The Lake of Death

4

One hundred and seventeen grape-sized rubies were arrayed on a pedestal beneath a delicate silver candelabrum. The light made the stones shine like drops of fresh blood that had been magically captured in perfect-faceted form.

The light stretched yards away to illuminate a long marble table where diamonds filled rose-colored crystal vases and sapphires were heaped in etched platinum bowls. There were also emeralds, amethysts, jacinths, tourmalines, and more, all of these sorted by size and quality and displayed in polished mahogany chests that rested side-by-side beneath the table.

Against the far wall, gilded urns were crammed with rare black pearls. A small ceramic pot sat on a thin ivory pedestal. There was a silvery liquid inside it—a special presentation from one of the black dragon’s most valuable spies, who promised there would be more goodies to come. Rings and bracelets overflowed an old sea trunk that had been captured from a three-masted merchant ship in the New Sea. Necklaces and gem-encrusted scepters crowned mounds of steel pieces stretching deep into the shadows. There were plenty of gold pieces, too, bearing the faces of famous men from centuries past. The common steel pieces in circulation today served as a carpet beneath all the remarkable treasure.

A massive ebony chair that once must have been used as some ruler’s throne was one of the centerpieces of the chamber. It was intricately carved with images of centaurs and walrus-men and had a thick green satin cushion embroidered with vines and flowers. On either side of it were life-size priceless sculptures of sea elves that had been recovered from the bottom of the Maelstrom.

There was much more strewn around the treasure chamber—decorative suits of armor, shields, and weapons; paintings so numerous they were stacked rows across and a dozen deep; tapestries from the Blood Sea Isles; ancient books mysteriously preserved and precisely alphabetized on cherrywood shelves; numerous crystal balls, magic wands, and attractive enchanted baubles crafted by the most renowned of Krynn’s sorcerers and whose functions had not yet been discovered by their current owner. This was only one of several treasure chambers that was regularly added to and visited by the black dragon.

Sable lounged at the wide end of this underground cavern, staring as the light from the delicate candelabrum flickered and caused the rubies beneath it to sparkle like fat crimson fireflies. The great dragon knew precisely how many steel pieces, gems, and other trinkets were in her favorite lair deep beneath the foul city of Shrentak. She watched with mild interest as more was added to the pile.

A Knight of Neraka commander was directing a quartet of bakali to deposit sacks of steel pieces in the center of the cavern, where they could he inventoried under the overlord’s supervision. More precious stones and ornaments were placed near the coins. The weapons and pieces of plate armor that had been gathered would be left outside until an armorer could be summoned to inspect them and determine what was suitable to add to the hoard and what should be discarded.

When the bakali were finished unloading the riches, they stood at attention in front of the overlord, shivering despite Sable having done her best to suppress her dragonfear. The commander gestured to the tallest bakali.

“This one, Mistress Sable.” The knight’s words were clipped and loud. “This was one of the few creatures who survived the incident at the lake with the shadowy dragon. He was instrumental in helping to find the beast’s lair.”

Still trembling, the designated bakali stepped forward, its chest puffed out in pride and a strand of saliva spilling over its quivering lip and stretching to the cavern floor. Its eyes glimmered expectantly when Sable opened her mouth as if to speak, but the dragon spewed forth a blob of acid, engulfing the bakali and his brethren. Their scaly hides bubbled, popped, and disintegrated in places so that muscle and bones showed through. They fell to their knees howling and begging to be spared, but their pleas were short-lived, for Sable breathed a second time.

The Knight of Neraka commander barely managed to leap out of the way of the attack, yet he was sorely misted by the acid breath. The acid continued to burn and sizzle on the edges of his black breastplate, marring the lily etchings.

“You will have the bodies disposed of promptly, Commander Bedell,” Sable rumbled. “They taint the beauty of this place.”

“Of course,” the knight was quick to reply. “Right away, Mistress Sable.”

“As for the shadow dragon called Dhamon…”

“We found no trace of him in his lair, Mistress. It was as though he had abandoned it.”

Sable’s eyes narrowed to thread-fine slits. She allowed her fear aura to grow stronger, until the knight shivered and sweated. “What makes you so certain it was the Dhamon-dragon’s main lair and not some decoy?”

Commander Bedell gave a curt nod, releasing a breath he’d been holding and doing his best not to pass out from the nausea. “We’d been searching for the lair for nearly five months, and we knew it must be near the lake in the lowlands, a favorite haunt of the beast. It was very well hidden. Had the wind not been blowing so strongly to disturb a veil of leaves, we would have missed it.”

“Why did you not raid or destroy it then?” A blob of spittle rolled out of Sable’s mouth and hissed as it fell to the floor, sizzling between her talons.

He glanced at the still smoking corpses of the bakali. “We found bakali weapons there and took this as proof, Mistress Sable.” He held up a statuette of a night bird. “The last force that we sent against your foe carried this…uh, item. It is enchanted, and one of our gray robes…a venerable Knight of the Thorn…used his magic to find it.” He placed the statuette next to the mound of steel pieces.

“Like a dog tracks a rabbit,” Sable mused.

Commander Bedell stood stiffly at attention. “We thought it best to leave and track the Dhamon-dragon. Intrude as little as possible. Don’t alert the dragon unnecessarily. Perhaps it will yet return to its lair, and we can trap it there.”

“I suppose.”

The Knight Commander trembled faintly, and this pleased Sable.

“How much of a hoard is there?” Sable asked.

“Nothing compared to what you have here, your majesty.”

“So the Dhamon-dragon claims little wealth as far as I am concerned but is intent on claiming more and more of my land,” Sable said sulkily.

The black dragon stretched her front legs out and clicked her talons against the stone inches away from the dissolving bakali corpses. It was reminiscent, the knight thought, of the bored gesture a man might practice, thrumming his fingers against a desk.

“It looked as though the creature had not been there for weeks,” Commander Bedell told Sable. “It was unfortunate, as this time…”

“…as this time I gave you more than enough bakali and men to deal with the foul fiend,” Sable finished. “I underestimated the Dhamon-dragon before, but no longer.” The talons clicked louder. “Now that I have given you enough men and bakali, you will leave on another mission right away. This time I don’t want you to come back alive until you kill or capture the Dhamon-dragon.”

The commander shook his head and blinked at the sweat that was running into his eyes. “I fear the shadow dragon is gone, Mistress Sable. I have scouts near the lake he frequented and others scattered in the lowlands, where we found old tracks of the sivak that is loyal to him. They report no signs of the dragon. There is a Gray Robe attempting to divine the dragon’s whereabouts, though so far he has been unsuccessful and claims the shadow dragon has simply left your lands.”

Stacks of paintings fell over as Sable roared her discontent. There was a cascading of coins and gems, too, as gold and steel pieces rolled off the mounds and jewels rattled in their various containers.

“Men are so pitiable, especially your gray-clad sorcerers, Commander Bedell! You claim that the Gray Robes are wondrously powerful, yet they cannot find the Dhamon- dragon!”

“We did find its lair,” the knight risked saying, trying to assuage some of the dragon’s anger, “and we brought you some spoils as proof. We will continue to search for the dragon, though I believe it is as the Gray Robe reports, that he has for some reason left the swamp, wisely surrendering it to your might and…”

“Hmm. I will narrow your search.”

Sable opened her eyes wide and slowed her breathing. The mounds of coins and display of treasure faded from her sight, and in their place she now saw lofty cypress trees and black willows, spreading ferns and hanging vines, everything shades of green and the air intensely humid. She pushed her senses outward. So close in spirit to the swamp she nurtured, Sable could feel the dark life festering in the blessed fetidness that surrounded her. Her mind touched alligators, young and old and those that had grown to giant proportions because of the arcane nature of her realm. Her mind brushed against birds, snakes, and curly-tailed lizards that scampered along the highest branches of the uppermost canopy. She sensed a few lesser black dragons, all professing their loyalties to her, the spawn and abominations she had created, and the draconians that patrolled the city above and the swamp villages at her behest.

Sable couldn’t sense the Dhamon-dragon anywhere— not in the lowlands, nor by the lake, none of the usual places he seemed to favor and where she had sensed him before. She couldn’t find the nuisance in the far south near the Plains of Dust, nor to the east where the swamp was encroaching on ogre lands and was wearing away at the mountains. Like Commander Bedell had said, the Dhamon-dragon had disappeared from her sacred swamp. Why?

The Dhamon-dragon could be dead, Sable knew, no thanks to her forces. He could have drowned in the lake or have been swarmed by the giant alligators; he could have run afoul of the lesser black dragons. Sable briefly considered sending the knight and his fellows in search of her fellow blacks to ask if they’d killed the Dhamon-dragon, but as quick as the notion came to her, she dismissed it. The blacks would have been the first to brag of the Dhamon-dragon’s demise.

“Yes, the Dhamon-dragon has indeed left my swamp, as you believed,” Sable finally purred. The knight relaxed visibly. “Not as good as his death, though acceptable.”

“If he returns, we will kill him.”

“If he is truly wise, he shall not return,” Sable said.

“You pose too great of a threat,” the knight said, venturing a lavish compliment.

“He shall attempt to claim other lands, craft another lair elsewhere and fill it with other trivial baubles and steel pieces too few to be of any interest to me. More’s the pity you were not able to kill him. I would have fancied his head mounted above Shrentak’s gates. Pity that, after all, you failed me.”

The knight showed his penitence by bowing his head and rounding his shoulders. “I would be happy to search for him beyond your swamp.”

“No.”

“Then I willingly give my life, Mistress Sable, and the lives of my men for our failure. Our blood for the blood we were not able to shed in your glorious name.”

“You know that you are more use to me alive than dead, Commander Bedell—for the moment.” The overlord dismissed the knight with a curl of her upper lip. “Remove the stuff you collected from the Dhamon-dragon’s lair,” she said. “It is not worth adding to my own. Give it to the destitute in the city above, and make it known that it came from me, that I am being magnanimous to my subjects.” She clicked her talons rhythmically. “Return this night for more instructions. Perhaps I shall think of a menial task or two that you will be better able to manage.”

The knight was quick to summon more bakali and order them to gather up the remains of their brethren, scour the stone beneath the bodies so that it gleamed, and to take Dhamon’s purloined treasure away from the cavern.

“A lamentable hoard the Dhamon-dragon had,” Sable said to herself when she was finally alone, “not worthy of even a hatchling’s collection.”

She focused on the flames that flickered in the delicate silver candelabrum and illuminated the one hundred and seventeen perfect rubies that were as shiny as fresh blood. Soon she was dozing peaceably, dreaming of the inevitable death of her despised foe.