by Mel Odom
For the first time, Wick noticed that the volcano hadn’t ceased its rumblings. In fact, the rumblings were growing louder and longer. Stalactites tore from the roof and dropped into the water, providing danger from above as well as the raging torrent they rode.
“Do you hear the volcano?” Cobner shouted above the detonations.
“Yes.” Wick spluttered as a wave splashed across his face. “The dwarves had carefully set up the stream system, including the lake at the other end of this tunnel. When that balance was destroyed, there’s no telling what else was affected.”
Cobner shoved away a dead goblin that suddenly washed up on the boat’s prow. “Do you think it’s going to blow?”
“I don’t know,” Wick replied.
Another wave swept over them, twisting the little boat sideways for a moment.
“Duck!” Cobner growled in warning as the boat rose as well.
Wick pressed himself flat to the boat. The crossboards hammered the side of his face unmercifully as two stalactites scraped alongside the boat. How much further is it to the end? He had no way of knowing, and couldn’t even guess how far they’d come now. But they hadn’t passed any of the other boats. But then, if the boats had cracked up and sunk to the bottom with everyone aboard, he wouldn’t have known if they’d passed them either.
When the water level dropped again, Wick peered over the boat’s stern, searching for the dragon. However, all the torches and the bonfire had been drowned in the rising water. Only the lantern attached to the side of the boat allowed them to see anything at all, and even that was extremely limited. Had the dragon given up? Or was it going around another way? Would they find it up ahead?
“I see the exit!” Cobner crowed.
Wick looked forward, spotting the patch of light as well. Despite the fear that flooded him, he still felt a small surge of anxiety.
“You said the stream empties out into an underground lake?” Cobner asked.
“Yes,” Wick replied.
“We’re going to make it easily.” Cobner paddled furiously for a moment, pulling them away from the tunnel’s side again.
“There’s one problem,” Wick yelled back.
“What?”
“At the end of the tunnel, the water drops off into the lake.”
Cobner’s face tightened. “How far?”
“Fifty feet,” Wick said. And he was surprised that he could actually talk calmly about something as horrifying as that.
“That,” Cobner said unhappily, “that is something you might have mentioned before now.”
“I don’t think it would have helped,” Wick said in his own defense.
“No, and you probably wouldn’t have found it as easy to get me into this boat if I’d have known.”
The boat rode the fierce current, shooting forward as fast as a bird on the wing. Wick was completely drenched, shivering spasmodically from the cold. At least the wall seems to have stopped giving way. But he couldn’t be sure about that. It might have only been lagging behind them. Or maybe it stopped where the underground river went up or down, out of reach of the tumultuous effects wreaking havoc along the passageway.
Once they got nearer the passageway opening—now filled up more than halfway by Wick’s estimation—it was light enough to see. The little librarian stared into the underground chamber ahead that held the lake, wondering anxiously what all the extra water flooding into the lake had done. Maybe the water level was high enough now that they could simply paddle over to the door. That would mean that the fifty-foot drop was probably not a fifty-foot drop anymore, wouldn’t it? That thought made him feel just a bit better. He was about to tell that to Cobner when he heard the dragon’s roar behind him.
In disbelief, Wick glanced behind them, thinking perhaps it was only some trick of the volcano rumbling that had thrown off his hearing. And he had a lot of water in his ears as well at the moment.
At first, the little librarian saw nothing. Then a shadow far larger than any he’d been looking for exploded forward, lunging into the light.
“Dragon!” Wick yelped.
“What?” Cobner spun around, no longer quite as worried about the coming drop-off.
Shengharck ran through the water. Maybe the huge dragon didn’t like the icy water, but it wasn’t afraid of it after all. With its considerable bulk, the dragon nearly filled the tunnel, and it came on inexorably, catching up with the little boat with every stride while pushing a wall of water in front of it.
“Paddle!” Cobner yelled, turning and bending to the task.
Wick swiftly joined his friend. Before, they’d both been reluctant about approaching the drop-off at the end of the passageway. Now they rowed for it like their lives depended on it. They stroked for the center of the current, trying to stay with the greatest area of speed.
Shengharck continued running behind them, pushing the water wall before it. The dragon breathed fire just as they reached the drop-off.
“Down!” Wick yelled, throwing his paddle from the boat. He felt the mass of roiling flame approaching, growing steadily hotter and hotter. Just as he was nearly convinced that the flames were going to get them, the boat shot out over the drop-off.
Senses swirling and time suddenly moving so slowly he could see everything that was happening instead of it passing him by in a blur, Wick went deaf, only able to hear the pounding of his heart above the muted thunder of the volcano and the stream.
The burst of dragon’s breath missed him, Cobner, and the boat with only inches to spare, coiling out and striking the wall on the opposite side of the cavern. The feeling of free fall twisted the little librarian’s stomach into sick knots even worse than One-Eyed Peggie riding out swells during a storm.
Wick kicked free of the boat, aware that his backpack was still securely in place. He turned his head down, looking at the lake below, knowing that Cobner was screaming in wild-eyed terror.
It wasn’t a stream that fed into the underground lake anymore; it was a raging river of white foam, dead goblins, loose rock, and debris.
And it wasn’t an underground lake anymore, Wick saw; it was a huge lake now only thirty feet below. At the center of the lake was a whirlpool that danced to and fro across the surface.
It’s emptying the overflow, Wick realized. There must be another cavern system below. He already knew from the dragon’s arrival in the cavern earlier that there were caves above.
Boats and swimmers littered the lake’s surface, all of them safe from the pull of the whirlpool. But they’d gotten through the passageway before the water had filled it and swelled to even faster speed. And before Shengharck had decided to charge through the passageway as well, creating the tidal wave of water that shot Wick and Cobner so far out over the lake.
Gravity seized Wick again then, bringing him down in a plummet. Flailing and on the verge of total and complete panic, the little librarian glanced back up toward the cavern’s roof in time to see Shengharck charge from the passageway.
The dragon resembled a long, incredibly huge arrow as it left the passageway. Between heartbeats, Shengharck unfurled the huge batlike wings and flew.
Wick hit the water and it felt like he’d slammed against a stone wall. His breath left his lungs in a rush, and for a moment his vision blacked out, leaving him stunned. When he came to again, he spotted Cobner next to him. From the loose way the dwarf floated, Wick feared Cobner was dead. Still, he paddled over to the dwarf, grabbed his traveling cloak, and swam for the surface. He had to fight against the drag of Cobner’s body as well as the suction of the whirlpool.
When he surfaced, Wick held Cobner before him, keeping the dwarf’s head up out of the water. With the backpack weighing him down as well, he had a hard time keeping everything afloat. After a moment, though, Cobner came to his senses and floated on his own.
“Wick!”
“Cobner!”
The voices barely carried across the growling whirlpool and the cannonade of the volcano.
&n
bsp; The little librarian looked back at his friends, having to turn in the water as the whirlpool swept him around in increasingly tighter circles. Most of the mercenaries and thieves seemed to have gained the ledge by the mineshaft entrance leading out into the valley on the other side of the mountain. At least they made it, he thought.
Wick fought and kicked harder against the swirling current, but it was no use. Despite his best efforts, the whirlpool sucked him in. Before he knew it, before he had one last chance to grab a fresh breath, the whirlpool took him under.
Amazingly, enough light penetrated from above that he could see the sides of the funnel that had been carved into the rock between the lake cavern and the one below. His lungs hurt, begging for air, and he knew all he had to do was take one deep breath of the icy water and it would be all over.
But he couldn’t. So much fight remained within him. A rebellious streak that he hadn’t even known existed had been fanned by the incredible journey he’d been on since getting shanghaied in Greydawn Moors. He held his breath till black spots filled his vision, and then he held it some more. The whirlpool—I am Edgewick Lamplighter—would have to destroy him—Third Level Librarian at the Vault of All Known Knowledge—because he wasn’t going to surrender to it.
The light threading through the swirling water changed colors, becoming a rosy pink shot through with gold. The curiosity that filled the little librarian probably saved his life, allowing him to forget about breathing for a little longer when he thought he was on the verge of being beaten.
He shot through the other end of the whirlpool unexpectedly, falling through air as well as water as he plummeted to the shallow pool below. He went underwater again for just a moment, but knowing that it was only a body of water and not the whirlpool, he kicked out and paddled to the top.
He gulped down two quick breaths, noticing immediately that the water in the pool was much warmer than the deluge continuing to pour down from the whirlpool above. Then Cobner plummeted into the water as well.
Partially recovered, Wick swam over to the dwarf, hoping his friend wasn’t dead. Instead, Cobner swam to the surface as well, spitting water and coughing as he took deep draughts.
“Where are we?” Cobner gasped, treading water.
“I don’t know,” Wick admitted.
“Smells like a cesspool.”
Eyes and nose burning from the acrid stench of sulfur, Wick silently agreed. He turned to look at the cavern, listening to the roar of water whipping down through the whirlpool from above. The Iron Hammer Peaks dwarven clan had obviously taken advantage of the natural cavern below the underwater lake area as well. The funnel the whirlpool poured through could have been natural or dwarven-made, or a cunning combination of both. However, when the stream had been created, probably along with the lake to provide a constant supply of drinkable water, the dwarven miners had used this cavern in turn.
They swam in what was normally a natural cistern made of limestone. Limestone, Wick knew from reading Bockner’s Guide to the Study of the Earth and the Guessable Heavens (Concerning Certainly Heavenly Bodies That Have Unfortunately Plummeted From the Skies for Possible Examination), was a natural filtration system that made tainted water potable again.
However, at the moment the cistern was swelling past its normal boundaries. Twenty feet to Wick’s right, great white clouds of steam billowed up from a crack in the earth. The crack was at least thirty feet wide and ran the width of the huge chamber. The rosy glow streamed from the crack, filling the chamber with light and mixing in with the water streaming through the funnel from the whirlpool above. The rumbling trapped inside the cavern was deafening, a growling roar of angry pain.
Curious, and needing to find another way out of the cavern if there was one, Wick paddled to the cistern’s edge and stood in the shallow water. Cobner followed him, cursing the water and the fetid heat that filled the chamber.
The little librarian walked to the edge of the crack in the earth and peered down. Hundreds of feet below, red and golden molten lava surged, slapping up the sides of the crevice in turmoil. Every now and again, huge bubbles rose to the top of the lava and burst, sending a spray of molten rock almost to the top of the crevice. Each spray brought a fresh wave of heat and steaming clouds.
“We’re on top of the volcano,” Cobner said.
“No,” Wick said. “That’s just one of the arteries that feeds it. Maybe even the main one.”
“If the volcano blows, is it going to blow here?”
“Not that far down,” Wick said, and wished he felt more confident about his answer. “We should be safe here.” Trapped, maybe, but safe. He turned to survey the rest of the room. There has to be another way out. The dwarves surely didn’t climb down that funnel mouth even before the lake was created to work on this room. All I have to do is—
The little librarian’s thoughts froze as he spotted what lay at the top of the rise from the cistern.
Glittering gold and silver, precious gems all the colors of a rainbow, and beautiful works of art lay in heaped piles at the top of the ridge. Wick stumbled toward the huge masses of wealth like a sleepwalker. Even though he’d read about the tremendous amounts of loot dragons demanded in tribute or took from the bodies of vanquished foes, even though he’d seen sketches of dragons’ hoards in books, he would have never—on his most imaginative day—ever thought it could be something like this.
The volcano rumbled again, and wheelbarrow loads of gems and coins slid down the heaped piles in gleaming cascades.
“By the beards of the Old Ones,” Cobner whispered hoarsely. “I’ve never seen the like. Nor even heard tell of the like.”
“Neither have I,” Wick responded. Together, they walked up to what had to be Shengharck’s fabled treasure. According to legend, kings had paid all that they had so kidnapped family members would be returned to them unharmed. “The wily wyrm hid his hoard beneath the lake. He makes his appearances coming from the top of the cavern, no doubt to mislead the goblinkin who visit him there. But he hides it here.”
“The blasted dragon,” Cobner bent down and plucked a fat ruby from the ground, managing to scrape up a few gold coins as well, “is smart enough. Why,” the dwarf said, as he picked up three emeralds and stuffed those in his pockets as well, “if a man could but get out of here with a bag or two of what lies here just scattered on the ground—” He added more gold coins, a ruby, and a fat black opal. “—he’d probably have more than enough to live out his days as a wealthy man.”
“It’s not about wealth,” Wick said in a dazed voice.
“Says you,” Cobner retorted. “If Brant was down here now, he’d tell you what’s more important.”
Wick bent and picked up a silver vase. He ran a gentle hand along the bas-relief done in small precious gems and gold that depicted a tartbird sitting in a tree. “Think of all the history that a trained scholar could find out from these things Shengharck has here.”
“You’re thinking way over this old dwarf’s head, little warrior,” Cobner said.
Wick stopped at the foot of the tallest mound of gold coins and precious gems. It towered several feet over his head. Another volcano rumble shook the chamber, making him realize that if the gold coins toppled, the avalanche would smash him. He still held the silver vase. “There’s a lot of history here, Cobner,” the little librarian said reverently. “Kingdoms fell while Shengharck was out gathering his ill-gotten gain. Kingdoms and people history may never know of except through these pieces in this chamber.”
Cobner clapped the little librarian on the shoulder good-naturedly. “Little warrior, I swear I wouldn’t have thought you’d have a greedy bone in your body, but it sounds to me like you’d grab up all the dragon’s hoard and tote it off yourself if you could.”
“Not the coins,” Wick answered truthfully. “I’d only need a few of those. I could research who made them and when.” He glanced at the dwarf and felt embarrassed to see Cobner smiling hugely at him. “It’s important
to know. Really, it is.”
“Not to me,” Cobner admitted. “Me, I’d rather see how long I could spend as much as I could carry out of here.” He cast a judicious eye on heaps of jewelry lying in an open chest nearby. Finally, decision made, he scooped out a double handful and worked on putting his loot in his already overflowing belt pouch. “I’ve got to get a bigger pouch. Take a look around. Maybe there’s some bags made out of silk or silverweave or mithril that I can fill. Those bags would probably be worth a month’s worth of hard drinking. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the pants to walk in carrying a bag worth as much as the man serving you?”
Suddenly, Wick snapped out of his daze. He carefully placed the silver vase on the ground. “We need to see if we can help the others. The dragon probably thinks we’re dead, but it will be stalking Brant and the others.”
“How are we supposed to help them?” Cobner growled.
Wick started to shake his head, but his eyes fell on the gems scattered throughout the dragon’s wealth. “There may be a way. Look for a gem.” The little librarian walked along the outer perimeter of the heaped treasure.
“There are lots of gems,” Cobner complained. “Too many to go searching for any particular one.”
Wick recalled the descriptions of Dragonhearts he’d read about. All of them shared traits. “The gem will be very distinctive in design or shape. Everyone that has ever written of dragons has always said that they’re too vain and proud for their own good.”
“Goes along with them being so powerful and nearly unkillable,” Cobner complained. “Give me a magic weapon that could cut a dragon and I’d stand there toe-to-toe, bellybutton-to-bellybutton with one of them blasted wyrms.”
Wick didn’t doubt the fierce dwarf at all, but surely defeating the dragon could be less risky than that. “Dragons, the old dragons at least, have a habit of taking their hearts out of their bodies so they can’t be harmed. When they do, they have to turn their hearts into gems. Dragonhearts.” He spotted a particularly interesting ruby with a carved owl on it, but decided even that was too ordinary for a dragon like Shengharck.