Margaret Weis - Dragons of The Dwarven Depths

Grag would have liked to have settled the score and finished off these three humans, especially the knight, but he didn’t have time. He jumped onto the edge of the bucket and perched there for a moment, getting his bearings. He looked down the lift shaft to see the base of the Life Tree far, far below. His idea had been to try to coast down on his wings, but the shaft was narrow, and he feared he might strike his wings on the stone sides and damage them.

The dwarves in the second lift were raising a ruckus, pointing and shouting and bellowing in horror at the sight of the monster. Those dwarves waiting for the lift on the next level, hearing the commotion echoing up the shaft, saw the draconian poised on the edge of the bucket, wings spread, tail twitching. One quick-thinking dwarf seized the control lever, shoved it in place, halting the lift.

Grag jumped out of the bucket when it was still swinging. He landed on his feet on the ground and came face-to-face with Hornfel and Tanis.

Hornfel took one look at the monster, drew his sword and ran to the attack. Tanis looked into the lift, saw Caramon helping Raistlin to his feet, and Sturm trying to extricate himself. Seeing they were all right, Tanis went with Hornfel. The Daewar Thane, Gneiss, was slower off the mark, but soon caught up with the Hylar and the wild-eyed Klar. Shouting a piercing battle cry and swinging an enormous axe, he ran to join them. The soldiers were startled at the sight of the monster, but inspired by their Thanes’ courageous example, they rallied and raced after them. Grag had no intention of fighting. He was outnumbered, and besides, this was neither the time nor the place. He cast a quick look around and saw what appeared to be a garden with a balcony overlooking the lake. Grag took to his heels. Using his wings to skim over the ground and any obstacles in his way, he easily outdistanced the pursuing dwarves.

Arriving at the balcony, he leapt on it and teetered there a moment, while he figured out where he was in relation to where he wanted to be. He glanced back at his pursuers, spread his wings, and jumped off.

Grag was at the top level of the Life Tree when he leaped, and his training in jumping from the back of a dragon proved invaluable. He could not fly, but as he had learned when jumping off the dragon, he could use his wings to slow his descent. He located the Theiwar wharf from the air, and though it was far off to his left, he could maneuver a little in the air in order to land in the water as near the Theiwar realm as possible.

Glancing up, Grag saw the dwarves peering over the edge of the balcony. More dwarves—hundreds of dwarves—were down below, staring up at him.

So much for their plans for secrecy.

Grag shrugged and gave his wings a twitch. As a commander, he was accustomed to sudden and unexpected shifts in battle. He couldn’t waste time bemoaning mistakes made in the past. He had to think about the future, decide what to do and how to do it, and he had determined his next course of action by the time he was half-way down. He struck the water with a large splash. Draconians don’t like water, but they can swim if they have to. Grag set out for the Theiwar side of the lake, propelling his scaly body through the cold lake with powerful strokes of his strong legs and using his arms to dog-paddle.

Grag reached the wharf and pulled himself, dripping, out of the water. He tore off his robes, leaving them in a sodden heap on the dock.

Then, loping and flying, he headed for the secret tunnels where his army waited for him.

“Is that one of the monsters of which you spoke?” Hornfel leaned over the balcony, watching the draconian drift through the air as gently as a falling feather.

“These draconians are powerful beings,” said Tanis, “capable of using magic as well as steel. Their armies have conquered large sections of Ansalon. They have driven the Qualinesti from their lands and seized Pax Tharkas and our land of Abanasinia.”

“Where did these fiends come from?” Hornfel asked, horrified. “I have never seen or heard of the like of them before!”

“They are new to Ansalon,” Tanis replied, shaking his head. “We do not know what spawned this evil. All we know is that their numbers are great. They are intelligent and fierce warriors, as dangerous dead as they are alive.”

“And you believe they have invaded Thorbardin? Perhaps there is only this one…”

“They are like mice,” said Sturm. “If you see one, there are twenty more hiding in the walls.”

“You’re bleeding,” said Tanis.

“Am I?” Sturm lifted his hand to his face, bringing it back smeared with blood. “The creature’s tail hit me.” He shook his head ruefully. “I am sorry he got away, Tanis. He fooled us completely.”

“How are Raistlin and Caramon?” Tanis asked, looking worriedly about.

“Raistlin had the worst of it. He took an elbow to the gut. He’ll have a belly ache for awhile, but he’ll be all right. The draconian nearly knocked Caramon out of the lift. He’s more shaken than hurt, I think.”

Tanis turned to see the twins coming toward him. Raistlin was slightly stooped and his breathing was ragged. His expression was one of grim determination.

“Are you all right?” Tanis asked in concern.

“Never mind me,” Raistlin returned impatiently. “What are we going to do about Flint and the hammer?”

Tanis shook his head. He’d seen Raistlin grow faint and nearly pass out over a stubbed toe, yet after suffering a blow that would have sent stronger men to their beds, he could brush it off as though nothing had happened.

Caramon came trialing up after his twin. He looked at Tanis and winced.

“Sorry we lost him,” he said, chagrined.

“No harm done, and maybe some good. We accomplished what we set out to do. The dwarves have seen the truth for themselves. However, we now have new problems.” As Tanis was telling his friends about Riverwind and Gilthanas, Hornfel was deep in discussion with the Thanes of the Daewar and Klar. The Highbluph was nowhere to be found. The draconian had, unfortunately, leapt straight at him when making his escape, leading the terrified Highbluph to think his last moments had come. He had turned and fled, running to the darkest, deepest pit he could find, and there he would remain until the supply of rats ran low and he was obliged to come out of hiding.

The absence of the Aghar Thane concerned no one. It is doubtful if they noticed. They did take note—grimly—of the absence of Rance, the Thane of the Daergar. No one had witnessed his departure. There was little doubt in Hornfel’s mind that his worst fears were realized. His hopes for unification of the clans beneath the mountain were dashed. A Theiwar and Daergar alliance would have been bad enough, but now there was evidence the renegade dwarves had secretly opened the gates of Thorbardin to forces of darkness. The very tragedy he had worked so hard to avoid—civil war—appeared inevitable.

The Daewar Thane, who had been the most reluctant to think ill of his cousins, was now the most militant, ready to summon his army and battle them on the spot. The wild-eyed Klar would follow Hornfel’s lead and do whatever he was commanded to do. Klar military forces were not entirely reliable, however. They were vicious fighters, but undisciplined and chaotic. The Theiwar were not warriors, but the dark Daergar were. Their numbers were plentiful, and they were fierce, loyal, and consumed with hatred for their cousins, especially the Hylar. If they were joined by an army of monstrous beings, Hornfel foresaw ruin and disaster. After discussing the situation with the Thanes and making what plans they could, Hornfel walked over to speak to Tanis, to offer his apologies for his earlier treatment.