Chapter Ten #2
I tore my sight from the huge bones to scour what had to be a nest. Woven together with what had been great care, the enormous cradle of boulders, whole trees carried in from the Bhaston Tundra or even further, and soft clumps of soil dug from the plains.
Amid the scattered nesting material were eggs.
I drew in a breath, sadness filling me as I noted most were broken, the dead young lying at their mother’s gigantic feet.
“She had been protecting them,” I whispered into the cave.
The hum jolted upward again at the sound of my voice.
The intrusion was like a piton to my brain.
A low groan escaped, eyes watering, nose running from the cold.
Something close was alerted somehow. I slid out more, the jolt of alarm triggering my senses.
“Chirp! Don’t you go in any further!” I heard the roar from Asdren in some far corner of my mind, a mind now filled with a powerful thrum that touched deep within my head.
“Beiro!” The bellow slipped in around the beast’s worry.
My watery gaze flew from the nest to the room, my pulse pounding through me.
Off to the left was a small entryway, barely big enough to crawl through.
West. Was it west? No, northwest. Ugh. My sight darted from the tunnel to the nest. There.
There! By the dragoness’s rear left foot lay a wyrmling, frost thick on its leathery blue hide.
It seemed whole, unharmed, no swords or lances jammed into its body.
Intact. Not bones. The wyrmling twitched ever so slightly. I knew what I must do.
“Small tunnel northwest,” I called over my shoulder as I freed myself from the rope before wiggling into the gap.
“Beiro! You bratty son of a bastard!” Asdren roared out as I slithered out of sight, the rope looped lazily around my shoulder.
Upper half of my body levered over the drop down, I eased forward more, then turned quickly to grab hold of a cold rock.
Frost melted under my fingers as I eased myself down to the next boulder, the rope that was once slack now taut as someone—I imagined an irate Asdren—was jerking on it with all their might.
I shrugged the coarse hemp free to let it fall to the icy floor.
The roars of frustration from the other side of the rubble pile grew further away as I picked my way gently down to the ancient battlefield.
My boots slipped out from under me several times, but I managed not to tumble to my death.
When I touched down on the frosty floor, my fingertips were numb and the bellows from Asdren were faint.
Not for long, I was sure. He would find one of the small entryways into this chamber and then explode out of it like an enraged badger.
I would deal with him and his anger later.
Pausing at the bottom beside a boulder the size of a cottage, I calmed my breathing to focus on the now vibrant, steady thrum of the wyrmling lying close to his mother’s bones.
I moved with great care. There were bones scattered about, dwarven and dragon.
Out of respect for all who lost their lives in this epic fight, perhaps thousands of seasons ago, I placed my feet with reverence.
Refracted light shone through the ice ceiling above, something that was breathtaking as well as terrifying.
If the mountain should decide to tremble…
“Think not of that,” I whispered to myself as I stepped over the skeleton of a hatchling, its fine wing bones coated with hoarfrost.
The crystals were beautiful, delicate, like fine glass crafted by skilled elven glass-blowers. Each step I took, the kit twitched, slightly, so slight that most would miss it, but I knew to look for it now. Going to one knee on the bitterly cold floor, I placed a hand to the dragon’s side.
A downward-pointing bright gold eye sluggishly opened under a brow of deep blue ridges.
The pupil was a black slit, like a cat’s, that widened slowly as the dim light of the cavern hit it.
Sitting down beside it, legs crossed, I judged it to be perhaps the size of a bog lizard fully grown, from the tip of its blue nose to the very end of its whiplike tail, so perhaps the arm span of a mature male elf.
I could feel its trepidation, so I opened myself up to it, gazing at the small, horny growths along its snout that ran down its sleek, curled body.
The hum had changed, picked up in speed, still sluggish but quicker.
You need help.
It blinked at me, rolling a lip to show me pointed teeth, short, yes, but capable of tearing flesh with ease. When it was grown, those fangs would be as long as I stood tall, given the size of the mother lying beside us.
I can get you to warmth. Find food.
It flicked out a blue tongue, forked, to taste the cold air, I assumed.
Beiro. Friend. I wanted to ensure he knew I was here to help.
Jaculi. Tired…
I dared to rub its cold scales. A tremor ran through him or her.
The cold. It makes you tired. I will warm you.
Its eye closed on an exhalation that ruffled my hair.
This day was not like any other I had ever experienced.
Nor would I ever again, I was sure. The dragonling, Jaculi, had turned another boring day in the belly of a mountain far from green grass, songbirds, and the warmth of the sun into a day of wonder.
Divinity now lay before me, seeking my aid.
How could I turn away from a supreme being long thought extinct?
Danubia would think me vile, for she spoke of dragons in her teachings.
Behind me, a rock tumbled from the fall.
I craned my head to look up and saw Asdren shoving rocks. He looked to be in a mild rage.
“I swear on every fucking vein in this unholy mountain, I will never work with an elf again!” he growled and then pushed himself through the now wider gap, a second rope around his waist.
“Speak softly. The dead lie about us,” I called as gently as I dared. “We need to get this wyrmling to a warmer cavern so it can slowly return to a temperature more suited to—”
“Chirp, what the seven hells are you talking about?” he barked as he eased himself down the rockslide on his arse, sending rivers of smaller rocks, gravel, and ice down before him.
When his boots hit the floor, he dropped to one knee, placed a hand on the frozen floor, and muttered what sounded like a prayer.
I had not heard them speak of a god of the dead for their people, but I remained where I was seated beside Jaculi, if that were his name.
Perhaps it was an ancient draconic word that meant he planned to eat me as soon as he warmed up.
“He is cold, like a bear in hibernation, and needs to warm up. His mind is the hum that has been whispering to me throughout all of these mines and temples. When a beast drops into a deep sleep, their minds slow down too. Thoughts are dulled, muddied, slowed. Many lizards and frogs can even sleep so deeply that the blood within them turns to ice. The wood elves call them blue-veined frogs, for if you were to slice one open, you would see ice and not blood.” His gaze lifted from the floor to me.
He was not the least bit interested in the frozen frogs.
“I did not listen to you, I know this, but, Asdren, we have found a dragon.” He made his way over, walking gently around the dwarves flung about, the beads in his beard reflecting the ice light.
“It is small, yes, but if it is as intelligent as the revered tomes and scrolls in the druidic school say it is, then we—”
Without a word, he crouched beside me and placed his hand over mine on the dragon’s barely moving side. That serpent’s eye opened once more, the thrum in my head jerking as it sensed a new danger. Asdren’s eyes flared.
“It breathes,” he said. I nodded with a glorious smile. “You could have broken your damn neck, Chirp. I swear, when I get you somewhere with some privacy, I am going to tan your arse for disobeying me. I could have sworn we had a talk about who was in charge, did we not?”
“We did. You are.” Jaculi drew in a torpid breath. “Please, can we discuss my arse later? This beast needs aid. He needs food, warmth, and water. If you do not wish to help save him—”
“I never said anything about that monster, did I?” I shook my head.
“Then don’t be shoving words into my mouth.
” I set my jaw. Something he took note of for his tact switched from aggressive to placating.
It seemed he was growing to know me well.
“I’m just not sure where you think we’re to find enough food for a mother humping dragon down here in the bowels of the Witherhorns. You plan on feeding him our ponies?”
“No! I would never. I will share my rations with him.”
He rolled his eyes so strongly it was a wonder they didn’t tumble from his skull.
“Right, yeah, because a skinny elf’s nuts, berries, and dry bread will satisfy a meat-eater the size of a tundra wolfhound.
” I frowned, the grin I had worn now gone.
“Chirp, you ain’t thinking this out right.
I’m all for doing what we can for the beast, but this land, Melowynn, it ain’t seen a dragon for thousands of seasons.
What are we going to do with it? Turn it loose to kill livestock and villagers? ”
“It is too small to kill cattle or people.”
“Now. It’s too small now. Look at its mother!
That is what this beast will grow into. You willing to let loose a terror?
We dwarves dealt with these beasts in the past. Thousands died trying to mine or just travel through the tunnels to trade, so forgive me if we ain’t as fluttery over the bloodthirsty monsters as your kind are. ”