The first mate had lost his balance, and he clung to the side of the slowly sinking stalactite. Right behind him, the wild dwarves had made it to the edge and were beginning to climb onto the stone bridge.
Without blinking, Clay jumped back onto the perilous basalt column.
'Hadar, Tabor, grab hold of this end.'
The dwarf and the half-ore did as they were told.
With two great bounding leaps, Clay was at his first mate's side. With one hand he grabbed the back of Mansa's tunic. With the other, he hurled one of his daggers at the first of the oncoming wild dwarves.
The mangy little creature took the blade in the chest and reeled back, falling into the next dwarf and blocking the path.
With Clay's help, Mansa managed to get to his knees.
'Good enough,' said the captain.
Turning around, Clay charged back toward the island, the egg, and his two other mates, partially dragging Mansa behind him.
'Shove it in,' he shouted.
Hadar and Tabor didn't hesitate. Both men leaned in and pushed the stalactite with all of their might. The column made a brief grinding sound, then the end that had landed on the island came free.
Clay pulled Mansa forward and shouted, 'Jump, you swabbie.'
He hurled himself once again over the bubbling lake of lava. One instant he was in midair, the next he was crashing into Tabor and flopping to the ground.
Mansa had a similar landing, smashing into the solid, outstretched arms of the half-ore.
Without the support of the island the fallen stalactite turned sideways and slipped completely under the scorching lava. Those wild dwarves still standing on it fell in as well, trashing momentarily then dissolving in a cone of flame and smoke.
Clay got to his feet.
'Come on you swabs,' shouted the captain 'Grab the booty and get back to the ship.' He looked out over the lava at the fuming dracolich. 'This is a fight we can't win.'
The four sailors lifted the dragon's egg off the ritualistic semicircle and carried it through the tunnel at the far end of the chamber. As they disappeared into darkness, Clay could hear the undead dragon let out a howling roar.
The egg was heavy, and it slowed their progress through the tunnel. Tabor led the way, shouting commands back to his comrades. With their prize between them it was easy enough to stay together. The four pirates ran and ran, the tunnel getting smaller and smaller the farther they went.
Around a final corner, they could see the sunlight coming in from the mouth of the lava tube. As fast as they could with the egg between them, the pirates finally made it out into the light of day. The sun's bright rays were beginning to go down.
'Let's just hope there's enough sun left in this day to save the rest of the crew,' Clay said as he headed toward the thick brush. 'Into the jungle.'
Bowling blindly through the trees, the pirates ran with all of their might. Slowly the trees and vegetation became less dense, and the dying light of the setting sun became brighter. With a final few steps, the pirates flung their weary bodies out of the jungle and onto the beach.
Out in the open, a huge dark cloud passed over them, and all four stopped dead in their tracks, dropping the
egg-Standing before them, its unfurled wings nearly blotting out the sunlight, was the undead dragon. 'No one steals from Ras Nsi,' said the hulking
beast.
The undead dragon swept its wings forward and opened its jaw again, preparing to shoot lightning at the helpless sailors.
Clay reached for one of his daggers, but his fingers grasped an empty bandoleer, and he felt the pit of his stomach sink as if it were a boulder into the deep.. Behind the dragon, he could just make out the silhouette of Expatriate. That ship had been good to him. Hed miss it.
Just then the wind picked up. The palm fronds on the trees behind them began to whistle, and the sand swept back and forth in the turbulent air. The undead dragon looked around wildly, searching the sky and the beach.
'Look,' shouted Mansa, pointing to the sky.
Clay followed the first mate's finger to see a yellow-orange blur streaking toward the beach.
There was a high-pitched whistling shriek, and the undead dragon reeled back, lifting one claw into the air. The yellow-orange streak transformed into a topaz dragon, its razor talons tearing one of the undead dragon's wings from its body as it collided with the beach, pinning the dracolich to the ground and throwing sand in the air.
'No one steals from Kraxx', roared the topaz, swiping its powerful fore claws across her foe's throat.
The undead dragon let out a strangled cry, trying feebly to fight back with only one wing and the rest of its body trapped under the larger dragon's weight.
'You have no wards against me out here,' taunted Kraxx.
The topaz dragon bit down on the dracolich's chest and shook her head. Bits of gore-soaked flesh rained down on the blackened sand and the pirates had to cover their heads. The undead dragon struggled on, thrashing under the attack.
A moment more, and its body went slack, succumbing to the larger dragon.
Still Kraxx did not slow her assault. The topaz dragon went to work on the carcass. Tearing bits of flesh away from the bones like a hungry seagull. Littering the beach with the undead dragon's remains.
Finally, Clay had to turn away. There were some things even a pirate couldn't stomach.
Clay leaned against the rail of his ship, smiling as he looked out at the retreating volcano. They sailed northwest, around the point of the Chultan peninsula toward the Shining Sea. He absently twirled a gold piece between his fingers, and his smile grew even larger as he thought about the pile of treasure safely resting in Expatriate's hold. Not even the egg of a topaz dragon would have fetched that much coin. Not a bad couple days of work, he thought.
High over his head, the mainsail billowed, full of as much wind as she could carry. At the top of the mast the Jolly Roger flew, and at its side a new flag waved in the magical breeze. It bore the silhouette of a dragon-yellow and orange with glowing red eyes.
WICKLESS IN THE NETHER
The Year of the Banner (1368 DR)
For a long time and across many storefronts and kiosks, he could not be seen because he did not want to be seen. For Artemis Entreri, with so many years of living in the shadows, it was as easy as that. He moved along Wall Way, a solitary figure perusing the mercantile district of the Damarran Capital of Helio-gabalus on a stormy night. Torrential rains sent small rivers running along the sides of the cobblestoned street, named because of its proximity to Heliogabalus's towering outer wall.
A flash of lightning revealed the figure as he stood in front of one of the two opposing collector's shops set on the road loop known as Wall's Around. He was wrapped in a slick black cloak, shining with wetness. He had the drape pulled over both his shoulders in the inclement weather, but it was back on his right side enough to show the jeweled hilt of his signature dagger. He wore a flat-topped hat with a tight round brim, quite extraordinary in a land of simple hoods and scarves. Still, that hat paled in comparison to the one worn by the slender figure that drifted past him in the next flash of lightning, a great floppy, wide-brimmed affair, with one side pinned up and a gigantic feather reaching out from it.
