Sable might actually reward you for bringing me to her. I’ve caused the overlord all manner of grief.”
“Sssable kill you then,” it said.
“Maybe. Now move.”
They hadn’t traveled more than a few minutes before the passageway became wholly submerged and very wide. Again Dhamon swam, following the spawn, wondering if he was being led to the overlord’s lair or to someplace where a myriad of spawn waited to pounce on him. Eerie sounds came to him as he made his way through the water—growls and groans from creatures that clung to the sides of the rocky walls. The sounds grew, and so did Dhamon’s unease as they broke the surface in the next foul-smelling chamber. He nearly dropped the glaive when his hands started trembling uncontrollably.
“Not much farther,” the spawn told him. It raised a scaly claw and pointed to a shadowed alcove.
“One more tunnel.” It hesitated. “You go by ssself now?”
Despite the few patches of luminous moss, this cavern was all shadows, and it was too dark even to read the expression on the spawn’s face. His unease, his trembling hands—it wasn’t like him.
Dragonfear. That was the only explanation. The spawn was indeed leading him to Sable—or to a lesser dragon serving the overlord.
“You go by ssself?”
“All right. I’ll go alone.”
The spawn sighed with relief and made a move to swim past Dhamon, heading back the way it had come. Though it was difficult to maneuver the blade in the water, Dhamon managed to sweep the glaive like a scythe to cut off the passing spawn’s head. Then Dhamon dropped below the surface to avoid the acid blast.
“Convenient that you spawn leave no corpses,” he muttered. Then he looked to the alcove, took a deep breath, and disappeared below the surface again.
There was no glowing moss here, and so he found his way by feeling along one side of the submerged tunnel. He continued pulling himself along until his lungs ached for air, and then he slowly rose, finding barely an inch between the surface of the water and the rocky ceiling. A few deep breaths and he was under again.
It seemed an interminable journey, and a heavy sense of dread settled in. He rose again minutes later when he noticed the water growing lighter in color. His head silently broke the surface in a chamber whose boundaries he couldn’t discern. A great patch of the luminous moss illuminated enough parts of it, however, for Dhamon to guess he was in a dragon’s lair. Giant crocodiles lounged on outcroppings. Other creatures he couldn’t name clung to spires and ledges. There were things flying somewhere overhead—he could hear the flap of leather wings, but he couldn’t see the creatures, and couldn’t see the ceiling.
His teeth started chattering. Focusing his thoughts on holding onto his weapon, he managed to stave off the worse effects of the dragonfear.
It was Sable’s lair. The Black was there, at the extreme end of where the pale light reached. Curled on a sandy stretch of ground, the overlord slept, coins and gems spilled all around it. The great dragon’s breath was so strong it created a breeze in the cavern, and the sound of its slumber was a constant, sonorous rumble.
Dhamon had seen Sable once before—years ago at the Window to the Stars portal. All the overlords were there, when Malys tried to ascend to godhood and become the next Takhisis. The Black seemed more impressive here, alone, in her dark and malodorous realm. She was huge, eyes as large as boulders, scales thicker than the greatest plate armor. The tip of her tail was as big around as an ancient oak.
Dhamon could feel the power and the evil exuded by the dragon. Spellbound, he wanted to flee while at the same time he wanted to swim closer for a better look. He forcibly controlled his foolish impulse.
Did the shadow dragon desire the Black’s wealth? Certainly the shadow dragon could obtain his own horde. So not wealth. Something magical? What?
Dhamon’s eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath and dropped below the surface, just as Sable opened a massive eye. The overlord suspiciously scanned the chamber. Seeing nothing, she resumed her slumber.