said, ‘I understand.’
‘What manner of wizardry is this?’ asked Dolgan softly.
The dragon chuckled, and the room rumbled with the sound. ‘Come into my home, dwarf, and I will tell thee.’ The great dragon’s head returned to the floor, his eyes still resting above Dolgan’s head. The dwarf approached slowly, shield and ax unconsciously at the ready. The dragon laughed, a deep, echoing sound, like water cascading down a canyon. ‘Stay thy hand, small warrior, I’ll not harm thee or thy friend.’
Dolgan let his shield down and hung his ax on his belt. He looked around and saw that they were standing in a vast hall, fashioned out of the living rock of the mountain. On all its walls could be seen large tapestries and banners, faded and torn; something about their look set Dolgan’s teeth on edge, for they were as alien as they were ancient – no creature he knew of, human, elf, or goblin fashioned those pennants. More of the giant crystal chandeliers hung from timbers across the ceiling. At the far end of the hall, a throne could be seen on a dais, and long tables with chairs for many diners stood before it. Upon the tables were flagons of crystal and plates of gold. And all was covered with the dust of ages.
Elsewhere in the hall lay piles of wealth: gold, gems, crowns, silver, rich armor, bolts of rare cloth, and carved chests of precious woods, fitted with inlaid enamels of great craft.
Dolgan sat upon a lifetime’s riches of gold, absently moving it around to make as comfortable a seat as was possible. Tomas sat next to him as the dwarf pulled out his pipe. He didn’t show it, but he felt the need to calm himself, and his pipe always soothed his nerves. He lit a taper from his lantern and struck it to his pipe. The dragon watched him, then said, ‘Canst thou now breathe fire and smoke, dwarf? Art thou the new dragon? Hath ever a dragon been so small?’
Dolgan shook his head. ‘’Tis but my pipe.’ He explained the use of tabac.
The dragon said, ‘This is a strange thing, but thine are a strange folk, in truth.’
Dolgan cocked a brow at this but said nothing. ‘Tomas, how did you come to this place?’
Tomas seemed unmindful of the dragon, and Dolgan found this reassuring. If the great beast had wished to harm them, he could have done so with little effort. Dragons were undisputedly the mightiest creatures on Midkemia. And this was the mightiest dragon Dolgan had heard of, half again the size of those he had fought in his youth.
Tomas finished the fish he had been eating and said, ‘I wandered for a long time and came to a place where I could sleep.’
‘Aye, I found it.’
‘I awoke at the sound of something and found tracks that led here.’
‘Those I saw also. I was afraid you had been taken.’
‘I wasn’t. It was a party of goblins and a few Dark Brothers, coming to this place. They were very concerned about what was ahead and didn’t pay attention to what was behind, so I could follow fairly close.’
‘That was a dangerous thing to do.’
‘I know, but I was desperate for a way out. I thought they might lead me to the surface, and I could wait while they went on ahead, then slip out. If I could get out of the mines, I could have headed north toward your village.’
‘A bold plan, Tomas,’ said Dolgan, an approving look in his eyes.
‘They came to this place, and I followed.’
‘What happened to them?’
The dragon spoke. ‘I sent them far away, dwarf, for they were not company I would choose.’
‘Sent them away? How?’
The dragon raised his head a little, and Dolgan could see that his scales were faded and dull in places. The red eyes were filmed over slightly, and suddenly Dolgan knew the dragon was blind.
‘The dragons have long had magic, though it is unlike any other. It is by my arts that I can see thee, dwarf, for the light hath long been denied me. I took the foul creatures and sent them far to the north. They do not know how they came to that place, nor remember this place.’
Dolgan puffed on his pipe, thinking of what he was hearing. ‘In the tales of my people, there are legends of dragon magicians, though you are the first I have seen.’
The dragon lowered his head to the floor slowly, as if tired. ‘For I am one of the last of the golden dragons, dwarf, and none of the lesser dragons have the art of sorcery. I have sworn never to take a life, but I would not have their kind invade my resting place.’
Tomas spoke up. ‘Rhuagh has been kind to me, Dolgan. He let me stay until you found me, for he knew that someone was coming.’
Dolgan looked at the dragon, wondering at his foretelling.
Tomas continued, ‘He gave me some smoked fish to eat, and a place to rest.’
‘Smoked fish?’
The dragon said, ‘The kobolds, those thou knowest as gnomes, worship me as a god and bring me offerings, fish caught in the deep lake and smoked, and treasure gleaned from deeper halls.’
‘Aye,’ said Dolgan, ‘gnomes have never been known for being overly bright.’
The dragon chuckled. ‘True. The kobolds are shy and harm only those who trouble them in their deep tunnels. They are a simple folk, and it pleaseth them to have a god. As I am not able to hunt, it is an agreeable arrangement.’
Dolgan considered his next question. ‘I mean no disrespect, Rhuagh, but it has ever been my experience with dragons that you have little love for others not your own kind. Why have you aided the boy?’
The dragon closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again to stare blankly toward the dwarf. ‘Know this, dwarf, that such was not always the way of it. Thy people are old, but mine are the oldest of all, save one. We were here before the elves and the moredhel. We served those whose names may not be spoken, and were a happy people.’
‘The Dragon Lords?’
‘So your legends call them. They were our masters, and we were their servants, as were the elves and the moredhel. When they left this land, on a journey beyond imagining, we became the most powerful of the free people, in a time before the dwarves or men came to these lands. Ours was a dominion over the skies and all things, for we were mighty beyond any other.
‘Ages ago, men and dwarves came to our mountains, and for a time we lived in peace. But ways change, and soon strife came. The elves drove the moredhel from the forest now called Elvandar, and men and dwarves warred with dragons.
‘We were strong, but humans are like the trees of the forest, their numbers uncountable. Slowly my people fled to the south, and I am the last in these mountains. I have lived here for ages, for I would not forsake my home.
‘By magic I could turn away those who sought this treasure, and kill those whose arts foiled my clouding of their minds. I sickened of the killing and vowed to take no more lives, even those as hateful as the moredhel. That is why I sent them far, and why I aided the boy, for he is undeserving of harm.’
Dolgan studied the dragon. ‘I thank you, Rhuagh.’
‘Thy thanks are welcome, Dolgan of the Grey Towers. I am glad of thy coming also. It is only a little longer that I could shelter the boy, for I summoned Tomas to my side by magic arts, so he might sit my deathwatch.’
‘What?’ exclaimed Tomas.
‘It is given to dragons to know the hour of their death, Tomas, and mine is close. I am old, even by the measure of my people, and have led a full life. I am content for it to be so. It is our way.’
Dolgan looked troubled. ‘Still, I find it strange to sit here hearing you speak of this.’
‘Why, dwarf? Is it not true with thine own people that when one dieth, it is accounted how well he lived, rather than