She ought to be there now, coiled in her favorite place, listening to the screams of prisoners being tortured in her dungeon and watching the light from a delicate silver candelabrum make her collection of perfect rubies glimmer. She would be there now, hearing news of trappers who came to Shrentak with fantastic beasts in tow for her nefarious menagerie and watching more paintings, jewelry, and coins being added to her trove, but a courier had arrived to interrupt her routine. It was his news that lured her from the blessed swamp.
“Mistress Sable, ruler of all of grand Shrentak and this glorious swamp…”
She remembered the courier’s bowing and sniveling.
“Knight Commander Galor Bedell has located the Dhamon-dragon.”
She also remembered growling, then watching with disgust as the courier soiled himself in his fear. Sable had sent Commander Bedell on a minor errand intended to insult and punish him for his failure to slay the Dhamon-dragon. Though she was pleased to learn of her foe’s whereabouts, she was irritated that Bedell had neglected his assigned task.
“Continue,” she hissed, acid spilling over her lip and sizzling against the stone.
“Mistress Sable, ruler of grand Shrentak and this glorious swamp, the Dhamon-dragon heads east toward the Kharolis Mountains. Bedell has been tracking the insolent dragon, and through a chain of messengers he relays this news to your imperious self. He tried to kill the Dhamon-dragon, had powerful poison and…”
Sable breathed then, acid spraying in a stream that struck the courier so forcefully that it essentially disintegrated him. She glared at his smoking remains and rumbled for her attendants to come clean up the mess. Some of the acid had also struck a mound of ancient gold coins, and though it did not dissolve the pieces entirely, it ruined some edges and faces, adding to the dragon’s ire.
Still, if the courier’s news was accurate, the Dhamon-dragon was not terribly, terribly far away, and so might be dealt with now. Sable had considerable forces in the city above and could dispatch them, but she didn’t know precisely where her foe was, and it would take a while for her minions to travel on their tiny legs. They would be worn down from the journey, fatigued before they could confront and fight the Dhamon-dragon. The Kharolis Mountains were not very far at all…for an overlord who boasted massive wings and a network of tunnels facilitating her movements beneath the swamp. She left the bowels of Shrentak that very night, flying low over the uppermost canopy of her gloomy land and west toward the Kharolis Mountains. Pausing at the foothills, she vowed to succeed where all her lackeys had failed. She would slay the accursed Dhamon-dragon. No creature would again dare to claim even an inch of her precious swamp.
Sable began burrowing, her enormous claws digging into the ground and quickly starting a tunnel that allowed her to slip beneath the first mountain range. If Dhamon had dwelled quietly in her swamp, she likely would have let him be. He wouldn’t have vexed her so, but the wretched dragon, who looked like no dragon she had ever seen, insisted on building his own lair and taking some of the treasure due to her and claiming more and more and more land. He had slain the forces she sent to the lowlands…forces that were at first just instructed to report about the goings-on in the area. Then he killed those she sent to war against him.
The Dhamon-dragon had cost her land and minions, and now he was traveling through the Kharolis mountains, heading east, no doubt returning to her blessed swamp from Qualinesti lands, bent on vexing her again.
Her thoughts returned to the present. Burrowing into the stone now, angling upward with her tunnel, she used her magic to feel the footfalls on the mountain pass above her. The footsteps were soft and nearly noiseless, and she knew the hated Dhamon-dragon could be as silent as a shadow if he tried. These must be his companions she sensed, the wingless draconian who once served her and whom she could barely remember, and the elf…the Dhamon-dragon must be with them.
She roared her excitement, the fury and delight in her voice sending a tremor through the stone. The trembling of the stone gave the overlord an idea. The courier had reported that the Dhamon-dragon was walking, that perhaps his wings had been damaged by Commander Bedell’s goblins so he could not fly. Sable was familiar with the mountains and the pass, with its sheer, high walls that could so easily collapse and trap any creature traveling along the old dwarven trail.
Sable roared louder and louder, flailing with her claws. In response, the quake intensified, the ground shook, and great blocks of stone began to crack. She pictured the pass breaking apart and raining down on the Dhamon-dragon and his sivak friend and the elf that was with them, according to the courier. Odd that an elf would be traveling with the Dhamon-dragon and a draconian.
The ground trembled even more violently, and Sable felt the rocks split and tumble down. She could no longer sense the footfalls of the elf and sivak. The Dhamon-dragon was likely pinned under stone, perhaps dead—she hoped not. Sable wanted to deal the final blow herself. She clawed faster toward the surface.
The goats were nearly enough to sate him, but Dhamon wanted more. He smelled more of the animals over the next rise. He could hear them, their hooves making clicking sounds across the rocks, one of them snorting, probably another ram leading another herd, oblivious to Dhamon’s presence…
He guessed there to be at least a dozen. Goats were not as delicious as bear, but they were preferable to most of the fare he’d dined on in the swamp, and their meat was reasonably tender. He pivoted toward them, his stomach growling.
Then abruptly he froze, hovering over a peak. The Kharolis Mountains were rumbling below him. A quake was building. At first he thought little of it, hovering only out of curiosity, and when it stopped, he again headed toward the goats, which he could tell were nervously dashing over the rocks now.
The mountain rumbled more violently, enough to send a chunk of rock off the peak directly beneath him. The goats were close, he knew, and would be distracted by the quake. His saliva flowed. He crested the rise and saw the herd, the ram leading them down a trail, but the mountain was still rumbling and rocks were shifting and sliding, giving even the sure-footed goats trouble.
If the goats were having trouble, Dhamon suddenly realized, his companions might be faring worse.
Feril! He beat his wings and turned, climbed over a peak and shot toward the pass where he’d left her and Ragh. Dhamon knew he hadn’t been gone very long and that his companions couldn’t have made much progress along the trail. The miles melted beneath his wings as the mountain continued to quake.
Streaking over the pass, he spotted the Kagonesti just in time to watch in horror as the southern wall cracked and showered down on the trail in front of her. Feril was agile as a dancer and nimbly avoided the largest of the stones, but some rocks were pelting her nonetheless. He didn’t see Ragh at first, but as he dived toward Feril, he spotted a silvery claw reaching up from a mound of rubble.
“Ragh!” Dhamon plummeted toward the sivak, tucking his wings in close, then turning to land lightly on his clawed feet. He grabbed at the largest rocks with his jaws, tossing them right and left while digging at the rocks and trying to free the sivak. Feril sidestepped a shower of rocks as she rushed toward him.
In moments, Dhamon had reached Ragh and plucked him away, holding the unconscious sivak gingerly in his teeth and lowering his head to the still-rumbling earth. Feril sprinted the remaining few yards and leaped onto him, hands closing around one of Dhamon’s horns and pulling herself up onto his neck. She sat between shadowy spines and gripped him tightly, heels pressing into him.
Dhamon lumbered forward with rocks falling all around him. He leaped over a pile of rubble and dodged falling chunks. At last the collapsing pass opened wider and Dhamon spread his wings and cleared the top of the crumbling rock walls. Within a heartbeat he was above the Kharolis Mountains and arcing high into the sky. The wind whipped him, a gust nearly unseating the Kagonesti.