Margaret Weis - Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Pyros watched it as it plummeted down. Then, satisfied that the spies would not live to tell their tale, he flew back to his lair where he could hear Verminaard shouting for him.

In the darkness left behind by the dragon, the great cogwheel-free of the chain that had held it in place for centuries-gave a groan and began to turn.

The light from Maritta's torch illuminated a large, barren windowless room. There was no furniture. The only objects in the chill, stone chamber were a huge basin of water, a bucket filled with what smelled like rotted meat, and a dragon.

Tanis caught his breath. He had thought the black dragon in Xak Tsaroth formidable. He was truly awed at the massive size of this red dragon. Her lair was enormous, probably over one hundred feet in diameter, and the dragon stretched the length of it, the tip of her long tail lying against the far wall. For a moment the companions stood stunned, with ghastly visions of the giant head rising up and searing them with the burning flame breathed by the red dragons, the flames that had destroyed Solace.

Maritta did not appear worried, however. She advanced steadily into the room and, after a moment's hesitation, the companions hurried after her. As they drew closer to the creature, they could see that Maritta had been right-the dragon was clearly in pitiful condition. The great head that lay on the cold stone floor was lined and wrinkled with age, the brilliant red skin grayish and mottled. She breathed noisily through her mouth, her jaws parted to reveal the once sword-sharp teeth, now yellowed and broken. Long scars ran along her sides; her leathery wings were dry and cracked.

Now Tanis could understand Maritta's attitude. Clearly, the dragon had been ill-used, and he caught himself feeling pity, relaxing his guard. He realized how dangerous this was when the dragon-awakened by the torchlight-stirred in her sleep. Her talons were as sharp and her fire as destructive as any other red dragon in Krynn, Tanis reminded himself sharply.

The dragon's eyes opened, slits of glistening red in the torchlight. The companions halted, hands on their weapons.

"Is it time for breakfast already, Maritta?" Matafleur (Flamestrike being her name to common mortals) said in a sleepy, husky voice.

"Yes, we're just a bit early today, dearie," Maritta said soothingly. "But there's a storm brewing and I want the children to have their exercise before it breaks. Go back to sleep. I'll see they don't wake you on their way out."

"I don't mind." The dragon yawned and opened her eyes a bit farther. Now Tanis could see that one of them had a milky covering; she was blind in that eye.

"I hope we don't have to fight her, Tanis," Sturm whispered. "It'd be like fighting someone's grandmother."

Tanis forced his expression to harden. "She's a deadly grandmother, Sturm. Just remember that."

"The little ones had a restful night," the dragon murmured, apparently drifting off to sleep again. "See that they don't get wet if it does storm, Maritta. Especially little Erik. He had a cold last week." Her eyes closed.

Turning, Maritta beckoned the others on, putting her finger to her lips. Sturm and Tanis came last, their weapons and armor muffled by numerous cloaks and skirts. Tanis was about thirty feet from the dragon's head when the noise started.

At first he thought it was his imagination, that his nervousness was making him hear a buzzing sound in his head. But the sound grew louder and louder and Sturm turned, staring at him in alarm. The buzzing sound increased until it was like a thousand swarming locusts. Now the others were looking back, too-all of them staring at him! Tanis looked at his friends helplessly, an almost comic look of confusion on his face.

The dragon snorted and stirred in irritation, shaking her head as though the noise hurt her ears.

Suddenly Raistlin broke from the group and ran back to Tanis. "The sword!" he hissed. He grabbed the half-elf's cloak and threw it back to reveal the blade.

Tanis stared down at the sword in its antique scabbard. The mage was right. The blade hummed as if in the highest state of alarm. Now that Raistlin called his attention to it, the half-elf could actually feel the vibrations.

"Magic," the mage said softly, studying it with interest.

"Can you stop it?" yelled Tanis over the weird noise.

"No," said Raistlin. "I remember now. This is Wyrmslayer, the famed magical sword of Kith-Kanan. It is reacting to the presence of the dragon."

"This is an abysmal time to remember!" Tanis said in fury.

"Or a very convenient time," snarled Sturm.

The dragon slowly raised her head, her eyes blinking, a thin stream of smoke drifting from a nostril. She focused her bleary red eyes on Tanis, pain and irritation in her gaze.

"Who have you brought, Maritta?" Matafleur's voice was filled with menace. "I hear a sound I have not heard in centuries, I smell the foul smell of steel! These are not the women! These are warriors!"

"Don't hurt her!" Maritta wailed.

"I may not have any choice!" Tanis said viciously, drawing Wyrmslayer from its sheath. "Riverwind and Goldmoon, get Maritta out of here!" The blade began to shine with a brilliant white light as the buzzing grew louder and angrier. Matafleur shrank back. The light of the sword pierced her good eye painfully; the terrible sound went through her head like a spear.

Whimpering, she huddled away from Tanis.

"Run, get the children!" Tanis yelled, realizing that they didn't need to fight-at least not yet. Holding the shining sword high in the air, he moved forward cautiously, driving the pitiful dragon back against the wall.

Maritta, after one fearful glance at Tanis, led Goldmoon to-the children's room. About one hundred children were wide-eyed with alarm over the strange sounds outside their chamber.

Their faces relaxed at the sight of Maritta and Goldmoon and a few of the littler ones actually giggled when Caramon came rushing in, his skirts flapping around his armored legs. But at the sight of warriors and their drawn weapons, the children sobered immediately.

"What is it, Maritta?" asked the oldest girl. "What's happening? Is it fighting again?"

"We hope there'll be no fighting, dear one," Maritta said softly. "But I'll not lie to you-it may come to that. Now I want you to gather your things, particularly your warm cloaks, and come with us. The older of you carry the wee ones, as you do when we go outdoors for exercise."

Sturm expected confusion and wailing and demands for explanations. But the children quickly did as they were told, wrapping themselves in warm clothing and helping to dress the younger ones. They were quiet and calm, if a bit pale. These were children of war, Sturm remembered.

"I want you to move very swiftly through the dragon's lair and out into the playroom. When we get there, the big man"- Sturm gestured to Caramon-"will lead you out into the courtyard. Your mothers are waiting for you there. When you get outside, look immediately for your mother and go to her. Does everyone understand?" He glanced dubiously at the smaller children, but the girl at the front of the line nodded.

"We understand, sir," she said.

"All right," Sturm turned. "Caramon?"

The warrior, flushing in embarrassment as one hundred pairs of eyes turned to look at him, led the way back into the dragon's lair. Goldmoon scooped up a toddler in her arms, Maritta picked up another one. The older boys and girls carried little ones on their backs. They hurried out the door in orderly fashion, without saying a word until they saw Tanis, the gleaming sword, and the terrified dragon.

"Hey, you! Don't hurt our dragon!" one little boy yelled. Leaving his place in line, the child ran up to Tanis, his fists raised, his face twisted into a snarl.