Margaret Weis - Dragons of The Dwarven Depths

The evening was cold, and camping among the rocks was far from comfortable. Riverwind discouraged the refugees from building fires. Light on the mountain would show up like a beacon in the darkness. The people wrapped themselves in cloaks and blankets and huddled together for warmth, wedging themselves in among the rocks and boulders as best they could, prepared to spend an uncomfortable and cheerless night. Riverwind walked the rounds, spoke with those on guard duty, made certain they were awake and alert. All the while, he kept wondering about the pick-axe.

The last thing he did, before going to bed, was to stand over the pick-axe, pondering it by the cold light of the stars, wondering what it meant.

Riverwind was wakened by a frightened cry from his wife. He woke to find Goldmoon clutching him by the shoulder.

“Something is out there!”

He felt it too, and so did many others, for he heard people crying out and stirring restlessly around him. Riverwind was on his feet, when one of the guards came running.

“Dragons!” he said softly, urgently, keeping his voice down. “Flying over the mountains!”

“What is it?” people asked fearfully, as Riverwind accompanied the guard out of the pass and into an open area where he could see. He looked to the north. A shudder went through him. Dark wings obliterated the stars. Dragons at the far end of the valley. They flew slowly, their wings making wide, sweeping motions, as though the beasts carried a burden and were struggling to remain airborne. Riverwind was reminded of the struggles made by a hawk trying to carry off a prairie rabbit.

Dragonfear crept over him, but he recognized it now and refused to give in to it. He was about to summon his warriors when he heard footfalls, and turning, he found his people gathered around him, silent and expectant, awaiting his orders.

“This is the attack on our camp Tika warned us about,” he said, marveling at his own calm. “I do not think the dragons know we have left. Tell the people they must remain quiet, and they must keep hidden! Their lives depend on it. A baby’s wail could give us away.” Goldmoon hastened away, in company with some of the other Plainsmen, and began explaining the danger.

Here and there, a child whimpered, there were moans and stifled cries as the dragonfear spread, but Goldmoon and others were on hand to provide comfort with prayers to the gods. Soon silence, like a heavy, smothering blanket, settled over the camp. People crouched among the rocks and boulders in the shadow of the pass and clasped their children to their hearts, waiting. The dragons reached a point in the sky above the burned-out grove. Lunitari was half-full this night, and her light shone on red scales and on a helmed figure riding the lead dragon. Riverwind recognized the horned helm of Lord Verminaard. Behind him flew four more red dragons. As Riverwind watched, the flight of the dragons slowed. They began to perform slow and laborious turns in mid-air, their flight now taking them over the caves where the refugees had made their home.

These were not the graceful, wheeling red dragons Riverwind had seen battling in the skies over Pax Tharkas. These dragons flew ponderously, and he once again had the impression they carried a heavy load.

Gilthanas appeared at his elbow.

“What of Laurana and the people on the other side of the trail?” he asked. Riverwind had been thinking of Hederick and those who had remained behind, and he could only shake his head, meaning that for them there was no hope. Then he realized this was not what Gilthanas meant. He meant those who had not yet ventured along the trail. They were camped out in the open, exposed on the side of the mountain with no shelter, nowhere to conceal themselves.

“We have to get them across,” Gilthanas urged.

“In the darkness? It’s too risky.” Riverwind shook his head. “We must hope the dragons will be content to attack the caves and not think to come this way.”

He braced himself, prepared to watch the dragons breathe fire on the caves, but that did not happen. Instead, the dragons continued to circle the valley, flying lower and lower, spiraling down in formation. The dragon bearing Verminaard remained hovering overhead, watching from above. Riverwind was puzzled by this, and then he saw something even more puzzling. Bundles were falling off the backs of the dragons; at least, that’s how it appeared. Riverwind could not imagine what the dragons were dropping and then he sucked in his breath in horror. These were not bundles. They were draconians and they were leaping off the dragons’ backs! He could see the monster’s wings spread as they jumped, see the moonlight glint on their scaly hides and gleam off the tips of their swords.

The draconians’ wings slowed their descent, giving them the ability to glide to a landing once they reached the ground. The draconians were not adept at dragon-jumping, or so it appeared. Some fell headlong into the thick stands of trees and many plunged, kicking and flailing, into the stream. Howls of rage split the frosty air. He could hear orders being shouted by those on the ground, as officers tried to sort through the confusion, find their men, and form them into ranks. That would happen soon enough. The draconians would march up to the caves and find their prey was gone. They would come searching for them.

“You’re right,” he said to Gilthanas. “We must get the others across.” He shook his head softly.

“The gods help us!”

Walking the steep and narrow path had been difficult and frightening by day. Now he was going to ask these people to walk it by night, and they must do so in the darkness. And in silence. Riverwind made his way back across the treacherous trail and found Elistan and Laurana waiting for him.

Elistan forestalled him. “We have already roused everyone and they are ready.”

“Poor Hederick,” Laurana said quietly, watching the draconians start to swarm into the hills. Riverwind found it difficult to dredge up any pity for that man or those deluded enough to trust him. Nor did he have time to waste thinking about him. He looked at the assembled group. Their pale faces glimmered white in the darkness, but all were quiet, prepared. Riverwind hated to do what he had to do next, but there was no choice.

“We must bind cloths around their mouths.”

Elistan and Laurana both stared at him, perhaps wondering if he’d gone mad.

“I don’t understand—” Laurana began.

“Silence is our only hope of escaping,” Riverwind explained. “If someone should fall, the draconians might hear his screams.”

Laurana blanched, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Of course,” Elistan said quietly, and hurried off.

“Are you all right?” he asked Laurana.

“Yes,” she managed faintly.

“Good.” Riverwind was brisk, matter-of-fact. “We have to get them started now. No time to waste. The draconians will attack the caves, but it won’t take them long to figure out we’re gone. Then they’ll come looking for us.”

“Will we be safe in the pass?” Laurana asked.

“I hope so,” Riverwind replied, trying to reassure himself as much as her. “We did not know the pass was there, and we have lived here for months. With luck and help from the gods, the draconians will not find us. If they do, we can defend ourselves against attack.” He stopped talking, sucked in a breath. He saw in dazzling brilliance, as though lightning had streaked across his mind, the pick-axe lying beneath the striped rock that did not belong there.

“Make haste!” he told Laurana. “Keep them moving. Don’t let anyone stop.” He turned away, then turned back. “If anyone balks, he must remain behind. We don’t have time to mollycoddle people. Keep everyone moving!”