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

‘Smoked fish?’

The dragon said, ‘The kobolds, those thou knowest as gnomes, worship me as a god and bring me offerings, fish caught in the deep lake and smoked, and treasure gleaned from deeper halls.’

‘Aye,’ said Dolgan, ‘gnomes have never been known for being overly bright.’

The dragon chuckled. ‘True. The kobolds are shy and harm only those who trouble them in their deep tunnels. They are a simple folk, and it pleaseth them to have a god. As I am not able to hunt, it is an agreeable arrangement.’

Dolgan considered his next question. ‘I mean no disrespect, Rhuagh, but it has ever been my experience with dragons that you have little love for others not your own kind. Why have you aided the boy?’

The dragon closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again to stare blankly toward the dwarf. ‘Know this, dwarf, that such was not always the way of it. Thy people are old, but mine are the oldest of all, save one. We were here before the elves and the moredhel. We served those whose names may not be spoken, and were a happy people.’

‘The Dragon Lords?’

‘So your legends call them. They were our masters, and we were their servants, as were the elves and the moredhel. When they left this land, on a journey beyond imagining, we became the most powerful of the free people, in a time before the dwarves or men came to these lands. Ours was a dominion over the skies and all things, for we were mighty beyond any other.

‘Ages ago, men and dwarves came to our mountains, and for a time we lived in peace. But ways change, and soon strife came. The elves drove the moredhel from the forest now called Elvandar, and men and dwarves warred with dragons.

‘We were strong, but humans are like the trees of the forest, their numbers uncountable. Slowly my people fled to the south, and I am the last in these mountains. I have lived here for ages, for I would not forsake my home.

‘By magic I could turn away those who sought this treasure, and kill those whose arts foiled my clouding of their minds. I sickened of the killing and vowed to take no more lives, even those as hateful as the moredhel. That is why I sent them far, and why I aided the boy, for he is undeserving of harm.’

Dolgan studied the dragon. ‘I thank you, Rhuagh.’

‘Thy thanks are welcome, Dolgan of the Grey Towers. I am glad of thy coming also. It is only a little longer that I could shelter the boy, for I summoned Tomas to my side by magic arts, so he might sit my deathwatch.’

‘What?’ exclaimed Tomas.

‘It is given to dragons to know the hour of their death, Tomas, and mine is close. I am old, even by the measure of my people, and have led a full life. I am content for it to be so. It is our way.’

Dolgan looked troubled. ‘Still, I find it strange to sit here hearing you speak of this.’

‘Why, dwarf? Is it not true with thine own people that when one dieth, it is accounted how well he lived, rather than how long?’

‘You have the truth of that.’

‘Then why should it matter if the death hour is known or not? It is still the same. I have had all that one of my kind could hope for: health, mates, young, riches, and rest. These are all I have ever wanted, and I have had them.’

‘’Tis a wise thing to know what is wanted, and wiser still to know when ’tis achieved,’ said Dolgan.

‘True. And still wiser to know when it is unachievable, for then striving is folly. It is the way of my people to sit the deathwatch, but there are none of my kind near enough to call. I would ask thee to wait for my passing before thy leaving. Wilt thou?’

Dolgan looked at Tomas, who bobbed his head in agreement. ‘Aye, dragon, we will, though it is not a thing to gladden our hearts.’

The dragon closed his eyes; Tomas and Dolgan could see they were beginning to swell shut. ‘Thanks to thee, Dolgan, and to thee, Tomas.’

The dragon lay there and spoke to them of his life, flying the skies of Midkemia, of far lands where tigers lived in cities, and mountains where eagles could speak. Tales of wonder and awe were told, long into the night.

When his voice began to falter, Rhuagh said, ‘Once a man came to this place, a magician of mighty arts. He could not be turned from this place by my magic, nor could I slay him. For three days we battled, his arts against mine, and when done, he had bested me. I thought he would slay me and carry off my riches, but instead he stayed, for his only thought was to learn my magic, so that it would not be lost when I passed.’

Tomas sat in wonder, for as little as he knew about magic from Pug, he thought this a marvelous thing. In his mind’s eye he could see the titanic struggle and the great powers working.

‘With him he had a strange creature, much like a goblin, though upright, and with features of finer aspect. For three years he stayed with me, while his servant came and went. He learned all I could teach, for I could deny him not. But he taught as well, and his wisdom gave me great comfort. It was because of him that I learned to respect life, no matter how mean of character, and vowed to spare any that came to me. He also had suffered at the hands of others, as I had in the wars with men, for much that I cherished was lost. This man had the art of healing the wounds of the heart and mind, and when he left, I felt the victor, not the vanquished.’ He paused and swallowed, and Tomas could see that speech was coming to him with more difficulty. ‘If a dragon could not have attended my deathwatch, I would as soon have him sit here, for he was the first of thy kind, boy, that I would count a friend.’

‘Who was he, Rhuagh?’ Tomas asked.

‘He was called Macros.’

Dolgan looked thoughtful. ‘I’ve heard his name, a magician of most puissant arts. He is nearly a myth, having lived somewhere to the east.’

‘A myth he is not, Dolgan,’ said Rhuagh, thickly. ‘Still, it may be that he is dead, for he dwelt with me ages ago.’ The dragon paused. ‘My time is now close, so I must finish. I would ask a boon of thee, dwarf.’ He moved his head slightly and said, ‘In yon box is a gift from the mage, to be used at this time. It is a rod fashioned of magic. Macros left it so that when I die no bones will be left for scavengers to pick over. Wilt thou bring it here?’

Dolgan went to the indicated chest. He opened it to discover a black metal rod lying upon a blue velvet cloth. He picked up the rod and found it surprisingly heavy for its size. He carried it over to the dragon.

The dragon spoke, his words nearly unintelligible, for his tongue was swollen. ‘In a moment, touch the rod to me, Dolgan, for then will I end.’

‘Aye,’ said Dolgan, ‘though it will give me scant pleasure to see your end, dragon.’

‘Before that I have one last thing to tell. In a box next to the other is a gift for thee, dwarf. Thou mayest take whatever else here pleaseth thee, for I will have no use for any of it. But of all in this hall, that in the box is what I wish thee to have.’ He tried to move his head toward Tomas, but could not. ‘Tomas, thanks to thee, for spending my last with me. In the box with the dwarf’s gift is one for you. Take whatever else pleaseth thee, also, for thy heart is good.’ He drew a deep breath, and Tomas could hear it rattle in his throat. ‘Now, Dolgan.’

Dolgan extended the rod and lightly touched the dragon on the head with it. At first nothing happened. Rhuagh said softly, ‘It was Macros’s last gift.’

Suddenly a soft golden light began to form around the dragon. A faint humming could be heard, as if the walls of the hall reverberated with fey music. The sound increased as the light grew brighter and began to pulse with energy. Tomas and Dolgan watched as the discolored patches faded from Rhuagh’s scales. His hide shone with golden sparkle, and the film started to lift from his eyes. He slowly raised his head, and they knew he could again see the hall around him. His crest stood erect, and his wings lifted, showing the rich silver sheen underneath. The yellowed teeth became brilliant white, and his faded black claws shone like polished ebony as he stood upright, lifting his head high.