"How did she do that?" Goпmgar whispered nervously. "It was like she was covered in ink."
"Half magic," came the maga's answer. "It's something she was born with. Дlfar are children of darkness."
"She'll swap sides as soon as we meet any of her kind," Goпmgar predicted darkly. "Blood is thicker than water."
"And love is stronger than both," Furgas countered firmly. "Narmora would rather die than betray me, and I'd give my life to protect her from harm."
The puny dwarf grumbled unintelligibly and followed the others to the gateway. He held his shield in front of him, ready to ward off an attack.
"All clear," said Narmora, not bothering to lower her voice. "They seem to have contented themselves with knocking down the defenses and vandalizing the gates to the point where they can't be closed."
"So where are all the runts?" demanded Boпndil, whirling his axes over his head.
"At the Stone Gateway, I expect-and for our sake, I hope they stay there," said Tungdil, who remembered the strong hold's layout from a book he'd once read. He turned to the archway. "Time to relight the great furnace of Dragon Fire!"
It was with reverence, apprehension, and a good deal of emotion that he took his first careful step into the tunnel, knowing that no dwarf had set foot in the stronghold since the fifthlings' defeat.
Life flooded back to the kingdom as Rodario and Furgas lit their lamps. The walls reflected the light so radiantly that they hastily damped the flames.
At last they could see that they were standing in a passageway whose walls were clad with polished palandium. A thousand cycles of neglect had done nothing to subdue the metal's white sheen. The likeness of dwarven kings had been etched into the polished panels and a row of bearded rulers gazed benevolently at the visitors, their shiny red axes of cast vraccasium raised in greeting.
"Such majesty," murmured Rodario.
Filled with wonderment, the dwarves sank to their knees and prayed to Vraccas. Even the soulless Bavragor was awed by his surroundings, but every word of his prayer was uttered with immense concentration as the evil within him strove to break his will and seize control of his thoughts and beliefs. It hadn't reckoned with his resolve and the legendary stubbornness of the dwarven mind.
Andфkai, Djerun, and the players waited patiently.
At length Tungdil rose and breathed deeply. The passageway smelled old, dusty, and venerable; it had retained its character in spite of the invasion of orcs and other beasts. "We'll have to do some exploring if we're going to find Flamemere." He set off with Boпndil at his side.
Their boots raised clouds of dust, and from time to time a small creature scurried to safety. The ground was littered with fragments of bone, shields, and mail.
They proceeded in silence until they reached a second archway. The door had been ripped from its hinges, allowing them to enter the many-columned hall. Leading out from the vast pentagonal chamber were fifteen passageways. The stone signposts had been smashed to smithereens.
"There's such a thing as too much choice," Rodario said glumly. "Especially when we haven't got all day to scamper around like mice until we find the right tunnel."
"We could pick the one with the least footprints," proposed Tungdil. "I can't imagine orcs are frequent visitors to Flamemere. There's no reason for them to go there."
"Good idea," agreed Boпndil, making a beeline for one of the passageways. Narmora, Djerun, and Andфkai set about inspecting the others, while the rest of the company found a less exposed corner of the hall to sit and rest.
Rodario scribbled a few thoughts, then shared a meal with Furgas, while Bavragor stayed standing and stared emptily ahead. Goпmgar took shelter behind his shield, chewing nervously on a strip of cured meat and scanning the room for threats. The thought of fifteen passageways converging on his resting place did nothing to help him relax.
"He must be wondering what's happened to Gandogar," Balyndis said softly to Tungdil.
"He's not the only one. We've come all this way and no one's said anything about another group of dwarves. Your folk hadn't seen him either. I hope nothing dreadful's happened," he said, concerned. He closed his eyes, only to open them suddenly and unbutton his fur coat. It was much warmer in the hall than outside and the heat was making him tired.
"Get some sleep," Balyndis told him. "I'll keep watch and wake you as soon as there's anything to report."
"I'm your leader; I'm not supposed to sleep."
"Tired leaders make mistakes," she said firmly, pushing on his shoulders until he capitulated and lay down. "There, that's much better. Now you can dream of rescuing our kingdoms." Smiling, she pushed a wayward lock of hair behind her ear and turned to get a better view of the hall.
Sitting next to him like that, her gaze watchful and one hand resting confidently on her ax, she looked every inch the warrior.
It's definitely this way." To nobody's great surprise, Boпndil, his mind made up, had no intention of listening to anyone else.
"Fine," said Tungdil, signaling for them to start moving, "we'll start with this one and if it doesn't work out, we'll try Andфkai's next."
They had snatched a few moments' sleep to recover their strength in preparation for facing the dragon, but now it was time to move on.
"Argamas is the mate of Branbausнl," Tungdil explained to Balyndis. "Branbausнl lived in the Gray Range until Giselbert's folk stole his fire, killed him, and plundered his lair. Argamas fled to Flamemere…"
"… never to be seen again," Goпmgar finished gladly. "Let's hope the fire-breather stays there. I can't say I'm particularly convinced by our strategy. Dragon scales are as hard as steel."
"We don't need to kill her, only to steal her fire," said Andфkai, unconcerned. "I thought you'd be happy about that."
"Happy?" chimed in Boпndil. "It's a waste! Why do we have to let her live? Argamas is the biggest beast in Girdlegard, or thereabouts, and I'm not allowed to kill her!" From the injured look on his face, it was obvious that the warrior felt cruelly misunderstood. He tried again. "Name me one other place where I can find a real dragon! It would be scandalous to pass up an opportunity like this!"
"I'm afraid the Estimable Maga is right," said Rodario.
"That's exactly the kind of reaction I'd expect from a coward like you," Boпndil told him dismissively. "Balyndis, what do you say the two of us-"
"Quiet," cautioned Tungdil. There was a smell of sulfur in the air and the temperature was rising. Their route had taken them down countless flights of stairs and through endless shafts, and now at last they were closing in. "Not another word until we know what's out there. We don't want Argamas leaving her lava bath until we're absolutely ready."
Goпmgar shrank behind his shield. "Maybe we should ask her to help. Dragons aren't stupid, you know, and she might be quite reasonable."
"You can't ask the dragon to give us her fire," Boпndil blazed up angrily. "Are you determined to ruin everything? You've got to take it! Take it, do you hear?"
"Goпmgar, Argamas's mate was killed by dwarves. I hardly think she'll be willing to help us," said Tungdil, shaking his head. "Our priority is to stay alive, so we'll settle for stealing her fire." He patted the stash of torches on his belt. "We need to bait her, nothing more."
"Unbelievable," grumbled Boпndil. "Why does everyone have to spoil my fun?"
They stepped out of the passageway and were bathed in an intense yellow glare. There was a pervading smell of rotten eggs and it was difficult to breathe, but the view made up for the other unpleasantness.
A wave of heat rose toward them as they approached the seething lake. The molten lava was alive with bubbles, some swelling and showering incandescent droplets as they burst, others collapsing meekly, while new pockets formed on the surface in a boiling, churning mass.