at the dirty sack on her back, which was filled with the samples of sulfir.
Carbo nodded. “Mine is charcoal. Pete’s stuff is the strangest of all, and he was very secretive about it-we don’t really know that much about it. He was always doing funny things with fire. But I know that smell! It means he’s still alive-it has to! This way!”
The gnome made to crash through the underbrush, but Dram placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Easy does it,” the dwarf whispered. “The dracos are probably still alive, too.”
With visible reluctance, Carbo nodded and moved on more cautiously, soon stepping out from the trees onto a narrow, muddy path of sorts. The others emerged after him, and without hesitation Carbo started toward the direction that seemed to lead deeper into the swamp and from which the strong smell emanated.
The new trail was narrow and muddy, twisting around the larger trees, but even Jaymes had enough headroom, as the vines and low branches had disappeared.
“You thinking what I am?” asked Dram, with a glance at his human companion.
“Yes,” Jaymes said. Who-or whatever-used this path was tall enough to clear it to a height of better than six feet above the ground.
The acrid scent grew steadily thicker. After a few minutes, the path opened into a shadowy, narrow clearing. Trees draped with moss and vines enclosed the space, with a tiny patch of sky overhead. That glimpse of blue only seemed to emphasize the gloom of this fetid place.
“There!” cried Carbo, pointing toward a gaping pit in the center of the small open space. The hole in the ground was dark, lined with mud, and venting an assortment of noxious gases. Greenish vapors were visible in narrow tendrils rising from the pit and wafting through the dense air. “He’s going to be down there!”
The gnome darted toward the pit. He didn’t hear the leathery wings flapping loudly overhead, but his companions were more alert.
“Duck!” cried Sulfie, leaping forward to tackle her brother. They tumbled to the muddy ground as a shadow flashed by. A black serpent swooped past, diving from overhead, barely missing the two gnomes. The creature’s large wings flared as it alit. It was not armed with any weapon, but its claws and fangs gleamed as it crouched and eyed the two gnomes. It looked like a small dragon. Crocodilian jaws gaped to reveal a forked, thrusting tongue, and its leathery wings buzzed.
Carbo sprang to his feet. He pulled his little dagger and was about to charge the strange serpent when, once again, his sister bowled into him, knocking him to the side just before a stream of yellow liquid spurted from the monster’s maw. The two gnomes rolled away, barely avoiding the lethal strike. The reptilian creature lashed its head on its long neck, following the course of the rolling gnomes, and started forward. It was indeed dragon-like, though more like the size of a large-and winged! — alligator than a truly monstrous wyrm.
With a strangled shout, Dram charged the creature from behind. The dwarf’s axe split the spawn’s head open, and it collapsed, one wing flopping into the pool of acid left from its earlier blast. Carbo and Sulfie climbed to their feet, wide-eyed and trembling.
Jaymes had his sword in his hand and was looking up at where the dragon spawn had been lurking. He spotted a platform high up in a sturdy tree. Another black, reptilian form crouched there with slitted eyes-then the second dragon spawn leaped at him, spitting acid. He twisted away so that only a few drops landed on his cape and trousers, foaming on the woolen cloth.
The spawn landed a few feet away, hissing and flapping in menace. Glowering, Jaymes twisted the hilt of the sword in his hands. Immediately the weapon blazed to life, blue flames running up and down its keen steel edge. The dragon spawn recoiled, rearing onto its hind legs-but its reaction was too slow. With twin slashes, the warrior gashed its breast, then cut its head from its lashing neck. He stepped on the acid that hissed and bubbled on the ground but quickly wiped his boots on some ferns. The acid ate away at the plants, spewing foul gas as it soaked into the dirt.
Both spawn bled greenish, viscous blood from their wounds. Jaymes scanned the treetops. The swamp was utterly silent-no longer were the birds cawing and frogs croaking. For the moment, there was no sign of another threat.
“Quick-into the pit!” whispered Dram. “Get out of sight!”
He uncoiled his rope and tied it to a tree, tossing the other end across the mud and into a hole nearby the others had not noticed. It looked to be about thirty feet deep. Carbo descended quickly, hand over hand, followed by Sulfie, and Jaymes. They all scaled downward until their feet struck the bottom of a muddy chamber. Dram came last.
Enough daylight filtered down for Jaymes to make out several tunnels branching outward from this round subterranean lair. The air smelled terrible, and they had to strain not to choke or cough, blinking watery eyes, covering their noses as best they could. The human found that if he bent, he could breath a little easier-the worst of the vapors seemed to rise toward the damp and dripping ceiling, flowing up and out the vent hole.
“Does this smell like your brother too?” Dram asked.
“Yep. Follow the stink,” Carbo urged. “I can’t see!”
Jaymes drew the sword he had sheathed during the descent, and once again flames flickered along the blade. The blue light was faint but enough for them to make out a few details. The chamber showed signs of crude excavation, as if animals had burrowed it out of the soft dirt. There were no shoring timbers supporting the ceiling or arching above the tunnel mouths for four small passages leading deeper.
“Over here,” Sulfie said, sniffing at one of the passages. “Pete’s over here, somewhere!”
They moved into the passage that boasted the worst stink, straining to see in the murk. The flickering sword helped a little. At least the side passage had a high enough ceiling that even Jaymes could walk upright. Roots and tendrils dangling down looked, in the blue illumination, like furry, wriggling tentacles, and they eyed these warily as they progressed.
Shortly they came to a fork, where the wide passage began a gradual descent and a smaller corridor continued on another level. The two gnomes sniffed carefully but could not reach a consensus.
“Might as well try the wide one,” Dram suggested. “It gets more use, seems like.”
Jaymes took the lead, holding the sword at his shoulder so the others could see better. The floor was slimy with rivulets of water. With each forward step the path seemed to get steeper, and Jaymes began to slip and slide.
The warrior paused, squinting ahead.
“Unless Salty Pete has grown gills, this is the wrong way,” he declared. “There’s more and more water down there, filling the whole tunnel. Looks like this might be an underwater bolt-hole.”
“No gills-so let’s try the other way,” Sulfie said. Dram extended a hand to help the warrior back up the steep, slick slope. Soon they reached the previous juncture and this time took the narrower corridor.
They had not gone far before they spotted the glow of firelight ahead, spilling into the corridor from a large room off to a side. Jaymes doused the sword-fire, and they all crept forward.
They came to a chamber that looked like a crude blacksmith’s shop, with a mound of coals glowing in a huge pit and several cluttered benches along the far wall. A small figure bustled about, tossing logs onto the fire, then running back to stir something in a large cauldron.
“Pete!” shouted Sulfie, rushing forward.
The gnome looked up, gaping in surprise, then wrapped his arms around his sister and brother in a frantic hug. He was bearded like Carbo, though with a shock of graying hair where his brother was bald.
“No! Yes! You guys!” he declared. “Wow-I can’t believe it! After all this time. Have I got a story to tell you! You’d never believe-” He paused, looking around in confusion. “Wait,” he said. “How come Sheedra let you in here?”
“Who’s Sheedra?” Dram asked.
A slithering figure with dark scales, invisible in the shadows, slid past the doorway. Something huge and black.
Jaymes spun, his sword in his hands, but he was too late. A large, gray rock tumbled into place, blocking the doorway as neatly as a cork in a bottle.
They were trapped.
