Helzendar huffed along behind General Hammerfell, trying to keep up. The fire mountain loomed in the distance, and dragons could be seen flying circles around the shattered peak. The dwarves had gone unnoticed beneath the dense jungle canopy, and two hours after landing they came upon the wide mouth of a dark cave.
The general held up a fist and everyone fell in line behind. He motioned for two dwarves to take the lead, and they disappeared inside. The cave entrance and tunnel beyond had been created by dragon fire; its mouth and walls were blackened and melted, and Helzendar could just imagine some giant dragon blasting the stone with its fiery breath until it had burrowed deep.
The scouts returned and reported the way clear, and the dwarves hurried on into the darkness. The tunnel beyond the mouth proved wide enough to allow five dwarves abreast, with arched ceilings littered with dangling roots. The tunnel went on for what seemed like miles before branching off in three different directions. General Hammerfell stopped and informed the dwarves to break into their three rowing groups, one he sent left, the other straight, and his own group he led on through the tunnel to the right. Again the cave veered off, but they kept on through toward the heart of the mountain.
A soft orange glow began in the distance, and soon they came to a wide opening. Helzendar peered beyond the general to the cavern beyond. It was vast, with a large lake of lava at the center. Around its stony shores, dragons lay about like lizards bathing in the afternoon sun.
“Now’s the time, boys. Bombers at the ready. When I give the word, give ‘em hells,” said the General.
Helzendar gripped his shield and dragonlance tightly. His heart thudded in his chest so loudly that he thought the beasts must be able to hear it.
Five of the bombers moved to the front of the group on Orrin’s command and lit small torches. He counted down from five, and on his mark the bombers went running into the cavern. Helzendar watched with growing excitement. The closest dragon was less than twenty yards away, curled up beside the steaming lake. Two of the dwarves charged for it. The dragon turned, alert to the danger, but it was too late. The lead dwarf gave a cry and leaped from the nearest stone and flew through the air. The beast gave a roar as the flying dwarf landed on its back and ignited his pack.
The explosion was followed by another as the other dwarf’s pack went up as well. The dwarves dove for cover as flames blew into the tunnel and hundreds of steel balls exploded in every direction.
“Charge!” Orrin screamed.
The sound of furious dragons echoed through the chamber as the group charged through the thick black smoke. Helzendar followed the fearless general to the right. All that was left of the dragon and bombers was a pile of charred gore and bones. Three dragons leapt into the air and flew toward the approaching dwarves. One of the other bombers running ahead was consumed in flame and exploded when the fires ignited his pack.
A small red dragon flew toward Helzendar’s group and the general stopped and yelled “Fire!”
Helzendar leveled his dragonlance on his shoulder and timed the throw.
General Hammerfell let loose a giant arrow from his massive crossbow, which shot through the air and took the approaching beast in the shoulder. Helzendar heaved his spear with everything he had, managing to hit it in the wing. The dragon went down in a shower of flame, riddled by crossbow bolts and lances, and landed among the crazed dwarves. They leapt on top of it and hacked and stabbed with maniacal glee.
Helzendar pulled the lance free with wide eyes of bloodlust. Du’Ren charged past him in his big metal suit as another dragon flew low across the shore. Another barrage of crossbow bolts was released, riddling the flying dragon. Du’Ren’s long blades gleamed in the lava glow as he ran up a stone formation and leapt, colliding with the beast in midair and riding it to the ground, stabbing wildly.
On the other side of the lake a big black dragon twice the size of any of the others had bathed that group in flames. Giant crossbows twanged, and lances soared through the air, sending it careening into the molten lava.
The chamber was clear, but the sounds of approaching dragons echoed from all directions.
“Cover them tunnels!” Orrin roared, pointing at the other three entrances leading to the cavern.
Bombers charged ahead of the groups and ran down the tunnels, singing to the glory of the gods. There were six consecutive explosions and the many tunnels spewed forth dragon fire. The dwarves gave a collective cheer and took positions at the mouths of the caves, hell-bent on sharing in the glory.
Helzendar joined the general behind a large stone to the side of one of the tunnels. A roar shook the cavern and dragon fire spewed forth, followed by a thunderous crashing. A big white dragon emerged from the tunnel and bathed the shore in flame.
Twang, twang, twang
, the general’s crossbow sang as the dragon flew overhead. The thick scales deflected two of the bolts, but one made it through a crease in the neck. Undeterred, the dragon came down on two of the dwarves at the back of the group. One of them carried a bomb pack, and when the dwarf beside him was bitten in half by the massive jaws of the roaring dragon, he ignited his pack and exploded in a ball of fire. The dragon was thrown back against the side of the cavern and fell dead to the jagged stalagmites below.
Dragons poured into the cavern and soon Helzendar lost count as the battle raged all along the wide shore. They needed to somehow block the other passages so that they could focus their efforts on only one.
“I can close up the tunnels so we can converge on one!” he said to Orrin. The general was reloading his six-arrowed crossbow and nodded.
“Go on, then.”
Helzendar put down his shield and focused his will on a long stalactite hanging down from the high ceiling. He reached out his hands and jerked them to the side with a cry, snapping the stalactite near its base. He gave a groan as it fell but held firm, and twisted it sideways before giving it a great heave. The mass of stone crashed into the tunnel and blocked it like a giant cork.
The dwarves gave a cheer as Helzendar wavered.
“On to the center tunnel!” the general cried. “Ye think ye can do that again? Block that other tunnel?” he asked Helzendar.
“I can try!”
“Right, then,” Orrin called out to all nearby. “Protect the prince at all costs!”
Helzendar was surrounded by a shell of dwarven shields. He focused his intent on one of the hanging stalactites and prayed to Ky’Dren to give him strength. With a heave he snapped it from its mooring and guided it as it fell through the air toward the tunnel. It crashed in place just as a dragon was coming out, and crushed the beast with a booming retort.
His vision blurred and his hearing went dull. A dragon bathed the group in fire and he was thrown down beneath the shields. Like a waiting turtle they endured the blast and emerged with a collective cry, throwing lances and shooting crossbows in the dragon’s wake.
“Surround the last tunnel!” Orrin yelled. He helped Helzendar to his feet once more and got under an arm.
Helzendar bent and vomited as he was being pulled along. All the while he prayed to Ky’Dren and the gods for the power to go on.
“Bombers into the tunnels!” said the general. He led Helzendar to an outcropping of rock against the edge of the cavern beside the last tunnel. “Ye just sit tight for a bit. Regain yer strength.”
Helzendar didn’t object. He looked out over the molten lake. Nearly a dozen dead dragons and more than twenty dwarves littered the smooth banks. Another boom echoed through the tunnel—one of the bombers had gone on to the mountain of the gods.
The molten lake gave him an idea. He remembered the tales of his father’s battle with the dragons on this very island. He had used his power over stone to command the burning lava. Helzendar regretted moving the massive stalactites now; he should have saved his energy. Moving the lava would be less strenuous and just as effective.
Another explosion rocked the tunnel and the cry of a dragon came with it. The dwarves hid behind rocks and stacked shields, leveling crossbows and lances on the tunnel. Du’Ren strode over to Helzendar in his cumbersome metal armor. It was dinged and dented, and his twin blades were red with the blood of dragons.
“Glory be to the dwarves ‘o Ro’Sar this day!” he said with a grin.
“Glory be,” said Helzendar.
A roar tore through the tunnel and a sleek blue dragon emerged with a fury of dragonsbreath into a volley of arrows. Another followed close behind and tore into the dwarven ranks and tossed them aside like children. Du’Ren gave a growl and charged out from behind the stone. Helzendar had no sooner peeked his head over when Du’Ren came flying back over top.
Yet another dragon emerged from the tunnel to join in the fray. Another bomber exploded, taking not only the dragon, but other dwarves as well. The blue that had first flown into the cavern circled around and came at their backs. Helzendar set his jaw and reached out to the nearby lava. He focused on an area by the shore and lifted his hand. A long arm of molten stone rose up from the lake and slammed into the dragon as it flew across. Helzendar cried the name of the many gods and clenched his fist, causing the lava to pull the screaming blue down into its molten depths.
The dwarves had killed the others, but their numbers were dangerously thinning. Glancing around, Helzendar only counted ten. He stood there panting. The chamber was suddenly deathly quiet, and no dragons came crashing through the remaining tunnel.
The general ordered all hands to the mouth to secure it and went about with Helzendar to check on the injured. There were many lying about, some praying to the gods, others groaning against the terrible pain of their burns.
Helzendar came upon one who was burned beyond recognition, but he knew him by the voice.
“Aye, me prince…”
“Du’Ren?” Helzendar slowly approached, not wanting it to be true.
A charred hand quivered in the air, beckoning to him. Du’Ren’s thick armor was battered and blackened. His helm was gone, and his breastplate had three long gashes, as though a dragon’s talon had torn through it with one terrible swipe. His left arm had been bitten off at the elbow, and the dragon fire had left his face blistered and bubbling.
“Me prince…”
Helzendar fell to the stone beside him. He wanted to take his hand—he wanted to comfort him somehow—but there was no hope for the dwarf. Du’Ren turned his head in Helzendar’s direction, milky white eyes searching blindly. His hair was all burned away, as was his once proud beard. Only half an ear remained on the right side.
“Help me to the mountain o’ the gods, me prince.” A quivering hand reached for a long sheath at his side. The leather was blackened like the rest of him, but Helzendar could see the bone hilt of a dagger.
Helzendar swallowed down his emotion and put a hand to his friend’s shoulder. With the other hand he unsheathed the long curving dagger.
Du’Ren choked and gasped, and spasms shook his body.
For a moment Helzendar thought that Du’Ren would die then, and was ashamed to feel relief. The old dwarf coughed blood and struggled against the pain, and charred hand grabbed Helzendar’s wrist.
“Send me on me way, me prince…”
Helzendar swallowed hard, but the lump in his throat only swelled.
“It be a merciful thing.” The general walked up to them and regarded Du’Ren with a frown. “Could take hours for him to die. Mind ye be quick about it.” He looked to Du’Ren once more and slammed a fist to his chest. “See ye in the mountain o’ the gods. Have a beer ready for me.”
Helzendar watched him go, wishing that he would do it instead. How could he kill a dwarf? Du’Ren gripped his wrist tight and pulled the dagger toward his neck.
“Make it…swift, lad. Send me on…to…the mountain…”
Helzendar felt his tears break. Du’Ren used what strength he had to push the tip of the dagger against his jugular. Helzendar held the handle. He needed only give it one strong push and it would be over. Milky, unseeing eyes searched for him and the charred hand shook with the effort to push the dagger. A growl escaped the burned throat.
“DO IT!”
Helzendar gave a tortured cry and turned his head as he pushed hard and quick, and held the dagger firm against Du’Ren’s convulsions. He held his eyes closed tight, but his ears he could not cover. The death gasps of the old dwarf tore at his heart.
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”
When the shaking stopped, and the last gurgled gasp escaped the old dwarf, Helzendar rose from the corpse without looking at him. His shuddering breath came in stubborn gasps, his mind raced with horrible thoughts and images, and his rage boiled inside him so keenly that his body shook with the pent up energy.
He looked around for something to quench his fury. The corpse of a black dragon caught his eye and he stormed toward it. He took his father’s twin axes from their back straps and leaped up onto the wide chest of the dead beast. With a cry of rage he chopped into the thick scales, cracking one. He swung again and again, focusing all his rage and sorrow into the work. He chipped the scales away and got to the meat below. When the blood began to spatter his face, he went into a frenzy, hacking away maniacally, screaming obscenities and curses at the dragons. When he hit bone, he kept at it.