over the company.
Acrid fumes stung his eyes, and thousands of tiny pinpricks danced over his skin-but Isildra's holy protections against the dragon's breath held, and Erzimar endured with little more than a stinging in his eyes and throat, while the very rock around him turned black and flaked to the ground like rotten clay.
'You are warded against acid!' he called to his companions. 'Stand your ground!'
Gethred swore in Elvish and said, 'I can't reach the damned thing!'
He held his greatsword in a high guard, never taking his eyes from the darkness above. Bragor, crouching nearby, set down his warhammer and unslung a big crossbow from his back, quickly cranking back the bow's arms. The dwarf expertly laid a thick quarrel in the weapon.
The dragon hissed in frustration, 'Sso. Your magic guardss you from my breath. But I have other weapons, humanss.'
Erzimar readied his staff, expecting the dragon to drop down on them, but Serpestrillvyth had something else in mind. The dragon shifted across the top of the crevice with a quick writhing of its body, then whirled away and slammed its powerful tail into the fragile limestone above. Stone split with a loud, terrible crack! that staggered the adventurers in the bottom of the dragon's passage. Then a great cascade of rubble thundered down over them.
Erzimar raised his arms to cover his head, feeling jagged boulders and broken stalactites glance from his magically armored flesh. The smaller pieces simply bounced away from him like so much firewood burned completely to ash, seemingly solid but light as a feather. But then a much larger piece of the wall caught him as he straightened up, a blunt stalactite the size of a butter churn. Despite the armoring magic that protected him, the wizard was driven to the ground and knocked breathless. Bright spots danced in his eyes.
That would have killed me if not for the stoneskin spell, he realized.
He shook his head to clear his vision, and looked up at his companions.
Bragor and Isildra were digging themselves out from under loose rubble, floundering to their feet. Gethred; at the head of the band, had actually been in front of the dragon's cave-in, and had avoided the rocky avalanche. Similarly, Selran in the back was out of the way as well. But Murgholm….
'Help… I… help…' Murgholm murmured.
He lay pinned against the wall by a boulder the size of an ox, gasping out curses in Vaasan. His face was as pale as a sheet, and a dark trickle of blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Erzimar's spell guarded him from sharp blows, but the inexorable weight of the boulder simply crushed him.
The wizard took two unsteady steps toward the injured Vaasan before he thought to look for the dragon and see what Serpestrillvyth was doing. He glanced up just as the wyrm descended into the passage above Isildra. With one quick snap of its jaws, it seized the Helmite cleric by the head and shoulder, digging its fangs into her flesh and worrying her from side to side. Isildra screamed-a muffled sound, since her head was inside the dragon's mouth-and struggled, frantically trying to pull herself away.
'Let her go, you fiend!' cried Gethred.
The half-elf leaped in from above and slashed at the dragon with his sword. Black blood spattered from his blade as he sheared away a broad swatch of scales from the side of its neck. Serpestrillvyth hissed in pain and thrashed away. Still clenching Isildra in its teeth, it dug its claws into the soft rock of the passage walls and scrambled back up into its retreat overhead, dragging her out of reach. Gethred leaped up and hacked again, but the dragon was out of reach. Bragor finally found his crossbow again and snapped off a shot at the retreating monster, but the bolt merely punched a small bloodless hole in the membrane of its wing.
Erzimar started to incant a deadly spell of disintegration at the monster, but the dragon had Isildra in its grasp-if he missed by even a finger's width, he might incinerate his own comrade. He cursed and changed his spell to a barrage of fiery orbs, easier to aim and less dangerous to the cleric if he should miss. Five searing bolts scorched the dragon's lashing tail, and it scrambled up out of sight again.
Gethred howled in wrath, 'Erzimar! We have to go after her!'
'I know!' Erzimar snapped back.
Isildra still struggled up above. He could hear her cries. The stoneskin enchantment would keep Serpestrillvyth from ripping her to pieces easily, blunting its claws and teeth-but it could still maul her to death slowly. They had to get up there quickly.
He glanced over at Murgholm again. The Vaasan was slumped down over the huge rock, as if he'd decided to simply lay his head down to sleep. Dead or unconscious, it didn't matter. He clearly couldn't help. But just in case he might still be saved, Erzimar quickly barked out the words to a spell that disintegrated the massive rock pinning the swordsman. Murgholm slid nervelessly to the rubble-strewn floor.
I should have thought of that at once! the wizard berated himself.
'Erzimar, quickly!' Gethred shouted.
'Selran, see to Murgholm,' Erzimar barked.
The ranger stood unmoving, his face streaked with dust from the cave-in, his eyes wide and blank. The wizard ignored the ranger, fumbled with his belt pouch for a moment, and found a small tube of lacquered wood. He twisted off its top and drew out a scroll.
'One moment,' he called to Gethred.
Isildra's screams and the venomous hissing of the dragon still continued overhead, but Erzimar forced the sounds from his consciousness and skillfully and steadily read the spell recorded on the scroll.
'Erzimar!' Gethred cried.
'We can fly!' the wizard shouted. 'After the monster, quickly!'
Without waiting for the others, he willed himself into the air, darting up the narrow, twisting crevice to the sound of the fighting above. Gethred followed, a little more awkwardly, as did Bragor, his warhammer in hand. Selran stood unmoving below.
The crevice widened out into the floor of a larger cavern, a broad ledge or gallery with plenty of room for the dragon to spy down on creatures picking their way into its lair along the steep-sided path below. Erzimar whirled, expecting the dragon behind him-but there was Isildra, crumpled awkwardly on the stone floor, her head twisted around over her shoulder in a horrible manner, neck snapped. Yet her screams still echoed through the chamber, and the dragon's hissing rage as well.
A simple illusion.
'Watch out!' Erzimar cried to his companions. 'We've been deceived!'
From the shadows of a deep cleft nearby, the dragon's cold, high-pitched voice whispered the words of another arcane spell-a spell of dismissing. Erzimar's magic lingered a heartbeat before unweaving all at once. He yelped, and plummeted back down into the crevice, his flying spell gone. Bragor fell as well, but Gethred was close enough to the edge of the crevice to catch himself on the edge, though his sword went clattering down into the depths.
Erzimar hit the far wall first full upon his back. His skull bounced from the stone, giving him a brief instant of merciful blackness, then he turned over in the air, struck the other wall, half-turned again, and landed badly in the uneven rubble at the bottom of the crevice. His right arm snapped like a twig, pinned between two stones. He screamed.
'Ah, that iss a pleasant ssound,' Serpestrillvyth hissed from overhead. The dragon stalked back out into view over Gethred, who clung with both hands to the edge of the crevice. It ran its long forked tongue over its bloody fangs and moved close to the half-elf warrior. 'You are not sso bold now, are you, my friend?'
Gethred glanced down to where his sword gleamed in the passage below. Hanging from the edge, he was completely helpless before the dragon.
'I'll show you bold,' he spat.
Gethred he let himself drop. The warrior took the first impact well, bending his knees and glancing away from the wall, but his balance was thrown off. He cartwheeled in the air and landed on the uneven floor on his side with a sickening crunch. He grunted once and slid spinning into the awkward V of the crevice bottom, near where Bragor lay motionless.
The sword was a good six feet from his fingertips.
The dragon laughed again, and began to pick its way back down into the lower passage.
'You have courage, warrior. But your rashness hass undone you.'
Erzimar pushed himself upright with his good arm. His back hurt horribly-likely broken as well-and he found
