The Dragon Ring (Book 1) (21 page)

“It looks as though something big comes and goes from there,” Bodrin said. “Comes and goes a lot. Look at these scratches in the rock and those lines in the sand at the opening. I don’t like it. Maybe the rock-dwarves live inside. That would explain the hammering.”

“No, the hammering seems to come from the left-most mountain. This cave could be a bear den, I guess.”

While they sized up the situation at the cavity, the mountain reverberated again. A guttural bellow came up from somewhere deep inside. The whole peak shook. Smoke trickled out at the top and more rubble toppled down the slopes.

Silent and terrified, the boys dove to the ledge and scrambled for a hiding place. Nothing else happened in the next few minutes and Saxthor was first to stand.

“What was that?” Bodrin had already turned to flee when Saxthor grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

His mouth gaping, Bodrin gawked at Saxthor. “This is no time to worry over what it might be. Any animal that can make
that
noise and shake a mountain at the same time must eat boys. It doesn’t need to know we were ever here.” Bodrin turned to retreat, ending the discussion.

Saxthor rolled the ring on his finger; its warmth was reassuring.

“I’m supposed to be here. I don’t know what I’m expected to do or get, but whatever it is, it’s in the cave.”

Wide-eyed, Bodrin stared at his friend for what would surely be the last time. Saxthor turned and peered into the tunnel, his hand on Sorblade’s hilt.

Bodrin grabbed Saxthor’s shoulder. “On too many occasions, mother has asked me if I’d follow a fool into a fire just to fit in when we got caught at some stupid prank. Now I appreciate what she meant. Only a fool would go in the cave. You’ve had plenty of warnings.”

“Stay here and wait for me. If I don’t come back in an hour, don’t come in looking for me.” Saxthor cast his sternest expression. “Go back and help General Socockensmek get back home.”

“Saxthor, you’re determined to be bear bait.”

“I have to do this.”

Bodrin released Saxthor’s arm. “I can’t stop you from going in, but I’ll wait for you. At least
I
have common sense. I’ll wait here.”

-

Sorblade sang a defiant tone as Saxthor freed it from its scabbard. Its runes glowed on the polished steel blade.

“Look, Bodrin, the symbols glow, but not the green I’ve seen around bad things. Guess I’ll find out more inside, maybe the meaning of the sword’s gold light.” His neck and arm hair prickled when a whiff of smoke stung his nostrils. “I'd better start. If I hesitate I’ll chicken out.”

“Only a fool would go into such a place knowing something horrible is inside.” Bodrin started to follow Saxthor.

“No, wait out here. I may get myself killed, but I’m not going to let it eat you too.”

Saxthor’s knees were knocking, and his legs were weak, but he couldn’t go back and face Bodrin, Memlatec, or his family if he didn't confront whatever was in there. He trudged into the dark cavern.

The mountain rumbled, and this time growling seemed to crawl up from below and enveloped Saxthor. A hot, acrid draft wrapped around him like a sheet though the shaft’s air was cooler. Looking at the passageway ceiling, a sight made his heart race. A thin wisp of black smoke slithered from crack to rock point. It searched, almost slinked, to escape the rock confines. As Saxthor forced each leg out in front of the other, his nerve wavered. The weight of his footsteps grew as his muscles weakened. A deep rumbling followed the draft and smoke trail as if to drag them back down below.

“I can’t do this; I’m a failure,” Saxthor mumbled. His stomach churned, a chill inside rippled outward, his palms sweated as the stench of mold and smoke burned his nose.

I can barely hold up Sorblade, he thought.

Terrified to go on and unable to face the disgrace of running away, Saxthor sank to his knees on the cold, dusty stone floor.

Whatever’s ahead, even death can’t be worse than living with the shame of not facing it, he thought. Be eaten or live shamed, some choice.

His nerve bolstered by the revelation, Saxthor struggled to stand up. He stumbled forward then tripped. Looking down through twilight’s eerie hue, he saw bones and more of the familiar plates littering the floor. There was armor among the skeletons, he acknowledged to himself, afraid to say it aloud. Warriors far greater than him had fallen prey to the cave’s monster. A peculiar skull captured the last of the daylight and reflected back a pale ivory tone. The skull appeared to stare up at him.

I’m going to throw up, he thought, and turned to the side, but he caught himself. A Calimon wouldn’t allow this; my parents didn’t raise a coward. I may be only an unimportant extra, but I’m a Calimon.

The thought radiated through him. It shot up his spine like a rod, warmed him, and dispelled his nausea.

I can’t go back, he resolved. It’ll do no good to prolong the ordeal, better to get it over with. I’ll not allow myself to give into this hopelessness. I mustn’t allow fear to beat me. No, I must face this alone. Still, I’ll have to hurry before I lose my nerve. Then he noticed a warm tingling in the hand holding Sorblade.

The sword is with me in this, he thought.

With stronger conviction and steadier nerves, Saxthor crept deeper into the darkening warren where all light was gone except for Sorblade’s glowing runes. He realized the aura would draw attention to him. Looking down to sheathe Sorblade, he noted the light reflected from crystals lining the stonewalls. The color wasn’t golden, as if coming from Sorblade, but flame colored orange and blue.

As the sword slipped into the sheath, Saxthor rounded a curve in the tunnel and peered into a massive cavern. The walls were crystallized minerals amid pillars of stalagmites and stalactites. The minerals amplified the low soft radiance of a flame that illuminated the cave from its center.

When his eyes adjusted to the light, Saxthor looked straight into an enormous pair of brilliant blue eyes. At the moment they first spotted each other, the mammoth dragon, Yamma-Mirra Heedra, sprang up from his coiled resting position atop a mound of large crystals and geodes covering most of the cave’s floor. Both boy and dragon froze. Then, amid the cacophonous clinking of the crystals, the dragon stood up, his eyes fixed on Saxthor. Saxthor clapped his hands over his ears denying both the noise and the reality of what he faced.

From head to tail, the dragon was at least the length of twenty men lying foot to head. Alert and glaring, Yamma-Mirra Heedra flicked his tongue tasting the air to identify the hapless intruder. Shocked, Saxthor realized the bronze plate in his hand was a scale shed from the beast like a feather from a bird. He dropped the shield.

“Cripes!” Saxthor said through chattering teeth.

The dragon snarled a warning and exposed his colossal teeth gleaming like ivory daggers from bloodstained hilts. Yamma-Mirra Heedra hissed recognition. The scaled beast stepped forward; his great bulk shifted the pile of crystals beneath him. Saxthor understood the mountain’s rumbling and tremors.

On seeing dinner come to him, Yamma-Mirra Heedra flexed his wings as best he could in the cavern. He smacked his leathery lips. Without hesitation, the dragon lumbered toward his intended victim, his demeanor one of arrogant disdain for the doomed creature he was about to devour. His pace quickened.

I never knew real terror before, Saxthor thought. There’s no hope. I can’t defend myself against such a beast. Might as well get it over with and not drag out the suffering. I only hope the dragon will kill me quickly.

Fear paralyzed him. His legs wobbled just short of collapse, unresponsive to his mental screaming impulses to run. For all his mental panic, Saxthor crumpled down on his trembling knees and flashed hot and cold. A sudden burning sensation on his finger interrupted his terror
.
Through the calm of resignation, Saxthor remembered Bodrin, Memlatec, and his family.

What are you thinking? You fool! Run! That thing will eat Bodrin too. You’ll disappoint Memlatec. My family will be ashamed that I didn’t at least put up a fight. It’ll be no worse if I try to defend myself, I might get lucky and stab him.

Warm courage surged through him, lighting a deep, personal dignity and confidence he hadn’t known before. He resolved to do his best. The simple sword thrust that dispatched the hairy orc popped in his mind as he jumped behind a stalactite. He grabbed the massive scale he’d brought.

Yamma-Mirra Heedra snorted, and fire shot across the cave, blackening the stalagmite behind which Saxthor had been kneeling. Dinner done, the reptile leaned forward to snap up the charred morsel. He spat out a mouth full of crystals and ash, shocked and puzzled at the lack of roasted boy. The dragon reared back and with his talons, clawed at Saxthor to dislodge him from the rock shelter.

Saxthor jerked out Sorblade as he twisted and squirmed to dodge the claws. He spun around, narrowly avoided the grasping foot, and hacked off the dragon’s thumb claw.

What have I done? Now he’s mad, thought Saxthor.

He turned and stumbled over bones and scales, rushing back up the tunnel to warn Bodrin. He looked back.

Green dragon blood squirted, the acidic liquid sizzled, dissolving a piece of old armor. Yamma-Mirra Heedra drew back, screamed with rage, and shot flames in every direction. He leapt forward to the cavern entrance and started after Saxthor escaping back up the passageway.

I can’t outrun him, Saxthor thought.

He scanned the passageway walls for some place to hide. His only hope was to get out of the dragon’s way, but that would abandon Bodrin to the beast. Then the ground shook and he heard the monster’s claws scraping on the stone as he lumbered up the shaft close behind him. Saxthor hunkered down behind two scale-shields just in time and barely escaped flames that shot around him. The dragon’s great feet slammed down on the rock floor and shook the mountain to its core. The gravel at Saxthor’s feet hopped up and down from the titanic vibrations. For a split second, he was calm and noted dust rolled up around his feet, then his mind jerked back to reality.

Run! Run, you fool! Run!

Saxthor fumbled his way up the tunnel by rune light, when a dark thought occurred to him. If the dragon didn’t get his dinner, he’d come out of the cavern on an unwary Bodrin who’d have no chance to defend himself.

I can’t let that happen. It must be the dragon or me in here.

Alone, he had to face Yamma-Mirra Heedra. Bodrin was out there willing to protect him. He couldn’t sacrifice his friend to save himself. At first, the hopelessness of his situation calmed Saxthor and he resigned himself to his fate again. Then just as fast, his spirit shot back.

I’m not going without a fight, he thought.

In the seconds he had left, Saxthor frantically searched the walls for some defensible nook or cranny. His mind raced as he probed the wall in Sorblade’s dim light.

The dragon will be on me any second. I have to sheath Sorblade or the rune-glow will draw him to me.

Running as he struggled to get the sword’s tip in the scabbard, Saxthor tripped. Sorblade slid into the sheath and in the dark, Saxthor rolled back into an unexpected cleft in the tunnel wall.

Judging from the faster pace and harder pounding footsteps, Yamma-Mirra Heedra’s rage grew with each step up the tunnel. Snorting fire and screaming his challenge, the dragon’s huge bulk squeezed through the passageway and lumbered ever closer to Saxthor in the darkness. Caution abandoned, he raced up the passageway unrestrained.

Saxthor knew the dragon was in pain and furious that a mere boy with childish stupidity sliced off his claw.

Saxthor mashed himself back tighter in the tiny niche as each footstep closing in on him, pounded the rock floor. The thick, sulfurous smoke burned his nostrils. He covered his ears when the beast’s scale tips scraped on the tunnel walls, screeching like grating rocks. Flames shot past the fissure where he hunkered down behind the dragon scales that deflected the searing firestorm. Fearing to confront the monster’s piercing, searching eyes, he looked down.

This must be the end, he thought as the dragon was beside him in the tunnel. Hold your place; don’t move.

He fought his powerful urge to bolt. Cool sweat beaded up on him.

Hold!

The dragon’s scales scraped the rock edge of Saxthor’s hiding place. The stench of scorched scales swirled around him, mingled with the smoke of charred bone and granite. The beast was right beside him. His brain screamed.

No escape, he thought. Cripes, Bodrin is waiting at the cave’s opening. He must be standing, hearing the dragon coming, but that stubborn fool won’t abandon me. I can’t let the reptile eat him. There’s no escape for me anyway.

Saxthor’s reserves surged. There was barely enough room to draw his sword, but the dragon’s head was far up the tunnel by then and
he couldn’t see the rune’s glow. Saxthor snatched out Sorblade, the symbols glowed brilliant gold.

I’ll have only one quick chance to strike. I have to stab between and under the scales.

At that moment, the dragon’s soft underbelly was passing Saxthor. He drew a deep breath, said goodbye to life, clutched Sorblade with both hands, and thrust it with all his might into Yamma-Mirra Heedra’s side as he lumbered past up the passageway. The sword slid into the entrails to the hilt. Saxthor jerked it out before blood could gush out at him, burning and dissolving his flesh, hoping the elfin magic could protect the blade.

The whole mountain shuddered as the dragon’s scream vibrated through his body and out through the mountain’s stone. Blood shot from the wound and splashed the tunnel walls just beyond where Saxthor was hiding. The animal’s blood sizzled, dissolving old bones in the dust. The great dragon slumped.

Saxthor and Yamma-Mirra Heedra were both stunned. The great dragon rose again, but only slightly. He shuffled backward. As his head passed Saxthor, there was more room in the tunnel and Saxthor braced himself for the dragon’s final attack. There was nowhere to hide, but Bodrin would be safe.

To Saxthor’s amazement, the great monster of the Highback Mountains paused and took a long look at Saxthor before he continued to back his way down the tunnel. The look on Yamma-Mirra Heedra’s face was one of peace and calm, no sign of rage though the wound was mortal. Saxthor couldn’t understand the change in the beast, and followed him as he backed into the grotto, where he curled up atop the jeweled horde. Dragon blood oozed from the fatal wound in his side, hissing and bubbling.