Mask of Dragons (31 page)

Just as Adalar had.

Her eyes shifted to his lean form as he moved through the tunnel, every muscle wary. 

She detested Earnachar…but she did not detest Adalar. Earnachar was attempted to atone for his crime, to fulfill the sentence laid down upon him by the Guardian. Adalar had accompanied her with no thought of reward, simply because Liane’s plight had moved him to help. 

For a wild, fanciful moment, Sigaldra entertained thoughts of what she might say to him if they survived. 

She could not think of such things now. Not when Liane’s life hung in the balance. 

Not when all of their lives hung in the balance. 

Mazael stopped, and she saw him frown in the faint golden light.

“What is it?” said Romaria. 

“You’re wrong, Earnachar,” said Mazael. “That’s not the light reflecting off one golden coin.” 

He strode forward, and the tunnel opened into another enormous cavern, large enough to hold a small town. Pools of lava bubbled here and there upon the cavern floor, and between the pools…

Sigaldra felt her eyes widen, felt her mouth fall open in astonishment.

“That’s the light reflecting off a great many golden coins,” said Mazael at last. 

###

During his travels, Mazael had seen a great deal of wealth. He had visited the mansions of the wealthy merchants of Castle Town and Knightport, and seen the riches stacked up in the treasury of Lord Malden Roland. Lord Richard Mandragon had controlled gold mines in the foothills of the Great Mountains, and after Lord Richard’s death and the destruction of the House of Mandragon, those mines had passed to Mazael. The gold bars had accumulated in Castle Cravenlock’s treasury ever since, stored up in preparation for an emergency. 

Yet Mazael had never, ever seen a treasure like this. 

The cavern held wealth enough to purchase every castle and every town in the realm. 

Piles of gold coins stood everywhere, heaped like the drifted snow in the ice cavern. Here and there Mazael saw stone jars filled with glittering gemstones. Suits of golden armor hung upon stone stands, standing like silent guardians. Stone tables held ornate weapons, swords and spears and bows and daggers. Statues rose upon stone plinths, fashioned from gold and silver and marble and bronze. Gold bars had been stacked in little towers. Upon other tables rested books and scrolls. Mazael wondered why a dragon would collect books and scrolls, and then supposed that even a dragon might want something to read to pass the centuries. 

“By mighty Tervingar,” said Earnachar, shocked out of his usual bluster. “Even in the ancient days of the Dark Elderborn, when their Imperium ruled from sea to sea, surely even the Exarchs of the Dark Elderborn did not possess such unimaginable wealth.” 

“Where did it all come from?” said Sigaldra. She sounded dazed. “There could never have been so much gold in all of Skuldar.”

“These mountains were not always inhabited by the Skuldari,” said Romaria. “Look.” She pointed at a stand of brilliant golden armor, the plates adorned with elaborate reliefs. “That armor is High Elderborn. There was some in the Tower of the Champion in Deepforest Keep.” She gestured at a row of silvery armor. “Dark Elderborn, at my guess. All of this must have been sitting here for centuries beyond count.” 

“According to the books of the master wizards,” said Timothy, “dragons are fond of beautiful things.” 

“The master wizards,” said Adalar, “may have understated that desire.” 

Mazael stared at one of the tables of weapons. His old sword Lion, proof against dark magic, had been fashioned by the High Elderborn in the deeps of time. Could he find another such sword here in the dragon’s hoard? He could have used Lion’s power many times during the fight against the Prophetess and her dark magic. And perhaps he could find better armor, and enchanted treasure…

“No,” said Mazael aloud.

The others looked at him.

“Whatever you do, do not take anything,” said Mazael. “I know what you are thinking. A few coins wouldn’t hurt. Or a dagger or a sword or perhaps a new shield. I have no doubt that Azurvaltoria is watching us from somewhere right now. If we try to steal from her, we break the rules of her game, and she will kill us. Understand?” 

The others nodded their agreement.

“Follow me and stay together,” said Mazael. A rough stone ramp led from the ledge down to the cavern floor. “Don’t go wandering off on your own. The Prophetess will be down here somewhere, and we will have to search until we find her. And keep your voices down. I don’t know how far sound will carry, and I don’t want to warn the Prophetess of our presence.” 

The others nodded. 

“Look,” murmured Romaria. “There, in the center of the cavern.” The floor rose slightly in the heart of the cavern, and atop the swell of stone stood something that looked like a circular shrine, a ring of pillars supporting a domed stone roof. “That looks promising, and if the Mask isn’t there, we’ll have a better view of the cavern.”

“Very well,” said Mazael. “This way.” 

They set off for the center of the cavern. It was one of the strangest walks of Mazael’s life. He walked between piles of glittering golden coins, stacks of goblets overflowing with jewels and necklaces and amulets, tables laden with golden statuettes of animals and armored warriors. A handful of those jewels would let a peasant family live for the next three generations without working. One of those gem-encrusted goblets would have bought a minor lordship in the High Plain or Travia. Should the knowledge of this treasure leak to the realm at large, it would trigger a war that would kill thousands. 

And he didn’t dare touch any of it. 

As a younger man, he might well have gotten himself killed. He would have tried to get out of here with as much gold as he could have carried, and Azurvaltoria would promptly have incinerated him. He would not touch the treasure, not for any reason.

Unless…

They were at a serious disadvantage against the Prophetess. Mazael had the only weapon that could harm the Crimson Hunters, and the Prophetess possessed powerful magic. He was not sure that they could take the Prophetess and the Champion in a straight fight, not unless they ambushed her and killed her before she could bring her magic to bear.

Unless, of course, Mazael found a weapon that could kill her in the treasure hoard.

It was possible. Lion had been forged by the High Elderborn, and there were a great many High Elderborn suits of armor scattered among the riches. If there was another weapon with Lion’s power in this cavern, Mazael would wield it against the Prophetess and take his chances with the dragon’s ire. He would try to claim that he had only borrowed the weapon, that he would not try to take it from the Veiled Mountain. 

The dragon might kill him on the spot. 

The Prophetess might well kill him, too. 

Besides, Volaria had talked so much about the dragon’s damned game…but sometimes the best way to win a game was to cheat outrageously. 

Yet for now, Mazael saw no foes or suitable weapons. They moved through piles of unfathomable wealth, and then down a row of stands holding silvery Dark Elderborn armor. The armor was beautiful, but it was an unsettling, dangerous sort of beauty, much like the beauty of a raging sea in the instant before it dashed a ship against the rocks, or the gleaming beauty of a sword’s edge in a foe’s hand. 

“Where did all this come from?” said Earnachar. 

Basjun shrugged. “The dragon Azurvaltoria must have collected it.” 

“Some of it,” said Romaria. “I think much of it was already here, before the Skuldar or Azurvaltoria ever settled in these mountains. The High Elderborn and the Dark Elderborn had been at war for a long time before they destroyed each other. One of their kings or lords must have secured the treasure here before they fell in battle…”

“And then the hoard was forgotten,” said Earnachar. “Such things were common in the middle lands. Sometimes farmers unearthed old hoards of strange coins.” 

“It happens here as well,” said Adalar, his voice grim. Likely he was thinking of the destruction of Mastaria. 

“Then the dragon found the hoard and claimed it for herself,” said Romaria.

Or the Old Demon had bound Azurvaltoria, and she had remained here to guard the Mask of Marazadra ever since. 

They circled around a pool of lava, the air rippling with heat, and headed down an aisle lined with suits of Dark Elderborn armor. At last the shrine rose above them, its columns carved with geometric designs, the dome lined with bronze. A shimmering haze filled the air between the columns. At first Mazael thought that more molten stone flowed around the base of the shrine, but he realized the distortion came from a warding spell, and a powerful one.

A flash of light came from the shrine, and then another.

Romaria went motionless. 

“Down,” she whispered, gesturing. “Quickly. I think the Prophetess is trying to unravel the wards around the shrine.”

The others ducked, taking cover behind stone tables holding elaborate Dark Elderborn helmets. Mazael crouched next to Romaria, Talon still in hand 

“Let’s get closer,” he whispered. “I want a better look.” He looked over his shoulder. “The rest of you stay here.”

Sigaldra looked as if she wanted to sprint to the shrine, but she gave a tense nod.

Mazael and Romaria crept closer to the shrine, circling around a cluster of stalagmites. There was a broad, open space at the foot of the shrine’s hill, a flight of stone steps rising to the shrine proper. A pair of tables holding Dark Elderborn arms and armor faced the empty space, and Romaria ducked behind it, Mazael following her. 

He peered through the gap between the tables, and saw the Prophetess standing not twenty yards away. 

Ghostly blue fire danced around her fingers as she cast a spell. Her cowl had fallen back, her long red hair glinting in the glow from her spell. Rigoric stood a half-dozen paces from her, silent and impassive in his dark armor, the Mask of the Champion concealing his features. 

Liane stood next to him, her face tight and strained.

She looked healthy, and did not appear to have been ill-treated. Likely the Prophetess needed Liane alive and hale for her plan. Her hands were bound behind her back, and a leather collar encircled her neck, tied to a leash in Rigoric’s left hand, and Mazael saw a hobble around her ankles. Evidently the Prophetess was not taking any chances that she would escape. 

But that put an idea into Mazael’s head. Maybe they need not kill the Prophetess at all. If Mazael could steal away the girl and escape, that would ruin the Prophetess’s plans. In this fiery maze of a cavern, they could slip away with Liane, perhaps even trapping the Prophetess here with Azurvaltoria. Or if the Prophetess pursued, they could lure her back to the Grim Marches, where Riothamus could crush her. Powerful or not, she was no match for the Guardian, and had fled rather than face him at Greatheart Keep.

The Prophetess clapped her hands, and a pulse of blue fire washed over the wards of the shrine. She bowed her head, breathing hard, and then threw back her head. Mazael caught a glimpse of her expression, and her face was serene, but her eyes blazed with something like exultation. 

“Soon,” she said. “Soon, my Champion, the ward will collapse. One more spell will shatter the final defense. I can feel the mask of the goddess waiting. Once its power is in my hand, victory will be ours.”

Rigoric, as ever, said nothing. Mazael wondered what he thought of the Prophetess’s speeches. The Prophetess seemed like the kind of woman who liked to make a speech on a regular basis. It had to get tedious after a while. 

“You will fail.”

Liane’s voice was thin, but it had always been thin, and Mazael heard no fear or even doubt from her. Her pale blue eyes remained steady upon the Prophetess, as still and calm as a lake on a windless day.

The Prophetess glanced at the girl. “Still you doubt, child? Soon all your doubts will be answered. Soon you shall see the glory of Marazadra revealed. Soon the goddess shall rise, and her terror will bring men to virtue in the shadow of her fear.”

“You are wrong,” said Liane.

The Prophetess had started her spell again, but she turned a cool look upon Liane. “Am I?”

As she turned, Mazael saw two things hanging from her belt. One was the sheathed maethweisyr she had used on him at Greatheart Keep, the blade charged with his blood. Likely she needed the blood of a child of the Old Demon to empower her spell. The second thing was a curved horn of dark material, banded with gold at either end.

Presumably, that was the Horn of Doom and Fate. 

“Yes,” said Liane.

“You are mistaken,” said the Prophetess, taking a step towards the girl. “I shall be victorious.” 

“You may be victorious,” said Liane. “I see that in the shadows of your future. You might succeed. But I see other shadows gathering around you. My sister and the lord of war and the lady of the wolves and the rusted knight are coming for you, and they have a wizard who knows your heart.”

“Mazael Cravenlock?” said the Prophetess with glassy calm. “The man is a violent, raging fool. Dangerous, yes, but he cannot stop me. He failed to stop me at Greatheart Keep. He could not defeat me at Armalast. He will not be able to stop me here. The wretched fool likely doesn’t even know that I am here. How would he have followed me?”

“My sister wounded you at Armalast,” said Liane, and the Prophetess’s mouth tightened for just a moment. 

“She wounded me,” said the Prophetess, “but she failed to defeat me.” 

“Maybe you will be victorious,” said Liane, “but if you are, you shall wish that you had been defeated.”

“And just why is that?” said the Prophetess. 

“Because the great spider lurks in the shadows of your future,” whispered Liane, and a flicker of fear went over her expression. “The great spider. She will devour all the world. She will devour you. She is already devouring you, and you see it not.”

“Foolish child,” said the Prophetess. “I am the messenger of the goddess, the harbinger and instrument of her return.” 

“But it will destroy you,” said Liane. “Can you not see it? The spider cares nothing for you, nor for anything but her hunger. If you summon her anew, she will consume you first. She is already consuming you. Can you not see it?”