Raymond E. Feist - The Complete Riftwar Saga Trilogy - Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon

Dolgan followed what seemed to be a group of tracks, as if a band of men had come this way. Tomas’s tracks were mixed in, and he was worried, for the boy could have been along this way before or after the others, or could have been with them. If the boy was held prisoner by someone, then Dolgan knew every moment was critical.

The tunnel wound downward and soon changed into a hall fashioned from great stone blocks fitted closely together and polished smooth. In all his years he had never seen its like. The passage leveled out, and Dolgan walked along quietly. The tracks had vanished, for the stone was hard and free of dust. High overhead, Dolgan could make out the first of several crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling by chains. They could be lowered by means of a pulley, so the candles might be lit. The sound of his boots echoed hollowly off the high ceiling.

At the far end of the passage he spied large doors, fashioned from wood, with bands of iron and a great lock. They were ajar, and light could be seen coming through.

Without a sound, Dolgan crept close to the doors and peered in. He gaped at what he saw, his shield and ax coming up instinctively.

Sitting on a pile of gold coins, and gems the size of a man’s fist, was Tomas, eating what looked to be a fish. Opposite him crouched a figure that caused Dolgan to doubt his eyes.

A head the size of a small wagon rested on the floor. Shield-size scales of a deep golden color covered it, and the long, supple neck led back to a huge body extending into the gloom of the giant hall. Enormous wings were folded across its back, their drooping tips touching the floor. Two pointed ears sat atop its head, separated by a delicate-looking crest, flecked with silver. Its long muzzle was set in a wolflike grin, showing fangs as long as broadswords, and a long forked tongue flicked out for a moment.

Dolgan fought down the overwhelming and rare urge to run, for Tomas was sitting, and to all appearances sharing a meal, with the dwarven folk’s most feared hereditary enemy: a great dragon. He stepped forward, and his boots clacked on the stone floor.

Tomas turned at the sound, and the dragon’s great head came up. Giant ruby eyes regarded the small intruder. Tomas jumped to his feet, an expression of joy upon his face. ‘Dolgan!’ He scrambled down from the pile of wealth and rushed to the dwarf.

The dragon’s voice rumbled through the great hall, echoing like thunder through a valley. ‘Welcome, dwarf. Thy friend hath told me that thou wouldst not forsake him.’

Tomas stood before the dwarf, asking a dozen questions, while Dolgan’s senses reeled. Behind the boy, the Prince of all dragons sat quietly observing the exchange, and the dwarf was having trouble maintaining the equanimity that was normally his. Making little sense of Tomas’s questions, Dolgan gently pushed him to one side to better see the dragon. ‘I came alone,’ he said softly to the boy. ‘The others were loath to leave the search to me, but they had to press on, so vital was the mission.’

Tomas said, ‘I understand.’

‘What manner of wizardry is this?’ asked Dolgan softly.

The dragon chuckled, and the room rumbled with the sound. ‘Come into my home, dwarf, and I will tell thee.’ The great dragon’s head returned to the floor, his eyes still resting above Dolgan’s head. The dwarf approached slowly, shield and ax unconsciously at the ready. The dragon laughed, a deep, echoing sound, like water cascading down a canyon. ‘Stay thy hand, small warrior, I’ll not harm thee or thy friend.’

Dolgan let his shield down and hung his ax on his belt. He looked around and saw that they were standing in a vast hall, fashioned out of the living rock of the mountain. On all its walls could be seen large tapestries and banners, faded and torn; something about their look set Dolgan’s teeth on edge, for they were as alien as they were ancient – no creature he knew of, human, elf, or goblin fashioned those pennants. More of the giant crystal chandeliers hung from timbers across the ceiling. At the far end of the hall, a throne could be seen on a dais, and long tables with chairs for many diners stood before it. Upon the tables were flagons of crystal and plates of gold. And all was covered with the dust of ages.

Elsewhere in the hall lay piles of wealth: gold, gems, crowns, silver, rich armor, bolts of rare cloth, and carved chests of precious woods, fitted with inlaid enamels of great craft.

Dolgan sat upon a lifetime’s riches of gold, absently moving it around to make as comfortable a seat as was possible. Tomas sat next to him as the dwarf pulled out his pipe. He didn’t show it, but he felt the need to calm himself, and his pipe always soothed his nerves. He lit a taper from his lantern and struck it to his pipe. The dragon watched him, then said, ‘Canst thou now breathe fire and smoke, dwarf? Art thou the new dragon? Hath ever a dragon been so small?’

Dolgan shook his head. ‘’Tis but my pipe.’ He explained the use of tabac.

The dragon said, ‘This is a strange thing, but thine are a strange folk, in truth.’

Dolgan cocked a brow at this but said nothing. ‘Tomas, how did you come to this place?’

Tomas seemed unmindful of the dragon, and Dolgan found this reassuring. If the great beast had wished to harm them, he could have done so with little effort. Dragons were undisputedly the mightiest creatures on Midkemia. And this was the mightiest dragon Dolgan had heard of, half again the size of those he had fought in his youth.

Tomas finished the fish he had been eating and said, ‘I wandered for a long time and came to a place where I could sleep.’

‘Aye, I found it.’

‘I awoke at the sound of something and found tracks that led here.’

‘Those I saw also. I was afraid you had been taken.’

‘I wasn’t. It was a party of goblins and a few Dark Brothers, coming to this place. They were very concerned about what was ahead and didn’t pay attention to what was behind, so I could follow fairly close.’

‘That was a dangerous thing to do.’

‘I know, but I was desperate for a way out. I thought they might lead me to the surface, and I could wait while they went on ahead, then slip out. If I could get out of the mines, I could have headed north toward your village.’

‘A bold plan, Tomas,’ said Dolgan, an approving look in his eyes.

‘They came to this place, and I followed.’

‘What happened to them?’

The dragon spoke. ‘I sent them far away, dwarf, for they were not company I would choose.’

‘Sent them away? How?’

The dragon raised his head a little, and Dolgan could see that his scales were faded and dull in places. The red eyes were filmed over slightly, and suddenly Dolgan knew the dragon was blind.

‘The dragons have long had magic, though it is unlike any other. It is by my arts that I can see thee, dwarf, for the light hath long been denied me. I took the foul creatures and sent them far to the north. They do not know how they came to that place, nor remember this place.’

Dolgan puffed on his pipe, thinking of what he was hearing. ‘In the tales of my people, there are legends of dragon magicians, though you are the first I have seen.’

The dragon lowered his head to the floor slowly, as if tired. ‘For I am one of the last of the golden dragons, dwarf, and none of the lesser dragons have the art of sorcery. I have sworn never to take a life, but I would not have their kind invade my resting place.’

Tomas spoke up. ‘Rhuagh has been kind to me, Dolgan. He let me stay until you found me, for he knew that someone was coming.’

Dolgan looked at the dragon, wondering at his foretelling.

Tomas continued, ‘He gave me some smoked fish to eat, and a place to rest.’