Torrin made his way toward her. Clambering over the loose stone, it was impossible not to make noise. By the time he had reached the spot where she stood, she was glaring down at him.
“I told you not to follow me!” she cried. Her voice was furious, but her face looked anguished, rather than angry. Torrin noticed tear streaks in the dusting of grit that covered her face.
He clambered up onto the slab of stone, noting that it was covered in puddles of long-cold wax that had once been candles. He prayed Eralynn wouldn’t shove him off; she looked so upset he half expected her to.
“I didn’t mean to follow you,” he explained. “It was an accident. But that’s not what matters right now. There’s a dragon in the next cavern, not far from here. A red, by the smell of its breath. I came to warn you that-”
“Get out,” she said abruptly.
“But-”
“Now. You’re intruding on something private.”
“But the dragon-”
“You think I didn’t know about it? What kind of fool do you take me for?” Eralynn said, shaking her head. “That red was blinded, years ago.”
“Did you know that she’s got two young in her nest?” Torrin asked.
“Of course. It’s a breeding year.”
“You… knew?” Torrin bowed his apologies. Yet he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Then why delve now, of all times? Surely you could have come here some time when the dragon wasn’t sitting on its nest?”
Eralynn heaved a heavy sigh. “No, I couldn’t,” she said. “I’m not here to delve. I’m here for the Remembering.” One hand clenched the heart-shaped pendant at her throat.
“Oh,” Torrin said, suddenly realizing why Eralynn always seemed to vanish around the time of the Festival of Remembering. “This is where you disappear to each year, isn’t it? This is where your parents died. Here. In the Wyrmcaves.”
Eralynn nodded. She stared off into the darkness beyond the candle glow, her eyes glistening. After a moment’s silence, words-and tears-began to tumble out. “My parents were part of a merchant caravan, headed for Harlending through the Deeps,” she said. “They had to travel slowly, for fear of breaking Mother’s glasswork. The others didn’t like that, especially when they got closer to the Wyrmcaves. The rest pressed on ahead, together with the guide. My parents missed the passage and blundered into this cavern-into the Wyrmcaves.”
She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. “When the dragon attacked, my father used his magic to bring a portion of the ceiling down upon it. He didn’t realize this cavern housed a powerful earth node. It magnified his spell, and the entire ceiling fell.” She gestured at the rubble. “My mother was only partially buried. She survived long enough to tell the rescue party her tale. Then she died. Her body was taken back to the clanhold, in Eartheart. But this is my father’s only tomb. It’s why I come here each year.”
“Despite the dragon,” Torrin said softly.
Eralynn’s head jerked up. The fury in her eyes startled him. “ Because of the dragon. That red is the one that attacked my parents. The rockfall blinded her. One day, when I find the right weapon, I’ll finish her off.”
“So that’s why you delve,” Torrin said.
Eralynn stared out over the rubble, saying nothing.
Torrin nodded down at the flask. “Can I join you?” he asked. “The Remembering isn’t something you’re meant to do alone.”
“I was their firstborn, and a singleton. It falls to me, alone, to raise the glass to my parents.”
“Not any more. I’m here.”
Eralynn suddenly laughed. “Why not?” she said. “At least you’ll have actual names to speak, this year, instead of just ‘Clan Ironstar.’ ”
Torrin smiled. He took a cup out of his backpack and held it out. Eralynn filled it from the flask, then filled her own cup. The smell of ale, flavored with honey and bitters-sweetness and sorrow, in one cup-filled the air.
“Ambert and Vakna Thunsonn, I remember you,” Eralynn intoned as she raised her glass. “Your flames have been extinguished. Moradin grant that one day they be kindled anew.”
Torrin echoed her words. Together, they drank. As he tipped back his cup, he glanced at the entrance to the cave and suddenly froze. Was that movement he’d just seen? He closed the eye that didn’t have the benefit of the lens. Yes. Movement. He was certain of it. Something gleamed dully in the faint light of the candle-the dragon’s scales.
He tapped Eralynn’s shoulder and pointed at the entrance. “Dragon,” he mouthed. He pointed down at the still-burning candles, and at his nose. The dragon must have smelled the candle smoke. Fortunately, not only was the wrym too large to fit through the opening, she hadn’t heard them-yet.
Eralynn nodded. Moving slowly, she set her cup down on the stone. Slowly and carefully, she drew her sword. She whispered something. Torrin heard the name Clanggedin Silverbeard, and realized she was readying for battle.
He didn’t like the thought of that. “Isn’t there another way out?” he whispered.
Eralynn shook her head.
“Right,” he said, untying his mace. “That’s it, then. We fight our way out.” If he managed to strike the dragon on the head and shout the word that activated the magic in his mace at just the right moment, they just might live to see another delve. He pointed at the entrance where the dragon waited, likely thinking its prey hadn’t noticed it yet. “You on one side, and me on the other,” Torrin whispered. He handed her his cup. “When we’re in position, throw this. When the dragon hears the noise, and sticks her head in, I’ll stun her. Then you can finish her with your sword.”
She shoved the cup back into his hand. “Stay where you are,” she said. “This is my fight.”
“I won’t let you take on a dragon alone.”
Her look grew cold. “You won’t ‘let’ me?”
He stared back at her and quoted from the Delver’s Tome. “ ‘Unless it is the only way to complete the delve, no Delver shall abandon his partner, or allow him to face danger alone,’ ” he whispered.
“This isn’t a delve,” she retorted, her face growing red. “Nor are you my ‘partner.’ You’re just a sadly deluded-”
A bellowing roar cut off the rest of her insult. A gout of flame billowed into the cavern-the dragon’s fiery breath. A blast of heat washed over them, searing the bare skin on Torrin’s forehead and arms. The smell of singed mustache filled his nostrils. “Down!” he shouted. No need for silence any longer. The red had heard them arguing and knew they were there.
Eralynn didn’t need to be told. She was already springing off the slab of rock. Together, they threw themselves prone in the lee of it, just as a second blast of flame flared across the cavern, even hotter than the first. Melted candle wax dribbled down onto Torrin’s bracer and ran down to his elbow, burning through his heavy shirt and searing his right arm. He cursed and slapped at his sleeve.
“What now?” he gasped. “If we try to get any closer, we’ll be cooked meat.”
Eralynn coughed. The air was thick with smoke. “If we wait here, we’ll suffocate,” she said.
Torrin touched the silver hammers braided into his beard as another roaring gout of fire filled the cavern. The air grew still more stifling. His entire body was bathed in sweat, his singed beard limp, and his hair plastered against his scalp. Eralynn didn’t look much better. Hot, sooty air rasped down Torrin’s throat like a sawblade as he tried to draw breath.
“Torrin,” Eralynn said. “I’m sorry.”
Torrin forced a grin. “Everyone has to die, sometime.”
“Not that,” she said with a cough. “About what I said.”
He waved a hand. “You can apologize later.” He coughed again. “In the next life, when we meet again.”