“And the track is fresh, I’d guess about a day old,” the elf continued.
“Not the lair of the dead blue dragon?” Rig asked, his voice suddenly quiet. He swallowed hard and glanced at Palin. “The lance is on the ship. I didn’t think I’d need it for a dead dragon’s lair. We’d better get out of here before it’s too late.”
“Late too much,” came a deep, rasping voice from the lair’s entrance.
Panic seized the quartet. As one, they turned to face the speaker. The creature was the color of baked mud, mottled in places. Dragonlike in form, it had scales and skin covering most of its body, with patches on its belly that looked like clumps of gravel. The beast’s leathery wings resembled those of a bat’s, and its snout was long and pointed, filled with a double row of sharp teeth that clacked together menacingly. Large pear-shaped eyes the color of the night sky bored into the foursome.
The creature flicked its barbed tail, flexed the claws on its hind feet and took a step closer. It had no front legs, only the wings (hat were barbed on the tips and looked as formidable as talons. Its wingspan must have measured almost fifty feet, and its neck was long and supple like a giant constrictor. The motion of its wings sent the sand on the floor rushing away.
“A wyvern,” Palin noted.
“The brown dragon the lizard mentioned ” Feril said.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Blister said, a hint of awe creeping into her voice.
“At least it’s not a real dragon,” Rig said, relaxing only a little. “And it certainly couldn’t have made that print.” He drew his cutlass. The blade gleamed in the light from Palin’s glowing orb. “And it’s not nearly as big as the thing that killed Shaon. I can take it.”
“Take what?” the wyvern growled. “Something steal? Mad be master.”
“I didn’t think wyverns could talk,” Palin whispered to Feril.
“They can’t,” she answered.
“What find?” Another voice, as harsh as chalk being drawn across slate, reverberated in the cavern. “Something find?”
The quartet watched as a second wyvern emerged. It was slightly smaller than the other, and looked nearly identical. Its barbed tail swished back and forth, and it craned its neck around the edge of its fellow wyvern’s outstretched wing so it could get a better look.
“People” the smaller wyvern announced. “Found people. Supposed to be here?”
“Don’t know,” the other answered. “Weren’t here when left. Now here. Hot when left. Now cool. People came between hot and cool. Stupid people.”
Rig’s hand clenched tighter around the hilt of his cutlass. His dark eyes darted back and forth between the two wyverns.
“Searching for a dragon’s treasure was a wonderful idea,” Feril whispered to the mariner. She cocked her head in Palin’s direction. “Studying a dragon’s lair would teach us a few things, you said. If you had both listened to me, we’d be on our way to Southern Ergoth.”
“It could be worse,” the kender offered. “There could be more of them—or the dragon that made that print.”
“I feel much better,” the mariner muttered.
“Stop talk. Surrender,” the large one insisted. Its eyes focused on Rig. “Drop shiny sticker. Now.”
“No!” Rig bellowed. His feet churned over the sand-covered floor as he closed the distance to the larger beast. He raised his blade high above his head and brought it down in a sweeping motion, slicing through the hide of the wyvern’s belly. The slash wasn’t very deep, and the creature howled more in surprise than pain.
“Not they surrender,” the smaller observed, seemingly nonplussed by Rig’s attack. “Do what now?” it asked its companion. “Do something?”
“Catch people,” the large wyvern replied as it dodged Rig’s second blow. “Give to master.”
“Give to Storm Over Krynn when comes!” the other exclaimed. “Idea good.”
The Storm Over Krynn, Palin mouthed. “This is Khellendros’s lair! We’ve got to get out of here!”
“Khellendros? The dragon overlord?” Blister shouted. She thrust her gloved hand into the bag at her side, and her fingers rumbled over an assortment of oddities she kept there. At last she was rewarded, and tugged free a sling. The kender filled it with the next object she grasped—a walnut—and she twirled the sling above her head, then swung it forward. The nut spun free toward the smaller wyvern, striking it on the nose.
“People sting!” it squawked.
Palin blotted out the sounds around him and concentrated on the globe in his hand. He watched the colors intensify and felt the warmth grow on his palm. When it became so hot it practically burned him, the sorcerer let the globe fall to the cave floor and continued to focus on it.
At the same time, Feril dropped to her stomach and splayed her hands in front of her, brushing furiously away at the sand until her fingers touched the cool stone beneath. She felt the smoothness, hard and ancient and powerful. She closed her eyes and let her senses drift away from her, seeping into the stone, merging with it. The Kagonesti felt strong and heavy, sluggish and immoveable and primeval. She felt the sand atop the stone, the feet of her companions, the heat of Palin’s magical fire, and the clawed talons of the wyverns.
Be like water, she urged the rock. Flow with me. Feril felt the rock responding to her mental commands, and it became soft like clay. She struggled to dig her fingers into the stone. “Softer,” she entreated the rock. “Flow like water. Hurry.” She was quickly rewarded; her hands sank into the liquid stone, cool and thick like mud. Her fingers worked furiously, sketching a stream with wavy lines. “Away from me now. Run like a river.”
“Fire hurt! Don’t like hurt,” the smaller wyvern complained.
Palin had built his orb of flame into a veritable bonfire, and now a gout of fire streaked toward the smaller wyvern. The creature’s chest and one of its wings were badly singed. It flapped madly to put the fire out and cool itself. The sorcerer concentrated on the flame again and coaxed another searing lick forth to strike the creature. Its keening yowl echoed in the cavern.
“Not people surrender!” the smaller wyvern screeched. “People hurt us. Burn us! Still catch?”
“Catch not!” the larger wyvern cried. Distracted by the fire and its companion, the creature did not see Rig dart in close. The mariner took another swing, his blade cutting deep this time, leaving a growing line of black blood on the wyvern’s belly. The creature growled and its head shot forward, its clacking jaws narrowly missing the agile mariner as he retreated.
“Kill people!” the smaller wyvern howled as it lashed forward with its tail. The barbed tip struck the mariner’s thigh and Rig gasped and fell to his knees, his sword clattering on the stone.
The mariner fought back a scream as a jolt of pain raced from the barb and into his chest. Trails of fire and ice chased themselves up and down his frame, and he doubled over and shook uncontrollably.
“Fair not! Dark one mine!” the larger wyvern wailed as it edged by its companion and closed on Rig.
“Mine, too!” the smaller claimed, its tail swinging forward again, this time finding its mark in Rig’s shoulder. “Share! One with fire next!” It dodged a tendril of Palin’s flame, and whipped its barb at the mariner’s chest.
Rig couldn’t contain his scream this time. He writhed on the stone as alternating waves of heat and cold consumed him.
“Mine to eat.” The larger wyvern’s lips curled up in the approximation of a smile. Its snakelike neck dropped forward and its head angled toward the squirming mariner. It opened its jaws and then snapped upright as a shower of marbles pelted its snout.
“Leave Rig alone!” the kender shouted, reaching into her pouch to find more things to hurl. She filled her sling again and quickly sent a shower of buttons and shiny rocks at the wyverns. Then she rushed to Rig’s side and started tugging him out of the way.