Jean Rabe - Redemption

“As strong as any four or five men,” he recalled Maldred saying. He was at least as strong as that many men, all because of the shadow dragon.

And if the shadow dragon had planted its magic inside Dhamon a few years ago, as he had claimed, that meant there was indeed nothing simple behind what the dragon wanted. There had to be something intended beyond sending Dhamon after the Black. Just what in the many levels of the Abyss was the true scheme?

“What does the damn dragon want?” Dhamon shouted in frustration.

Hearing him, the last spawn scuttled fearfully backward. It inhaled and breathed, but Dhamon ducked just in time and was hit by little of its hurtful breath.

“I won’t kill you,” Dhamon promised, as he continued to stalk the frightened creature. “If you give me some information.” Now I am truly the liar, he thought. I intend to kill you after you’ve told me what I want to know.

“Man want what?” the spawn asked as it dodged out of Dhamon’s reach.

“I just want out of here. Take me up to the street.”

The spawn glared at him but nodded. “Take you to ssstreet. Yesss.”

“No.” Dhamon inwardly cursed himself for what he was about to say. In a heartbeat’s time he’d made his decision, changed his mind. “Take me to Sable’s lair.” Perhaps, he guessed, the shadow dragon seeks something hidden in the Black’s lair.

The spawn vehemently shook its head and exhaled noisily, but Dhamon hugged the cavern wall and again was spared the acid breath. “Sssable kill me if I do.”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t,” Dhamon shot back. “Besides, Sable might actually reward you for bringing me to her. I’ve caused the overlord all manner of grief.”

“Sssable kill you then,” it said.

“Maybe. Now move.”

They hadn’t traveled more than a few minutes before the passageway became wholly submerged and very wide. Again Dhamon swam, following the spawn, wondering if he was being led to the overlord’s lair or to someplace where a myriad of spawn waited to pounce on him. Eerie sounds came to him as he made his way through the water—growls and groans from creatures that clung to the sides of the rocky walls. The sounds grew, and so did Dhamon’s unease as they broke the surface in the next foul-smelling chamber. He nearly dropped the glaive when his hands started trembling uncontrollably.

“Not much farther,” the spawn told him. It raised a scaly claw and pointed to a shadowed alcove.

“One more tunnel.” It hesitated. “You go by ssself now?”

Despite the few patches of luminous moss, this cavern was all shadows, and it was too dark even to read the expression on the spawn’s face. His unease, his trembling hands—it wasn’t like him.

Dragonfear. That was the only explanation. The spawn was indeed leading him to Sable—or to a lesser dragon serving the overlord.

“You go by ssself?”

“All right. I’ll go alone.”

The spawn sighed with relief and made a move to swim past Dhamon, heading back the way it had come. Though it was difficult to maneuver the blade in the water, Dhamon managed to sweep the glaive like a scythe to cut off the passing spawn’s head. Then Dhamon dropped below the surface to avoid the acid blast.

“Convenient that you spawn leave no corpses,” he muttered. Then he looked to the alcove, took a deep breath, and disappeared below the surface again.

There was no glowing moss here, and so he found his way by feeling along one side of the submerged tunnel. He continued pulling himself along until his lungs ached for air, and then he slowly rose, finding barely an inch between the surface of the water and the rocky ceiling. A few deep breaths and he was under again.

It seemed an interminable journey, and a heavy sense of dread settled in. He rose again minutes later when he noticed the water growing lighter in color. His head silently broke the surface in a chamber whose boundaries he couldn’t discern. A great patch of the luminous moss illuminated enough parts of it, however, for Dhamon to guess he was in a dragon’s lair. Giant crocodiles lounged on outcroppings. Other creatures he couldn’t name clung to spires and ledges. There were things flying somewhere overhead—he could hear the flap of leather wings, but he couldn’t see the creatures, and couldn’t see the ceiling.

His teeth started chattering. Focusing his thoughts on holding onto his weapon, he managed to stave off the worse effects of the dragonfear.

It was Sable’s lair. The Black was there, at the extreme end of where the pale light reached. Curled on a sandy stretch of ground, the overlord slept, coins and gems spilled all around it. The great dragon’s breath was so strong it created a breeze in the cavern, and the sound of its slumber was a constant, sonorous rumble.

Dhamon had seen Sable once before—years ago at the Window to the Stars portal. All the overlords were there, when Malys tried to ascend to godhood and become the next Takhisis. The Black seemed more impressive here, alone, in her dark and malodorous realm. She was huge, eyes as large as boulders, scales thicker than the greatest plate armor. The tip of her tail was as big around as an ancient oak.

Dhamon could feel the power and the evil exuded by the dragon. Spellbound, he wanted to flee while at the same time he wanted to swim closer for a better look. He forcibly controlled his foolish impulse.

Did the shadow dragon desire the Black’s wealth? Certainly the shadow dragon could obtain his own horde. So not wealth. Something magical? What?

Dhamon’s eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath and dropped below the surface, just as Sable opened a massive eye. The overlord suspiciously scanned the chamber. Seeing nothing, she resumed her slumber.

It was past midnight when Dhamon found his way back to the city streets. He was dripping—from sweat and the stagnant water of the tunnels—and the stench was overwhelming. He knew he must look a sight. His clothes were nearly burned off from the spawn’s acid, his legs were covered with scales, arms dotted with them, and there were now a few on his face. He’d passed a mirror in the hallway of the stunted tower, saw the spreading scales on his legs, arms, and throat.

Fortunately there were only a few brave souls wandering the streets this late at night, and all of them—including a pair of spawn—gave him wide berth.

He was hopeful that somehow Ragh had gotten Fiona out of the city, and though hours ago he wished the draconian had managed to kill Maldred, now he hoped the ogre-mage was still alive. He was going to need him for his plan.

The tavern was still open, and peering through a window, he scowled to see Fiona and Ragh still sitting at their table. The Solamnic Knight had her arms folded on the table, her head nestled in them and was sleeping soundly despite the racket from the conversations and clinks of mugs. Ragh was wide awake, and was watching Maldred converse with the sultry Ergothian form of Nura Bint-Drax.

Dhamon muttered a string of curses and went inside.

Nura made a gagging sound and waved her delicate-looking hand in front of her face in a show of warding off Dhamon’s stench. “Where have you been?”

Dhamon came closer, leaned over her shoulder, and whispered into her ear, “To see Sable.”

Her eyes grew wide. She abruptly stood, nearly knocking him over. “You couldn’t…”

“Sable’s all cozy in her lair. And she’s got lots of… treasure.”

“How did you…?”

“Get in and out alive?” Dhamon lowered his voice when he noticed all the conversation around them had stopped. “Luck, I think,” he said. “Sable was sleeping soundly, and I had the presence of mind to leave before she woke up.”