by W. D. Newman
CHAPTER 1
LET SLEEPING DRAGONS LIE
"Blast it, Gabriel, let's be on our way!" Hob yelled.
"One minute, friend," the elf called back, with a smile. Gabriel was speaking to Marcus, the Keeper of the Twilight. Hob could not hear what they were saying, but the Keeper was yammering on and on about something. The dwarf impatiently fidgeted in his saddle. He turned around to adjust his saddle bags and check his pack. His pony could sense his eagerness to be off and chomped at the bit.
They had been planning this trip for several months now and Hob was anxious to get started. Although it was not a long ride to the Black Hills, he wanted to get there before dark. He did not know how long it would take Gabriel to complete his task and he wanted to have as much time as possible to scout around for signs of the legendary dragon's gold. As he was adjusting the saddlebags, a loud clanging noise from the west gate caught the dwarf's attention.
Two large doors were suspended over the castle walls and were being lowered into place with chains and pulleys. His closest friends, Gob and Nob, were on scaffolding beside the gate tower, directing the placement of the gate. Nob guided the massive structure into place and Gob began hammering the heavy pins into the hinges. The curtain wall of Castle Twilight was complete. The river entered the castle through an archway that was defended with a heavy iron portcullis. This portcullis could be raised and lowered with a crank mechanism housed inside the gate towers on each side of the arch. Once within the curtain walls, the river crossed the courtyard and exited the castle through an identical arch on the opposite side. These were the north and south gates that the elves used when traveling on the river in their magical swan boats. The east and west gates opened into the strange forest that previously surrounded the tent city where the elves once lived. Hob shook his head in amazement at the speed with which this castle was constructed. The keep rose high above the curtain walls and the corner towers, still under construction, would ascend to dizzying heights when completed. Double doors opened into a long hallway that led to a cavernous room where the center tent was standing. Trees, carved from multi-colored stone and polished to a bright sheen, lined both sides of the hall. Their limbs disappeared into the heights above, supporting the stone keep's arched ceiling. Between each of these giant stone trees, against the wall and running the entire length of the hall, were massive fireplaces. These fireplaces were so large, in fact, that it took several logs, over eight feet in length, to fill each one of them. Their mantles were carved from a pale pink marble and each one depicted a different scene from the elves’ home world of Faerie. When the fires were burning, the flickering lights reflected off thousands of white, blue, and red diamonds embedded into the ceiling above. This produced a magical sensation of being outside, under a clear night sky.
At last, Marcus finished talking and went back inside the keep. Gabriel slung his pack over his shoulder and approached the restless dwarf.
"Finally!" Hob snorted. "Why was he so talkative this morning?"
"Instructions on where to find the dragon," Gabriel answered.
"I would think it would be easy to find a dragon, even one that is sleeping," the dwarf replied with a sharp yank on his beard.
"Yes, but this dragon has been asleep for centuries. Dirt, lichens, moss, and debris are certain to have covered the creature by now."
"I don't know why I am going with you anyway. I don't even plan to get close to the dragon when we do find it."
"Then why are you going," Gabriel asked with a twinkle in his eye. "To look for the legendary dragon gold, I suspect?"
"Well, I...er...what I mean to say is...ah...I don't know if...er...I mean I don't mean to..."
Gabriel slapped the dwarf on the back and threw back his head and laughed. "You may search to your heart’s content and keep all that you find. I have no interest in gold or jewels. The treasures in this world that I seek do not glitter nor shine."
"Hmmmph!" Hob eyed the tall elf suspiciously. "Let's be on our way then, shall we?"
The mid-morning sun hung low in the cold winter sky, but it had warmed up enough to burn away the frost that had whitened the grasses in the castle courtyard. They would not reach the Black Hills until late that evening and Hob wanted a warm fire and a hot supper as soon as they got there. Gabriel leapt nimbly onto the back of his horse, while Gob clicked his boots to his pony's flanks and turned him toward the west gates.
The ponies here in castle Twilight belonged to the dwarves. With their short powerful legs and broad chests, they could pull and carry amazing loads. And though the dwarves worked them in the mines of Dwarvenhall, they loved their ponies dearly and tended to them as if they were part of their family. Hob's pony was a shaggy brown mountain breed named Gus. Hob adopted him when construction began on the castle and the two were now inseparable.
As Gob pounded in the last pin, the west gates were pushed open to let the two adventurers pass through. Gabriel led the way on his tall, sleek, black steed and Hob followed behind on short and shaggy Gus. He turned in the saddle to wave at Gob and Nob, as the forest opened up to grant them passage. When the trees began to close the road behind them, he quickly checked his saddle bags, one final time, to make certain he had packed the sacks he would need to transport the gold back home. Satisfied that all was in order, he clucked to Gus to speed the little pony up so that he could ride alongside his companion.
Their trip that day was pleasant and uneventful. Hob and Gabriel had become fast friends in the months since the destruction of the witch and often traveled together on various errands and adventures. Once they reached the Black Hills, they found a suitable place to bed down for the evening; a flat place between a fallen tree and a large rock. The tree would provide a windbreak against the cold night winds and the rock would reflect heat from their fire back onto them while they slept. Hob watered the horses at a small stream and then turned them out into a field to forage for some winter grasses. While the horses ate, he brushed them down and Gabriel began to set up camp and prepare their supper.
After eating a big pan of hot beef and beans, and washing it down with a pot of dark coffee, Hob spread his blankets between the rock and their camp fire. He wrapped himself snuggly in warm furs and used his saddle to prop up his head for a pillow. Gabriel sat down upon the ground with his back to the rock. The cold never seemed to bother elves and they hardly ever slept.
"Do you think the dragon still lives, after all these years?" asked Hob.
"I do not know," Gabriel answered. "It has been many long years since anyone from the Twilight visited the Black Hills, but to answer your question, yes, I think Zoltan still lives."
"Do you think there is any truth to the legendary treasure?"
"I am afraid I do not know that answer to that either, my friend, but after I find the dragon and examine him, I will help you search for it."
Hob was silent for several minutes. Gabriel could tell that something was bothering his friend and he knew what it was. He decided to have a little fun with him.
"Now, if I help you search for the treasure then I think it's only fair that we split it fifty-fifty. Don't you agree?"
"Well, er... of course, but, ah.... I'm sure you have much to do on this important errand and I don't want to distract you from it at all, so... don't worry about helping me any, you just do what you came here to do and leave the treasure hunting to me."
"Are you sure?" Gabriel prodded, with a mischievous smile.
"Yes, yes, yes, quite sure. No more talking now, we need to get some shut-eye. Busy day tomorrow, busy day. Goodnight."
The next morning, after a quick breakfast of cold biscuits, Hob and Gabriel bundled up and set out on foot. The terrain was too rocky and steep for even the mountain bred ponies of Dwarvenhall. Gabriel led the way and after a couple of hours they came to a sheer rock wall that rose about thirty feet above them.
"There it is, Hob!" Gabriel whispered.
"There is w
hat?" Hob whispered back.
"The dragon," Gabriel answered.
"Where? I see no dragon?"
"There, stretched out atop the wall above us," Gabriel pointed.
"I still do not see a dragon. Why are we whispering? Will we wake it?"
Gabriel laughed. "I do not know why I am whispering. No, the dragon will not wake."
"Well, go have your look-see. And take your time." Hob called over his shoulder as he ambled over to the rock wall and began poking around in some rubble at the base of the escarpment. "I'll be down here waiting on you, but take your time, take your time."
Gabriel chuckled at the dwarf, who was now busy pulling down rocks and examining the area with an appraising eye. The rock wall was about thirty feet high and although somewhat steep, the elf scaled its height in the blink of an eye. Zoltan was stretched out upon the rocks, lying partially on his side, much like a dog naps in the sunshine on a cold winter afternoon. Gabriel ran his hand over the massive head. The dragon's features were indiscernible now, hidden by centuries of lichen, moss, and debris. Enough dirt had actually accumulated in the dragon's ears for a small tree to take root and woody vines, now absent of their dark shiny leaves, had almost encrusted the entire torso of the creature. Gabriel pulled the tree out the Zoltan’s ear and began prying the vines loose from the nooks and crannies of the dragon's stony scales. Years upon years of windblown dirt and soil had actually covered the dragon's tail, burying it beneath the ground, all the way up to its hind legs. It was very hard to tell there was a dragon here at all.
While Gabriel was cleaning the creature off for a better look, Hob had been quite busy as well. A mound of dirt at the base of the rock wall caught the dwarf's attention. The small hill was not part of the natural landscape. This would have been unnoticeable to all except for the well trained eye of one who has spent years studying landscapes and formations, both above ground and below ground, in search of precious gems and metals. Unnoticeable to all except for a dwarf, and in particular, a dwarf named Hob.
In a matter of minutes, Hob had managed to uproot all of the plants that were growing on the hillside and unearth several large rocks as well. He removed his coat and retrieved a mattock from his pack and began attacking the hill at the crown where it met the steep rock wall. After removing several more rocks and digging down about a foot, a small opening appeared in the wall.
"Ah-ha," Hob exclaimed to himself. "What have we here?" The hole, no more than a foot across, appeared to be the entrance to a cave. Excitedly, he began digging again and before long, he had unearthed an opening large enough to crawl into. He hastily retrieved his pack and shoved it into the hole, then crawled in after it. It was a tight squeeze and for a moment he became stuck and began to fear that Gabriel would have to pull him out by his feet. Rather than suffer this indignity, Hob pushed and squirmed, and eventually managed to free himself from the opening. He tumbled into the cave and landed on his backside with a loud plop.
Inside the cave, the sunlight shone through the opening and allowed Hob to see well enough to light a small torch he had stowed in his pack. The cavern was a small one, no more than ten feet in height, and the firelight from Hob's torch flickered faintly on the far walls. As he held the torch in front of him he turned in a circle to examine the room. A flicker of green, toward the center of the cave, caught his attention and there he found a tall stick, twisted and gnarled, protruding from the stone floor. He held his torch up and discovered a beautiful green jewel affixed to the top of the stick. The jewel sparkled in the firelight and cast green shadows that danced upon the ceiling with the yellow and orange lights from Hob's torch.
That was a spell catcher! Ben Alderman owned one of those and had used it to defeat the witch this past summer. Hob grabbed the stick and tried to pull it from the ground, but it was stuck fast. He wedged his torch into a nearby crevice, so that he could tug on the stick with both hands and yet the cave floor would still not release its hold. The stick was also too tall for Hob to reach the jewel. Frustrated, he grabbed the stick with both hands and pulled backwards rather than upwards. Hob planted his feet at the base of the stick and pulled with all his might. Sweat popped out along his forehead and the veins bulged in his temples. He wanted that jewel so badly. His face was beginning to turn purple with the exertion and just when he was about to give up the stick snapped in half.
Hob landed hard on his backside, yet held tightly to the stick in his hands. The spell catcher, however, came loose from the end of the stick and skipped across the stone floor behind him. Frustrated, he tossed the stick aside and retrieved his torch to search for the jewel. He found it quickly and as he stooped to pick it up, a faint tremor reverberated through the rocks and rained a small shower of dirt and loose pebbles down upon his back. Hob paused. And then a roar from outside shook the ground so violently that he fell to his knees and covered his head in fear. He had never heard that roar before, but he knew what it was. The fear and knowing was bred into his race through a millennium of survival on Crag.
*****