The captain had spoken true. The path to the mines was in a horrible state. Vines, roots, and thorny brambles choked the way forward and made the trek up the mountain a gruelling task. No one had been this way in years.

  Lenna used some of her druidic magic to move the more stubborn impediments, and the warriors hacked the rest away with their swords and axes. Only Derrick did nothing. He lacked any spells that could deal with foliage, and if given a blade, he’d probably decapitate himself.

  And they want me to help kill a dragon?

  The druid waved her arm in the air, and a curtain of vines retreated from their path. “Are we really going to kill this creature for the sake of gold? The townsfolk don’t seem to mind.”

  “I’m with Lenna. I don’t see why we have to kill it just because some pompous rich man tells us to,” said Mawlo.

  “It is the quest we have been set,” said Harlow. He hacked a branch out of the way. “And, often, townsfolk can’t see the bigger picture. It may be convenient for them in the short term, but no gold can only have dire implications for the future.”

  “I can’t see how it’s convenient even in the short term,” said Fandle. “How do they pay for anything?”

  The path drew closer to the mountain slope, and the entrance to the mines came into view. Four iron tracks converged into a single rail at the mine entrance, where a rusted cart lay poised at the threshold. Spiderwebs and lichen smothered the posts either side of the entrance, and the cap beam was bowed in the centre where a small crack ran up the middle. It didn’t look very safe. In a few more years, the whole thing would probably collapse.

  Derrick looked back the way they had come. The mess of a path, the overgrown foliage… nobody had been this way in decades, just as the baron had said…

  But he also said the townsfolk carted their gold up themselves.

  “Derrick? Something on your mind?” asked Lenna.

  “How did the townspeople get their gold up here with the path like that? Surely moving an entire town’s worth of gold would need wagons and horses or something,” said Derrick.

  Lenna followed his gaze to the path. “It would have been very difficult.”

  “I’d have cut a way through. Enough men with axes could clear a path no trouble,” said Fandle.

  “Yes, that’s my point. If this all happened a few weeks ago, how did the path get so bad again?” asked Derrick. “Surely it would take months, if not years, for it to grow back?”

  Lenna frowned. “Perhaps they didn’t use wagons? Maybe they just carried it up?”

  “And made thousands of trips back and forth?” asked Mawlo. “Nah, no way. Too much effort.”

  “Why do you insist on asking irrelevant questions?” asked Harlow. “The quest is simple. Slay the dragon. How they got the gold up here is not important.”

  “It just seems odd,” said Derrick. “The whole situation is plain barmy. A town that wants its gold in the mines, a baron that doesn’t, a dragon that makes deals instead of burning the whole place to the ground… none of it seems right.”

  Harlow sighed, “I know.”

  “Then why aren’t we asking more questions?” asked Derrick.

  “Because it is not our place to,” answered Harlow.

  What kind of statement was that? Of course it was their place to question; they’re heroes. Champions of the downtrodden and the weak. Protectors of good and justice. It was absolutely their place to question whether what they were doing was right or not.

  “I’ll hear no more about it. Ready yourselves for the mine. We don’t know what could be inside,” said Harlow.

  “Aside from a massive dragon?” said Fandle. “I dread to think what your imagination is coming up with.”

  Harlow shook his head, the smallest hint of a smile turning the corners of his mouth. He squashed it and instructed Fandle and Mawlo to get the torches. The pair obeyed, fishing a set of torches out of their packs and lighting them, then handed them out to the others.

  Mawlo passed one to Derrick, which he declined with a raise of his hand. He had a spell for these purposes.

  Holding his hand palm upwards, he closed his eyes, focusing his mana into the palm of his hand. A ball of light appeared there, hovering a few inches above his skin, and lit the entrance with bright white light.

  “Ooh, fancy,” said Mawlo.

  “Not really. It’s a spell called Lamp Light. Novices learn this in the first stages of their wizard training,” said Derrick.

  “Still looks impressive to me. None of us can do that,” said Fandle.

  The blush was difficult to supress. Praise for Derrick’s skill had not been abundant back at the Circle.

  “You couldn’t turn it down though, yeah? It’s a bit blinding,” said Mawlo. “I can’t see nothing past the glare.”

  “Oh, sorry,” said Derrick, and he dimmed the light.

  “Marvellous. You’re gunna be a real asset. I can tell.”

  “Are we done stroking the wizard’s ego? Then let us push on,” said Harlow.

  They followed the tracks of the minecarts deep under the earth, their footfalls echoing in the dark. The deeper they went, the colder and damper the air became, like walking through fog at night. Slick, wet tunnels lay ahead, branching off in dozens of directions.

  A drip echoed through the gloom, followed by something skittering in the dark.

  “Which way?” asked Harlow.

  Fandle, the only one that could see in the dark, surveyed the tunnels. “The only one that looks disturbed is that one.” He pointed into the gloom. “The rest are thick with web. No one’s been down them in decades.”

  “And that one?”

  “Not as many. I’ll bet that’s the way the detachment the baron sent up went.”

  “Then we shall follow. Lead the way, Fandle.”

  The dwarf took the lead into the dark. A little way in, he stopped to hack several cat-sized spiders down from the ceiling and kicked them to the side. “I bet there’re bigger ones further in,” he said. “These are young’uns.”

  Mawlo shivered.

  “Don’t like spiders?” asked Derrick.

  “You do? I can’t stand the way they move, makes me shudder.”

  They entered a new shaft. Tracks for the mine carts hadn’t been laid here, and the sides of the tunnel were roughly hewn. Ahead, the passage narrowed sharply to a fissure just wide enough for a person to squeeze through.

  “Must be where they ran out of silver to mine,” said Fandle. He ran his hand over the damp rock. “Ah, there’s still a little here. Might’ve given up a bit too soon,” he laughed.

  Gave up or were scared off?

  Another housecat-sized spider scurried along the cave roof and disappeared into the darkness, and Derrick turned to the fissure in the wall. It hadn’t been hewn by pickaxes like the rest of the tunnel. It was a natural break in the rock.

  “The air’s warmer on the other side,” reported Mawlo. “I can feel it on my skin.”

  “What’re you thinking?” Lenna’s voice made Derrick jump.

  “Who says I was thinking anything?”

  “Your face.”

  “Ah. Well, since you asked, I was wondering why the town abandoned the mines if there’s still silver here, and that got me thinking that maybe it was because of the spiders.”

  Mawlo took a couple of hasty steps back from the fissure. “You don’t think they’re in there?”

  “I think… that maybe the miners broke through to a natural cave system… I’ll let your imagination do the rest.”

  Mawlo moved behind Fandle. “You go first. You can see in the dark.”

  The dwarf chuckled, “You don’t wanna be fussin’ over spiders. They’ll give you a nasty bite, but that’s it. It’s the venomous ones you want to worry about.”

  “Are these the venomous ones?”

  “Yes. But don’t worry, dwarves have a natural immunity.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “But I’m not a dwarf.”

  “No. I am. That’s why I’m going first.”

  Fandle approached the fissure and, turning sideways, squeezed his way through into the next chamber.

  “There’s loads of dead spiders over here,” called Fandle’s voice. “Looks like they’ve been eaten.”

  “Eaten? By what?” asked Harlow.

  “Something bigger than a spider.”

  Harlow moved to the fissure and pushed his way through to the cave beyond. The others followed him and emerged in a wide high-ceilinged cavern. Stalagmites and stalactites mingled together in the shadows, giving the impression they were in the mouth of some huge stone creature. On the ground, half a dozen dead spiders the size of horses lay half eaten among the rocks.

  “Didn’t eat the poison sacks,” stated Fandle. He kicked the large, bulbous abdomen of the nearest corpse. “The air’s warm down there, which is strange; it usually gets colder the deeper you go. Unless…”

  “Unless?”

  “Unless you hit a magma chamber, but there ain’t no volcanoes near here, so that’s unlikely.”

  “I thought mines got hotter the deeper they went?” said Derrick.

  “There’s a tipping point. This one’s not deep enough to hit the Hot Zone; you need to go quite a few miles deep before the temperature starts to go up.”

  “Stay focused. The heat is likely coming from our foe. Be ready,” said Harlow.

  They pushed on. Delving deeper under the mountain, past a grisly pile of skulls, until the cavern opened up into an enormous subterranean space. High above them, maybe fifty feet, was a brazier fixed to the cavern ceiling with thick iron chains.

  Piles of gold littered the open cavern, filling the cavern with a glittering light.

  Derrick scooped a handful of coins out of the nearest pile and let the money pour through his fingers.

  “There must be thousands – no, millions of gold coins down here,” he said.

  “A town’s worth,” said Harlow.

  “Way more than a town’s worth,” said Fandle. “Those peasants would be lucky to see this much gold in a hundred generations.”

  “Then where has it all come from?” asked Mawlo.

  “A wonderful question,” hissed a voice among the piles. “The answer probably won’t surprise you.”

  Harlow drew his sword and spun towards a cascade of coins. “Show yourself, dragon.”

  Laughter filled the cavern. “You may want to find yourself a better sword than that if you plan on striking me with it. The last knight who did found out the hard way that steel is too soft to pierce my hide.”

  Fandle and Mawlo closed in together, back-to-back. The dwarf gripped his axe tightly while the halfling aimed her throwing knives at any noise from the dark.

  “Come out. Perhaps we can talk,” said Lenna.

  “That’s a novel tactic. I don’t think anyone’s tried that before,” said the dragon. “Very well. First, tell me why you have come.”

  “We have been sent by the baron to reclaim the town’s stolen gold,” answered Harlow.

  “Ah, human greed. Predictable.”

  “It is greed to wish for the return of what’s rightly yours?” said Harlow.

  A blaze of fire seared through the gloom beyond the light of the brazier and swept over the party’s heads. They took cover as best they could, behind shield and stone, but the heat of it… it was like being sat in a campfire.

  The flames ceased, and once Derrick’s vision returned; he was greeted by a huge red dragon perched upon its hoard. It watched the party emerge from cover, flicking its tail back and forth like a cat watching a family of mice.

  “Who’s to say whose is whose? To whom do you defer judgment?” asked the dragon.

  “The lord of these lands. We have been charged with slaying you and returning the gold to its rightful owners,” said Harlow.

  The dragon snarled. “Higby, that duplicitous cur. Then have at it, brave warrior. Come, strike me down.” The dragon rose to its feet. “If you can.”

  The dragon lunged forward from its pile of gold, spraying coins in all directions, and swiped a huge claw at Harlow. The paladin raised his shield, but the force of the blow threw him several feet into a stalagmite. He hit the stone, hard, and fell on his front with the wind knocked out of him.

  The dragon whirled around, sweeping its great tail along the floor, and whipped the dwarf and halfling over the top of a pile of gold. They disappeared into the darkness in a spray of coins, and the dragon turned its glare on Derrick and Lenna.

  “Behind me!” yelled Derrick, and he conjured a magic shield around himself and Lenna as the dragon’s flames filled the cave with intense heat.

  Derrick pushed back against the force of the flames. They were strong. So strong the strain of holding the shield pulled at his mana reserves. He dug deep, drawing from the power within himself, and focused everything into his shield. The barrier flashed, expanded, and pushed the flames back another foot. It was all Derrick could do to keep himself and Lenna alive, but he couldn’t keep it up for long.

  At some point, he’d run out of mana.

  The flames stopped when the dragon took a breath, and Derrick lowered his shield. He sagged, almost fell to one knee, and gulped down air like he’d been drowning. Never had he had to use so much mana before.

  The dragon watched him; its head cocked to one side as if it were examining a curiosity. “A wizard? The baron really has taken this personally, but he only has his own greed to blame.” The dragon set its feet and drew in breath. “And now you will pay for it with your lives.”

  “Listen, perhaps we got off on the wrong foot,” panted Derrick.

  The dragon ignited the air, and Derrick dragged Lenna behind a stalagmite. Even if he conjured another shield, he didn’t have the mana left to hold it for long. They’d be cooked anyway.

  “We don’t have to do this.”

  “Dragon!” bellowed Harlow. “Turn and face me!”

  “Harlow, no!” cried Lenna.

  The dragon whirled around, scattering coins across the stone floor. “Foolish warrior. Do you know how many brave knights I have dispatched these past five hundred years?”

  A bout of flame erupted from the dragon’s mouth and seared the air where Harlow stood. The paladin dove forward and slid down the gold, his breastplate becoming a makeshift sled, and rolled to his feet beneath the dragon.

  It was a clever move. Using the dragon’s own flames to blind it.

  I wish I’d thought of that.

  Harlow thrust his sword upwards into the dragon’s neck. The blade skittered across its scales, sending sparks flying into the air, and ricocheted off the impenetrable hide. The paladin ducked as a claw rent the air where his head had been and rolled to the side. He thrust his blade up once more, scraping it along the dragon’s scales a second time.

  “He has to stop. He’ll get himself killed,” said Derrick.

  “He’s doing well, isn’t he?” said Lenna.

  “No, he can’t even hurt it. I have to do something.”

  “But what can you – hey wait!”

  Derrick leapt from the safety of the stalagmite and dashed over the top of a golden dune. If he could get the dragon to listen, perhaps there was a chance they could all get out of this alive.

  Harlow raised his shield and took a mighty blow from the dragon’s claw. The force pushed him to his knees, and he rolled away from the second claw when it came down on the spot he’d been kneeling at moments before.

  Derrick leapt between them, his arms outstretched like he was trying to stop drunks from fighting. “Stop!” he yelled, and sent a huge shockwave of force from both his hands. Harlow fell onto his back, and the dragon beat its wings to stop itself from being pushed over the top of its gold piles.

  “I have bested many wizards in my time, too, little mage. You shall be no different.”

  “Can’t we just talk?”

  “Talk? About what, exactly?” roared the dragon.

  “About this deal everyone keeps going on about. Something is seriously wrong here and if we knew what it was, maybe we could help.”

  “Help? There is no helping here. The Baron Higby broke his end of the bargain, and now he suffers the consequences. He is simply a sore loser.”

  “That may be so, but if you don’t tell us what’s going on, this will never end. Look, how about we start over?” Derrick lowered his arms and brushed the dirt off his hands. “I’m Derrick.” He offered his hand.

  The dragon looked down at Derrick’s hand and in the silence, Derrick could hear his own heart beating like it was trying to bash its way through his chest. The dragon could kill them all easily.

  The dragon sighed. A plume of sulphurous air hit Derrick in the face. “Vxtrolacxtrix.” said the dragon.

  “Vxtrolacxtrix?”

  “My name.”

  “How about I call you Vic?” said Derrick.

  “No.”

  “Vicky? Alright, Vxtrolacxtrix. You seem like an… amenable, er, dragon. Tell me about this deal. Why does the baron want you dead?”

  Vxtrolacxtrix rolled its great emerald eyes. “I do not know the minds of men, little wizard. You do not think as dragons do. The Baron Higby, whom I have allowed to take gold from this hoard for nearly fifty years, has become greedy of late, taking more and more from my hoard every month until I put a stop to it. Now, he sends you, and previously, a whole group of knights to take it all.”

  “Taking more and more? You allowed it?” said Harlow.

  “That was the deal. I live undisturbed in this silver mine, and they have their gold kept safe. If they need it, they are free to exchange their notes for some, but only the baron ever did so.”

  “But the townsfolk; they need the gold,” said Fandle.

  “Do they? They no longer carry pouches of gold around, easy pickings for thieves and cutpurses; they simply exchange promissory notes, and their gold is kept safe here in my lair.”

  “But the notes are worthless outside of Hew Melon,” said Fandle.

  “Odd. It hasn’t been a problem until now.”

  Derrick scratched his beard. This was a very strange arrangement, and even stranger that the baron wanted to upset it. Fifty years? The system had been running smoothly for fifty years. What’s changed?

  And what did Vxtrolacxtrix get out of it?

  “Why do you even want gold? You just sit on it, hoard it. What’s the point of having gold if you don’t use it?” said Mawlo.

  “I do use it, but not for the same purposes you do.”

  “What other purpose is there? Spending gold is what it’s for,” said Mawlo.

  “For dragons, there is a single purpose for which we would die.”

  Vxtrolacxtrix shifted some gold pieces away from a pile with their tail, revealing the tops of several eggs. White, with green and red speckles, they looked more like giant quails’ eggs than anything Derrick would have imagined. For some reason, he always thought dragons’ eggs would look more like rocks.

  “So, you’re a girl dragon?” said Mawlo.

  The dragon laughed. “A humanoid would say that. No, I am not a girl dragon; I am simply a dragon.”

  “Then how did?”

  “We are creatures of pure magic, little woman. We are neither and both.”

  “Ah, like frogs,” said Mawlo.

  “Frogs?” asked Fandle.

  “Yeah, I read somewhere that frogs can change their sex. The girls can even have babies without a boyfriend,” said Mawlo.

  “Wait… you read a book?” asked Fandle.

  “I tell you something as interesting as the fact frogs can have babies without… you know, and the bit you latch onto is that I read a book?”

  “It did catch me off guard a bit.”

  “Your very small friend is almost correct. Dragons do not need a mate to procreate. We need magic, lots of magic, and the magic of gold is the best,” said Vxtrolacxtrix.

  “The magic of gold?” asked Lenna.

  “Yes. Don’t you feel happy when you hold a gold coin in your hand? Happier still when there are many? That is the magic of gold. It brings comfort, contentedness. It is why wars are fought over it, why friends betray each other for it, and lovers are jilted without enough of it. Gold is comfort; it is love, and it is twice as powerful with dragons. As creatures of magic, the magic of gold breeds life.”

  “That’s why dragons hoard gold? To make baby dragons?” said Fandle.

  “Creates, nurtures and sustains them. The magic of gold has kept our race alive from the beginning of time.” Vxtrolacxtrix’s muzzle twisted into a snarl. “It wasn’t until humanoids began to mine it for themselves that conflict arose. Now leave here. I shall not suffer you to remain any longer, and should you return, I shall slay you all.”

  Vxtrolacxtrix reared up onto their hind legs and flapped their enormous wings, driving the party back towards the tunnel they’d entered by.

  Coins and pebbles whirled around the party in a maelstrom of wind, and they were forced to flee the mines lest they be cut to ribbons.

  A little way down the passage, the gale stopped, and the party made their way back to the surface unharried.

  “Well,” said Fandle as they emerged once more into the sunlight. “This has become a bit more complicated.”

  “No, it hasn’t. We must find a way to vanquish the dragon and return. Our job is not yet complete,” said Harlow.

  “We’re still going to kill them? Even after all we’ve learned?” asked Lenna.

  “That is the job. If we wish to continue in this line of work, we must complete the contracts we’re assigned,” said Harlow.

  “And none of this feels wrong to you?” asked Derrick.

  Harlow growled under his breath. “Of course it does, but what choice do we have? It is our duty to see the quest through.”

  “We could…not,” said Derrick.

  Harlow turned his glare on Derrick. “I am bound by oath to bring peace and justice wherever I go. It is the way of Eyorra. When a paladin gives their word, they keep it.”

  “There must be another way,” said Lenna.

  “There isn’t. Now let us head back to town. We need to find a way to slay this dragon.”