The cavern floor was mostly level, with a few stalagmites rising up here and there, corresponding stalactites above them. Near the center was a lumpy mound, roughly circular in shape, that rose up maybe twenty feet or so above floor level. Some parts were higher than others, and the stone was a much darker color than the walls or ceiling. Max thought it looked almost like a magma bubble had risen up through the floor, then hardened, leaving a mound of volcanic stone. Most of it was rounded, smooth-looking stone, but there was a spiraling ridge of jagged edges that wound from the floor up to the top. A pressure fracture, maybe? Out loud, he asked Dalia.
“Okay dwarf lady. Is that… what do you call the really hard volcanic stone? Obsidian! Is that a great big pile of obsidian? And does that mean this mountain was a volcano?”
Dalia shook her head. “No evidence o’ there bein a volcano here. The tunnels woulda been more round, like lava tubes. This whole ridge be dormant, as far as I know, unless ye dig deep to reach for a magma flow for power generation.” She approached the mound as she spoke, taking out the same hammer she’d used to tap the wall outside Glitterspindle’s vault door.
“So maybe that’s what this is? Somebody dug a deep hole here, hit a magma flow, and it bubbled up to the surface?”
Shaking her head but not speaking, Dalia put her ear close to the mound and tapped it with her hammer. After just a couple taps, she gasped and backed away, a look of terror on her face. Covering her mouth with her hammer hand, she used the other to motion the party back. Clearly seeing her attempt to move quietly, the others took the hint and stayed silent as they too stepped back several paces.
Dalia moved right past them, her eyes wide and frightened, and didn’t stop until she had stepped behind a large stalagmite. When the others had joined her, she removed her hand from mouth and opened it to whisper an explanation.
Before she got her first word out, a massive voice echoed through the chamber, causing the others to hunch down in surprise, and Dalia to nearly wet herself.
“Hiding will do you no good, little dwarf. I can hear your terrified heart pounding in your chest! Who dares to enter my domain and disturb my rest? Step forward and present yourselves like proper guests!”
Clearly shaken, Dalia looked at Max and visibly gulped. When she had cleared the lump in her throat enough to speak, she whispered. “It be a dragon.”
“Well, shit.” Smitty pretty much summed it up for all of them.
Chapter 9
“Come now, little morsels. Step forward and present yourselves so that I may choose which of you will have the honor of being first. I have not eaten meat in… let me see… eleven hundred years or so.”
Red appeared on Max’s shoulder, a determined look on her face. “You lot do get yourselves into the most interestin’ trouble. Let me handle this. Follow me.” She floated off Max’s shoulder and out from behind the stone pillar of the stalagmite. The others followed, Dylan first, followed by Dalia, Max, and Smitty.
“Greetings, ancient one. I request parlay, under the laws of the First Magic.” She called out. Max, surprised by her action and her words, looked from her to the dragon.
The creature had raised its head, and was slowly unfurling its long body. What Max had thought to be a magma mound was simply an obsidian dragon curled up with its tail around its head. Centuries of dirt and moss had covered it, smoothing out the rough edges and hiding its scales. The sharp edges he’d guessed were a pressure fracture were actually the dragon’s spinal ridges, obsidian blades protruding from its back in a long line from the back of its head to the end of its tail. Bright yellow eyes with vertical slit pupils gazed at them, and a palpable wave of pressure accompanied the attention. Max felt the urge to bow, to flee, and to whimper, all at the same time.
“First Magic? Parlay? Who are you to…” The dragon paused, tilting its head slightly to one side as it gazed at Red. “A fae? A… leprechaun, if I recall correctly. Well, this is an unusual day.” He shifted his gaze to the others one by one, focusing for a moment longer on Max. “A chimera, as well. And one marked by more than one of the Elders. Most interesting…”
The dragon pushed itself up onto its feet, shaking its body much like a dog fresh out of the rain, sending a cloud of dust and debris throughout the chamber. The party members blinked and covered their mouths, all except for Red, whom the dust just drifted right through.
Max couldn’t help but take an involuntary step back as the dragon’s massive head suddenly pushed forward, emerging from the dust cloud just a few feet from his own face. “I see troll, and elf, human, and… one of the scentless ones.” The dragon sniffed at him, not seeming to be bothered by the dust it inhaled.
“S-stonetalon.” Max offered, barely able to find his voice. The dragon’s head was twice the size of Max’s entire body. If it so desired, it could probably swallow Dylan’s ogre body whole. The fine scales of its face reflected the dust-muted light from Dalia’s globe. It’s eyes flashed, pulsing with a golden light that bathed Max, making him feel like he was being x-rayed.
“Chimeras are rare. I do not recall ever meeting one with your particular combination of bloodlines. And you are Battleborne, which explains at least the mark of Odin upon you.” The dragon sniffed again, and turned toward the others. “Three Battleborne?”
Dylan, taking a deep breath, stepped forward. “We were brothers in arms in our previous lives, great dragon. Max there was our commander.”
“Silence, flea!” the dragon swung its head and breathed on Dylan, a black mist surrounding him. The ogre cried out in fear, but the sound was choked off. A moment later, the party’s tank was encased in an obsidian prism in the vague shape of an ogre. “Speak when spoken to, or not at all!”
“You forget yourself, dragon!” Red practically screamed at him. “I have invoked the ancient rite of parlay, and you attack one of my party? Release him!”
“I have not agreed to your parlay as yet, leprechaun! And do not presume to dictate terms to me!” The dragon reared back its neck, its head rising to a height of thirty feet or so, glaring down at the party. Then it let out a long breath, visibly calming. “Still, you are an interesting group. I will honor your request for parlay.” He lowered his head once again and sent a puff of air at Dylan, causing the obsidian shell around him to dissolve almost instantly. The ogre heaved in a gasping breath as he fell to his knees.
“By the laws of the First Magic, I welcome you, fae. You and your party have one hour of grace in which to speak. When that hour has passed, I shall decide your fate.” The dragon raised a foreclaw and made a surprisingly complicated gesture with its four digits. The creature shifted, as did the cavern around them.
Max blinked and looked around, the rough stone walls and floor were shifting, moving closer and becoming straighter, smoother. In seconds, the party found themselves standing in a carpeted hall with a throne at one end. Tapestries lined the walls, and a massive fireplace burned brightly to one side. In front of the fireplace were several plush leather chairs, a side table next to each of them. The dragon himself had shrunk to a humanoid form, taller than Dylan, with the same impressive aura the dragon projected in its natural form. He was dressed like a king, all in black cloth with silver stitching, a black leather belt with a silver buckle, and a sword at his hip with an ornate pommel and guard. Max was able to recognize the metal as mithril.
“Please, sit and be comfortable.” The dragon waved toward the chairs, taking the one nearest the fire. Max and the others hesitated a moment, still trying to adjust to the rapid changes. Dalia was first to move, taking a deep breath and moving to hop up into one of the dragon-sized chairs. She missed the first try, and blushed.
“My apologies.” The dragon waved a humanoid hand, and each of the chairs shifted, sizing themselves for their occupants. Dalia’s chair shrank and lowered itself, while Dylan’s chair widened and deepened slightly to accommodate his bulk. A tiny bright green chair that appeared to be made of vines appeared atop the table next to Max, an
d Red took a seat as well. Max was surprised to notice the vines shifting slightly as she sat, meaning she had some physical interaction with them.
The dragon chuckled. “This is a place of magic, chimera. Your guide is as solid here as you or I.” Max bowed his head in acknowledgement, having no idea how to respond. Once again, Red stepped up for the group.
“Thank you, Ancient One. And I apologize for my tone a few moments ago. I have grown quite fond of these companions, and was concerned for Dylan’s mortal existence.”
“I too must apologize, little fae. Having slept so long, and been so rudely and recently awakened, I acted rashly. Your companion was in no mortal danger. In fact, I believe he’ll find he has been… improved by the experience.” The dragon raised an eyebrow at Dylan, who opened his mouth to answer, then shut it again. The dragon chuckled. “You learn quickly, for an ogre. You may speak.”
“He’s right.” Dylan replied, his eyes clearly on his interface. “I received a permanent buff called Obsidian Skin. It gave me plus ten percent each to Constitution and Strength, and increased resistance to fire and piercing damage.” He looked over at the dragon, who had leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Thank you for that.”
“You are welcome, Battleborne.” He nodded slightly. “Now tell me, leprechaun who for some reason does not use her family name, why have you disturbed my rest?”
“That was not our intention, oh great and powerful dragon.” Red began. Max thought she was laying it on a bit thickly, but the dragon seemed to enjoy the flattery. “We were simply exploring, and stumbled upon your resting place. We did not realize you were… you. No offense, but we mistook you for a magma formation. At least, until Dalia-”
“Had the audacity to strike my scales with her tiny hammer?” The dragon interrupted, turning his gaze to the dwarfess, who did her best to disappear into her chair. He chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. “You meant no harm or disrespect, little one. I take no offense. In truth, your intrusion has presented me with a most interesting diversion. I cannot remember a more intriguing meal in recent millennia.” He grinned, showing a mouthful of sharp fangs, not putting Dalia at ease in the slightest.
Max blinked a few times, an idea coming to him. He reached into his inventory and produced some of his favorite vendor’s spiced kabobs. “Great dragon, you must be hungry after sleeping so long. I have only been on this world a short time, but this is my favorite of all the foods I’ve tried so far. Please, accept these as a humble apology for disturbing you.” He held out the kabobs.
The dragon sniffed once, a curious look appearing on his face. He did not reach out, simply held his hand open, and the food drifted from Max’s hand to his own. Another sniff, and he took a bite. The entire party watched as he chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. “Quite tasty, actually. The combination of seasonings is… interesting, if simple.” He took another bite, then another, finishing the handful of kabobs while the others watched. “I am a master chef myself, you know.” He blew on his hand and the empty sticks disappeared. “In fact, I am a master of many professions. When one lives for an eternity, one must find ways to pass the time, other than sleeping.” He looked at Smitty, who maintained a pokerface. “The last meal I cooked was orc pot pie. Blasted vermin were everywhere, swarming through the mountains, infesting the area. In fact…” He turned his head back to Max and sniffed again.
“Just before I settled down for my nap, my cousin had gotten fed up with the annoying orcs, and gone to teach them a lesson. You have his scent on you, chimera. I did not notice it before, underneath the odor of the Elders upon you. The scent of that dwarf tinkerer Regin is strong.” He shook his head as if to clear his sense. “Where did you encounter my cousin? And how did you survive the experience? Compared to me, he is downright antisocial.”
Max cleared his throat, afraid to answer, and afraid not to. “If your cousin was a stone dragon, I’m sorry, I’m afraid he’s dead.” He waited for a reaction for the dragon, who just raised an eyebrow and motioned with a hand for him to continue. “A few days after I arrived on this world, I came across an ancient battlefield, where I found the bones of a stone dragon. I was told later that the battle happened over a thousand years ago. The dragon battled an army of orcs, and was brought down. From the evidence I saw, he took at least several hundred of them with him.”
“I see.” The dragon sighed. “But that does not explain why his scent is so strong upon you. I take it you did more than just stroll through an ancient battleground?” This time both eyebrows raised, and the dragon’s stare was a clear warning not to attempt a lie.
“I did not. I gathered some of the remains, hoping to use them as crafting materials.” Max gulped visibly, then decided to just lay it all out. “Some scales, a few bone slivers, a few sections of vertebrae, and-”
“And his heart.” The dragon finished for him. He held out one hand, palm up, an obvious demand. Max produced the dragon stone from his inventory, and once again it drifted out of his hand. The dragon examined the stone, turning it slowly around, then closed his eyes for a long moment. “Yes, I see it. The fool took on ten thousand orcs. They may be insignificant little pests, but in such numbers, and with time to prepare, they can be dangerous. They waited for him to get close, then shredded his wings with ballistae and water magic.” He opened one eye and looked at Max. “You misjudged his prowess. Of the ten thousand, only four thousand stood at the end of the battle. They removed his head and dragged it home as a trophy.”
To Max’s utter surprise, the dragon tossed the stone back to him. “My cousin left a brood behind when he died. The eggs have surely hatched by now. I will contact his mate and inform her of his fate. When the little ones have grown strong enough, they will reclaim their sire’s head. As for the rest… I sense your fear, and it is unfounded. I will not punish you for wishing to make use of his remains. Your intentions are good, and you acted without malice. That is the way of our race. When we fall, our parts become the seeds of great weapons and powerful magical artifacts.”
Relieved, Max decided he needed to say something else. “Great dragon, I am a newly crowned king of a nearby kingdom, one that includes the land on which your cousin fell. My friends and I are on a quest to take the head of the current orc war chief, and when I accomplish this task, I intend to take his city. I have found that many of the orcs living there are kind, honorable beings, and have even recruited several hundred of them to join me as citizens of Stormhaven.” He paused for a breath, trying to find the best way to present his case. In his head were visions of himself ruling the city, only to be attacked by angry young dragons.
“Should I find your cousin’s head in the city, it would be my honor to return it to lay with the rest of his bones, and create a shrine to honor him.”
The dragon stared at him for several seconds, then began to chuckle. A moment later the chuckle turned to a full fledged laugh. “And there would be no need for his offspring to lay waste to the city and those inside?”
Max bowed his head. “Those orcs had nothing to do with a battle that happened so long ago. And, yes, I would prefer to conquer the city and have it remain intact.”
“Interesting. I can see that you yourself have killed a large number of orcs. The scepter you carry is in fact a reward for doing so. Yet you would spare their lives, at the risk of offending a dragon.” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “I think I like you, chimera!”
“My name is Maximilian Storm, great one. Please, call me Max.” He motioned to Dalia. “This is Dalia, the druid, our healer. The orc is Smitty, and Dylan is the ogre. As he said, both served under my command in our previous incarnations. And this feisty leprechaun is Red.” He smiled at her.
“Red, is it?” The dragon actually winked at her. “You fae, always reluctant to share your true names. Not that I blame you, in your case. That knowledge would grant great power over you, your magic, and your people. I see you are soulbound to Max here. You are his guide? Another unu
sual turn of events. Rare is the Battleborne who is gifted a guide. I myself have only ever met three.” The dragon burped, then thumped one fist to his chest.
“What other delicacies might you be carrying?” He looked at Max, who immediately dug into his inventory and produced several pastries. “You may call me Lysbane. It is a name that primitive humans gave me long ago. I believe it means Light’s Bane. My true name is long, and impossible for you to pronounce.” He took the pastries and sniffed at them, then took a bite.
“Amusing taste. But I crave meat.” Lysbane hinted.
Max thought for a moment. “I have… manticore meat. But it is uncooked.
“Manticore? That will do nicely!” the dragon got to his feet and waved a hand. The massive fireplace widened, the hearth extending outward. In a moment the fire itself had moved out into the space between the chairs, and now there was an ornate metal grill positioned over top of the flames. Next to them was a wooden worktable, atop which stood several pots and pans, a set of chefs’ knives, and an extensive spice rack. The dragon, now wearing a summoned white apron over his black attire and a chef’s hat tilted rakishly to one side, turned to look over his shoulder at Max. “Don’t just sit there, bring me the manticore meat! We have a meal to prepare!”
*****
When the party all received the notification that the hour of amnesty granted under the rite of parlay had expired, they were gathered around a table, enjoying a fine meal of manticore steaks, spiced baked potatoes, freshly baked dark bread, and some berries that Dalia had found in the woods near the temple ruins. Each of them froze at the notification, fearful gazes moving instantly to the dragon at the head of the table.
“Ha! Fear not, little ones. You are safe enough. I find I value your company more than I would enjoy the slight snack your combined corpses would provide.”
The party relaxed, Smitty biting down on the forkful of potatoes that had frozen just inches from his open mouth. Red, having transferred her tiny vine chair to the center of the table, slapped a knee as she laughed. “Ya shoulda seen the looks on all yer faces!” Lysbane smiled widely, showing his mouthful of sharp fangs.
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