"A golem," Durin whispered. "A golem in the shape of a dragon. So that's why the Bane of Caeruleus was too large to move."
"My conclusion, exactly."
Durin ignored the young dwarfs cocky comment. He sighed. Maybe Frivaldi was right. Maybe he was getting old. How had he not recognized the "dragon" for what it was?
Frivaldi peered at the golem, head cocked, and asked, "So how do you make it go?"
"You can't," Durin said. "Only a golem's creator can command it."
"That's Torunn, right?" Frivaldi asked. Durin nodded.
"And Torunn's dead, so it's useless. We've come all this way for nothing."
Durin balled his fists. No. It couldn't be. All those decades, searching for the Bane, only to find…
Wait a minute. Closing his eyes, he recalled verse two hundred and seventeen of the saga, muttering it aloud.
"And when the Bane at last was wrought, "Bold Torunn ensorcelled it with a thought. "Its purpose to slay the dragon blue, "Yet this the bane would never do." Durin opened his eyes.
"Torunn did command it," he said. "The saga said so."
"Then why didn't it fly off and attack Caeruleus?" Frivaldi asked.
He let go of the jaw, which spring shut with a clank.
Durin glanced at a goblin skeleton that lay nearby, then at the illusionary wall. He could guess the answer-the goblins had overrun the Hall of Hammers before the illusionary wall could be dispelled. The golem, unable to see its intended target, had remained in place, waiting for it to appear, down through the centuries.
"We didn't come all this way for nothing," Durin said, an embarrassing amount of excitement in his voice. "The golem is lying dormant, just like the horde beetles. If a target should appear-if an illusion of a blue dragon could be created outside, and the illusionary wall was dispelled, the Bane might be lured back to Silverymoon." He slapped Frivaldi on the back. "We've done it!"
Frivaldi wasn't looking at him. He was staring at the illusionary wall-and his eyes were getting bigger and his face paler by the moment.
"Uh, Durin…"
Durin glanced over his shoulder and felt his own face blanch as he spotted the dozen dragonkin who had just flown in through the illusionary wall. They landed on the floor of the hall and strode menacingly toward Durin and Frivaldi, talons clicking on the stone floor. The largest of the clutch-a dragonkin with one broken horn and a nasty sneer on its snout-pointed at Frivaldi.
"Magic," it barked in a crude approximation of the Dwarvish tongue. "Give. Or die."
Behind it, the other dragonkin chuckled.
Frivaldi glanced at Durin and asked, "What do I do? Give them my pack?"
Durin almost cracked a smile. Frivaldi, asking him for advice? He raised his axe. Even with the stoneskin ring, he wouldn't last long against such odds, but perhaps if he managed to look threatening enough, Frivaldi might be able to escape, to carry word that they'd found the Bane back to the order. He kept his expression stoic, careful not to betray the pain of his wounded shoulder. The blood had soaked his sleeve and was dripping onto the floor. He was already feeling a little faint. If only he had the healing potion-but it had been in his pack, which was gone.
"You're younger and faster," he told Frivaldi. "Toss your pack into the middle of them. They'll fight for it. Then run. Return to Silverymoon. Tell the Order…"
Frivaldi wasn't listening. He squatted down, unfastening his pack.
"Much magic inside," he told the dragonkin leader.
"What are you doing?" Durin asked, exasperated. "Go!"
"These guys are part dragon, right?" Frivaldi asked. "Yes, but-"
The dragonkin moved closer, elbowing each other as they angled for a look inside the pack. Their leader growled, elbowing the nearest ones behind it.
"And the golem's primed to attack dragons."
"Not any dragon," Durin gritted. His hands were sweaty on the grip of the axe. If Frivaldi didn't run soon…."Just Caeruleus."
Frivaldi pulled a potion vial out of his pack and held it up.
"Hey guys, magic!"
He tossed the vial away and it shattered on the floor. Three of the dragonkin immediately leaped to that spot and began lapping at the spilled potion. A half dozen more tried to yank them back, to get a lick in themselves.
Frivaldi pulled the spinel out of his pack, holding it carefully.
"That's not what the saga said," the young dwarf said. " 'It's purpose-" He hurled the spinel up into the air. "-to slay dragons blue.'"
As the spinel raced toward the ceiling, the clutch of dragonkin leaped into the air, wings beating furiously. One grabbed it-and immediately erupted into a blue glow as the faerie fire spell the gem contained was activated. A second dragonkin rose behind it, wings flapping furiously, and slammed its fists down in a hammerlike blow on the top of the first one's head. The spinel dropped. Another dragonkin swooped in, grabbing it-and also began to glow with an eerie blue light. A third dragonkin grabbed the gem, only to have it knocked from its hand by a flying tackle, then a fourth…
The rest of the dragonkin rose into the air, eager to join in the sport. The dragonkin leader roared something at them, but they refused to listen. Teeth gnashing, the leader leaped into the air.
Durin heard a sound behind him: the smooth slide of metal on metal and the creak of a hinge. He turned.
The iron golem had raised its head. Its metal muscles flexed, wings flared open-and it lunged upward, snapping one of the glowing dragonkin out of the air. A severed leg tumbled out of its jaws, landing with a wet, bloody thud beside Durin.
"Yes!" Frivaldi yelled, punching a fist into the air. "Go get 'em, golem!"
By then, more than half of the dragonkin had touched the gem. Their leader-obviously smarter than the rest-railed at them, screeching in Draconian, then gave it up and fled through the illusionary wall. The golem tossed its head, flicking what remained of the bloody corpse aside, then roared its victory-a hollow sound like thunder reverberating through a bell. The dragonkin holding the gem gave a shrill squeak of fear, then dropped the spinel and bolted through the wall after its leader. The others followed as fast as their wings would carry them.
"Go!" Frivaldi cried at the golem, pointing at the illusionary wall. "Finish them off."
The golem reared up-then seemed to totter. A wing fell off, landing with a tremendous boom as it hit the stone floor.
"Huh?" Frivaldi asked, standing and blinking up at the golem. "Is it defective?"
The jaw fell off, narrowly missing the young dwarf. Sword-blade teeth bounced out of it and skittered across the floor.
Durin groaned as he realized what was happening.
"It's not defective," he yelled over the clatter of scales raining down from the golem. "The saga said 'dragon,' not 'dragons.' The golem killed a blue dragon-singular-and fulfilled Torunn's command. Now the elemental bound inside it is free."
Dropping his axe, he hurled himself at Frivaldi. The stupid, blundering fool. The Bane of Caeruleus-the artifact Durin had poured decades of his life into searching for-was falling apart. Ruined. Had it remained intact, it might have at last been used for its intended purpose. But instead…
His fists closed around Frivaldi's throat as rage pounded in his ears. Standard delving procedure be damned. He was going to kill that stupid, impulsive, undisciplined-Something slammed into Durin's head from above, knocking him unconscious.
Frivaldi yanked the cork out of the vial with his teeth, opened Durin's mouth, and poured the remainder of the healing potion down his throat. Durin sputtered. The wound in his shoulder closed, the bloody dent in his scalp disappeared, and his eyes fluttered open.
"What… what happened?" he croaked, sitting up.
Frivaldi picked up a sphere of iron the size of a mace head.