Кейт Новак - Azure Bonds

Alias was beginning to consider retreating through the passage back to the outside. Something must have gone wrong for Akabar to take so long to return.

Before she’d made up her mind, the downward passageway brightened and a glowing orb floated up into her cavern. The size of a melon and radiating an orange light, the orb held the image of the merchant-mage’s head.

“What kept you, Turmite?” she asked with a sniff.

“I had to wait until the dragon bedded down,” replied the mage. His voice was muffled by the effects of his spell, a meld of wizard eye—so he could spy out the territory from the entrance to the tunnel in relative safety—and a special phantasmal force—so he could report his findings back to Alias. “It wouldn’t do to have Her Evilness awake when you tried to sneak in. It would spoil our surprise.

“My spell is almost exhausted, and I must leave our mission’s completion to you, swordslady. Ahead of you lie a few gentle curves, no serious drops. The ceiling is low about fifty yards ahead, then the passage narrows to shoulder width. It lets out on a ledge above the main cavern floor. Our bard is in a small cage atop a dais on the far side of the cavern.” The mage’s image began blurring, as if a snowstorm had erupted within the orange sphere. “Spell’s wearing off. Anything I should do with your pet?”

“He’s not my pe—” Alias began, but Akabar’s spell was breaking up too quickly to waste time arguing. “Just keep him from entering the cavern,” she ordered. “And don’t get him mad at you. The last spell-caster who did didn’t live long enough to regret it.”

“Gods’ luck to you.” Akabar’s voice sounded a long way off. His image was gone, and the orange sphere was shrinking. “I hope you know what you’re doing. You have fought dragons before?”

“This will be my first,” she answered quietly, but the sphere was gone and there was no reply from Akabar. I wonder if he heard me, she thought. Better if he didn’t.

Five hundred yards behind and somewhat above her, at the cavern entrance overlooking the road from Waymoot to Suzail, Akabar the Turmishman came out of his trance. Dragonbait was still crouched at the mage’s feet, watching the cavern entrance intently. The air about them was warm, humming with large bumblebees dotting, diving, and dodging about the mountain daisies.

Akabar sat down and leaned against a rock. He made quick thanks to his southern gods that he was not the one about to face a dragon in its lair. He pulled an apple from his backpack and bit into it. Dragonbait twitched at the sound of the crunch, but the creature did not takes his eyes off the cavern mouth that had swallowed Alias.

Alias continued cautiously along the tunnel Akabar had scouted out for her. The Turmish mage’s report had been reasonably accurate in so far as there were no hairpin curves and none of the drops were impassable, but the passage was not so smooth that she looked forward to a possible hasty retreat. The low ceiling didn’t bother her, but she was a trifle alarmed at the sound her armor made scraping against the walls when the corridor narrowed. Less frightening, but quite annoying, was having to slosh through the small, icy stream that had carved out the tunnel—something Akabar had failed to note. Too bad I can’t shrink into an orange melon and float effortlessly along this passageway, she grumbled to herself.

Still, she was grateful that they had learned of this back door. With any luck, the dragon wasn’t aware of it, or at least ignored it as too small to worry about.

A splattering noise warned her that the stream was nearing a considerable drop, and she slowed accordingly. She wrapped her glowing arm back in her cloak to hide her presence from the dragon. She reached the end of the tunnel and stepped out onto the ledge Akabar had mentioned. The stream fell twenty feet or so into a small pool on the cavern floor. Excellent! The waterfall will cover any noise I make climbing down.

Light filtered in from another, larger passage in the side of the cavern. This passage provided the dragon egress from its lair. Holes in the domed ceiling let in more rays of light. At first Alias was glad of the light because it drowned out the dim glow of her sigils, and she unwrapped her arm. Then she noticed the black, cawing birds fluttering in and out of the holes in the ceiling.

Crows! Nine hells! Alias cursed under her breath. Crows were bad luck—not just a sign for the superstitious, but a danger for anyone relying on stealth. One of their raucous cries raised in challenge of her intrusion into their territory would be enough to wake the dead. For the most part, the birds roosted in crannies near the ceiling, though a few circled in the thermals rising from the dragon’s body. Since I have no intention of approaching the dragon, there’s no reason for them to get excited, she reassured herself.

The great beast itself lay curled catlike. Alias had no doubt that the monster was a light sleeper. She wouldn’t be surprised to discover brittle twigs or bells scattered across the main entrance. It was even possible that the dragon was capable of casting magical spell guards to wake her if anyone crossed the threshold into her treasure hold.

And what a hoard that hold held! Even by a dragon’s standards the loot was immense. It included not only chests of gold lions and other precious coins, but split bags filled with trade bars, tapestries, and bolts of satin and velvet, marble statues, and bound books. Many of these items were still packed in the wagons that had been picked up and flown here by the monster. The dragon lay between the front entrance and the mounds of shimmering wealth, but nothing blocked Alias’s access to the beast’s hoard.

If the treasure was enough to start the adventuress sweating with gold fever, the bones were enough to quench that fire. Alias could spot piles of white as large as the treasure itself. Most were the remains of cattle and other large beasts the dragon used for food, but more than a few human skulls gleamed among all that ivory—the remains of adventurers Alias did not intend to join.

Alias leaned against the rock and watched the dragon’s massive chest scales rise and fall with the deep breathing of slumber. Akabar’s description of the monster had been accurate. The drab rust scales that darkened to a purplish hue toward the belly confirmed that the creature was a female, and her huge size could only come with great age.

The crows danced over the beast’s hide, picking at the bugs beneath her scales. Alias realized the crows were actually ravens with wingspans as wide as she was tall. They only looked small, dwarfed by the size of the dragon.

Alias tore her eyes away from her unwitting hostess. No sense in hypnotizing myself with awe, she thought as she peered across the cavern for the bard’s cage. She spotted it perched solidly atop an altar carved into the rock. This must have once been a temple, she decided. To what god?

The body in the cage lay slumped against the bars. Tymora, Alias prayed silently, don’t let me be too late. The figure rolled over, apparently in its sleep, and Alias sighed with relief. She prepared to enter the lair.

As quietly as possible, she secured a rope to a stalagmite on the ledge where she stood. She kept herself facing the dragon as much as possible as she climbed down, using only her arm muscles, not daring to push against the wall to break her descent for fear of setting loose rock clattering down. A few ravens spied her and retreated to the roof, but others continued scavenging on the dragon’s hide.

Slipping warily between the piles of treasure, Alias checked the ground carefully so she didn’t accidentally crunch her foot down on a dry bone and tested her footing lightly so she didn’t slip on any loose stacks of coins. She threw off the temptation creeping over her to grab something valuable and flee. She was here for one thing only. Once that had been secured, well … maybe on the way out she might manage a few sacks of gold.