Mask of Dragons (28 page)

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” said Mazael. 

Evidently that answer satisfied the dragon, because Azurvaltoria did not speak further. 

“What was that all about?” said Adalar. “Why didn’t the dragon just kill us?”

“Where would the fun be in that?” said Mazael. “You heard her. She’s bored.” He suspected that the Old Demon had somehow bound or tricked the dragon into guarding the Mask of Marazadra for the last three thousand years. “This is probably the most amusing thing that has happened in the last thousand years or so. The dragon will sit back and watch us fight for her entertainment.”

“The dragon,” spat Sigaldra, “will treat my sister’s life as a game?”

“Aye,” said Mazael. “There’s nothing we can do about it, either. To the dragon, we’re just mice…and she’s a cat that’s watching us fight. All our lives are a game to her.” 

A game…

Mother Volaria had warned Mazael, hadn’t she? Had the strange old witch known all along that it would end up like this? Or perhaps she was allied with Azurvaltoria? If Volaria had lived in the mountains of Skuldar for as long as she claimed, surely she would have encountered the dragon at some point. Perhaps she even served Azurvaltoria. 

There was a disturbing thought. 

“If this is the dragon’s game,” said Adalar, “then our best course is to win it.”

“Agreed,” said Mazael. “Now let’s keep moving and find someplace cooler before we all die of thirst from the heat.”

He started forward, taking care to keep to the center of the stone path. The heat was excruciating, and he felt his face and hands start to sting, the sweat evaporating from his face before it had a chance to drip down his neck. He would not have wanted to fight anyone in this room, but they passed the lava pools quickly and reached the far end of the cavern. Another tunnel opened at the far end, revealing a broad flight of stairs that climbed higher into the mountain. 

“Stairs?” said Adalar in surprise. “The dragon has stairs?” 

“Perhaps she hired masons from Armalast,” said Earnachar.

Adalar gave him an incredulous look. 

“Surely she would not have need of them,” said Sigaldra. “She could fly…”

“And her magic would likely allow her to change shape,” said Mazael. “Or the stairs were already here when she moved in. Perhaps this was someone else’s stronghold long ago. It doesn’t matter now.” 

They climbed the stairs, the air growing cooler as they left the lava-filled cavern behind, and Timothy conjured his glowing ball to provide light once more. As they climbed, Mazael saw evidence that the cavern had been worked by tools. There were carvings upon the walls, peculiar blocky symbols that he did not recognize. Certainly they were not Skuldari glyphs. 

“Romaria?” said Mazael. 

She shook her head. “I do not recognize the signs. I’ve seen them in old ruins elsewhere.”

“The wizards of the brotherhood think such symbols belonged to one of the elder races that ruled this world before the coming of mankind,” said Timothy. “Probably the High Elderborn destroyed them, or so we think. Only fragments of the history have survived to the modern day.”

“More history,” muttered Mazael. Sometimes he thought the past was trying to choke him. The old San-keth cult beneath Castle Cravenlock, the relics of Old Dracaryl from Arylkrad, and his own father’s millennia-long schemes…the past never lay buried for long, and often its bony fingers erupted from the earth to attack the present.

The stairs opened into a vast natural cavern, larger than the first. Mazael looked back and forth in wonder. The entire village of Volmaya could have fit in this cavern. Countless stalactites hung from the ceiling like fangs, and pools of lava were scattered haphazardly upon the floor, throwing a crimson glow over the surrounding stone. Clusters of stalagmites put Mazael in mind of small copses of trees. As before, Mazael saw clear signs that the cavern had been altered. The floor between the lava pools had been leveled and smoothed, and here and there stood steles marked with more of the strange symbols.

The three dead soliphages lying prone upon the floor held his attention, though. 

Like the ones outside the Veiled Mountain, they had been burned to a crisp, the vile stench of their blackened carapaces flooding Mazael’s nostrils. Wisps of smoke rose from the carcasses, and…

“Mazael,” said Romaria, her voice sharp. 

He looked around, expecting foes to spring out from behind the stalagmites or erupt from the lava pools. 

“Those dead soliphages,” said Romaria. “They’re still warm. Hot, even. You’d probably burn your hand if you tried to touch one.”

“The ones outside the mountain weren’t hot,” said Mazael. “That means…”

“We are right behind the Prophetess,” said Sigaldra, her voice trembling with anger. “Perhaps she is still even in the cavern, right now.”

“What will we do when we find her?” said Earnachar. “She has escaped from us twice.”

Mazael shrugged. “Kill her.” He considered for a moment. “If possible, see if you can knock her or Rigoric into one of those lava pools. No matter how powerful her wards or the Mask’s regenerative powers, I doubt they could handle a swim in molten stone.” 

He wished there was time to come up with a better plan, but there wasn’t. The last time they had fought in the Prophetess in the citadel of Armalast, in the heart of her power. Here, at least, the battlefield was unfavorable to her. Of course, it was unfavorable to Mazael and the others as well, unless he found a way to turn Azurvaltoria against the Prophetess…

The light in the cavern shifted, seeming to grow brighter. 

Mazael turned, wondering if one of the lava pools had burst from its banks. The shifting light threw dancing shadows across the floor and walls, and it looked exactly like the light thrown from a large bonfire.

Except the light was moving.

The salamanders came into sight.

There were three of the creatures. Like the dead salamander Mazael had seen outside of the mountain, they were long and low, covered in thick black scales. Unlike the dead salamander, these creatures were on fire. Blazing yellow-orange flames covered them from head to tail, and even from a distance Mazael felt the heat. 

The salamanders came right at them. In a flash, Mazael realized how the salamanders had killed the soliphages. The creatures need not bother with fang or claw. They would throw themselves upon their foes and let the fire do the rest. Likely the salamanders had wiped out half of the soliphages before the Prophetess realized what was happening.

“Scatter!” shouted Mazael. “Don’t let them touch you!” 

He raised Talon, bracing himself for the attack. 

###

Sigaldra drew back her bow and released, sending an arrow hissing across the cavern. 

It slammed into the nearest salamander, rocking the lizard-like creature back. At once the fires sheathing its body consumed the arrow’s shaft, turning it to ashes so quickly that it seemed to vanish. Yet the fire did nothing to the steel arrowhead, and the salamander stumbled. The giant lizard wheeled and came at her, flames blazing brighter around it, and Sigaldra felt the heat of its approach. 

She loosed another arrow from her bow. This time the arrow struck the salamander in the head, and the creature came to a skidding halt, its legs drumming against the ground, its tail lashing like a whip. The salamander fell upon its side, and the crackling flames vanished. It seemed the fires died with the salamander. 

Around her the others struggled. Basjun and Earnachar fought alongside each other, while Crouch let out a steady stream of furious barks. Basjun darted in, chopping with his axe, aiming his blows at the salamanders’ legs. Once the giant lizards were distracted, Earnachar brought his mace hammering down, crushing their skulls. Both Basjun’s and Earnachar’s weapons were starting to glow at the edges, and Sigaldra feared the terrible heat would destroy the weapons or render them too hot to hold. 

Mazael’s sword, wrought from dragon claw, had no such limitation. Timothy cast spells, stunning the salamanders with bursts of psychokinetic force, and Mazael attacked with Talon, the curved blade slicing through the salamanders’ necks. As ever, the Lord of Castle Cravenlock fought like a devil, leaving a trail of dead salamanders in his wake. The fires of their foes cast his face in hellish light, and Sigaldra could not but think that he looked like he was enjoying himself. 

She was glad that he was on her side. 

Romaria ran in circles around the salamanders, pausing only long enough to raise her Elderborn bow and loose shots of uncanny accuracy. Sigaldra looked for Adalar and found him circling a salamander. As when they had faced the giant spiders, his greatsword’s superior reach made an excellent weapon against the salamanders’ stubby limbs. As she watched, he wheeled, whipping the greatsword around, and took off a salamander’s head. The head soared away like a fiery comet, and the salamander’s body twitched and curled up around itself, the fire going out. 

Another salamander appeared from around a cluster of stalagmites, rushing towards him.

“Adalar!” shouted Sigaldra. He began to turn, but the salamander was too fast. It would reach him before he could bring his heavy weapon to bear. Frantic, Sigaldra raised her bow and released. The arrow missed Adalar by a few inches, but struck the salamander at a shallow angle. The salamander stumbled from the impact, and that gave Adalar the time he needed to recover, landing a strike with the greatsword. His blade sank into the creature’s side, sending it into its death throes, but its tail whipped around and caught Adalar across the chest. The impact knocked him back, the sword falling from his grasp, but the fire went out on the salamander. Adalar hit the ground and rolled, putting out the fire that danced on his trousers and cloak. 

Sigaldra sprinted forward. “Are you hurt?” 

“A little singed,” grunted Adalar, staggering back to his feet. He seized his greatsword’s hilt and pulled the weapon free from the dead salamander. She thought the blade was starting to look a little misshapen from the heat. “Some burns. Not serious, though. I can still fight.”

But for the moment, it seemed there was no more need for fighting.

A dozen dead salamanders lay in a loose circle around them. Smoke still rose from their carcasses, the air above them rippling with heat. Sigaldra looked around, but the others seem to have come through more or less unscathed, though everyone looked a little scorched. 

“Anyone hurt?” said Mazael. 

“A little singed,” said Adalar, “but otherwise I’m fine.” 

“I wonder,” said Earnachar, “if the salamanders are edible.”

Mazael gave him an incredulous look. “Edible?”

“The beasts give off such great heat,” said Earnachar, “I wonder if their flesh would be already cooked. Perhaps it would even be quite flavorful.” 

“If you want to put something in your stomach that might start on fire,” said Romaria, “do not let us stop you.” 

Earnachar grunted. “Perhaps not. If…”

Before Earnachar could share his further culinary speculations, the female voice thundered from the roof of the cavern once more.

“Well done,” said Azurvaltoria. “Better than I expected. Certainly you performed better than the priestess of Marazadra and her pet soliphages.” 

“The soliphages are used to fighting with their claws,” said Mazael. “Useful against humans. Less useful against something that is on fire. And by the time they thought to bring their spells to bear, it was too late.” 

“Indeed,” said Azurvaltoria. “You have slain a great many of my pets, mortal man.”

Mazael shrugged. “Does that offend you?”

“It might.”

This dragon, thought Sigaldra with a frown, was a most mercurial creature.

“If you didn’t want them slain,” said Mazael, “then maybe you shouldn’t have sent them to kill us.”

Silence answered him, and Sigaldra wondered if Mazael had offended the dragon. 

Then roaring laughter rang out. 

“A bold tongue, human,” said Azurvaltoria. “A most bold tongue indeed. Is the rest of you as bold?”

“That would depend,” said Mazael. “Would you find that offensive?”

The dragon’s voice was an amused growl. “Perhaps.” 

“Well,” said Mazael, “if you kill the Prophetess and her Champion for us, we shall be happy to take their captive, depart, and never trouble you again for any reason.” 

“And spoil my game?” said Azurvaltoria. “Hardly. You have entered my home, human, and by my rules you shall play. If you wish to leave here alive, face the Prophetess and overcome her.”

“I wish to point out,” said Mazael, “that we are not the ones who have come here to steal from you.”

“Then prove it,” said Azurvaltoria, and her voice faded away. 

Silence fell over the cavern, save for the hiss of the gases bubbling from the lava pools.

“Gods,” snarled Mazael, shaking his head. 

“Women are indeed inscrutable,” said Earnachar.

Sigaldra rolled her eyes. 

“Most women,” said Mazael, “cannot fly, breathe fire, and wield deadly magic. Well, if Azurvaltoria wants her damned game, she can have it, and it will end when we lay the Prophetess’s head at her feet and take Liane.” 

“We keep going, then?” said Adalar.

The firmness in his voice heartened Sigaldra. 

“We keep going,” said Mazael.

They continued on through the red-lit cavern.

Chapter 15: Dragon’s Ice

Adalar had never been in a place quite like the caverns of the Veiled Mountain. 

He had fought in the hidden San-keth temple beneath Castle Cravenlock, and the caverns had something of the same eldritch aura, the same air of vast antiquity. Adalar had heard tales of other places like the caverns, places of wild magic that hostile to mankind. Mazael’s account of his journey to Arylkrad in the Great Mountains, for one. Scattered throughout Knightcastle and Greycoast stood ruins of the Dark Elderborn, and those ruins had an evil reputation. People who entered them in search of treasures or secrets tended not to return. In Mastaria there were circles of standing stones and ancient barrows of ill repute, and no one approached them.