Tail of the Dragon (3 page)

CHAPTER 6

The chest popped open.

It started to grow.

Nath gaped. What had he said that triggered it? “All I said was, ‘What have you been doing?’” His thoughts were strained. A bright moment hit him. “Been! It was Ben! They sound the same. Ha! How simple! I’m such a fool.” Relieved, he gave the green lily her next orders. “See those vials? I need the yellow one.”

The green lily picked up one of the vials from the drawers that folded out like an old fisherman’s chest. She held it up. It was yellow and milky in color.

Nath shook his head and said, “No, the golden one.”

She picked up another and held it out for display.

“No, the more golden one.”

She sighed and plucked out the last possible candidate.

“That’s it, now carefully pour it over his lips. He has to drink it down, all of it. Plus, he needs another.” His eyes scoured the chest that was still plenty tiny to him. “Oh, I need something to battle the poison. Which one is it? Which one is it?”

There were more than thirty vials, in a multitude of colors. Bright purples and lavenders. Velvety red. Orange that was swirled with black. Others cracked with tiny lightning in the bottle. In truth, Nath had little need for such things these days. There wasn’t anything he knew of that he couldn’t handle himself. “Ah, I think it’s that one. At least I hope it is. Feed him that one.”

The green lily slipped out a vial that was filled with a mix of pink and gray. “Are you certain?” she asked with a furrowed brow.

Brenwar’s heart had almost stopped beating.

“I have to be,” Nath said. “I have to be.”

The green lily climbed up on Brenwar’s chest, removed the cork, and pulled back Brenwar’s lips with her free hand. Carefully, she poured the entire vial into his mouth. She replaced the cork and said to Nath, “May I go now, Sire?”

Most dragons had no attachment at all to the other races. Of course, much of that could probably be explained because of their persecution. Still, it rubbed Nath the wrong way. Fighting back the urge to rebuke her in some fashion, he said, “Yes, go. And thank you.”

Her wings fanned out. Her lithe frame leapt from Brenwar’s chest and into the air. A few graceful flaps of her wings followed, and she was gone.

Dragons. I hope I never feel as they do.

Brenwar coughed and sputtered.

Nath leaned down and propped him up against a fallen log.

His friend’s heartbeat had steadied, but it was still weak.

Come on, Brenwar. Come on.

***

It was a long night. A long week. Brenwar hadn’t awakened. He breathed, shuddered, and coughed occasionally. Nath stayed close the entire time. He pushed over some trees and started a fire. He did his best to keep Brenwar free of the chills. Still in the full body of a dragon, he wrestled in thought whether he should turn back to a man or not.

If I had been in the form of a man, as Brenwar requested, I might have saved him.

He lay near Brenwar, watching his every movement. Counting the heartbeats in his chest. They were slow and steady. A good sign. Good enough for Brenwar to awaken by now, but he hadn’t. It was puzzling. Frustrating.

This is my fault.

Nath realized he’d taken for granted his own power and forgotten about the fragility of the other races. Perhaps that was why dragons were so distant from the men and women of the world. They just didn’t last as long. They didn’t have the same protection. Their thin skins were nothing compared to a dragon’s steel-hard scales. Their lives could so easily be snuffed out in an instant.

He put his paw on Brenwar’s chest and felt its rise and fall. There was a rasp in his breathing. Nath didn’t doubt that the dragon spider’s poison had gone straight to the heart. If anything, it was a miracle that Brenwar lived. He could thank his dwarven constitution for that.

Should I take him to Morgdon? To the elves, perhaps
.
They have the best healers, but Brenwar would want to kill me if I did that.

Nath batted the idea back and forth, a hundred times if not a thousand. Yet he remained where he was, certain that Brenwar would wake up. And he didn’t want to fly with Brenwar, either. It might prove too much of a strain, and Brenwar would be furious if he did. “I’d rather die than fly,” Brenwar had once said. Nath chose to honor that.

So Nath waited and waited. He pondered their mission. The search for his mother. His father Balzurth had told him that he’d have the power to find her, but he’d given only the one tiny hint beyond that. Traveling with Brenwar was slow, but for a dragon, a creature that seemed to have all the time in the world, it wasn’t so bad. Nath wasn’t even two hundred and fifty years old yet, and he had at least two thousand more years to go. But so far, this adventure hadn’t been quite as exhilarating as the ones before. Of course, the battle with the earth giants had been nice. The battle with the dragon spiders not so much. He eyed the portal.

Dragon spiders. Of all the luck.

That was another mystery that Nath had to ponder. Dragon spiders were just as rare as dragons themselves. Even rarer. They weren’t all good or all evil, either. In many cases, they were guardians of precious things and even used by the dragons themselves. Oft times they could be found guarding dragon eggs while dragons hunted. But it took a great deal of power to employ the service of dragon spiders. And Nath was certain that they weren’t in the portal by accident. Something meaningful, perhaps more so for men than for dragons, was in that vault.

Not that it matters. I’m sure it won’t have anything to do with my mother. Probably some withered lich’s treasure hoard.

Nath studied the hard lines in Brenwar’s face. He knew every weathered crease. He was certain he’d caused at least a dozen of them himself. He’d even seen three new ones form during one conversation. Nath chuckled. “Hah, Brenwar. You wouldn’t have any gray at all if it weren’t for me. It suits you well, though. Now, wake up. If you don’t, I’m liable to do something stupid. And you wouldn’t want that, now, would you?” He listened to Brenwar’s heartbeat.

It was slow.

Thump-thump … thump-thump … thump-thump …

“Boy, I think I can hear some giants nearby. Oh my, I can see them. Lords no! They are juggling dwarves!”

Thump-thump … thump-thump … thump-thump …

“Oh my goodness,” Nath continued, “I thought I’d never see the day. My, how the world has changed since you took your name. Your sister, Ellgall, is finally going to marry. But her groom isn’t of the standard groomsman fare. No, she’s different. Of course you always knew that. Aye, I can see him standing at the altar waiting for her now, except he’s much taller than a typical dwarf. But I’m sure it will work out. I just never thought I’d see the day when a dwarven maiden, your sister Ellgall, married an
orc
.”

Thump-thump … thump-thump … thump-thump …

Nath’s head hung low.

CHAPTER 7

Nath flattened his body down on the ground with Brenwar between him and the fire. He listened to his friend’s heartbeat. He could feel it in his bones. Every beat seemed like the last, leaving him restless. And then—

Thump-thump-thump-Thump!

Brenwar’s eyes popped open. His mouth parted. “Orc! Ellgall!” He sat upright. Bleary eyed, he looked around. “Where is the rotten beast?”

“Brenwar!” Nath said with elation. “You’re back!”

The old dwarf scrambled to his feet, only to teeter over and bump his head on a log.

“You’d better take it easy,” Nath said. With his tail he helped Brenwar to his feet. “Don’t overdo it.”

Brenwar blinked and slowly spun around. “Harrumph. I must have been dreaming. I don’t see any orcs. Or Ellgall.” He clawed at his beard, looked up at Nath, and said, “What happened?”

“The dragon spider’s poison took you. About a week ago. I thought you were through.”

The chestnut eyes under Brenwar’s bushy brows popped wide. “A week!” His hands clutched at his beard. “Blast my beard! Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You know I certainly tried, Brenwar, but you were sleeping like a petrified log,” Nath said, stretching his wings out a little and folding them back. “How do you feel?”

“Mmmmm, I’m so hungry I could eat an ogre.”

“That can be arranged.” Nath’s serpentine head twisted around. His eyes scanned the surroundings. “I’d be happy to fetch some goats, or a stag.”

“I can do it myself—Oof.” Brenwar’s face turned sour. He rubbed one hand through his beard, then rubbed his temples with his fingers. “Something feels funny.” He held one hand in front of his face. It was the one the spider had bitten. There was no skin or muscle, only bone. “Gah!”

“Easy, Brenwar,” Nath said. “I can explain.”

“I’m dead, aren’t I! You brought me back from the dead! Why did you do that? I deserve a proper burial. A grand tomb and plenty of rest!”

“You aren’t dead, Brenwar. Again, let me explain.”

Brenwar’s eyes studied his one hand beside the other. His left hand was just fine, filled with strong, stubby fingers. The other, his right, was pure bone with big knuckles. He opened and closed it. His eyes filled with astonishment. He tipped his head up toward Nath. “What did you do?”

“Well,” Nath said, coughing a little, “I may have gotten the potions mixed up a bit. Or perhaps the application was wrong.” He made a remorseful face. “Seems I had you swallow what should have been applied, but it wasn’t easy, and there wasn’t much time. At least you live.”

Brenwar’s hard eyes filled with surprise. His brows clenched up and down. His eyes fastened on his skeleton hand. He mumbled something.

“What was that?” Nath asked.

In a low voice, Brenwar said something again. In Dwarven.

Nath’s dragon lips turned up. “If I’m not mistaken, I think you said, ‘like it.’”

Brenwar’s eyes searched the area until they rested on War Hammer. He strolled over and picked it up with his skeleton hand. With a spark in his eye, he held it high in the air and said, “Wait until they see me in Morgdon! There’s not a single dwarf in the great hall with a wound like this. Har!”

Taken aback a little, Nath said, “So you do like it?”

“Like it?” Brenwar growled. “I love it!” He brought the weapon’s hammer-like head down, pulverizing some rocks. “Ah, the fear in the eyes that me and War Hammer will bring. Let’s go find some giants!”

“Sure, but let’s eat first.” Nath eyed War Hammer. Handcrafted by Brenwar himself, it was a magnificent weapon. A hardened oak shaft hosting a burnished head of rune-marked steel. An axe head on one end and a mallet on the other. It was impressive, but something was missing. “You know, Brenwar, don’t you think it’s time that you gave War Hammer a real name?”

“It has a name: War Hammer. Mrrummaah in Dwarven. It’s a fine name.”

“I think that cleric of Barnabus was right. Something so exquisite needs a little more original name.”

Brenwar scratched his head.

“For example,” Nath continued. “It would be like me calling Fang Sword. Or you calling me Dragon. Er, well, bad example. Or me calling you Dwarf.”

Brenwar’s brow furrowed. Creativity wasn’t part of his makeup. He found details such as the names of things mundane, not oft so important. Which was odd for a dwarf, because they had many sophisticated names. And some of them were almost as long as dragons’ names for things. “What do you suggest?”

“Well, how about,” Nath drummed his claws on his chin, “Crusher. It crushes a lot of things, does it not? Is there a word for that in Dwarven?”

“Hmmm, not really,” Brenwar said, raking his beard. His rigid lips formed a smile. “But I can make it work. Mortuun...” The word went on for hours.

Finally, Nath said, “How about Mortuun for short?”

Brenwar grunted. “Aye. Now that you’ve made me go and think on it, Mortuun it is. Mortuun the Crusher.”

CHAPTER 8

“Do you see anything interesting down there?” Nath yelled down through the portal he had opened. Brenwar had climbed in an hour ago. Now that he’d eaten, he had a bounce in his step and had been eager to head back down. “Brenwar?”

Brenwar didn’t reply, but Nath could still hear him shuffling through the tomb. There was a lot of scraping of stone over stone and the sounds of stone being bashed in with Mortuun, but apparently Brenwar hadn’t found anything interesting.

“Watch out for dragon-spider nests!” Nath yelled back down. “You never know.”

“And you’ll never know,” Brenwar fired back. His voice echoed up the tunnel, “unless you come down here yourself … Sire.”

“Humph.” Keeping his ears tuned to the hole, Nath sat back down. He didn’t sense any danger. Perhaps the dragon spiders had been the only “price to pay” for intruders trying to loot the ancient tomb. Quite adequate, for most intruders. And the dragon spiders could have been inside there for centuries. Maybe a millennium.

“I’m sure you can handle it, Brenwar Bone Hand.”

Brenwar’s rustlings came and went. There were tapping sounds on stones. Heavy grunts. Objects being shoved back and forth. It seemed Brenwar was deep in his search but not having much luck. It was possible that whatever needed to be found had been concealed by a spell. Nath could help with that, but the likes of Bayzog and Sasha would be better.
I wonder how they are doing.
I bet Bayzog’s had his nose stuck in a book ever since he returned to Quintuklen. What’s left of it, anyway.

Nath hollered down the hole, “Why don’t you try a potion of finding or something?”

In a distant voice, Brenwar hollered back, “I don’t need no potion.”

The vault was deep. Nath figured it to be at least fifty feet straight down. And in some cases, the ancient vaults and tombs could go a hundred yards. They’d already come across a couple like that. And it was not that Nath was impatient. Pretty much all dragons were very patient, but Brenwar’s searches could take months. Dwarves liked it down inside the earth.

Maybe I should change.

Nath grimaced.

But moving on two legs is so slow. And no wings? No way!

He scratched his dragon chin with his claw.

Hmmm, maybe I could turn into a man, and keep the wings?

He pondered the idea until the day turned into night and back into the day again.

Nah. Then I’d look like Sansla Libor. Or a draykis.

He sat upright. Cocked his head on his long serpentine neck.

Brenwar’s booted feet were echoing off the portal’s rungs and getting higher. His black-haired head popped up like a gopher out of the hole. Straining, he climbed out with a very heavy strongbox, half the size of him, in tow. Using two hands, he gave it a heave and dragged it out of the hole and onto the dewy grass. Breathing heavily, he said, “Found something.”

“I can see that,” Nath said, eyeing it.

It had handles on each side, like a chest, but there weren’t any latches, key locks, or hinges. It was made of bright polished steel, which reflected the sunlight. To a mortal naked eye, it looked like nothing more than a block of solid metal.

Nath could make out a very narrow seam that looked like the lid. “That’s one strange treasure chest.”

“It was well concealed.” Brenwar put his hands on his hips and stuck his chest out a little. “But I found it. No creature on Nalzambor can read the stones better than a dwarf. No sir.” He held up his bony hand, marveling. “And none with a hand like this.”

“Nothing compares to you, Brenwar. That’s for certain. So the question is, how do we get this thing open?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t open it at all,” Brenwar suggested.

“Then why did you bring it up here?”

“Why? So you could look at it.”

Nath rolled his eyes. “I am looking at it. I have to admit it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before. The craftsmanship is unique. Did anything down there give you any idea who created it?”

“I saw some markings. The tombs were all sealed, but I busted one open. There was nothing but powder and dust in there.” He scratched his nose. “Whatever fed on them, it fed on them long ago. There were worm holes, too, but most of them had refilled.”

“How many tombs?”

“A few dozen. Judging by the size of them, I’d say they were men. Not for certain, but I’d say it’s a tomb of the unknown.” Brenwar started scratching his back with his bony fingers. “Mmm, that feels good.”

Nath didn’t really have his hopes up to find anything new. After all, there were plenty of strange things all over Nalzambor. They’d never find them all. And this location, well, it seemed much older than what he’d be looking for. As far as finding his mother was concerned, he should be able to find something, somewhere, that wasn’t much older than him.

“Brenwar, are you certain that you’ve never seen my mother?”

“Of course not. I didn’t come onto the scene until you were a mature young boy. Well, not exactly mature, but you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know,” Nath said, drooping his huge dragon head down. “Surely my father knows where she is. Wouldn’t he know?”

Brenwar shrugged his brows. “I think he likes to leave things a mystery until the time comes that you should know.”

“You’d think I’d know enough already, but I don’t know any more than I knew a hundred years ago.” He balled up his paw and brought it down on the rectangular chunk of metal.

Whummmm!

“There must be a million peaks to search on Nalzambor.” Nath hit the block again and again.

Whumm Whumm Whumm!

The odd strongbox hummed.

Mrrrruum mummm mummm!

Its cold steel finish swirled with life.

Eyes widening, Brenwar stepped back, readying his war hammer and setting his shoulders.

“What’s this?” Nath said with wary eyes.

The steel box started to brighten, the sun’s light feeding it with white-hot power. Its radiance became stronger and stronger.

Nath’s neck coiled back. His scales tingled. There was power. Ancient. Ominous. Threatening. “You’d better get behind me, Brenwar.”

“You’d better get behind me,” the warrior said. He raised Mortuun over his head and rushed toward the strongbox.

“Brenwar, no!” Nath said.