Dragondoom

CHAPTER 12

Late Spring, 3E1601

[Last Year]

Sleeping upon a bed of stolen gold, something disturbed the reptilian dreams of Sleeth. Slowly, one great ophidian eye slid open, the clear nictitating membrane remaining in place, protection, for the great Cold-drake sensed a distant danger-or perhaps nought but a light threat.

Sluggishly he cast his senses forth, sweeping outward from Blackstone and into the vale beyond. What’s this? Men? Men in my domain? Cavernous laughter echoed in the Dragon’s mind. Surely this is not the threat I sensed.

Sleeth sifted his thoughts back through time to find an elusive memory: Thrice some paltry fools came knocking at my door. But Dwarves they were, not Men. Dwarven War parties. Seeking to reclaim that which I took for my own. And thrice I destroyed them. Fools!

Yet that was within the first century of my conquest.

But now these Men draw nigh.

Well and good, for it is better that my next meal come to me, rather than I to it.

Gauging the rate of their progress, Sleeth shifted his bulk slightly, settling deeper into the gold. Time enough. The yellow eye closed, and once again the Dragon’s mind fell into lustful dreams of power and destruction.