goggles had broken.
He rolled out of the fissure and shook the broken glass out of his goggles, still cursing. He carefully checked that there were no more shards. Being temporarily blind in one eye due to the lost lens would be an inconvenience, but being permanently blind would be a disaster. Then he pulled on his goggles. He struggled downslope, seeing only out of his left eye, all depth perception gone. He had to be careful, lest he make a mis-step that would alert the dragon to his presence. Then again, that might not be such a bad thing. If the dragon turned to attack him, Eralynn would hear the sound and be forewarned.
He maintained a cautious distance behind the dragon for some time, fighting down the sick feeling in his stomach and feeling nervous sweat soak through his shirt. He had to keep close enough to the wyrm to see where it went, but far enough back that it wouldn’t hear or smell him.
At one point, Torrin passed a fissure in one wall that opened onto a large cavern whose floor was covered in chunks of rubble. As he passed the fissure, Torrin spotted a faint blue glow inside the cavern, momentarily silhouetting a dwarf figure. The glow had to be coming from Eralynn’s hands, appearing and disappearing as she moved about. A moment later, Torrin saw a soft yellow light as a candle was lit.
Why would Eralynn be lighting a candle, when she could-as all dwarves were able to do-see in the dark?
Still, who else would it be but Eralynn?
So far, she’d been lucky. If she’d struck steel to flint sooner, before the dragon had passed that spot, it might have smelled the candle smoke.
Torrin hesitated, wondering what he should do. Warn Eralynn? Reveal the fact that he’d followed her through the portal, despite her orders not to? Eralynn must have known there were dragons down there, he reasoned. They were the Wyrmcaves, after all. She’d been prepared to enter the Wyrmcaves alone-and she’d made it abundantly clear that it was a solo delve. Torrin had to respect that.
He decided to follow the dragon. He was certain it would eventually lead him to an exit.
A short time later, Torrin heard the whooshing flap of leathery wings. He crept to what turned out to be the opening to an enormous cavern, and peered inside. The dragon had taken flight and was making its way to a ledge at the far end of the cavern. When it landed, Torrin heard a series of high-pitched shrieks from the ledge. Two heads peeked out from a rounded heap of baked mud: the dragon’s young.
At the opposite side of the cavern, a hole pierced the ceiling. A beam of rose-tinted morning sunlight shone down through it, illuminating the floor below.
Torrin shook his head. Was that how Eralynn planned to leave the Wyrmcaves? By tiptoeing through a dragon’s lair? Yes, the dragon was blind, but its young could see. And Eralynn might not realize they were there.
Torrin’s duty was clear. The Morndinsamman themselves must have placed his feet on the path. Solo delve or not, it was Torrin’s responsibility to warn Eralynn of what lay ahead.
Back at the opening to the rubble-filled cavern, he saw that it was indeed Eralynn. She’d lit not one, but two candles. Their faint glow produced starlike reflections in the veins of clear quartz in the rubble-a sight Torrin might have admired, had it not been for the dangers of the Wyrmcaves. He’d expected to see Eralynn moving about, perhaps searching. But if she was on a delve, she was certainly going about it in a strange manner. She’d set the candles on the tablelike slab of stone on which she stood, and was standing next to them, her arms folded tight against her chest, her head bowed. A flask sat on the rock at her feet, a cup next to it.
Torrin made his way toward her. Clambering over the loose stone, it was impossible not to make noise. By the time he had reached the spot where she stood, she was glaring down at him.
“I told you not to follow me!” she cried. Her voice was furious, but her face looked anguished, rather than angry. Torrin noticed tear streaks in the dusting of grit that covered her face.
He clambered up onto the slab of stone, noting that it was covered in puddles of long-cold wax that had once been candles. He prayed Eralynn wouldn’t shove him off; she looked so upset he half expected her to.
“I didn’t mean to follow you,” he explained. “It was an accident. But that’s not what matters right now. There’s a dragon in the next cavern, not far from here. A red, by the smell of its breath. I came to warn you that-”
“Get out,” she said abruptly.
“But-”
“Now. You’re intruding on something private.”
“But the dragon-”
“You think I didn’t know about it? What kind of fool do you take me for?” Eralynn said, shaking her head. “That red was blinded, years ago.”
“Did you know that she’s got two young in her nest?” Torrin asked.
“Of course. It’s a breeding year.”
“You… knew?” Torrin bowed his apologies. Yet he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Then why delve now, of all times? Surely you could have come here some time when the dragon wasn’t sitting on its nest?”
Eralynn heaved a heavy sigh. “No, I couldn’t,” she said. “I’m not here to delve. I’m here for the Remembering.” One hand clenched the heart-shaped pendant at her throat.
“Oh,” Torrin said, suddenly realizing why Eralynn always seemed to vanish around the time of the Festival of Remembering. “This is where you disappear to each year, isn’t it? This is where your parents died. Here. In the Wyrmcaves.”
Eralynn nodded. She stared off into the darkness beyond the candle glow, her eyes glistening. After a moment’s silence, words-and tears-began to tumble out. “My parents were part of a merchant caravan, headed for Harlending through the Deeps,” she said. “They had to travel slowly, for fear of breaking Mother’s glasswork. The others didn’t like that, especially when they got closer to the Wyrmcaves. The rest pressed on ahead, together with the guide. My parents missed the passage and blundered into this cavern-into the Wyrmcaves.”
She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. “When the dragon attacked, my father used his magic to bring a portion of the ceiling down upon it. He didn’t realize this cavern housed a powerful earth node. It magnified his spell, and the entire ceiling fell.” She gestured at the rubble. “My mother was only partially buried. She survived long enough to tell the rescue party her tale. Then she died. Her body was taken back to the clanhold, in Eartheart. But this is my father’s only tomb. It’s why I come here each year.”
“Despite the dragon,” Torrin said softly.
Eralynn’s head jerked up. The fury in her eyes startled him. “ Because of the dragon. That red is the one that attacked my parents. The rockfall blinded her. One day, when I find the right weapon, I’ll finish her off.”
“So that’s why you delve,” Torrin said.
Eralynn stared out over the rubble, saying nothing.
Torrin nodded down at the flask. “Can I join you?” he asked. “The Remembering isn’t something you’re meant to do alone.”
“I was their firstborn, and a singleton. It falls to me, alone, to raise the glass to my parents.”
“Not any more. I’m here.”
Eralynn suddenly laughed. “Why not?” she said. “At least you’ll have actual names to speak, this year, instead of just ‘Clan Ironstar.’ ”
Torrin smiled. He took a cup out of his backpack and held it out. Eralynn filled it from the flask, then filled her own cup. The smell of ale, flavored with honey and bitters-sweetness and sorrow, in one cup-filled the air.
“Ambert and Vakna Thunsonn, I remember you,” Eralynn intoned as she raised her glass. “Your flames have been extinguished. Moradin grant that one day they be kindled anew.”
Torrin echoed her words. Together, they drank. As he tipped back his cup, he glanced at the entrance to the cave and suddenly froze. Was that movement he’d just seen? He closed the eye that didn’t have the benefit of the lens. Yes. Movement. He was certain of it. Something gleamed dully in the faint light of the candle-the dragon’s scales.
He tapped Eralynn’s shoulder and pointed at the entrance. “Dragon,” he mouthed. He pointed down at the still-burning candles, and at his nose. The dragon must have smelled the candle smoke. Fortunately, not only was the wrym too large to fit through the opening, she hadn’t heard them-yet.
Eralynn nodded. Moving slowly, she set her cup down on the stone. Slowly and carefully, she drew her sword. She whispered something. Torrin heard the name Clanggedin Silverbeard, and realized she was readying for battle.
