---

Chapters

The underground citadel: The boy might be mortally wounded!

A Dragonpriest: Surely you always have to have a look in the sarcophagus?

Kobolds!: It’s not a story!

Goblins!: A small man shall be small

An actual dragon: The heroic thing to do is not let it grow up

---

The underground citadel

The thirty-foot plummet into darkness ended with a thump, gravity meeting unforgiving stone.

Octavian was the only one able to break the fall, spreading his wings and gliding calmly to the rocky surface. Jankx was knocked unconscious for the second time in short succession, so Octavian quickly waved a spell of healing to stabilise the head-sore thief. Jankx mumbled thanks and lit a flickering torch to light up the darkness around him.

A sandy ledge overlooked a subterranean gulf of darkness to the west. The ledge was wide but rough, covered in sand, rocky debris, and the bones of small animals. A rough-hewn stairwell zigged and zagged down the side of the ledge, descending into darkness. The only light came from the crack in the ice above, blurred by the howling snow.

Tarquin groaned in pain and quickly healed himself with a whispered poem:

Jankx, head still pounding, felt somewhat inspired by the words and recovered enough to stand, studying the subterranean world. It was a built environment, not a natural cave. The stairs, though old and worn, were well laid and human-scale, as was the drystone wall surrounding the landing and bounding the steps. He figured it would have once been a place of habitation before it was consumed by the ice.

As everyone recovered from the fall, a scuttling from the steps alerted Morgan that trouble was approaching - fast. Three dog-sized giant rats were emerging out of the darkness and he pulled his sword free and ran to meet them, blocking their approach to the platform. Octavian stepped behind Morgan, hesitating for a moment wondering he should befriend the critters before deciding Morgan could take care of them — they didn’t seem likely to be all that smart.

Arlington pulled out his crossbow and stepped forward with authority. He lined up the closest rat and shattered its small head with a precise shot. He raised the bow to his shoulder with satisfaction. Eearwaxx peeked over the short wall down the steps and pointed his finger at the second rat, setting it instantly afire. “That was a spell you know,” Eearwaxx said proudly to Arlington, “pretty powerful spell, pretty powerful wizard!” Arlington turned and raised an approving eyebrow.

The last rat wasn’t perturbed by the death of its companions, screeching as it leapt toward Morgan, only to be met by the full force of Morgan’s blade which rent its chest asunder.

The intruders dealt with, Arlington stared up at the hole in the world above. The blizzard was still in full force, only letting dim light down the ravine, and the nearest outcrop of ice-bound rock was twenty-five feet away. “As far as I can see, with our winged friend here,” he said patting Octavian on the shoulder, “there would be no trouble getting a rope up there and simply climbing out of this hole. So I say we go for a walk and have a look around.”

“There is one problem with that escape plan, which is our winged friend may well be eaten by an Owlbear,” Tarquin observed.

Octavian swivelled his head between the two speakers, wondering what the hell was going on — talking about him like he was a puppy. He sighed, well used to this kind of behaviour from unthinking humans. He stretched his wings, threatening to fly away scot-free.

Arlington missed the subtle hint entirely - the idea that someone would abandon his employment near impossible to even consider. “Tarquin, if you are worried about the Owlbear, we can always have our — associate — here, poke his head out before he emerges.”

“I read a story once,” Tarquin mused, “a story from the North. About animals that poke their heads up out of the ice, and it doesn’t end well.”

“I think we can consider ourselves smarter than the average game,” Arlington countered as Octavian rolled his eyes. “I conclude that we should have a little look around while we are here. It’s certainly warmer in here that it is on the surface, and the storm does not appear to be ending any time soon.”

Tarquin nodded. “I don’t think anyone has been here for a long time — perhaps there is something here to be found. Something to add to the booty that you had on the cart,” he teased.

Morgan wiped the rat off his sword and looked to Arlington for permission to descend, and the expedition-leader nodded his assent. As Morgan descended, a fortress emerged from the darkness to the West, separated from the steps by a bottomless ravine. The subterranean citadel, though impressive, seemed long forgotten, if the lightless windows, cracked crenellations, and leaning towers were any indication. All was quiet, though a cold breeze floated up from below, bringing with it the scent of dust and a faint trace of rot.

---

The narrow stairs crossed the ravine and emptied into a small courtyard. The buried fortress to the west seemed slumped, as if it had sunk into the earth. The floor stretched away to the north and south, composed of a layer of treacherous, crumbled masonry, which reached to an unknown depth. Across the courtyard a tower stood barricaded by two large wooden doors. Embossed in draconic on the stone above the doors was an ominous couplet:

Octavian scanned the verse and realised it was cultish language, trying to impress and show-off rather than reflecting any true power. Eearwaxx scratched his head as he translated, wondering why it was tricky despite being fluent in the dragon-tongue. Then he realised - the script and phrasing was ancient. “That’s old draconic,” he mumbled. Morgan agreed as he read it aloud to those that needed translating.

Eearwaxx wandered curiously toward the doors. After a few steps the floor collapsed beneath his feet, just like the ice had above, but this time a ten-foot drop into a square stone pit. He stumbled to the ground as another giant rat leapt on him, this one hungrier than the rest. Eearwaxx’s scream was cut short as he dropped — dead? — when the rat ripped a chunk out of his flailing arm.

Tarquin didn’t miss a beat, leaping into the pit to defend Eearwaxx. He landed acrobatically atop the rat, shunting it off the wizard with both feet as he landed. He pulled out his rapier and jammed it into the rat’s skull triumphantly. Morgan ran up to the pit. “Is he ok?” Tarquin shook his head sadly, closing Eearwaxx’s staring eyes shut. Morgan turned to Arlington. “I think Eearwaxx might be dead.”

“Are you a physician, boy?”

“No I asked Tarquin and he looked up and shook his head.”

Arlington huffed and jogged to the hold. Morgan was right, Eearwaxx looked in bad shape. He leapt down into the pit with a cry, “The boy might be mortally wounded!” He landed poorly, collapsing to all fours and rolling onto his back with a groan. Tarquin rushed over and hauled Arlington to his feet.

Octavian walked calmly over to the pit to study the situation. “The young child appears to have pissed himself so you should get him up pretty quickly.”

“What the hell do you think I’m trying to do, boy!” Arlington spluttered from below.

“Oh and the leader too is wounded. So two people. Maybe the bisexual will tell a haiku? I’m just trying to help,” Octavian observed, taking no further action.

Eearwaxx’s eyes fluttered, he was alive but still unconscious. Tarquin knelt down and whispered healing words into his ear, gently pulling the wizard’s beard back into position for the second time as Eearwaxx opened his eyes. “You alright boy?”

“Yes thank you,” Eearwaxx said in his high-pitched boy’s voice, before quickly remember. “Of course, of course,” he said with his man’s voice.

“Welcome back,” Tarquin smiled.

Jankx decided the pit was full enough and instead dangled a rope into the pit to assist. He looked around for somewhere to tie the rope off, and Morgan held his hand out. Jankx tilted his head - the young warrior didn’t look like much. He had a vague memory of Morgan lifting the ice-cart earlier, but his headache made that all a bit vague. Still - Morgan looked ready, so Jankx handed over the coiled rope.

Morgan grabbed the end and wrapped it a couple of times around his arm, then braced against a step. It was a very casual brace, hardly putting his all into it, but the ease by which the pit-dwellers emerged from the pit showed his confidence was well placed. As they climbed the trap mechanism started to close the floor again. “Quickly now boy!” Arlington called, scooting free just as the trap thudded closed.

Octavian raised an eyebrow. “Is anyone else wondering how that rat was in there?”

“Nope,” Arlington said tersely.

“It’s a good point,” Tarquin said, “it might do us well to be a bit more aware. Perhaps this is not just a derelict place.”

Eearwaxx traced a chalk marker around the pit now it was closed, noting the pressure-plate mechanism. “Don’t walk on here, you’ll fall down like I did. That was silly.” Jankx and Octavian watched as Eearwaxx used what were obviously tools of a thieves trade, not what you would expect from a young wizard. Jankx noticed with interest that he used the tools with well practiced precision - he was no rookie.

Tarquin looked at his wounded companions. “It was cold outside, we’re here and it’s protected. We know now that there’s activity, potentially, behind those doors. Do we want to take a moment, have a rest?”

“I would like to,” Arlington said, leaning hard against the stone wall. “I just need to have a bit of a breather after that, if you boys don’t mind.” He sat down creakily on the nearest pile of rocks and lit his pipe. Tarquin wedged his torch in amongst the rock sat down next to Arlington, pulling out some parchment and scribbling. Octavian walked over and mimicked their moves, trying to understand their behaviour through imitation.

Morgan hopped up on the small wall, swinging his legs as he pulled a pipe made of gnarled blackwood from his pack. He lit it and the puffs of smoke formed small white skulls as they floated away. Octavian, seeing two smokers, held his hand up as if he too was smoking, but he had no pipe. He did however create his own smoke pattern, green leaves that fluttered free as if carried on a soothing breeze.

Tarquin, never one to be upstaged, created a pipe out of nowhere and upped the ante by blowing out a cloud shaped like a giant rat that chased the leaves into the darkness. Arlington watched on with amusement, then blew out a cloud of the most obnoxious, gangrenous, black tobacco.

---

“Why don’t you use your wizarding skills to see if that door will open,” Tarquin said to Eearwaxx as everyone prepared to continue into the fortress.

Eearwaxx nodded enthusiastically and wandered over to the wooden doors, carefully avoiding the marked pit. He crouched down and studied the doors, noting they were unlocked, and not finding any traps. Jankx shook his head, watching the wizard do the job he was hired to do. “It’s a bit rusty, I’m mending it, just in case it might be broken — you never know.” Eearwaxx spoke a few quick words so the door hardware was magically cleaned up, polished where it was once decrepit. Jankx’s was incredulous - what on earth was he doing?!

Arlington was equally confused. “Can you open it, boy?”

“Why are we letting the boy check the lock when Jankx is the thief?” Octavian called out to deaf ears.

Morgan walked over toward the door too, assuming Arlington was talking to him, as Eearwaxx replied. “Yes, sure. It’s not locked,” Eearwaxx smiled as he grasped the handle and held it ready to open. Jankx backed away out of sight of the doors, and Tarquin took his cue and joined him. Morgan put his finger to his lips to signal for quiet and leant in to listen at the door. There was so sound from within, so he nodded to Eearwaxx. The wizard prepared his fire-finger and opened the door.

Inside was a circular room cobbled with cracked granite, upon which sprawled the bodies of four goblins, apparently slain in combat. One corpse stood with its back against the western wall, the spear that killed it still skewering it and holding it upright. Two doors led from the room, and a hollow tower of loose masonry reached thirty feet into the air above — the intervening floors and stairs gone, except for a couple of crumbled ledges.

“Four dead goblins,” Morgan called. Arlington gestured for everyone to advance inside. “You might want to check for any potential traps on the floor,” Eearwaxx said in his deep voice. Morgan scanned quickly but couldn’t see anything obvious. Arlington stepped inside and crouched down next to one of the bodies. Killed by bladed weapons, sometime in the past few days he estimated. Octavian crouched down at Arlington’s side. “They’ve been mummified by the cold. Dead two weeks.”

“Well obviously,” Arlington confirmed. He walked over to the pinioned goblin, noting the spear’s crudely hewn head and short-handled length which indicated it was of goblin-sized origin. He noticed something on the wall behind the body. He yanked the spear free revealing more draconic lettering on the wall as the body fell.

“Ashardalon,” Morgan said, shaping the word in his mouth. “Maybe it’s a name?” Octavian agreed that was plausible, though it meant nothing to him. Eearwaxx perked up hearing the name spoken, pulling out one of his books and flipping furiously through it trying to find a reference. His memory was vague, but maybe it was a dragon name?

Arlington turned to Octavian, thinking his draconic heritage might know something. “Does this name mean anything to you?” Octavian shook his head. “But let me tell you something,” he hissed quietly, “why have we got two thieves and no wizard??” He glanced over at Eearwaxx and raised his eye-ridges.

“I judge a man by his character, not by his resume.”

Octavian rolled his eyes. “Should we judge you a similar way?”

“You’re not a man,” Tarquin interrupted. Arlington squinted at Tarquin as Octavian turned his head to stare. Jankx rubbed his hand over his eyes and Morgan cocked his head. “Yes that sounded pretty racist to me too.”

Tarquin hesitated. “Oh. Oh! No, no, no disrespect intended. Sorry — but you’re plainly not a man?” He felt confident that his apology was sincere. Octavian studiously ignored Tarquin and turned back to Arlington. “The boy is right, that is a dragon name.”

While everyone was distracted, Jankx quickly leant down and searched the nearest goblin body, finding nothing — no weapons, and no coin, obviously searched and stripped after death.

Tarquin put his hand on Octavian’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he said sincerely. “That’s ok. Maybe you can write me a haiku later on.”

“And maybe you can open this door,” Arlington said sternly. “Sometimes a man must redeem himself. Choose a door.”

“Yes or course,” Tarquin took the hint and walked confidently to the southern door. “Would you like me to look at that door for you?” Eearwaxx offered just as Tarquin pulled it open. “No need!” he called back as he strode inside. At which point another giant rat scuttled out of the darkness and lunged at him. Tarquin was quick enough to avoid the attack, and he was surprised to find Octavian had rushed through to defend him, despite his faux-pas. Octavian thwacked the rat with his magically infused staff, and Eearwaxx finished it off with another fire bolt. Tarquin turned and nodded thanks Eearwaxx, ignoring Octavian and instantly reversing the good work he’d done with his apology.

Octavian looked around the room. The masonry walls of the twenty-foot-wide hall were in poor repair. The far end had collapsed, filling the southern section with rubble. The western wall was in much better shape than the other walls, and it held a stone door with a rearing dragon carved in relief on it. Tarquin approached it and noticed no obvious handle, but the rearing dragon’s open mouth held an obvious keyhole.

Morgan turned to Arlington. “Arlington — may I call you that? — I don’t think we should proceed until we check the other door. At least taking a look - it’s not a good idea to leave a door behind.” Arlington agreed. “Eearwaxx, go with young Morgan and check the other door please.”

Eearwaxx meanwhile was only too happy to help, repeating his lock mending before declaring it safe. Morgan pulled his sword out as Eearwaxx opened the door. A featureless stone corridor led west, with three closed doors, one on each wall. “Nothing here, let’s lock it and go back.”

“Why do we need to lock it?” Morgan asked. “No-one has been here for a long time, and last time I checked rats can’t open doors.”

“Of course, yes,” Eearwaxx agreed as he pulled the door closed. “So Morgan, which way?” Arlington asked.

“There’s nothing up there, so let’s go south.”

A Dragonpriest

Octavian was now truly confused. He addressed Jankx directly for the first time. “Aren’t you the one person who should be checking the doors?” Jankx merely smiled, silent, but he was curious about the dragon door and walked into the southern room to study it, checking the floor tiles around the door before stepping up to it and probing with his tools. The lock was extremely complex, perhaps even magically bound - without a key it was going to be very difficult. Octavian felt some relief seeing Jankx at work, watching from below as the thief worked. He studied the carving to see if he could get any insight that might help, but the carving was representational rather than specific and gave no clues.

“Do you want me to have a look at that door, Mr Jankx?”

“I think Jankx can open that door,” Arlington said.

“I’m not sure that I can,” Jankx replied.

“Let me see if I can mend it,” Eearwaxx offered.

“I’m a bit confused. I have read a thesaurus. Is ‘mend’ also another word for ‘picking a lock’?” Octavian asked.

“A thesaurus? You mean a dictionary?” Eearwaxx corrected.

“It’s a special type of dictionary.”

“Yes I know that, I am very learned,” Eearwaxx said turning his attention to the lock to get out of the conversation. He immediately realised he had no chance of getting through it. “This is a very tough lock. I can’t even mend this.”

“It’s a keyhole, why can’t we pick this?” Arlington said, looking directly at Jankx.

“We might be able to, it’s particularly sophisticated.” Jankx turned his attention again to the lock. He inserted his tools and carefully started feeling out the barrel and mechanisms within. There was definitely magical protection. He focussed his attention and sweat broke out on his brow as he carefully positioned each tool. Then, with a tweak he had learned from his masters, the lock suddenly stood revealed: he could open it with a final twist. He knew we was lucky to have got to this point, and now stood with his hands embedded in a stone-dragon’s maw. He held everything very still and waited.

Arlington walked up behind him and laid his hand firm and encouraging on his lower back. Jankx slowly turned his head and whispered. “You might want stand back.”

“Not without you. Let’s go.”

Jankx solved the lock. And wasn’t engulfed in a torrent of fire.

The door hissed open and a puff of dust indicated that the chamber beyond had been sealed for many an age. The air inside was stale and dust, long undisturbed, covered every surface in the large gallery. Three alcoves lay on the north wall, and one on the south. Each northern alcove contained a dust-covered stone pedestal. The southern held a fist-sized crystalline globe that glowed with a soft blue light. Tarquin, drawn up close behind Jankx, heard faint tinkling musical notes issuing from the globe.

Jankx breathed with relief. He checked the nearest tiles in the room for traps, finding them clear. He stepped inside, warily avoiding the remains of an ancient tapestry or rug that lay in the centre of the room. “Watch for traps,” he whispered as his companions entered the room. Tarquin moved around the north alcoves, noting that each must have once held a similar globe but which were now also covered in a thick layer of dust. He tried to identify the sound from the glowing globe, but could make no sense of it.

Arlington moved toward the south pedestal, drawn to the glowing globe. Treasure! He stepped close to the globe and reached toward it, jerking his arm back when brooding music suddenly played from the crystal. The music seemed to bore inside his head like a worm, twisting his thoughts into deep fear. He backed away as fast as he could and sprinted out of the room. Tarquin followed close behind, crossing the carpet (safely!), the melody awakening a deep wrong in his soul. How could such ‘music’ exist in a just universe?! Eearwaxx and Jankx hurried away too, their faces etched with horror.

Only Octavian and Morgan were unaffected and they watched with confusion as their companions rushed away. “What should we do?” Morgan said.

“Should we follow them to make sure they don’t hurt themselves? Or should we go in the room to try and stop the music?” Octavian replied.

“I don’t know. Do you think you can stop the music?”

Octavian hesitated for a moment. “We should go and check them. It shouldn’t last long, it’s obviously some kind of mind delirium.” Morgan nodded and together they followed the panicked runners.

Tarquin outsprinted his fellows, the music affecting him the most due to poetic sensibilities. He flung the fortress doors open and proceeded to spring the trap again, landing flat on his face. Octavian saw the danger and rushed ahead to close the doors again. Jankx tried to shove him aside as he ripped open the doors. Despite — or maybe because of — his size disadvantage, Octavian managed to trip Jankx as he moved through the doorway and the thief fell to the ground before hitting the pit. Those following were ever-so-slightly more in control and stepped around the open pit instead of into it. Once they reached the far end of the pit the music had faded enough that they regained control, panting as the adrenalin drained.

“What the blazes was that?” Arlington gasped. He tried to take a few steps back inside but was overwhelmed almost instantly.

“It’s magic,” Eearwaxx confirmed, squeezing some wax into his ears to protect himself from any recurrence. He pulled out some soap and shaped it into pellets and handed it around.

Seeing what was going on, Morgan went back to the globe. He picked up the fist-sized crystal, wrapped it in a thick cloth, and stuffed it into his backpack. The music, which was still playing, was muffled but still softly audible. Octavian returned to the room. “The boy has given them all soap for their ears so they can’t hear it. Let me have a look at this thing.” He peered into the pack to try and understand the magic, being careful not to let the sound free. But he had no idea what it was.

The fear-struck group returned to the other room, still queasy from the after-effects of the music. Even the soft sound emitting from Morgan’s pack sent jitters up their spines. Morgan looked to Arlington. “Are you still being effected by the sound?”

“WHAT?”

Eearwaxx, despite also being deafened, read Morgan’s lips and understood. “He has soap in his ears, he can’t hear you,” he explained.

“WHAT IS HE SAYING?” Arlington said.

Morgan sighed. He mimed placing the globe in his hand, then pounding his fist into it. He looked quizzically at Arlington.

“GOD’S SAKE SON, NO! THAT’S TREASURE!”

Eearwaxx walked into the gallery. “I would like to look at this thing.” Morgan pulled it out and handed it over. Eearwaxx studied it closely - a glowing blue crystal, pulsing softly, the dark melody playing freely. He squinted in close, trying to see inside. It was opaque, but there was nothing visible hiding in there. “I don’t know that we should smash it, I think it might be highly valuable, though it’s a bit concerning it makes people run away,” he said wisely.

“That would make it even more valuable,” Octavian cried, trying to pierce Eearwaxx’s earwax.

“Surely that also means we can’t take it anywhere without a soundproof container,” Morgan sighed.

“We could build a special box for it and sell it!” Octavian yelled. Eearwaxx nodded as he wandered around the room putting the globe on the other pedestals — to no effect.

Arlington had had enough of this. He popped the soap from his ears — and immediately started running away in terror again. Tarquin leapt on him and tackled him to the ground before he could get too far, pulling the door closed to muffle the music again. He grabbed Arlington and looked into his face. “Get a hold of yourself man! Let’s just leave the stone in the corridor?”

Arlington shoved Tarquin off and brushed himself off. “For god’s sake, there’s no need to get hysterical,” he said calmly and walked back toward the crystal room. Tarquin shadowed close behind badgering. “We can leave it and collect it later!”

Morgan meanwhile was shaking his head. “Master Ravenfire, I really think we need to break it.”

“Yes I do to, it seems such a shame.” He sadly rolled it over the carpet to Morgan who picked it up. He indicated to Jankx and Eearwaxx that they should leave the room for safety’s sake, hustling them toward the door. As he did he stepped beyond the gallery room and into the corridor beyond. The moment he crossed the threshold the crystal cracked and went dark and silent.

Morgan looked down at the globe and laughed softly as Arlington strode back. The great hunter looked briefly at the shattered globe and shrugged. “I find myself rather overcome by the shakes, so you’ll excuse me if I sit myself down and partake of another pipe whilst you gentlemen continue the exploration. I’ll hold the back line — lead on, Jankx, please.”

Jankx tilted his head then nodded. “This way.”

---

With Eearwaxx’s assistance, Jankx cleared and opened the western door, which breathed a sigh of stale air and revealed a short corridor leading to another closed stone door. An old, dark blood-stain was smeared on the floor. “Whatever made that stain was dragged toward this door,” Eearwaxx warned.

Jankx’s paranoia was high now, so he carefully scanned the large stone slabs that made up the floor. His caution was rewarded when he discovered a mechanical pressure-plate which he disabled by driving several pitons into the mortar and stone. He stepped gingerly over the trap, gesturing for everyone to follow. At the door he spotted the trap’s payoff — an arrow from a slot hidden in the masonry. Eearwaxx magically cleaned the lock again (“Young man there is no need for any more mending!” Octavian called) then positioned his staff bravely over the slot — “just in case” — while Jankx confirmed it was safe to open.

Dust filled the doorless hall like a layer of grey snow. In the rounded northern end of the chamber stood a ten-foot tall sculpture of a coiled dragon carved from red-veined white marble, orange light glowing softly from its open mouth which Eearwaxx confirmed as magical.

---

Jankx knew this wasn’t his problem to solve and stepped back, allowing Octavian to shove past and stand transfixed by the statue. Despite his better judgement, he stepped closer to the statue the dragon’s jaws started moving and a Draconic voice suddenly filled the room:

We come at night without being fetched;
We disappear by day without being stolen.
What are we?

Recovering from his near heart-attack after the dragon had started speaking, Octavian backed away and signalled everyone to quiet. “No-one speak the answer until we know it. We may have only one opportunity to answer.” After a brief pause Octavian had it. “I think it’s stars - anyone have any other ideas?” Morgan nodded immediately, coming to the same conclusion. “But you would say it in Draconic.”

“Or darkness?” Eearwaxx offered. It was a good guess, but after considering it Morgan shook his head - “Yes but it’s plural.” Eearwaxx agreed, seeing the logic.

Octavian stepped forward again, cleared his throat, and spoke the word in the dragon-tongue: “Stars.”

A hidden door in the west wall rumbled open — and Octavian wasn’t roasted by dragon-breath. Dust cloaked the contents of the twenty-foot-wide hall beyond. Six alcoves lined the walls, three to the north and three to the south. Each alcove except the southwest one held a humanoid figure carved of the same red-veined white marble as the dragon. A stone arch way at the west end of the hall opened into a wide room from which greenish light glowed.

Jankx confirmed the floor ahead was safe and let Morgan take the lead into the room. Morgan walked immediately to the threshold of the green-glowing room, where a dark ten-foot wide pit discouraged any further progress. In the large chamber on the other side stood a large marble sarcophagus, easily nine-feet long. “Spiked pit, Jankx, and a sarcophagus is never good,” Morgan called softly. Jankx determined it wasn’t a trap that hadn’t reset, more a barrier to entry — and retreat.

“Do you want me to go across and take a look?” Morgan offered bravely.

“I’m concerned that this pit cuts off our retreat should something happen,” Jankx said shaking his head. “We need a way to easily get across it if we need to. And I’m not sure what that is.”

Morgan turned back to look at the sarcophagus. “The lid would probably do it?” Jankx nodded slowly. “It may well. The weight may be a problem.”

Octavian studied the statues who each resembled tall elves in plate armour. There were slight difference between each, and Octavian was intrigued that the figures were unusually tall for elves, and the armour unfamiliar - either an interpretation by the artist, or these were an little known variant of the elven race. He walked over to Morgan and Jankx who were pondering using the sarcophagus lid as a makeshift bridge. “Has anyone checked out the one alcove with no statue in it?” he said pointedly, staring at Jankx. “I think that’s a good idea,” Jankx grinned.

He walked to the empty alcove and quickly spotted tracks in the dust leading out of the alcove into the room. Tiny clawed feet. He called Octavian over. “Not kobold, too small - only one to two feet. It’s too old to tell much more, too much dust,” Octavian observed.

Eearwaxx pushed into the alcove and studied the walls, clearing the layers of dust. He quickly found what he was looking for — the outline of a secret door in the mortar of the south wall. “I found a secret door!” he said excitedly, voice dropping mid-sentence. Octavian raised an eyebrow at Jankx, who merely smiled.

Morgan stood impatiently on the edge of the pit. “Jankx do you want me to go have a look before you open that? I’ll jump it.” Jankx understood Morgan’s keenness, but it still seemed too dangerous without a clear path out. “Let’s try Eearwaxx’s door first,” he said.

“I found that!” Eearwaxx repeated proudly.

“Yes, you found the secret door exactly where I pointed to,” Octavian said wryly. “Good work elderly man.”

Jankx studied the door seeing that it just needed to be pushed inward. “Do you want me to mend that?” Eearwaxx offered. Jankx shook his head and placed his hands on the door, ducking low as he pushed it open. Inside was a tiny dust-coated chamber, with a three-foot crawl-space leading west. Jankx stepped cautiously inside and Eearwaxx followed close behind. He saw the southern wall was adorned with runes which were obscured by layers of ancient dust. He wiped the dust away to reveal more Draconic script and read it aloud:

A dragonpriest entombed alive for transgressions of the Law still retains the honour of their position.

Octavian heard the Draconic being read and hurried inside. He scanned the text and wracked his brain trying to understand what all this dragon symbology referred to and meant. But he couldn’t unravel it or piece it together, much to his frustration. He wasn’t used to being stymied in this way.

“Want me to read it for you?” Eearwaxx offered, seeing Octavian’s unhappiness. “I’ll take it slowly for you?”

Octavian glared, but Eearwaxx was oblivious. “Were your people a lot bigger before? Like, say, nine-feet tall?” Eearwaxx said, thinking of the sarcophagus.

“My people? I am the tallest of my people probably in history,” Octavian said stridently.

“In ancient history? Ancient draconic history?”

Octavian realised the young wizard was genuinely curious, not teasing. “No, no, in every history. My name is ‘The Titan’, among my people. But — there are other draconic forms, and certainly there are very big humanoids of a different species, and there are dragons themselves. There are even rumours of dragons that can turn into humans.”

“Wow. I hadn’t heard that,” Eearwaxx said, fascinated.

Jankx turned back to catch Morgan’s eye. “This passage leads around to the chamber,” he whispered, “no need for you to jump the pit.”

“But are you sure you don’t want me to just go across, make sure there’s nothing waiting on the other end?”

Jankx didn’t want to undermine the young man’s obvious courage. “I think we should go this way — you take the lead, we’ll follow.”

Morgan nodded assent. “If you think that’s best.”

“Do you always whisper? I could just walk down that crawlway — crouching, mind you,” Octavian said.

“Are you sure you want to go down there by yourself first? What if the sarcophagus opens?” Morgan whispered.

Octavian paused. “Good point. I am a little bit tall for that passage now I look closer.”

“Why doesn’t the little one go first? If he has to run away from something, it’s good that he’s small,” Tarquin chipped in. He’d been quiet, disconnected and discombobulated from the after effects of the cursed melody, but he was feeling his old self now.

Morgan shrugged his pack off and climbed into the passage, dragging it and his unsheathed sword behind. The passage took a sharp right to the north. “Jankx, there’s another push door here.”

“I thought so. Let’s go for it.”

“Do you want me to mend it?” Eearwaxx called softly. Octavian, second in line, shook his head incredulously.

Morgan shoved the door open. Violet marble tiles covered the floor and walls of the burial chamber, though all were cracked or broken, revealing rough-hewn stone beneath. Sconces were attached to the walls at each corner, one holding a torch that burnt with magical greenish fire. The marble sarcophagus lay in the room’s centre.

Morgan clambered down into the room and was immediately set upon by a tiny horned creature with green skin and clawed feet. It ripped into Morgan’s arm with an enthusiastic cry. “The dragonpriest will have you!”

Morgan tore the creature off and flung it away, feeling poison spread over the wound but not any deeper. Eearwaxx flopped into the room next yelling “Mending!” as he landed but shooting out a bolt of flame which drew a shriek from the beast. Octavian followed close behind, pleased that Morgan had gone first after all. The creature was a fiend of some kind so he swung his magicked staff into its underbelly and heaved it into the ceiling. It landed with a crash and seemed to be stuck there for a moment. “You have broken the binding,” it hissed, “My long watch over the dragonpriest is over!” And with that it dropped dead to the floor.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Octavian said catching his breath.

Eearwaxx picked up the body of the fiend and turned it in his hands. He recognised it as a quasit, a creature he’d read about but never seen. He tore a bit of flesh from it and offered it to Horseradish. “Quasit treat?” Horseradish spat it out immediately.

Tarquin’s ears pricked hearing that the fiend was a quasit. He recalled a recently circulating tall-story of a group of adventurers who had travelled to the furthest reaches of Hell to save the city of Elturel. Their epic journey started with a famous Candlekeep scholar named Sylvira Savikas who kept a quasit as a familiar. A song started forming in his head now it was finally free of the crystal.

“A magical beast, Eearwaxx? Maybe we should have been talking to it?” Tarquin said. Eearwaxx nodded.

“It attacked before we could do anything — it nearly killed Morgan!” Octavian cried looking at the warrior. Morgan seemed unflapped, turning his attention to the sarcophagus.

The coffin was carved with dragon imagery and the sealed top had a carving resembling a dragon’s head. Large, rusting iron clasps firmly locked down the lid. He took a closer look at the clasps and figured he could wrench them open.

“Let me just have a look around, there might be some draconic symbology,” Octavian said as he circled the coffin. But once again all he could see was generic cultish dragon imagery. His frustration almost boiled over. “Nothing. But we don’t really need evidence — I’m not sure if we should unlock this?”

“Any sentient creature would feel that that is correct,” Jankx agreed.

“Surely you always have to have a look in the sarcophagus?” Morgan said in all earnestness. “And the reason the locks are on it are because he was interred alive — otherwise he could push the lid off.”

Octavian paled. He had a lot of book-knowledge about rituals and the like, but being face-to-face with a dragonpriest that had been interred alive brought the true horror home. He stepped back to a corner of the room.

“Wait, let’s check the latches first,” Jankx said to Morgan. He studied each of the six clasps, but they weren’t trapped. He nodded at Morgan who wrenched one of the holds free. He opened the next two and felt the weight of the lid — it was too heavy to lift without releasing all six latches. He opened the final three and signalled to Jankx.

As they prepared to lift the lid, Tarquin offered a small poem of encouragement.

Morgan felt a surge of support as he gave the ready signal to Jankx. Together they shunted the lid off and over. As the seal was broken, a breath of stale, dead air sighed from the sarcophagus. In the coffin was a eight-foot tall body, dressed in rotted finery, jewellery and rings adorned with tiny silver dragons still sparkling. The creature’s body was shrunken and elongated, and its flesh a rubbery, putrid green. Its black hair was long, thick, and ropy. As the stone lid dropped, its beady black eyes flashed open and it sat up with a snarl. “Who disturbsss my ressst!”

Morgan was ready for this. He swung his huge greatsword into the creature’s body. Jankx couldn’t believe the speed with which Morgan had tossed the lid and backhanded the sword. The troll-like creature reached a clawed hand and hauled Morgan in close, tearing a large chunk of flesh from Morgan’s neck. Morgan looked strangely calm despite the vicious strike, and no blood seeped from the gaping wound, but inside fury rose as Morgan forced the pain and damage away with a surge of last-stand adrenalin.

Jankx whipped his daggers out and buried them in the troll’s back. “The dragonsssss time is coming!” it hissed as it reeled. Eearwaxx fired another bolt of flame into the troll’s chest then stepped back into the darkness — vanishing just like a true wizard would.

Instead of attacking, Tarquin took a more creative approach, summoning an illusionary version of the dead quasit and plonking it in the troll’s line-of-sight. The dragonpriest glanced briefly at the new arrival but turned it’s attention quickly back to Morgan.

Octavian crashed his quarterstaff into the ground and thatch of grasping vines and weeds erupted from the ground blow the troll, rooting it in place. “Now Morgan!” Octavian cried.

Morgan’s face was openly showing his anger now as he gritted his teeth and stepped forward. He swung his weapon with the strength of two men, but the blood-rage clouded his aim and sword harmlessly crunched into one of the entangling vines. Octavian cursed under his breath.

The dragonpriest swelled as he flexed and burst free from trap and Jankx was horrified to see some of its wounds healing over. This thing needed to go down sooner rather than later. He drove his dagger hard, ripping it up into the creature’s ribcage drawing a cascade of curses in a mixture of draconic and elven. “Go, now! We can outrun it’s healing!”

Tarquin got the message. He charged in, rapier drawn, rolled and double-handed his rapier into the troll’s chest. The dragonpriest let out a final gurgling curse and dropped dead to the ground. Morgan snarled, put his hands on either side of the troll’s head and ripped it off its body. He stared at it for a moment then hurled it into the pit, landing as a trophy atop a foot-long spike.

“I’m glad I’m on his side,” Tarquin quipped as Morgan lent on his haunches, releasing his fury and only now feeling the burning pain of his wound. Eearwaxx approached Morgan and, with permission, applied some salve and balm to the wound — surprised at the lack of blood. Morgan mumbled a thanks, catching Eearwaxx’s eye who nodded slowly.

Eearwaxx then knelt at the body of the dragonpriest and, much to Tarquin’s surprise, cut one of the troll’s hands off. Which made it that much easier for Tarquin to pull an amulet from its wrist, along with a small collection of silver dragon-shaped rings and a ceremonial dagger.

As he stepped up to the crypt Octavian noticed Morgan’s eye-colour flashing between two colours before settling back to blue. He filed the strangeness of Morgan away to ponder later. Inside the sarcophagus were four rolled scrolls along with a scattering of gold and silver coins. Octavian briefly studied the coins (they were old, but no dragon-motif) then passed the scrolls to Tarquin — not Eearwaxx. Tarquin raised an eyebrow and handed it straight to the wizard with a respectful bow. Eearwaxx unrolled the scrolls enthusiastically — three were too complex for him, but one offered what looked like a fascinating way to command creatures.

There were no exits from the burial chamber, so Jankx checked the walls of the room for secrets, finding none. It appeared this branch of the fortress ended here. “I think this is it — let’s get back to Arlington.”

All agreed, squeezing back down the crawlspace to return. All but Morgan who finally got to make his — impressive — leap over the pit.

---

Arlington, having heard the distinctive ring of combat, had assumed his newest employees were all now ex-employees. So he was pleasantly surprised when they all returned in one piece. He had chosen well it seemed. “Well fellows, what did you find?”

“Well there was a sarcophagus, and for some reason we opened it,” Tarquin grinned.

“That sounds sacriligeous at best, but go on.”

“It was definitely something that was worthy of a story!”

“And I got this,” Eearwaxx said, proudly holding up the severed hand.

Which started to flex.

Arlington raised an eyebrow. “Not quite dead yet?”

Eearwaxx held the hand away as it stretched its claws and tried to poke Eearwaxx’s wrist. “It’s still alive!”

“I’m still not clear what’s going on. You desecrated someone’s grave, and you cut of their hand?”

“‘Twas a mighty troll! An avatar of a terrible cult, covered in symbols of dragons,” Tarquin explained, his voice weaving a tale of epic proportion. “We slew it — again! For it was already entombed in a sarcophagus. One might ask why we might open a sarcophagus, but it is because we are adventurers!”

“You let the beast out and then you slew it? Good work.”

Morgan watched the hand wriggling in Eearwaxx’s grip and turned to Arlington. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He started back into the vault. Jankx wasn’t about to let him go alone and followed close behind.

“I need to see this for myself given, as you say, it was such a great victory,” Arlington said. Everyone was curious now. Tarquin regaled Arlington with tales of each room — the dragon riddle, a trap cleverly spotted by Jankx. When Morgan reached the statue room he came to a sudden halt and pulled out his sword. The dragonpriest’s body was gone. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” he muttered just as Jankx arrived. “The body’s not there.”

Eearwaxx was fighting hard against the claw now, which fought with a determination that belied its detached state. “I’m going to burn it,” the great wizard announced.

“Perhaps if you throw it on the ground it will find it’s master,” Tarquin suggested.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Morgan nodded.

“Cast it down. What say you, oh knowledgeable wizard?”

Eearwaxx was chuffed by the compliment. “I will!” He dropped the hand onto the ground and it immediately started crawling toward the pit. Morgan stepped closer to the pit and heard a gurgling sound. He looked cautiously over the edge. The head of the troll was still skewered, and now so was the body. It had obviously dragged itself toward its head and toppled in. One arm stretched out toward the head, which was mumbling unintelligibly, trying futilely to become one again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” Arlington sighed.

“As you can see we made some effort to end its life, but it clings on,” Tarquin said with a touch of amusement. “I think, noble wizard, that your first idea about burning the hand was a good one.”

“Wizard! Burn it all!” Arlington commanded pointing to the various troll parts in the pit. Eearwaxx stepped forward and pointed his deadly finger, roasting everything with magic flame. The stench from the burning undead flesh was unpleasant at best.

“We should have burnt it in the first place,” Octavian observed to Morgan.

“Oh? Did you think it was going to grow back?”

“Well I was going to explain — it’s a troll — but we had a lot happening at the time.”

“Do trolls do that, do they?”

“Yes. Trolls will not die, they regrow. Or that’s the stories.”

“Will the burning work?”

“Normally. But I did think when you wrenched its head off that that would be enough — the stories are not quite clear.”

“Well now we know the truth,” Jankx said, filing the knowledge away for future reference.

Once he was satisfied the creature was charred beyond recovery, Arlington turned back to his new hires and popped his pipe back in his mouth. “Well. Always confirm your kills gentlemen.” He turned and strode back to the entrance chamber.

---

Kobolds!

“You’ve all proven your worth so lead the way,” Arlington said, pointing to the northern corridor. Jankx led the way, creeping down to the three doors and listening at each. There was only silence from the north and south exits, but he heard the crackle of a fire from behind the west. He silently signalled as much to everyone, and Arlington pointed to that door and nodded, lining up his crossbow to cover it.

After Jankx cleared it, Morgan slowly pushed the door open. A large and irregularly shaped crumbling chamber lay beyond. A small pit in the centre held a fire, and a metallic cage with a gaping hold stood empty in the middle of the southern wall. A small wooden bench draped with green cloth is next to the cage, and several small objects rest on it. Crudely executed draconic symbols and glyphs, scribed in bright green dye, were etched on the walls. The writing wasn’t like the earlier inscriptions, being much fresher and easier to decipher: “Here be dragons” Morgan couldn’t see any such things — though there was the empty cage.

A bedroll lay close by the fire, sounds of faint whimpering and snuffling coming from within. Two horns were all that were visible of the bedroll’s occupant. Morgan tilted his head over to the fire and looked at Jankx, who drew his sword and nodded, also drawing attention to Arlington who stood in the doorway crossbow trained on the bundle. Arlington encouraged Morgan forward, so the warrior crept to the wrapped creature, noting the horns were similar to Octavian’s, just red not black.

Morgan held his sword ready as he loomed over the bedroll. “Get up,” he said in draconic. Octavian’s ears pricked on hearing his language spoken and crept into the room behind Tarquin — who was Morgan talking to?

“Leave Meepo alone!” a small voice squealed from the bedroll, also in draconic. Octavian’s eyebrows shot up and he hustled over to the fire. “Boy! Who are you?” he said in ‘proper’ kobold-draconic.

“I Meepo. You know I Meepo,” the voice said accusingly.

“Meepo. Which clan do you belong to?”

“Yusdrayl’s clan — you know! Stop taunting Meepo!”

“Me not from this clan,” Octavian said firmly.

“Must be clan from,” the voice said, unsure now. “What other clan here?”

Octavian leant down and pulled the bedroll open. Lying within was a sad-eyed red-skinned kobold covered in scars. Octavian loomed over him, framed by the fire. “Meepo. Me not from your clan. I am a titan from my clan! I am the tallest kobold you have ever met, gifted by the gods! Who are you?” Meepo shrunk back in terror at the mighty presence of Octavian.

---

“I have been sent by the dragons!” Octavian cried, spreading his wings as he did. “Who are you? What do you know? Where is your clan?”

Meepo tried to shrink into the floor, such was his awe, so Octavian hauled the small figure to his feet and glared. “Meepo no-one, great wing-ed one!” Meepo stammered. “Meepo nothing! Yusdrayl send you?”

“Who is Yusdrayl? Where is she?”

“She lead. She lead us here, to mighty home. She in throne room. Who are you?” Meepo asked courageously.

“I am an adventurer. I have come here to save this clan,” Octavian ad-libbed.

“I never see winged kobold. I only hear rumour,” Meepo whispered. Meepo hadn’t noticed anyone else, such was his fascination, but now Arlington gave a low whistle. His crossbow was still trained steadily on Meepo. Octavian turned and Arlington raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“He is a kobold. I am finding information,” Octavian said.

“Well hurry it up.”

“Hurry it — what kind of questions would you like me to ask?” Octavian said with exasperation.

“How many of them are there?”

Octavian turned back to Meepo. “How many in your clan?”

“Many. Many in our clan. We fight the goblins!”

“Could mean two, could mean two-hundred,” Octavian reported. “They are idiots.” Octavian might be a kobold, but so superior to the run-of-the-mill that he had no qualms speaking the truth about the majority of his kin.

Meepo scanned the rest of Octavian’s companions, shrinking slightly from Morgan who stood close-by with his huge sword. “Who he?”

“He is with me,” Octavian said.

“Who he,” Meepo pointed at Jankx.

“They are all with me.”

“You fight goblin?”

“I fight whoever is in my way.”

“You kobold. You fight goblin,” Meepo said matter-of-factly.

“I am more than kobold.”

“You mighty kobold! You meet Yusdrayl — I take you.”

Octavian turned back to Arlington. “He wants to take us to his leader.”

“Well that sounds like progress.”

“They fight goblin?” Meepo asked cautiously, looking at Arlington’s crossbow.

“Any chance I get son,” Arlington confirmed. Meepo grinned then dragged Octavian to the corner of the room. “Goblin’s take dragon,” he whispered, pointing to the broken cage. “Meepo dragon keeper, but Meepo lose dragon. Goblin take!”

Octavian looked at the cage, which was only ten-feet square at best. “Which dragon?” he asked sceptically.

“Calcryx, our dragon! They take. You help get back, Meepo’s life saved!”

“What type of dragon?”

“White dragon. Good dragon.”

Octavian grimaced — a white dragon? It could only be a wyrmling if Meepo spoke true, and he could see in the young kobold’s eyes that he believed what he said. The frozen north was known as a home of great white dragons, including the great-wyrm Arauthator who had evaded the accursed Stormwatch. How on earth could one such as Meepo hold a white dragonling? His curiosity was piqued. “I will try to help you Meepo, let me—”

“Save dragon, save Meepo!” Meepo interrupted, grabbing Octavian in a hug. “Save kobolds! Goblins raid and take, we take back!” he yelled with excitement.

“Yes yes boy, quiet now,” Octavian said, grabbing Meepo’s muzzle and clamping it shut. “How could goblins take dragon?”

“Many goblins, raid kobolds, kobolds raid goblins, goblins raid and take Calcryx!” he said pointing at the cage.

Morgan turned back to Arlington and translated the conversation. “These kobolds have been fighting the goblins, and the goblins stole a young white dragon from this cage.”

“A white dragon!?” Tarquin and Eearwaxx said together.

“And the upshot is if we help them get the dragon back it will be good?”

“What is the name of this dragon?” Tarquin asked, suddenly very interested. This was the first real clue he’d had since arriving in Ten-Towns.

“Calcryx!” Meepo called. Tarquin didn’t recognise the name.

“And where is Calcryx?” Arlington said patiently.

“Goblins have!”

“Where are the goblins son?” Meepo waved his hand vaguely north.

“Are the goblins here? In this complex?” Octavian asked.

“They here. They hold north, we hold south.”

“How many of you hold south?”

Meepo started counting on his fingers before giving up. “Many. Ten? Another ten?”

Arlington leant back on the door frame and glanced at Tarquin. “A dragon would make an excellent trophy,” he mumbled quietly. Tarquin nodded slowly.

Meepo turned back to Octavian. “I take you to Yusdrayl, we make plan. I tell kobold not attack you or your helpers.”

“Sounds good,” Octavian said. “I need to talk to humans first so they don’t do anything bad.” He walked to Arlington and explained. “He’s saying the kobold’s won’t attack, we go and meet their leader. The idea being — and I can see his brain working — that we help them versus the goblins. Now I’m not sure what you want to do, that might be a useful strategy, but it’s up to you.”

“And where is our trophy — the white dragon?” Tarquin asked.

Octavian was taken aback. “It’s not a trophy. It’s a real creature.”

“It kobold dragon,” Meepo volunteered, “we keep. You know white dragon?”

“I’ve heard of white dragons,” Tarquin nodded. “Mighty white dragons.”

“Why do you have a white dragon?” Arlington probed.

“Why we have? We have. It mighty symbol of kobold.”

“In a cage,” Tarquin observed.

“How did you get wyrmling?” Octavian asked, reverting to kobold phrasing. “From big dragon?”

“We find. Underdark then overland. Snow. Egg. We take and run! Some die, but we get dragon! Now goblins have dragon!!” Meepo cursed.

“Take us to your leader,” Arlington said finally.

Meepo clapped his hands excitedly and walked to the corner of the western corridor. “Ticklecorn!” he yelled. Jankx knew immediately this was a password of some kind. A door in the corridor opened and three armed kobolds stepped out, wide-eyed and looking quickly to Meepo. “They friends! Help get Calcryx back from goblin.”

The guards scoffed and started swinging their slings. “Meepo lose dragon,” they growled. “Ticklecorn!” Meepo cried again desperately. Octavian strode forward, drawing startled stares. “Just take a second and think,” he growled in draconic. “We want to meet Yusdrayl. Take us there before you three get in trouble!” The guards looked confused for a moment then seemed to come to some agreement. “You lead.”

“We don’t know the way you idiots.” The guards shuffled slightly, then glared at Meepo. “Meepo lead! We follow behind, stop you escape.”

---

Meepo led down the western corridor. He stopped at a barred door and rattled the door. “Prison. We capture goblins, they inside,” he said proudly. From within three squeaky voices started yelling. “Help! Free us! Help!” Meepo kicked the door and laughed. “Stupid goblins!”

At the rear of the group, Tarquin put an arm on Arlington to draw him back out of Octavian’s hearing range. “Sounds like we’re walking into some internecine conflict. Are we on the right side, do you think?”

“If there’s a dragon in it at the end of the day, I don’t care which side we’re on,” Arlington said.

“My thoughts exactly,” Tarquin smiled. Jankx gave a soft laugh.

More kobolds emerged as Meepo continued, calling the passcode as he did. At each Octavian flexed his wings and side-eyed them, which made them immediately back-off. Meepo stopped at the entrance to a wide corridor. A double row of relief-carved marble columns marched the length of the long, large hall, each adorned with worn carvings depict entwining dragons.

“This Hall of Dragons,” Meepo whispered. “Yusdrayl here. Show respect — she great leader, she lead us to this sacred home.” Octavian acknowledged the instruction, and glanced a warning at his companions. Meepo stood up taller and walked to the west.

A short throne stood near the west wall, constructed of fallen bits of masonry stacked against an old altar. On the top of the altar were a variety of small items, and the portion of the altar that served as the throne’s back featured a carving of a rearing dragon. A metallic key is held firmly in the dragon’s open jaws.

Sitting on the throne was an imposing female kobold in a white robe, intelligence beaming from her sharp eyes. Two guards stepped in front of here as Meepo approached, and several more gathered behind the new arrivals. Meepo dropped prostrate to the floor.

---

“Mighty Yusdrayl! Lowly Meepo beg your audience. I bring a great kobold and his men. They fight goblins! They find Calcryx and bring to Queen Yusdrayl!”

The guards snorted as Yusdrayl stood. She stared directly at Octavian, who stepped forward and bowed. “With respect to the court of Yusdrayl. My name is Octavian Malleus Orichalcum. The Titan. And I have come here to find out what your issues are — and how you lost a white dragon.”

Yusdrayl’s eyes narrowed at the challenge in Octavian’s words. She stood to her full height trying to out-do Octavian, and despite her noble demeanour he could see nervousness in her eyes. He was used to that. “We did not lose the dragon,” she said sharply. “The dragon was taken. We fought hard. Understand that, mighty Octavian.”

“Do you have a dragon or not?” Octavian said accusingly.

Yusdrayl glared at Meepo. “We had a dragon. And we want it back. Is that why you have come, winged-one?”

“You need help.”

“We…may need help, yes,” Yusdrayl admitted. “Tell me why you are here.”

“We are here exploring. And we found ourselves here — lucky for you.”

The Queen narrowed her eyes further. “You make a home here?” she tested.

“No,” Octavian answered, waving the question away. He understood she feared his presence might mean the end of her reign in the eyes of her tribe.

“This is our home,” she said carefully, eyeing Arlington and company.

“They are human,” Octavian said, “They have no home here.”

She nodded slowly. “And you don’t make home here.”

“No. I do not.”

“What is this place?” Tarquin cut in.

Yusdrayl turned. “Kobolds, my people, are heirs to dragons. I have led my people to this holy site,” she said holding her hands up in supplication. “Where dragons were once worshipped, and will be worshipped once more. We bring our dragon here to raise, to bring glory to kobold, to re-establish our kingdom. Then goblin come, take dragon,” she spat.

“Why did they take it?” Tarquin asked.

“Would you now take dragon? Dragon powerful, strong, sacred. Goblin want for selves, use against us.”

“Goblins don’t love dragons,” Arlington observed.

“They like them more than they like kobold, and they take to destroy us!”

“How long have you been fighting the goblins?” Octavian asked.

“A year, two year. We have many fights.”

“How many goblins?” Eearwaxx asked.

“Many, dozens, half of hundred? We kill, more come.”

“And how many have you got?”

“Same.”

“How many are warriors?” Octavian said.

Yusdrayl sighed. “Ten and five.”

“So goblins have upper hand.”

“Yes but many weak, children. They try and make home here too. They led by hobgoblin.”

“That’s trouble,” Octavian said, and Eearwaxx nodded. Big, nasty, tactical fighters. Better than an owlbear, but still unpleasant.

Arlington was leaning on a dragon-pillar puffing on his pipe. Tarquin lent in close and whispered. “Sounds like there’s an opportunity for a story here, and more.”

“I’m interested to hear what the goblins have got to say,” Arlington said quietly.

Eearwaxx walked innocently toward the throne, fascinated by the key and trinkets scattered around it. The guards stepped immediately in front and crossed their spears. “No further, you do not approach the Queen.”

“Your majesty,” Eearwaxx said in draconic, kowtowing low and deep, “I am a great wizard. I think you should be sitting on a much more stately throne.”

Yusdrayl scoffed. “This throne is an ancient throne, a throne of power!”

“I agree. It could be…better.” Octavian slapped his forehead. “Eearwaxx,” he hissed, “stop!”

“Better? How could it be better?” Yusdrayl said.

“Cleaner. Look at this masonry, we could fix this, mend it.”

Yusdrayl frowned. “It is ancient! It does not need fixing.”

“Son!” Arlington called a warning. Tarquin rolled his eyes. “Perhaps we’ll just have a fight here,” he observed quietly.

“I cast a spell to make it more majestic, prettier. It is beautiful but it could be better, a simple spell is all it would take.”

Octavian stepped over to Arlington. “If plan is to kill all these people, sure, but we about to have big trouble if he touches the Queen or the throne,” he hissed.

“Son! Maybe at a later time,” Arlington called to his wizard.

“May I examine your beautiful throne, may I—” The two guards pushed Eearwaxx back under Yusdrayl’s glare. “You may not. You must prove yourselves before I will allow you anywhere near.” Despite her glare she respected that Eearwaxx spoke the dragon-tongue. Eearwaxx held his hands up and backed away — but as he did he silently cast a magical detection spell on the throne. There was something magical there — not the key, but he could see several glowing scrolls and something carried by the Queen.

Yusdrayl turned back to Octavian. “Will you join us? Will you fight the goblin, retrieve our dragon?”

“I need to check with my compatriots, but—”

“You lead these men. Command them.”

Octavian switched to kobold-draconic, speaking fast. “I need to talk to these people. I cannot order them to do it. Let me talk to them.” Morgan and Eearwaxx caught segments of it, but it was largely garbled.

Yusdrayl frowned. “You do not check, you tell. You mighty kobold, you lead, like I.”

Octavian nodded and gathered his companions. “We need to make a decision about who we support,” he said quietly. “My proclivities are to side with these over goblins any day.”

“Well of course son, these are your people,” Arlington nodded.

“Welllll,” Tarquin interrupted. “There are…stories, that would say otherwise. There’s the story of the mighty slaying of the kobolds.”

“I have read that story, it’s terrible, I felt sorry for them. Let’s side with the kobolds,” Eearwaxx said.

Octavian frowned as he stared hard at Tarquin. “What did you say?” he hissed.

“The might slaying of the kobolds,” Tarquin repeated.

Octavian grabbed Tarquin’s lapels. “What. Did. You. Say.”

“It’s just a story!” Tarquin said defensively, though with a slight teasing tone. He knew what he was doing and was enjoying doing it.

“IT’S NOT A STORY!” Octavian yelled.

“The monkey god myth?” Morgan said trying to calm Octavian.

“Perhaps it’s not true after all,” Tarquin said raising his hands in surrender. “Though it is a story that some I know would be able to attest to…”

“It is true,” Octavian growled, “We too know the ‘story’, and it is not a story.”

“Tarquin,” Arlington jumped in, “I think we can all agree that common courtesy would mean that we help these folks with their dilemma.”

“Arlington,” Tarquin responded mockingly, “There are so many opportunities down here. Perhaps as our leader you could regale us with your wider plan? How does this work?”

“Now may not be the time, son.”

“Well at least give us something?”

“We are going to help these folks find their dragon.”

Octavian turned immediately back to Yusdrayl. “Hail Queen! We will help you and take arms against the goblins. The humans have spoken and I have heard them.”

Yusdrayl smiled and spoke in common for the benefit of Octavian’s companions. “Yes! You are the one we have waited for. The winged kobold. The one of prophecy. He who will free us, lead the humans, on the conquest of the goblins. Who will free the dragon!”

“Or something,” Arlington muttered.

“All my warriors will be at your behest. Take who you must and you rout the goblins from our home. You clean them from this place and we will establish the temple of Yusdrayl! A chamber will be dedicated to mighty Octavian! All hail Octavian the Titan!” Yusdrayl cried, and the gathered kobold minions crashed their spears to the ground in unison. “All hail Octavian!”

Octavian beamed. Finally someone who understood.

---

“Arlington,” Tarquin said watching the adulation, “I do like to collect stories, indeed, but surely there’s a greater reward to be had than just the adulation of our friend?”

“Surely there is,” Arlington winked. Tarquin grinned - the great hunter had a plan.

Octavian called Meepo over, now treating him like a servant. “Do you have maps of the goblin area?” Meepo shook his head. “Has anyone been there, they could draw a map — what about the goblins you captured?”

“Maybe yes! They must have been there.”

“We need to talk to them - take us there.”

“Yes mighty Octavian. What did you call self? The Titan? Titan Octavian! Follow Meepo, Meepo lead, Meepo mighty Octavian’s guide.” He led back down the hall to the prison room, this time on the northern side of the room. “Beware - the goblin in here. They chained, they manacled, but they crafty,” he spat.

“They are crafty but I hold no fear of goblins.” Meepo nodded, unlocked the door and stepped aside. Octavian entered the room. Four small goblins were shackled by thick, rusted chains attached to a large iron spike set in the floor. Several broken weapons and sundered shields lie in one corner of the small room. The goblins whined and cowered pathetically seeing the humans enter, until they saw Octavian was a kobold take the lead.

“Can you speak common?” Octavian began.

“You’ll get nothing from us, kobold scum,” the nearest goblin spat at Octavian’s feet. Octavian sighed and punched it hard in the gut. “Let’s start again. Can you speak common?”

The goblin gave a choking cough then tried to bite Octavian’s ankle. Octavian stepped calmly back and unleased a kick at the pathetic creatures jaw. It crashed back. “Now remember — I already know you understand,” Octavian said darkly, “Can you speak common?”

The injured goblin looked daggers but nodded shortly. “Good! Good. Now — the people outside, and my friends, want to kill you one-by-one. I have intervened. If you answer my questions there is a good chance you will leave here alive,” Octavian smiled wamrly. “Do you understand?”

The goblin nodded again. “Do you need to tell the others?” The three other goblins snarled and scoffed. Octavian took out their punishment on his victim with a swift blow to the belly. The goblin retched as it tried to regather its breath. Octavian looked at its fellow prisoners. “If you laugh, he dies. Do you understand?” The three nodded sulkingly.

Morgan watched the beatings and frowned. As it got worse, he scrunched his brow and backed out of the room, discomfort obvious.

“Now,” Octavian continued. “I want you to tell me everything you know about the northern part of this complex. And I want you to draw me a map.”

“What is there to know?” it squeaked.

“How many of you are there?”

“Dozens. Many of us — we capture the dragon!”

“How many not children, how many warriors?”

“More than you have,” the goblin said smugly despite his condition.

“Ask them why they came here,” Arlington called from his customary position leaning against the wall.

Octavian took a deep breath. “Why did you come here?”

“To get the dragon. And we got it! And you don’t have it anymore!”

“Ask him why he wanted the dragon.”

“I understand why the kobold people would want one, but why did you?”

The dragon stared like Octavian was stupid. “It’s a dragon! Everybody wants a dragon!”

“But you couldn’t control it.”

“It’s not a big dragon — we can control it.”

“Eventually it would kill you if you didn’t train it properly.”

“Well then we’ll train it properly won’t we, stupid kobold.”

Punch. “You don’t have the skill, or obviously the intelligence.”

“Well you don’t have the skill because we took it!”

Octavian loomed over his interviewee and spread his wings — which were enhanced by a boom of thunderous sound from Tarquin’s quick cantrip. “I know dragons!” Octavian said convincingly trying not to look surprised. The goblin reeled back, getting as far away as the chain would allow. “Well you might know dragon, but we have dragon,” he whimpered.

“For now. If you want to stay alive you need to draw a map.” He collected a pile of dust and debris and started sketching out a map of the territory. “This is a door. There’s the corridor. How would we get to where your goblins are?”

The goblin looked down at the dust for a moment. Then looked back at Octavian blankly.

Octavian rolled his eyes. “This is where we are,” he said drawing a cube around the cell, “And here’s the north. You draw.”

The goblin glanced at his companions and tapped the side of his head. “This dust, kobold.” Octavian sighed. “They can’t help us,” he said to Arlington.

“They can if we get them to lead us,” Tarquin suggested

“Who is your leader?” Octavian tried.

“Great hobgoblin leader Durnn. He kill you. He come, he take our tribe to glory.”

Octavian turned back to Arlington. “I don’t think we’re going to get much more.”

“You’ve done well, son. I think it’s time we left these guys to the locals to take care of.”

Meepo stared down at the dust map with wide eyes. “Dust picture,” he whispered to himself before looking with adoration back at Octavian.

Everyone left the room, Tarquin last of all. He turned back and spat a small epithet at the tortured goblin. It clutched its head as the dark voices flooded his tiny mind. “Get out! Get out! Get out of my head!!”

Jankx raised an eyebrow as he felt the faint tendrils of Tarquin’s cursed words. Tarquin’s poetry held a darker streak, he noted.

---

Goblins!

Meepo led everyone back to the door in his dragon-chamber. “This way is goblins,” he whispered.

“I say we should go. I can’t imagine there’s much threat involved,” Arlington said nonchalantly.

“A hobgoblin should not be underestimated,” Octavian warned.

“Didn’t you boys just kill a troll? Isn’t that what you told me?”

“One. One troll,” Jankx reminded.

“There’s only one hobgoblin!”

“There will be many,” Jankx guessed.

“I think we strong enough, but just be aware,” Octavian said.

“How many warriors you want? With me — I warrior,” Meepo said pounding his concave chest.

“Octavian, let’s just have a look. Let’s just take your little friend,” Arlington decreed.

“Meepo — first we scout. Just you, and us.” Meepo swelled with pride. “Just Meepo. Meepo and friends. Meepo and Titan Octavian,” he whispered with reverence.

“Good. Now what lies beyond here?”

Meepo shrugged. “Through here we don’t go, goblin don’t go. No person land. Only on raid we go here.”

“Have you been on a raid, Meepo?” Octavian asked.

The kobold shook his head. “I dragon-keeper. I protect and care dragon. Raise dragon,” he said proudly showing the scars that were obviously a result of his tenure.

“Meepo. Change of plan. If you have not been past this door, you stay here.”

Meepo froze. “Meepo come! Meepo guide!”

“Meepo you’ve never been here, you can’t guide,” Octavian laughed kindly.

“But Meepo help Octavian!” he cried desperately. “Meepo—”

“No, Meepo! I have an important job for you. I need you to stay here next to the door. So we can get back.”

Meepo grabbed Octavian in a panic, then suddenly his eyes flashed with a thought. “No no no! I come! You find Calcryx it obey me, not you! You need me because—”

“Ok, ok, good point,” Octavian admitted turning to Arlington. “Now we need to be smart.” Meepo’s face flooded with relief.

Jankx checked and opened the door, revealing a hall that turned south beyond. He stepped aside for Morgan, followed by Octavian (for kobold dealings), Eearwaxx, Arlington, and finally Tarquin, the scouting order establishing itself. Morgan stood on the threshold, still looking sour-faced as a result of Octavian’s mini-torture session. Octavian held his tongue, but noted the young warrior’s displeasure, as did Jankx who made a note to find out what was going on — later.

As Eearwaxx went to step through the doorway Arlington held his arm across the threshold, stopping progress. “How good a wizard are you, boy?” Arlington said quietly.

“I’m a great wizard,” Eearwaxx replied, nonplussed. “What would you like to know?”

“Look into my eye,” Arlington said sternly. “How good a wizard are you?”

“I’m a very good wizard,” Eearwaxx repeated, and Arlington could see he believed that deeply.

“What do you see when you look at that boy?” Arlington pressed, looking down the corridor to Morgan. “Do you see anything that I can’t?”

“What do you mean? No? Not really?”

Arlington paused for a moment, then lifted his arm. “All right. Let me know if anything comes up.” Eearwaxx nodded mutely and Arlington pushed him through the door.

The corridor wound ahead to another door to the north. It was cleared by Jankx and Morgan pushed it open. A small, empty chamber home only to rat droppings, crumbled flagstone, and faded bloodstains lay beyond. Arlington crouched down to study the odourless blood, determining it was likely from a human-sized body by the pattern of the stain, but it was very old. Jankx spotted some tracks in the detritus on the floor — more giant rats. He pointed and indicated their size, and that the tracks led out via the north door.

“Are there a lot of giant rats down here?” Octavian whispered to Meepo.

“Many, they keep on coming. We kill when we have to,” Meepo confirmed.

Jankx checked the door, popping it for Morgan to advance inside. More dust and odd bits of stony debris and rubble lay scattered on the floor of a twenty-foot chamber. An ornate fountain was built into the eastern wall. Though cracked and stained, the fountain’s overarching carving of a diving dragon retained its beauty. A relief-carved stone door stood on the western wall. Morgan glanced briefly at the contents then moved north to check the passage ahead was clear.

Octavian’s attention was drawn immediately to the stone door. The door itself was decorated with carvings of skeletal dragons and a draconic inscription: “Rebuke the dead, open the way” As he approached Octavian could feel waves of cold wafting off the door. The cold combined with the inscription rung a bell in his head, finally a clear recollection — though nothing to do with dragons, ironically. He instinctively knew that spellcasters would trap undead within chamber or tombs, and the only way to free the lock was to rebuke or turn the undead power contained within.

“Meepo what is in this room? Do the kobolds ever go here?”

“The cold room is barred from us. Yusdrayl told us never to cross it.”

Eearwaxx turned his attention to the fountain. A thin layer of scum coated the fountain’s basin, but it was otherwise dry, and it was in bad shape. “I’m going to mend it,” he announced with pleasure as he prepared his favourite spell.

“Mending won’t fix all the plumbing in a fountain,” Arlington observed, worried the wizard was once again showing his limited repertoire.

Eearwaxx ignored Arlington’s advice, and before long the font was polished and gleaming as if new. The removal of centuries of grime also revealed yet another worn-away inscription in Draconic on the basin’s front: “Let there be fire”

‘So much for mending not being worth it’ Eearwaxx thought to himself. He turned to Arlington and grinned. “It says ‘Let there be fire—'”

Arlington’s eyes started to wide as Eearwaxx recited the words, and Jankx and Tarquin dived for cover. Eearwaxx spun and looked with horror as the dragon’s mouth started to spout a fiery-red liquid. He was about to leap away, expecting an explosion any second, when he noticed the (newly-cleaned) basin was neatly capturing the liquid. Everyone froze as the molten-fire filled the basin to the brim then stopped. The liquid swirled as if alive as it roiled around the basin.

Arlington had seen similar. Magical liquid, volatile. “Step away, son,” he warned.

“We could collect this and use it to throw and set things on fire,” Octavian suggested.

“And we could blow our hands and legs off.”

“Yes you’ve got to be careful.” He glanced at the door and had a thought. “There is something — if you have a very cold door, and a very hot fountain opposite…is that the way you open the door, maybe?”

“I don’t think we want to open the very cold door,” Arlington shook his head. “Let’s go,” he strode of north to join Morgan.

Eearwaxx was less sure. He dawdled behind and sniffed the liquid again. It didn’t smell off, nor like fuel for a fire, nor did it emanate any great heat. He pulled a tiny sample bottle from his belt and gingerly dipped it into the liquid. It flowed rapidly inside. Eearwaxx held it up to, studying the swirling flame colour within and sniffing it again. Seemed perfectly safe. ‘Only one way to find out,’ he mumbled and poured a tiny droplet onto his tongue. His tongue survived, though he could feel a chili-like heat. He turned to the wall and spat. The spitball travelled fast and evaporated into steam before it hit the wall. “Oh my goodness,” he whispered.

“Jankx — have a sip of this!” he cried, passing the stoppered bottle to Jankx. The thief looked at the wizard like he was insane. “Trust me!” Jankx smelt it — cough medicine. “Spit it at the wall,” Eearwaxx encouraged. Jankx sighed. Eearwaxx was slightly mad, he had decided, but not insane. He dropped a tiny taste into his mouth, swirled it around, and spat. Again the spit sizzled and steamed, and Jankx felt the wisps of remnant heat in his mouth. He raised his eyebrows at Eearwaxx and grinned. Eearwaxx grinned back and proceeded to fill a full flask with the remaining fire-liquid.

Six slightly ajar doors were in a long corridor to the north, and a closed door stood in a wall to the west. Morgan looked to Meepo. “What’s up there?”

Meepo shrugged. “I never seen. But it north — goblins must be there?”

Arlington nodded to the west. “This one first. I’ll cover the corridor,” he said resting his crossbow.

Jankx checked the door, hearing nothing and finding no traps. Another empty room lay behind with a single door to the north. Jankx started his checks again and this time found something — a thin thread was nailed to the top of the door. Clearly if the door were to be opened, it would set something off on the other side. He warned everyone then quietly cut the thread using his tools, detaching the trap or alarm.

“Was that us, or them?” Octavian whispered to Meepo.

“Goblin. We don’t know trap. They good at,” Meepo whispered back.

Morgan called Arlington inside and pulled the eastern door closed. Jankx signalled for absolute silence and listened at the northern door. Footsteps. Jankx signalled something lay beyond. Everyone took up combat positions, Arlington and the spellcasters at the rear.

Octavian hustled Meepo to the furthest corner. “Stay in this corner and just use your sling — no closer,” he warned. Meepo nodded, “I sling goblins!” he whispered back, eyes shining with a combination of fear and excitement.

Tarquin sung a quick song of inspiration directed at Morgan as Jankx gave a silent countdown and flung the door open. A ten-foot-wide hall was liberally strewn with hundreds of sharp caltrops. On the northern wall, passage to the room beyond was partially blocked by a roughly mortared, three-foot high wall, complete with crenellations. Behind the wall two goblins sprung to their feet and grabbed their bows.

---

Morgan flung himself behind the doorframe just as the first arrow shot through the opening. Octavian reacted fast, conjuring a magical vine-whip covered in thorns — but the goblins were quicker, ducking under the wall as the whip struck. Arlington tracked their movement with a practiced eye, using his pipe as a focus of concentration. There was only the top of a goblin skull to target, but he made no mistake, killing the creature with a bolt just off-centre on the frontal-lobe. Arlington released a satisfied puff of smoke — another notch on the kill-tally.

Jankx was impressed, but figured he could do better. He casually lofted his crossbow, lined up the barely visible top of the second goblin’s head — really it was only a wisp of hair and two ugly ears — and shattered it an instant later with a perfectly directed bolt. “They would have been fairly confident on their position — caltrops, a wall, an alarm,” Jankx grinned. Arlington frowned and gave Jankx a hairy eyeball — he wasn’t used to being shown up his employees.

“YES! YES! We will route the goblins!!” Meepo cried with excitement. “Let’s go!” The diminutive kobold sprinted forward, stopped only when Octavian grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. “Stop! Stay at the back, it’s dangerous up there!”

“But did you see that!” Meepo said pointing up the corridor. “Thwap! Thwap! They die!”

“I see that all the time,” Octavian said patiently. “These are professionals, let them work it out first.” Meepo was pulsing with blood-lust, but he obeyed.

Tarquin sheathed his sword and walked to the room full of caltrops. He looked at Jankx for clearance, and receiving same he started to collect caltrops and bagging them. Eearwaxx knew a better way. He mumbled a few quiet words then with a deep voice gave his order: “Bring the caltrops to my friend.” Tarquin watched with surprise as an unseen something started depositing piles of caltrops at his feet. “Hurry up — but be careful, you could die if you step on one!” Eearwaxx intoned. Tarquin smiled and nodded his thanks.

Once a path was cleared Jankx and Morgan stepped carefully through the corridor and clambered over the tiny wall. The filth on the floor, stains on the walls, shabby hides, and firepit attested to years of use this room had seen at the hands of creatures unconcerned with hygiene. Jankx opened the door to the south which led to another short narrow corridor that bent westward. He peered around the bend and saw dozens of blunted and broken arrows on the cracked cobblestone floor, and a few protruding from three crudely sewn, human-sized targets hung along the centre of the south wall. Jankx signalled an alert as he heard a small cough from the north, then slid into the room.

The northern third was separated from the south by another crudely mortared half-wall. Three sets of goblin-ears poked over the top of the wall whispering frantically. Tarquin ran into the room and flung up an illusionary wall in front of him hoping it would shield him and his companions from any goblin arrows. Unfortunately the first goblin who popped up wasn’t fooled and an arrow buried into Tarquin’s upper arm.

Eearwaxx pushed past Morgan — who was talking to himself? “Just not happy with this,” the young fighter muttered. A pause, then: “Yes but you always think fighting is a good idea!” — and stood at the back of the room. “A new spell,” he declared with his deep voice. A bolt of lightning streaked across the room and exploded a goblin’s head. “Take that you dirty gobbo!” Eearwaxx cried. “A mighty spell!”

Morgan seemed to have convinced himself. “Ok fine,” he said shortly as he charged into the room and sprinted toward the wall. With sword raised for a killing blow, he leapt over the wall with a fluid step. Perhaps as a result of the heated conversation he had just finished his heart wasn’t in the attack, but whatever it was he misjudged the wall by a single mortared stone, catching a toe and toppling to the ground. He did manage to roll with the fall and clamber back to his feet behind the very surprised goblins.

Arlington was determined to outshine Jankx this time. He strode confidently to the nearest dummy and propped himself against it. He didn’t feel too threatened by these rather pathetic creatures so didn’t bother with cover. He steadied his breath and launched another precision strike into the standing goblin’s neck. It collapsed dead in an instant. Arlington sucked down a self-congratulatory toke of tobacco as he glanced at Jankx. And then was slammed back into the wall when the final goblin, deciding to go down in a blaze of glory now Morgan had him trapped, blind-fired the truest shot of his short life. The arrow pierced his solar-plexus and blood gushed out freely. Arlington was incensed.

So was Meepo. No-one hurt Octavian friend! With a cry he ran into the room with his sling whirring. The goblin growled with disgust seeing a kobold, but before he could do anything else Meepo’s single stone flew across the room, entered through the goblins right eye, and destroyed the tiny brain within. The goblin collapsed into Morgan’s arms as Meepo shrieked with joy. “I kill goblin!” He bounced around the room, calmed only when Octavian shushed him. He heard voices behind one of the three doors exiting the room.

“Help us! Free us!” the voices called in kobold-draconic, loud-softly. “Kobold prisoners,” Octavian guessed. He tried the door but it was locked, so Jankx quickly unlocked it. Inside were three chained kobolds and a small cage into which was squashed a well-dressed but battered gnome. Squalor covered the low-ceilinged room.

---

The kobolds shrunk back when they saw Jankx. “No, no, don’t hurt us, we prisoner,” they cried in draconic. Jankx stepped back so Octavian could enter. The kobolds froze, eyes wide. “Winged one,” they whispered in awe. “Shhhh,” Octavian whispered. “Meepo, free them.” Meepo started cutting through the crude ropes. “Meepo? What you doing here? You not fight,” the nearest kobold muttered.

“Do not talk to Meepo like that,” Octavian scolded. “Your life depend on him.”

“But Meepo look after dragon.”

“Do you want us to leave?”

“No! But where Calcryx?”

“It’s in here somewhere. What do you know about this region of the fortress? How many goblins?”

“A lot! Capture us, bring us here. They raid, capture us, many month. They trade us for goblin.” Meepo nodded confirmation and Octavian grimaced.

The gnome, who had been watching all this calmly, now spoke up. “And what about me? Will you free me?” he said in an educated voice. Octavian turned to him. “Why are you in a cage?”

“How about if you free me I’ll tell you.”

“How about you tell me and I don’t kill you?” Octavian countered. Morgan frowned as he watched — this was going the same was the goblin ‘interrogation’ had started. He didn’t like Octavian’s brutal methods.

“You’re a kobold, you wouldn’t kill me.”

Arlington chuckled as Octavian continued his dark work. “Oh, you actually believe that? I am not like these creatures trapped with you, do you see that I am a titan?” he said ominously.

“I see you are taller than your average kobold,” the gnome said confidently.

“For someone in a cage, you really have to work on your diplomatic skills,” Octavian growled, leaning down and staring hard.

“You are not killing me in this cage, you’re a —” Octavian pulled his knife out and cut the gnome’s speech short, forcing it to shrink back into the cage to avoid the blade. “What do you know? And are you worth keeping alive?”

The gnome glanced down at the hovering knife-point. “I am certainly worth keeping alive, there is no doubt about that. What would you have me tell you?”

“You had better tell me something interesting,” Octavian said thrusting the blade further inside.

“Very well, very well! There is no need to be silly about this.”

“Let’s at least find out his name before killing him, Octavian?” Arlington suggested.

“Erky Timbers. My name is Erky Timbers.”

“What’s your real name?” Octavian growled.

The gnome rolled his eyes. “That is my real name. Why would I lie about that? You said you were an intelligent kobold.”

“What are you implying by that,” Octavian frowned. Even though he bagged his own kind mercilessly, he wasn’t about to sit by idly whilst a caged gnome attacked his kind.

“I am implying merely that you are an intelligent kobold!”

“Why are you in this cage,” Octavian said with frustration.

“Ah. It is a long story but I will tell it — and then you will release me?”

“Just. Tell us. The story.”

“Listen. I am an acolyte from the Arcane Brotherhood. I assume you have heard of it, as learned as you are?” the gnome said archly.

Eearwaxx raced forward with eyes ablaze. The Arcane Brotherhood! His mentor, Archmage Eearl’wixx, had spoken often of the fabled cabal of powerful wizards that operated out of the mysterious Hosttower of the Arcane. Only the greatest spellcasters were selected to practice there, hand-picked by the archmages who ruled the Brotherhood. And this strange gnome was one of few!? Eearwaxx couldn’t believe his ears.

Octavian on the other hand had only heard of the Brotherhood from his books. He cleared his throat. “Of course I know that.”

“Good. Well you know how important we are then.”

Eearwaxx realised this small fellow could quickly outshine his own magical prowess if he wasn’t careful. He shook his head. “Junior magicians that struggle to get enough members,” he explained to his companions sheepishly, his voice somehow deeper than ever. “I’ve heard of them, of course, yes, but they are nothing.”

Erky raised a curious eyebrow. “No, no, young man, you have it completely wrong. We are the greatest wizard school in Faerûn, and I doubt you would even become a member.”

“What did you say?” Eearwaxx said fiercely, pointing a magical finger.

“I said I doubted—”

Arlington interrupted. “We heard you. I’d like to observe that given your status in a cage that you must be the least of the greatest. Would that be correct?”

Erky slumped. “I made a mistake. I will be the first to admit it. I am in this cage, I should not be in this cage, and that is on me. But least? No. Not the least.”

“What mistake did you make,” Octavian asked, trying to regain control of the conversation.

“Well I came down here, didn’t I. On my own. There are more of them than me, let me put it that way.”

“Why?”

“Look. I don’t know who you are, or where you are from, but you may have noticed it is very cold out there,” Erky said pointing to the aboveground. “Very cold and getting colder all the time. Something is going on and the Arcane Brotherhood sent a trio of top wizards to investigate exactly what that might be. And seek to uncover what powers might be behind it and exactly how we might use that power. I, of course, was selected as part of that team. I arrived with Dzaan and I, well, I — I thought I would go out on my own to seek glory. Let’s just say I had a hunch and ended up down here.”

Octavian pondered this for a moment. He too had come to the far north to investigate the druidic unbalance the cold had wrought, driven by his dreams and visions. But he didn’t trust this gnome. “And where is the rest of your team?”

“Well they are all doing their own investigations. It is very competitive, the Brotherhood, we don’t share secrets openly.”

Arlington was sceptical too. He had no knowledge of a bunch of wizards wandering around in the snow and freeze. Eearwaxx meanwhile had been trying to think of a way to prove his magical prowess. “You say it’s cold,” he said dramatically, “I don’t think it’s cold because I can cast these kind of things!” He pointed his casting finger at the remains of a fire in the corner of the room and a raging fire sprung to life, singing himself. “You say you are a great wizard, why can’t you just do that!?”

Erky looked at Octavian and Arlington. “This is your wizard?”

“Look, creature in cage,” Octavian sighed, “Just give us information and we might let you go.”

“How much information do you want?! I am from the Arcane Brotherhood, we are investigating what the heck is going on up there. What else? I know: we have heard rumours of a great underground citadel, an ancient fortress—”

“They’re not really rumours,” Octavian said looking around the room.

“Not here, kobold. It is a place of great untapped power, and this clearly isn’t — it’s just full of kobolds and goblins. Not exactly ancient power, I think you would agree. That was my error, thinking this was that place. As I have already mentioned,” Erky said accusingly. “I was seeking to prove myself to Dzaan and it hasn’t quite worked out. Now will you let me go?”

“Who is Dzaan?” Arlington asked.

“Well he is my master, I am his acolyte. Quite simple, really.”

“So you are the baggage-bearer of this so-called expedition, is that correct?”

“No. Now listen. I am far beyond that. Acolyte’s are chosen to serve their masters, yes, but also to learn. And one day usurp them,” he said conspiratorially. Eearwaxx growled. He would never have dreamed of usurping Eearl’wixx and he hated the very idea that Erky could be so disrespectful.

Tarquin walked to the cage and crouched. “This is all excellent. You can join us, and prove yourself!”

“Join you. I see. Is that the offer?”

“No it’s not an offer. I said you can join us and prove yourself. As I just said,” Tarquin smiled.

“And what is it that you are doing?”

“Well we are fighting on behalf of these small fellows against the other small fellows, and we are going to get to the end of that and there will be a story to be told.”

“So you are fighting. Fighting is your mission,” Erky said with disdain.

Octavian slapped his hand on the cage and walked away. “Let’s go. Leave him to die.” Meepo had finished freeing the three kobolds so Octavian ordered them to retreat to Yusdrayl. Meepo nodded. “These will save us. They kill goblin — even Meepo kill goblin! — and they find Calcryx, and we will have glory!”

“Go back and tell Yusdrayl that Meepo rescued you,” Octavian said. The kobold looked at Meepo with scepticism and were about to protest. “Go back and say Meepo rescued you,” Octavian growled. The kobolds nodded and scurried away.

Erky watched all this with feigned interest then looked at Tarquin. “No, no. I can offer you great— let me out of the cage, I will help. Fighting. I love to fight.”

“Either you’ll fight or carry baggage, it doesn’t really matter, but either way you’ll come with us,” Tarquin grinned and turned to Arlington. “I can’t see any problem, he’s only a small fellow like everything down here.”

“I see you have a wound,” Erky said to Arlington, looking at the blood-soaked handkerchief staunching his arrow wound.

Arlington ignored the observation. “What say we join forces and make our way out of this place. And then when we get back to civilisation you and I can discuss our various missions?”

“Yes. I find that entirely satisfactory. When you get me out of this cage we will join forces until such time as that is no longer needed.”

“And then we shall discuss our mutual plans.”

“By all means! You help me find Dzaan and I’m sure he will look most favourably on any proposal you might make.”

Arlington nodded. “And what interest do you have in this?” he asked, pulling the sodden handkerchief free.

Erky smiled. He held up a hand and concentrated for a moment. Arlington felt the wound seal over and a flood of healing warmth. “That is my interest,” Erky grinned. “And there’s more where that came from.” Tarquin was satisfied and managed to quickly open the cage to free the gnome. Erky climbed out and stretched his limbs. “Ahh. Much better. Now how do we get out of this place?”

“Not out, we are going forward,” Octavian corrected.

“There are three — maybe four — hobgoblins who lead this tribe, ruled over by a big one called Durnn. That is what is forward. Not a good idea.”

“Only a coward would say that.”

“I’m not afraid to be a coward,” Erky smiled and started walking away.

Tarquin manhandled him and turned him back toward the cage. “This is not what we discussed, my small friend. It seems you are taking advantage and that is a shame.”

Erky held up his hands. “I understand, no need for this roughneckery! I help you, and then you let me go.”

“Excellent. After you.”

“I’m not one to lead from the front.”

“Oh no, my friends will lead, but I will be behind you,” Tarquin grinned. Eearwaxx’s unseen friend gave the gnome a shove forward, drawing a glare.

“Tarquin, why is it you feel this individual needs to come with us?” Arlington asked.

“Well he helped you.”

“So? We will meet him back in town. Do you feel you are not equipped for the rest of this journey?”

“Not without a rest.”

“A rest isn’t out of the question, but I hardly feel that one gnome amongst our number will equate to having a good sit-down though.”

“Up to you — you are the wise leader of this expedition,” Tarquin said obsequiously. He wasn’t sure he liked Arlington’s subtle implication that he wasn’t up to the task he’d been hired to do.

“I am as interested in talking to this fellow as much as anyone else, but having to cut him in on any…gains that we make in this journey would seem to be folly.”

“He’s not getting anything!” Octavian cried. “He is paid in his freedom.”

Arlington frowned. “I’m not one-hundred percent clear on the culture of the kobolds, Octavian, but are you in the habit of taking slaves?”

“This is not a kobold issue! We have freed him, he doesn’t get a share of our knowledge or treasure.” Octavian cared not a whit for any riches found but he stood by the principle of reward for effort.

“If we have freed him, then how is it we are compelling him to come with us?” Arlington asked, a streak of hitherto hidden philosophy rising to the fore.

Octavian was almost startled by the complexity of this argument. He paused before continuing. “I agree. Go,” he ordered Erky, pointing to the exit corridor. “You are dismissed.”

Erky looked shocked. “I can go?” Tarquin bowed low and let Erky past.

“I hope you can speak kobold,” Octavian warned in kobold-draconic, to a blank stare from Erky.

“As I said, we will meet you in the nearest civilisation,” Arlington sighed.

“I am astonished,” Erky said, bowing in return. “But I am thankful, gentlemen, and kobold. Find me in Easthaven when you return, that is where I hope to find Dzaan.”

“Very well. I can’t help but notice your reluctance to act in a—”

“—heroic way?” Erky smiled.

“Your words not mine, at this time. I had thought with your freedom you might join us. But so be it.”

“Oh I am not a fighter. I seek greater knowledge than is to be found here.”

Morgan looked at Jankx. “He’s not going to make it back to town. He’s dead in half an hour.” Jankx nodded agreement. “We’ve given him the option and he has chosen.”

“I made it here without too much trouble, I am sure I can make it back again,” Erky said.

“Why are we still talking?” Octavian groaned. “The kobolds will kill him, and if they don’t then the owlbear will take him. He’s got no chance.”

“This talk of owlbear? This is something you’ve seen?”

“A creature, as big as a bear, with an owl’s face! Do we have to explain flora and fauna?” Octavian said trying to loom threateningly over Erky.

Erky waved Octavian off. “Rumours and superstition. But as a thank-you for my freedom I will offer you this: there is something going on down here with the Duergar — that is what drew me here. I never found them before I was captured. They follow one named Belak, or so I have heard. Farewell my new friends, I do hope to see you again!” he said unconvincingly as he backed out of the room.

Just as Erky rounded the corner, Tarquin doffed his cap. “A small man shall be small,” and cursed Erky with a blast of mental anguish. Cries of pain echoed down the corridor as Octavian laughed angrily at Tarquin’s sizest quip. Erky spun around and pointed at Tarquin. “I gave you a favour, and you return it with that? I will remember that!” He spun and disappeared down the corridor, clutching his throbbing head, helped by one last shove from Eearwaxx’s friend.

---

During the discussion with Erky, Jankx and Morgan cleared out the goblin hovel. A permanent camp of sorts lay north of the wall, complete with a fire ring and several small iron cook pots. From behind a door to the west Jankx could smell something fairly unpleasant, but no noise emerged. He carefully opened the door to find a goblin pantry. The walls of the chamber were stacked halfway to the ceiling with ill-made barrels, boxes, and crates, and there was another door to the west. Several of the smellier barrels had something scrawled on them in what he assumed was goblin. The stench from the room was overpowering, a combination of off-meat and curdled milk. Jankx elected not to open anything and risk spreading the foul odour further.

The exit door was unlocked but there where wisps of dark smoke drifting under the doorframe. Jankx pointed that out to Morgan and Eearwaxx. The young-old wizard crouched down and wafted the smoke into his nose. “Not a cooking fire, there’s no flesh or meat smell,” he whispered, “Burning oil or tar, maybe torches?”

“Not a kitchen then,” Arlington intoned.

Eearwaxx crouched down to look under the door, pulling his wizard-hat off to get down low, but couldn’t see anything more. Octavian hovered above him, watching the back of Eearwaxx’s head as the wig shifted when the hat was removed. Underneath was a shock of bright-red hair — not that of an old man, Octavian noted wryly. Eearwaxx gave the door a quick mend for good measure.

Arlington had seen enough. He called everyone back to the door at the north of the goblin stockade. Jankx cleared the door and Morgan stepped through into a short corridor with doors to the north and west. He walked quickly to the western door, but as he approached the floor suddenly collapsed beneath his feet with a groaning rumble, sending him falling into a ten-foot cavity. Jankx cursed under his breath — he’d slackened off on the trap checks and now Morgan had paid the price.

The noise from the trap drew the attention of three more goblins who flung the north door open, bows drawn. Jankx pulled out his blade and plunged it into the goblin standing in the doorway, ripping its guts open with a swift twist. Morgan recovered quickly to haul himself out of the pit. He stepped over Jankx’s goblin-corpse, and tried to bury his fist in the next goblin but it swayed under the blow. Octavian rushed inside the room and imbued his staff with nature’s power, killing his target with a single sharp crack.

Arlington’s crossbow bolt was less successful, distracted by Octavian’s mighty blow. It was the first time he’d aimed away from a kobold in his life, he mused.

Eearwaxx followed Octavian inside and grabbed the last goblin, shocking but surprisingly not killing it with a powerful grasp. Tarquin decided sticks and stones weren’t working so he tried words instead. “It’s my way or the high way,” he called out as he stared down the goblin. “My way!” the goblin snarled in response and dived toward Eearwaxx. Meepo was having none of that. “Kill goblin!” he cried as he flung his sling-stone toward the creature. Alas the stone soared wide and the goblin fought on, trying to bring his scimitar down on Eearwaxx but missing badly. Morgan took advantage of the goblin’s failure, pulling his fist back before crushing its chest with a massive blow. Jankx raised his eyebrows — he’d never seen an pugilist hit so hard. Morgan glanced over at Jankx as he wiped his hand clean. “Sorry about the pit thing,” he said impassively.

Jankx went and fixed the pit so it wouldn’t collapse again, then checked the western door. He noted immediately it was a far more sophisticated lock — not like the dragon-head, but definitely of similar origin. He tried a few times to unlock it but was surprised to find he couldn’t work the mechanism. “Would you like me to mend it?” Eearwaxx offered. Jankx was about to decline, then he thought that maybe a little polish would help unravel the lock. Eearwaxx went to work, cleaning it first, and following up with a magical check that showed nothing. With a nod from Jankx, he gave the lock a try too, but again was stymied. “Why don’t we bash it down?” he suggested wryly. Jankx waved that off and once again gave it a try, but once again failed.

“Are you lads telling me you can’t get through this door?” Arlington asked politely.

Jankx shook his head sheepishly. “It’s not magical,” Eearwaxx offered.

“Look on the bright side, nothing is coming through there either,” Tarquin said, “Why don’t we go back to the other door?”

“It seems we have no choice, my erudite friend.” He led everyone back to the pantry. “Tarquin — this is your idea, so off you go.”

Tarquin looked wryly at Arlington. “Thank you for the opportunity to…lead,” he said, then turned and pulled open the freshly polished door. The source of the smoke was immediately obvious: several torches mounted in crude sconces burnt fitfully along the long hall beyond, filling the air with smoky haze. A double row of marble columns carved with entwining dragons ran the length of the hall, a near-mirror of the hall where Yusdrayl sat. Five doors led out of the chamber, three to the north, one south, and one in the middle of the western wall.

Tarquin quickly saw the similarity to the kobold area — the same artistry. It reminded of a story he had read which told of two opposing forces that battled back-and-forth but never seemed to progress before having to start over. He called everyone through, taking a position of safety by the closest northern door. The haze made it difficult to see to the far end of the room, ideal for an ambush he figured. Eearwaxx sent his hidden servant to scout the room ahead, the smoke eddying behind it as it slowly moved. No traps were sprung and no enemies emerged, so Eearwaxx called it back to his side.

Tarquin had a sudden realisation that the door he stood by very likely led to the same room Jankx had been unable to open, and called the master-thief over. Jankx was relieved — Arlington wouldn’t be disappointed again, he vowed. He crouched down and pulled out his tools, studying the lock again. It was the same as the other one, perhaps some reverse variations, but he was sure he had it this time. He calmed his mind and held his breath, then carefully inserted the tool and started working. Almost instantly it got stuck. Jankx expelled a frustrated gasp of air. He tried to manoeuvre the tool out and it snapped, breaking one of the barrels of the lock at the same time. Jankx growled with frustration. “You know what would help hear?” he said quietly. “Mending.”

Eearwaxx beamed. He pointed his finger and the lock and thieves tool was instantly fixed. “Why don’t you open it now, Eearwaxx,” Arlington said approvingly.

“Jankx is doing a great job, I can help him if he wants? Let me just check it for magic first.” He repeated his spellcraft and confirmed that magic was not involved. Next he tried to unlock it. No. “It’s a very tough lock.” Jankx lent down and tried again. No. Eearwaxx gave it another go. No.

Arlington looked at his thief and wizard and sighed. “Not quite sure what I hired you two for.”

“If we can’t get through this one there’ll probably be a third lock for you to try on the other side as well,” Tarquin teased Jankx.

Morgan decided to take matters into his own hands. He planted a foot on the door and gave it a shoulder-shove to try and force it open. It rattled in the frame so he gave it another hefty shove. But it held fast despite his great strength. The shudder of the door echoed down the smoky corridor and the southern door was suddenly pulled open. Three goblins ran out of the room and fired three quick arrows into the haze.

The first arrow struck Arlington, reopening his wound. He grunted with surprise and displeasure. The second thumped deep into Jankx’s hip. And the third struck Tarquin hard and fast. Three shots, three hits.

Arlington pulled his crossbow to his shoulder and fired a wild bolt into the smoke, hitting only stone. Octavian saw the opportunity to trap the goblins before they could move, raising his staff and crying “Thorns!”. Underneath the three goblins, and an entire third of the corridor, the ground rose up as a field of grasping vines that smothered the warriors. Jankx pushed through is pain and fired his own bolt, but the vines inadvertency parried the bolt away. Meepo struck truer with his bolt that drew a yelp of pain from one of the tangled goblins.

Morgan ran forward to the edge of the vine-field and threw a hand-axe hard and true into the nearest goblin head. The axe split its face in two. Eearwaxx followed suit, a ringing bell echoing around the chamber and tolling the final moment of the injured goblin’s life. The last remaining goblin struggled to get out of the thorned vines but couldn’t free itself. It’s voice however worked just fine: “Intruders! Intruders!” it yelled.

---

Tarquin sprinted to the middle of the hall just as the western door flew open. Hordes of goblins stood beyond, and at least six were charging toward the doorway toward Octavian’s vine-field. Tarquin licked his lips and unleashed his spell.

The charging goblins all started slumping to the floor in a deep sleep, falling one-by-one as they entered the spell’s aura.

“Nap time, my friends,” Tarquin grinned.

---

Goblins continued to flood forward, stepping over the slumbering bodies of their companions. Arlington took cover behind the nearest pillar and dropped a goblin with a well-aimed bolt. As it fell he saw that a stream of goblins were running north, out of sight, screaming in what looked like terror. They were rattily dressed and unarmed — and one was clutching a tiny baby goblin, if he wasn’t mistaken. “Build a barricade out of their dead bodies!” Arlington yelled.

Morgan saw them too and looked with disquiet at Arlington, choosing to take cover rather than attack the civilians. Many of the goblins in the far room were now out of sight. “They may be circling around and flanking,” he warned.

Several more goblins ran out of the room but were immediately tangled in the vines. They cursed in their foul language, then cheered as their companions unleashed a volley of arrows that hit Tarquin hard, drawing a cry of pain as his skin was ripped open. Jankx fired a retaliatory crossbow bolt that lodged deep in the thigh of the shooter as Tarquin healed himself as best he could.

Octavian whipped a goblin to the ground, drawing a cry of delight from Meepo who ran forward whirling his sling and firing a wild stone into the doorframe. He cursed and reloaded his weapon. Eearwaxx raised his staff and pounded it into the ground. “Put down your weapons!” he cried in his deepest draconic voice. The goblins didn’t pause, clearly not understanding. “Drop your weapons, don’t make me kill you all!” Eearwaxx tried in common this time. “We take weapons! We kill!” the goblins snarled back. “I’ll mend you!” Eearwaxx cried and pointed his deathly fire finger to drop a goblin in the doorway.

Arlington used the burning body to line up another victim, leaning nonchalantly on the pillar as he fired. “Just a matter of pop-up, sight, squeeze, pop-down,” he commented. As he spoke a larger goblin dressed in flowing robes came into view. She scanned what was happening then mumbled a few unintelligible words. The nearest goblins rallied and aimed their bows with renewed enthusiasm. They lined up Eearwaxx and two arrows ripped into him. The young wizard looked shocked and a flush of panic washed over his bearded face as he withdrew to the back of the room, frantically trying to bandage his wounds. As he did a voice boomed through the hall: “This is goblinville! Leave now or die, we will kill you all!”

Jankx thought this seemed unlikely. He shot his crossbow again killing one of Eearwaxx’s attackers. As he did he heard scurrying and shouting coming from the door to the north. The goblins were either rallying or digging in he decided. He ripped the door open and the noise became clearer — it was panic and fear. Good news.

Octavian wasn’t so sure. He ran over to Jankx and hauled the door closed, then tried to wedge it closed. It was hard work with the stone floor — not a strong seal, but better than nothing. Meepo stepped out from behind Jankx and this time took his time. He lined up a vine-trapped goblin, hitting it true with a stone to the cheek. Tarquin grinned and threw out an insult. “I fear your slip is showing — what else might we see?” The goblin frowned then its eyes rolled back in its head as it dropped to its knees and died. Meepo shrieked with joy.

Arlington sensed victory, stepping out from his pillar and walking confidently forward, inspiring his troops. “Remove this nonsense,” he yelled as he reached the vine-field. Octavian immediately complied — if it was anyone else he might have considered the situation first. He raised his crossbow and lined up the new arrival in her robes.

The goblin raised her hands in surrender. “Don’t shoot!”

“It’s not that kind of day,” Arlington said calmly and fired a bolt directly into her gut. He remembered another woman from his past who had also raised her hands. And who he had also shot. The goblin clutched her hands to her midriff as the contents spilled out and she toppled to her knees. “Spare us,” she croaked out weakly as she died. One of his better single-shots, Arlington reflected as he glanced around nervously to see if anyone had noticed his lack of mercy. Morgan was staring directly at him. Disconcertingly. Arlington coughed. “I don’t speak her language.”

“She was speaking common,” Octavian said wryly.

“It was the accent,” Arlington shrugged.

Eearwaxx was still bleeding profusely from his wounds, despite the bandaging. Tarquin pressed an encouraging hand into the young old wizard’s shoulder. “This is war, son,” he smiled. Eearwaxx nodded, doing his best not to show his pain.

The goblins were all dead, or at least those that would attack. Some still slumbered, but none moved. There were still whimpering cries from the north but no movement. “That’s it, it’s over — they’re not regrouping to attack,” Jankx said, tilting his head to the northern door. “But there are those,” he said looking at the sleeping ones. Arlington’s look made it clear what should happen. Jankx paused for a moment before kneeling down and giving the first one the kiss of death.

“So that’s the way it’s going to be?” Tarquin said.

“Well that’s what the boss said,” Jankx shrugged.

Octavian didn’t hesitate. He hammered his quarterstaff into the temple of all but one of the remaining goblins with deathly efficiency. Brutal and efficient — Meepo’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. He pulled his dagger out and pounced toward the last sleeping goblin. Octavian grabbed him just in time. “Meepo! No — we question this one.”

“We kill! Meepo kill!” Meepo cried.

“No Meepo — you watch, learn.”

Arlington wasn’t really interested in this plan but played along to satisfy Octavian. He nodded at Tarquin who lifted the sleep spell. The goblin shook its head groggily and snarled when it opened its eyes to find two kobolds hovering above. It went for his sword and Octavian thwacked its knuckles immediately. “Filthy kobolds,” the goblin hissed. Octavian crashed his staff across its temple. “Shhhh,” he warned the goblin.

Suddenly the western door pulled open. Standing in the door frame was a well armoured hobgoblin. It scanned the room impassively for a few seconds, a commander scanning the battlefield, then went to pull the door closed. Before he could, quick as lightning Morgan whipped his handaxe into the creature’s bicep, drawing a grunt and glare. Arlington saw his chance and quickly raised his weapon, but as he did his finger slipped on the trigger. Instead of the hobgoblin, the bolt skimmed over Meepo’s head and into the exposed neck of the floor-bound goblin. The hobgoblin growled and the door thunked shut.

“Waste of time interrogating it,” Arlington said nodding at the dead goblin. Octavian knew this was rubbish, but Meepo agreed wholeheartedly. “Good shot,” he said with approval.

“We need to go, we need to rest. Eearwaxx is bleeding, I can smell it from here. Grab whatever we think is anything and retreat — because that goblin will be back.”

“We can’t go forward here — he now knows what we are,” Tarquin agreed.

“That was a hobgoblin, not a goblin,” Eearwaxx added.

“I think you may be right,” Octavian nodded, “All the more reason to get out of here.”

Everyone looked to Arlington, who was clutching his side as blood oozed between his fingers. “Well if you all need a rest,” he nodded. It was quickly agreed to withdraw into the hall of pillars and hunker down in the goblin guard room. The threat of a pincer move from the surviving civilian goblins seemed low at best.

Knowing time was short, Morgan quickly surveyed the room. The room might once have been a cathedral but was now a goblin lair, thick with the filth of years of goblin life. Scores of wall and floor mounted sconces filled with violet-glowing fungi provided illumination. Along the southern wall was a heaping pile of assorted items, including wagon wheels, broken armour and rusted arms and broken chests. He called Octavian over, who tossed through them and pulled out a single treasure — a fine agate statue of the elven deity Corellon Larethian. Tarquin kneeled down and searched the body of Arlington’s goblin, finding two keys on a chain around her neck and two spell-scrolls tucked into her robes.

Everyone regathered to withdraw when the two northern doors were suddenly pulled open. Two hobgoblins charged forward from one, and two goblins from the other. The goblins screamed with faux-courage, the fear in their eyes obvious. The hobgoblins were utterly calm. Both had bows that they carefully lined up to shoot. Standing behind them in the rounded room beyond was a much larger hobgoblin, obviously a chieftain of some kind.

This was not good.

Morgan took a deep breath and filled his body with renewed energy. He moved fluidly across the room toward the nearest hobgoblin, who still had Morgan’s axe embedded in his thigh, but stumbled on the body of the dead goblin and lost his grip on his sword. He frowned with frustration as the hobgoblin loomed. He pulled out his longsword and struck Morgan hard in the shoulder-blade.

Tarquin flung an inspiring verse at Morgan, bolstering the young warrior’s confidence, then stepped toward a goblin and skewered it with his rapier. Instant-kill. He pulled the blade free with satisfaction.

“What do?!” Meepo cried to Octavian. “Get back and protect Eearwaxx!” Meepo sprinted to the wizard firing a harmless sling-stone as he did. Arlington shot Morgan’s hobgoblin who staggered back before shaking it off and stepping forward again. Its companion glanced briefly over to make sure he was ok. It was only a splinter of a second, but Jankx didn’t need longer. He buried his daggers into its spine of the creature and ripped it open with vicious intent. The hobgoblin roared with surprise and agony then fell to the floor dead. Jankx looked surprised — but pleased.

The huge hobgoblin stepped forward into the doorway and lined up Morgan. A point-blank shot that was fated to kill but that — somehow — missed. The leader cursed as he restrung his blow and hollered for more support. Two more terrified goblins ran down from the northern door, scimitars flashing, knowing they were going to die but more scared of the boss than death. One struck Morgan with a choppy strike.

Morgan started growling through his clenched teeth, firming his grip on his sword and swinging it in a clean arc that cleanly removed the head of the hobgoblin. Morgan locked eyes with the chieftain as the body dropped.

Eearwaxx shook off his injuries and tolled the bell of doom above the new goblin arrival. The bell rung and the goblin dropped as Eearwaxx waggled his finger, “No.” Octavian struck the other goblin with his thorn-whip, and Tarquin finished it off with yet another precision rapier strike, his steel ringing as true as his words. Meepo was loving every second of this, even more so when his next slingshot killed the final goblin. “All die!!!”

Only the boss remained, and he was very big. Arlington settled his shoulders, steadied his breathing, and balanced his stance. The neck was the best place to lodge a bolt, he decided. “Meepo — duck.” His pipe was cold but his aim was not. The bolt flew across the room, whispering death as it whistled past Morgan’s ear and pierced the hobgoblin’s throat. The chieftain clutched the bolt, took two steps backward, and toppled to the ground with a crash. Arlington smiled and lit his pipe.

“What’s the kill count, Morgan?” Arlington asked.

“Twenty-three — twenty goblins, three hobgoblins,” Jankx said instantly before Morgan could speak. Meepo jumped around happily. “All dead, all dead! We kill others then all dead!”

Morgan searched the bodies of the hobgoblins and retrieved a golden ring and silver earrings and a necklace set with handsome moonstone. He also found a large iron key which he handed to Arlington. “I’m not killing the rest,” he said firmly. Arlington noticed the warriors eyes shift colour as he spoke, then shrugged — non-combatants didn’t count in any case.

Arlington tossed the key to Jankx, and Tarquin handed over his two keys. Jankx quickly recognised that one of the keys was a close match to the unbreakable locks they had encountered before the battle.

The room the hobgoblins had emerged from was centred around a circular shaft that pierced the floor of the domed chamber. Dim violet light shone out of the shaft, revealing sickly white and grey vines that coated the walls of the shaft. A crudely fashioned stone throne sat against the curve of the northwestern wall, a large iron chest serving as the throne’s footstool.

Eearwaxx walked directly to the throne and sat down, dwarfed by the size. He rested his feet on the chest with satisfaction. “Hey! A mighty wizard’s throne!” he said kicking the chest, “And there’s a chest!”. Jankx flinched involuntarily as he waited for the chest to explode. Eearwaxx mended the chest and waved Jankx over. “Feet off,” the rogue said lifting them off gently. “It’s not trapped, I’ve mended it, don’t worry,” Eearwaxx said helpfully. Jankx studied the lock closely. He wasn’t confident about whether it was trapped or not, but Morgan’s key was an obvious match. He smiled wryly and handed it to Eearwaxx. “Your honour.” Eearwaxx beamed as he slipped the key into the lock as everyone stood slightly away. The chest opened smoothly and revealed a horde of gold coins and two onyx gems. Jankx leant over the chest and spotted a very nasty unsprung trap in the lid, which he pointed out to his wizardly companion who nodded enthusiastically.

Morgan looked down into the shaft, seeing it dropped at least eighty-feet. He grabbed a torch from a sconce on the wall and dropped it as Jankx watched on. The torch fell freely and landed on a stone floor. A moment later a shrouded figure stepped into view. It looked up the shaft, its face in shadows, then kicked the torch away and disappear into the darkness. “There’s someone down there,” Morgan announced.

Octavian studied the vegetation climbing out of the shaft. It was bleached and pale, but it was the kind of plant-life that could grow here — not too out of the ordinary. What was unusual was that it was still near-freezing down here, and plants should struggle where this looked relatively healthy. He reached his hand down onto the inner-wall of the cavity and felt a very slight warmth, warmer than it should be. “There’s heat down there,” he said.

The collection of junk and dead bodies in goblinville revealed a few more treasures as Arlington rifled through it. A chain shirt, healers’ kit, healing potion and some anti-toxin.

Octavian went to visit the remaining goblins, who hissed as he entered. “Where is dragon?” The bravest goblins barked a laugh and spat, quieting the rest. Octavian struck the wall with his staff, a warning blow. “Where is dragon? Tell me or I let my friends in here.” The goblins cowered, and a few turned their heads and pointed back to the east. Octavian nodded and went to leave, and Meepo tugged on his shirt. “Kill them,” he whispered.

“No. They are defenceless,” Octavian shook his head.

“They kill us.”

“Meepo, listen. Their warriors, they fight, we fight back. These are just — same as no-one would go in and kill innocent kobold babies. They’d be monsters. We not monsters.”

“They kill our babies,” Meepo muttered.

“Well let’s be better than them,” Octavian said.

“You leave, they kill we.”

“No. They will leave now. They have no hobgoblins, no warriors.”

“They get friend, get more, fight kobold.”

“Listen. I try to teach you. We get the dragon, take you back, no more goblin threat.”

Meepo’s eyes lit up. “Calcryx! Yes, we get Calcryx, Calcryx kill goblin!”

“Maybe. But you won’t need to, you will have everything.”

Meepo grinned and danced around his mentor. “Meepo understand. Octavian wise one, Octavian titan!”

---

Everyone collapsed into a grateful slumber as Morgan took the first watch — after first denying Meepo’s kind offer to do the same.

After a few hours of nothing, Morgan heard some movement from the corridor where the remaining goblins huddled. He walked softly to the door and opened it a crack. All the goblins were wide awake, with several trying to make their way through the south door back into their main hovel. A sudden hush fell as they all suddenly pretended to be asleep as he pushed the door further open.

Morgan smiled to himself. “Pssst,” he hissed. The goblins slept even harder. “Psssst!” The closest goblin opened a single terrified eye.

Morgan crouched. “Just leave,” he whispered. The goblin frowned, confused. “Go. Go!” Morgan repeated, encouraging them to shoo with his hands. The goblin shook open his nearest companion awake and pointed. Morgan repeated his signals, so they stood up and took some cautious steps away. Morgan grinned. The goblins turned and quickly roused the dozens of others, who started making their way south. A few nodded gratefully to Morgan as they left.

The young warrior felt some amends had been made, and quietly closed the door behind him as the goblins made their escape. He settled back down with his back against the well.

Some hours later, Jankx woke with a start. His internal clock never failed him, but something else had also caused him to wake. Alert, he opened his eyes without moving, and saw what it was: Morgan was speaking quietly to a ghostly figure sitting directly opposite. It was another young man, a spitting image of Morgan but less real — like it was half here and half in the spirit realm.

---

“I’m not sure what to make of them,” Morgan said in hushed tones, “That Arlington guy seems to be…lacking in character? I’m not sure what the deal is, and this is not what we signed up to do.”

Morgan was quiet for a few moments, as if he was listening to someone else talk — but Jankx could hear nothing, nor did the ghostly figure appear to be talking. It was like watching a man talk to a mirror of himself, near identical but not.

“Yeah, who knows if we’re getting paid. I’m pretty sure he was expecting money from that sled. Father used to say he and his companions would split things up equally — we’ve been collecting things together so we can only hope Arlington does the same.”

Jankx watched as Morgan paused again before nodding at the semi-translucent figure. “I agree. The kobold — never occurred to me a kobold could be that competent. I guess you learn something new every day. I don’t know about the bard. And the wizard I’m wondering how long he’s going to keep that fake beard for.”

Morgan shrugged in response to unheard words. “Well, it’s important to him, so if he wants to keep wearing it, I’m not bothered. He can cast spells, but I don’t know if he’s as big a wizard as he says he is. Personally they guy I thought I’d like the least is the one I like the most. Jankx seems pretty straightforward in his own way.”

Jankx smiled to himself as Morgan continued discussing events and his new companions. Jankx’s ears perked up when Morgan was bemoaning all the killing that had been happening — wanton killing in Morgan’s view. “Well I know you don’t have a problem with it,” he grumbled. Jankx wasn’t sure what to make of that — Morgan obviously knew this other creature well, but how? And where had he been this whole time? Plus — did this disagreement mean that it wasn’t some manifestation of Morgan?

Jankx decided it was time to find out more. He stirred, making it obvious he was waking, and sat up slowly. Morgan turned to Jankx and nodded. “Are you ready for your watch?” There was no indication from him that the ghost was there, but Jankx could clearly see both.

Jankx turned to face the twin, who stared back for a moment. It’s face frowned, and Jankx caught an echo of Morgan when he was riled up in that look, before the ghost turned to Morgan and raised an eyebrow. Morgan looked startled, mouth open, and the ghost seemed to flash toward Morgan and be absorbed. For a moment it was like there were two Morgan’s, then everything returned to normal.

Morgan stood, scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “So, um, are you ready for your watch?” Jankx tilted his head — answers were needed. Morgan nodded. “Did you… did you see Ezra?”

“I saw something. Certainly something I wasn’t expecting.”

“But no-one can see Ezra. Well, only two that I know of.”

“Well maybe it’s now three, because I saw him.”

“Could you hear him?”

“No. It just looked like — you?”

“We look very similar,” Morgan acknowledged.

“But it’s not you?”

“No. Ezra is my brother. Was. Is. Is my brother. My twin.”

Jankx nodded slowly. This made a little more sense. “I see. That’s interesting. I guess — not everyone is always who they appear to be, right?”

“Oh I’m who I appear to be,” Morgan reassured.

“And is this a secret?”

“To be honest Jankx, it’s never had to be. Sometimes I get side-long looks if I forget I’m having more than a whispered conversation, but I’ve never let that bother me.”

“And normal people can’t see Ezra?”

Morgan shook his head. “I’m not sure why you can. Like I said, only two others can — and they’re a little younger than me.”

Jankx nodded. “Well. It’s my watch — get some rest.” Morgan smiled gratefully and moved over to rest against the wall. Jankx watched him closely for a while, but Ezra didn’t return. Morgan’s eyes stayed open despite his still body, and disconcertingly followed Jankx around the room. It was creepy. Jankx frowned and Morgan’s eyes slowly closed. A strange boy, Jankx pondered, but a good one.

Before long Jankx noted that there was no noise coming from the goblins, which seemed unlikely, so he went to investigate. He was surprised to find not-a-one. The corridor was empty. He was somehow not surprised. He opened the door to the goblin-hovel, finding it also empty. He didn’t want to go too far, checking the dragon-pillar hall which was also goblin-free, before returning. He closed each door behind and wired them to alert him should the much-reduced horde return. He didn’t bother waking anyone — rest was much needed and the goblins posed a low threat at best.

Arlington was the last to rise, Jankx shaking him awake. He quickly summarised the situation (‘the goblins are gone, so I’ve locked and alarmed the doors, listen out for that’) but didn’t mention Ezra. “I’m super tired, good luck, wake me if anything bad happens.” Arlington took it all in, slumped against the wall and waited.

---

Wretched pipe-smoke woke everyone once Arlington determined time was up. Morgan was immediately awake, while everyone else struggled out of their slumber. Octavian shook Meepo awake, who hadn’t reacted to the awful stench from Arlington’s pipe. “Meepo! What if I was attacked while I was sleeping?!” Octavian teased. The kobold warrior sprung to his feet. “I guard! I guard! I not sleep, only little, and man guard when do!”

Octavian raised an eyebrow and turned to said man. “What’s the plan Arlington? I assume we have to get the dragon?”

“Well. It’s a very good question. Uhhh,” Arlington’s head dropped as he seemed to fall back to sleep.

Octavian sighed. “Do you have an answer?” he said loudly.

Arlington snapped awake. “You’re tiring, son. But let’s push on. Now. This is not normally my cup of tea, this behaviour, this skulking around in dark corridors. But it appears there is a dragon at the end of the road, and I think that is worth pursuing.”

“Let’s get the dragon, take it back, and I’m sure we’ll be rewarded. And then we all have different things we wish to find out in this area and we can help each other,” Octavian suggested forcefully.

“How much was in that chest?” Arlington asked Jankx.

“231 gold pieces, two onyx gems, a pair of necklaces and earrings, a healer’s kit, a poisoner’s kit, two scrolls—”

“Alright, alright,” Arlington held his hands up in surrender to Jankx’s perfect and seemingly endless recall. “So we’ve come across something, but hardly what I was expecting if I’m to be totally honest.”

“What were you expecting?” Jankx asked.

“I had goods and financial support coming from the south which totalled…far more than was in that small box. "

Tarquin listened with amusement. “Arlington, just to be clear — you ‘had’?”

Arlington looked hard at Tarquin, recalling that the storyteller had seen the contents in the avalanche’s aftermath. “The box, unfortunately, was lost.”

“Indeed,” Tarquin grinned back.

“And though it has not normally been my lot to travel underground skulking through drains,” Arlington continued, “And I have, in the past, looked upon those who have induldged in such endeavours with some scorn and thought it to be a less than noble pursuit, I have to say our journey thus far has been somewhat sporting. Um. And if you would join me, gentlemen, with the hope that there was further reward, I suggest we push on!” Arlington concluded his inspirational speech with a huge puff of his now smouldering pipe.

“Well said, Arlington!” Tarquin laughed.

“Hear hear,” Octavian said, clapping slowly. “Meepo — get my bag!”

---

An actual dragon

After some flash-fried tack, courtesy of Eearwaxx’s flaming finger, the expedition was ready to continue.

“Has anyone asked the goblin’s where the dragon is?” Tarquin asked.

“I’ll do it,” Octavian offered, wanting to get things moving. He pulled open the door to the goblin corridor, finding it empty. He dropped his head and turned back. “I find it hard to believe that I’m the last to know that every hostage has escaped?”

“Hostages?” Arlington asked.

“You mean prisoners?” Eearwaxx offered.

“Informants?” Tarquin tried.

“Whatever way you want to describe them, there is now no-one left,” Octavian growled.

“Are you surprised they snuck out in the night?” Arlington asked.

“You’re missing the point. They might have taken the dragon! Let’s go.”

Arlington puffed slowly, not moving. “And who amongst them do you think we equipped to wrangle a dragon on a lead?”

“I don’t know but I don’t want to take that chance.”

“Yes!” Meepo agreed furiously, “We must hunt the goblin!”

Tarquin was confused. “Before we go — how far in front of us are they? Who was on first watch, did you hear anything?”

“No,” Morgan shook his head.

“Second watch, Jankx?”

“They were gone by the time I woke. I let you all sleep.”

“Interesting decision,” Tarquin said wryly.

“Can we all stop panicking for just a second,” Arlington said, trying to regain control.

Tarquin cocked his head. “Urgency is not panicking.”

“I think there is no need for either here. How many goblins do you know that like to keep pet dragons?”

“These ones,” Octavian said simply.

“Well I hardly think so. Goblins work for somebody — these ones were working for hobgoblins—”

Octavian stamped his foot. “You just gave us a huge speech about how you don’t know how to adventure, you’ve never been below ground, and you don’t really know how these things operate, and you were supposed to get money from someone, and you’re not really good at this—”

“You don’t have to have done a lot of time below ground to know what the lesser species are like!” Arlington huffed.

Octavian frowned hard. Morgan and Tarquin stepped back out of the way.

“Ironically,” Octavian said patiently, “I think you don’t know what you just said. Because when we come to ‘lesser’ species…we do know who the superior one is.”

“Owlbears!” Eearwaxx cried knowingly, accidentally breaking the tension.

Arlington took a deep breath and pointed to the well. “Can I suggest that the superior one, in this case, is down this hole.”

“Maybe,” Octavian said grudgingly.

“Do you think there’s an owlbear down there?” Eearwaxx said peering down. Tarquin saw an oppportunity and gave the wizard a fake shove. Eearwaxx squealed like a small child. “No! Ahhh!” He quickly recovered and dropped his voice. “I mean, that was terrible, good, no.”

Tarquin clapped Eearwaxx on the back and turned back to Arlington. “Have we backtracked and checked all our other unexplored avenues?”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Octavian nodded, “Leave the well, find the dragon, and make sure there’s nothing behind us.”

“I think the dragon is not up here,” Arlington hissed.

“We haven’t searched! We don’t know that as a logical statement!” Octavian cried.

“We will not find the dragon up here.”

“How would they move the dragon down? It is too big.” Meepo nodded in sage agreement.

“It fit in Meepo’s cage!” Arlington countered.

“Yes but they weigh a lot,” Octavian said stubbornly.

Arlington tired of the argument. “My scaly friend, please lead the way.”

“Let’s go back and make sure we’ve searched the area,” Octavian said walking toward the exit, and Tarquin bowed in acknowledgement of an argument well won.

Jankx stood up and pulled out the silver key he’d found in the hobgoblin chest. “There is this,” he said calmly, “It opens the door just nearby that I couldn’t.”

“Well why didn’t you say so my boy? Onward!” Arlington said and strode out of the room, back in control.

---

Jankx stood at the door and crouched. The beautifully mended lock was a perfect match for the key and he inserted it cleanly. “Ready?” Arlington stood with his back against the opposite wall, crossbow ready. He nodded.

The door opened easily. The first thing Jankx noted was an upturned table from behind which two leathery white wings rose in silent rhythm with tendrils of frozen breath.

The walls of the room were adorned with mounted and stuffed animal heads. Even from his position at the far wall Arlington could see the mounting job was sloppy — a good taxidermist is hard to find, he mused. The assortment of heads included cattle, rats, and other not particularly impressive specimens. A few grisly trophies share the wall with the animals — including, Octavian noted with horror, a couple of kobold heads.

Smashed and broken cabinets and small tables littered the periphery of the room, mute victims of some sort of rampage. A rusted iron spike stood in the centre of the room, trailing a broken chain. Thin patches of frost coated sections of the walls, floor, and debris.

“Jankx! Shut the door!” Octavian yelled instantly. Jankx obeyed, slamming it shut, respecting the winged kobold’s superior knowledge.

Octavian spun to Arlington. “We have a problem. A: that dragon is an ice dragon, it looks like, and it can breath on us. B: It has broken loose, we need to contain it so we can get it back and get our reward. Which I am sure you all want.”

Arlington was impressed at the quick summation of the situation, but wasn’t ready to acknowledge as much quite yet. “Can I ask a question, which I think is pertinent here, how much gold do you think the kobold’s have?”

Octavian was wrong-footed by the question. “Oh, uh, Meepo? What do you think our reward would be for returning the dragon?”

Meepo recalled Yusdrayl’s words. “You have hall named after. Octavian Hall it name. Great Octavian!”

“Yes, but these others will be after some kind of reward,” Octavian said slowly, trying to get Meepo to understand, “Either gold, or jewels, or something like that. You will have the dragon, this whole lair, and we will get something in return.”

Meepo nodded sagely. “Kobold give many thanks. Many, many thanks. Octavian Hall, and all get thanks.”

Octavian lent down and held his hand over Meepo’s snout, stopping him. “Meepo,” he whispered in very fast kobold, “They expect a reward, so just say they will get a reward - understand?”

“Make up reward?” Meepo whispered back. Octavian nodded and released his young padawan. Meepo raised himself up and looked very serious. “Great reward, many great reward for you—”

“Good!” Octavian interrupted. “Meepo — how can we control the dragon?”

Tarquin shook his head. He read the body language between the two kobolds and realised the truth: there was no reward. But there was a dragon. “Yes Meepo, oh great coraller of dragons, what should we do?”

“I dragon keeper,” Meepo said proudly, “I keep Calcryx many time in cage. Calcryx and Meepo understand.”

“How did you keep it from breathing on you?” Arlington probed.

Meepo shrunk slightly. “We…step to side. Sometimes kobold die. Not Meepo. Meepo quick!” he said, demonstrating by jumping side to side.

“Meepo — did you ever think that someone could put a chain around it’s mouth and then it wouldn’t be able to breath?” Octavian asked.

Meepo looked wide eyed. “Meepo…no? Not think that. Octavian wise! But, we get too close, maybe dragon eat? We leave in cage, dragon happy.”

“Right. I’m out,” Tarquin laughed.

Arlington held his hands up for attention. “Now I know you fellows all love kobolds, but I’ve got two things. First of all: dead on the open market, this is worth more than the kobolds can pay us. Second: live it is worth much more than the kobolds can pay us.”

Jankx nodded in agreement, as did Tarquin. “Yes, I think this is a good way forward.”

“When you say ‘open-market’, you mean miles from here? There’s no market here for this,” Octavian challenged.

“Even here in this frozen wasteland, they will pay far more than these kobolds will. Because these kobolds will pay, correct me if I’m wrong, hopes and prayers. Good wishes.”

Meepo looked concerned. “We pay. We honour Octavian. We have many treasure.” His eyes suddenly shone with inspiration. “We have secret place! Yusdrayl have key to secret place with many gold, many gem!” He waved his arms to the south. “I should not tell, but we have!”

“Is this the place we already went into?” Arlington said suspiciously.

“It dragon place. Tomb,” Meepo said conspiratorially.

“This makes sense,” Octavian said, convinced. “The key in the mouth of Yusdrayl’s dragon-throne. We’d have an ally in the kobolds, and a shot at this treasure room.”

“We have already been there,” Arlington repeated, his earlier impression of Octavian’s quick thinking evaporating. “That dragon is worth a lot.”

“It is good to have an ally, Kobolds talk and there is all the Underdark to consider. You have no idea,” Octavian sighed.

Morgan coughed to get Octavian’s attention. Meepo followed but Morgan shook his head and Octavian told Meepo to wait. Morgan crouched to meet Octavian’s eyeline. “I’m pretty positive that we’ve already been in Meepo’s dragon tomb — that was the undead priest. So we’ve already taken everything from there.”

Octavian immediately understood, and we disappointed with himself for not realising earlier. “I think you’re right,” he admitted quickly, “I think your summation is correct.”

Morgan raised his voice to continue, so everyone could here. “And the second thing is, and I don’t know where you stand on this, but correct me if I’m wrong. I always understood that dragons are not animals, that even a young dragon would be as clever as us. Is that right?”

“That is correct.”

“And yet everyone is ok with treating it like just some kind of cattle to be caged? Poked and prodded for its whole existence?” Morgan’s displeasure was keenly obvious.

“As a general rule dragons are like your people. One dragon is very different to another. Some have to be kept under control, others are sentient and do good — or at least not evil. This one I’m not sure about — it could be mad.”

“From what I’ve read this has to be some kind of infant?”

“Also correct.”

“A child of a great white dragon,” Tarquin interjected ominously.

“So just to contextualise it: you’re going to send a child off to live in a cage as a prisoner,” Morgan spat.

“Physically it would be impossible for it to stay in a cage much longer,” Octavian said, not engaging with the moral question at the heart of Morgan’s query.

“Why don’t we just let it go?”

“Well the idea was it seemed like these people…look, a lot of kobold tribes have a lot of experience with dragons. It seems like these ones don’t, but at first I wasn’t sure.”

Morgan turned to Arlington, seeing Octavian wasn’t going to budge. “We’re not planning on living here, are we?”

“In this hole?” Arlington scoffed.

“Ok so that’s a no. Then why do we need to curry favour with anybody?” He turned back to the group. “Arlington wants to sell it. But if I get any kind of vote I say we take it outside and just let it go.”

“Don’t be so hasty,” Tarquin interjected. “As a bunch of adventurers, we’ve set our sights very low.”

“Certainly our returns have been low,” Arlington murmured.

“Perhaps if we set them a little higher, perhaps if we don’t want to trouble ourselves with the child, why don’t we go after the real trophy?” Tarquin said, baiting the hook.

“Which is…?” Arlington asked, his interest piqued.

“The parent,” Tarquin said, landing the catch as he looked around the room.

Arlington smiled and chuckled. Very good. Very good indeed. He laughed out loud as Tarquin grinned at him.

Eearwaxx was nonplussed. “Do we know what the intent of the kobolds are? Don’t they worship dragons?”

“Yes, many do,” Octavian confirmed. “But these are out of their depth — sorry Meepo, but you could no more control Calcryx than you could me.” Meepo look forlorn. “The best they can hope for is Calcryx becomes their leader — Yusdrayl did say she would bring this place back to its former dragon-borne glory.”

“How do we know if this dragon is a good dragon or a bad dragon?”

“Isn’t the conventional wisdom that the coloured ones are good and the metal bad?” Morgan said, and Octavian confirmed with a nod.

“I don’t have that golden book,” Arlington said, “but by that rule this is indeed a bad dragon.”

“Not bad!” Meepo protested, finding his voice at last. “This Calcryx. Not bad. It white, white is colour, not metal like coin!”

“It is more complex, of course. How it is raised, it’s personality. They’re not all identical,” Octavian added.

“I’m going to say this one has had a poor experience in its childhood,” Arlington suggested.

Meepo sensed things were going badly for Calcryx. He remembered the songman saying something earlier and turned to Tarquin. “What you mean hunt big one?”

“A true trophy. A trophy worth of a hero,” Tarquin declared.

“It not trophy,” Meepo said pointing to the dragon-chamber. “It dragon.”

Eearwaxx nodded in agreement. “I don’t want to kill dragons. It makes no sense.”

“I’m not sure what you’re here for then,” Tarquin said turning to Arlington. “Are we heroes or not? Are we writing our own story or are we just digging around here in a hole?”

Eearwaxx scuffed his feet sadly. “I’m worried about that owlbear, and I’m just digging around here in a hole trying to avoid killing a drag—”

“Hold boy,” Tarquin interrupted, “I’m talking to the boss.”

“What do you want to do with the dragon?” Octavian demanded. “Because if you answer that question everything else becomes clear.”

“The answer to that is I don’t think this is a trophy worth of us,” Tarquin challenged. “It could just as well be let go to become a more worthy foe in the future. But we’d be fools to let it go without first talking to it.” There was knowledge to be had here, he sensed, knowledge that he had sought for some time. The shadow of his father’s victories — and failure — loomed large in his mind.

“We can talk to it?” Arlington said, surprised.

“I can try,” Octavian said shortly.

“We can both try,” Eearwaxx answered in Draconic.

“Unless you can cast a spell of friendship towards it—” Octavian sighed.

“I don’t think it’s going to attack me,” Eearwaxx said confidently.

Octavian was fed up. “Ok! Go ahead!” He yanked the door open.

Much to Octavian’s astonishment, Eearwaxx smiled and walked inside — followed close behind by Tarquin.

---

Calcryx reared up as Eearwaxx entered, eyes locked on the young wizard who gazed in wonder for a moment before continuing inside. Tarquin shuddered to a halt in the doorway. This wrymling was a lot bigger than he had thought. He slowly lowered the lassoo he had been readying — it was not going back in any cage — and followed Eearwaxx. Calcryx watched and breathed out a slow plume of frosted breath.

“Hello!” Eearwaxx said in draconic, waving.

Calcryx shifted its gaze to those outside. “Bring them in here,” it demanded.

Before entering Octavian turned to Meepo. “Meepo, will it know you? Or will it attack?”

Meepo looked nervous but excited. “It know me, yes. I dragon-keeper!”

“Meepo. This isn’t a game. Will it hurt you or will it listen to you?”

Meepo paused before answering. “Yes?” he said softly. “Meepo ready. Meepo can do.”

Octavian shook his head. Meepo wasn’t ready, but it would be impossible — and disrespectful — to stop him. Octavian stepped inside, closely followed by Meepo, and flattened himself against the far wall. Calcryx hissed on seeing both. “Koboldssss,” it said hungrily, jaws open. Octavian sheltered Meepo as best he could.

Octavian immediately recognised that Calcryx was transitioning from wyrmling to young dragon, its skin shedding and wings strengthening. This was worse than he feared - even a young dragon could destroy everyone with ease.

“You are massive and gorgeous,” Eearwaxx tried again, his praise genuine.

“And you are not,” Calcryx hissed, “Bring them all here.”. Eearwaxx waved everyone inside enthusiastically, “Come in, come in!”

Arlington didn’t move, nor Jankx and Morgan, who took on the role of translator for the non-draconic speakers outside. “It wants us to come inside,” he whispered.

“Smarter than us…” Arlington shook his head and mumbled.

Inside Octavian stepped forward, flexing his own wings. “Calcryx. You can see that I am of your tribe.”

“A powerful kobold, but a kobold no lessss.”

“True.”

“And you will worssship me.”

Octavian shook his head vehemently. “I will not worship you. My father is much greater than you.”

Calcryx breathed out another frozen plume. “And who might your father be, half-blood?”

“Voaraghamanthar. It will do you well to heed his name, young-wrym,” Octavian growled.

Calcryx’s reaction was unreadable, so Octavian pressed on. “What do you wish? The kobolds wish you back to worship you. Is that your wish? Or would you rather be free?”

“The koboldsss caged me, and now I am free.”

“So you wish to leave?”

“This will become my lair, there is no need to leave. My halls will be filled with tribute and hordes. The kobolds will serve my every whim, will worship me. You will worssship me. And that one I will eat,” Calcryx hissed, glaring at Meepo.

Octavian was surprised for a moment, but it also made sense. A ready made lair with a brace of ready servants in Yusdrayl’s tribe. “You will not eat him. He will return to his people and tell them you will accept their worship,” Octavian explained. “And we will leave.”

Calcryx flexed its wings again. “And what will you give me for your freedom?”

Octavian narrowed his eyes, anger simmering. “Calcryx. You open yourself to harm. My friends are elite hunters and warriors, as you can see,” Octavian growled, spreading his own wings in challenging response. “I am not someone to suffer fools! I am giving you what you want — but if you want to die, you will die!”

Calcryx reared up to its full height, spreading its wings to full scale and looming over Eearwaxx and Tarquin. “I will not be the one dying,” it hissed.

Eearwaxx stepped forward, reaching out in wonder to try and touch the wings. Calcryx spun its head to focus on the tiny wizard. “Sssstand away!”

“Eearwaxx! Step away,” Octavian shouted, and Eearwaxx obeyed. Octavian turned again to Calcryx. “Be smart.”

Morgan was hurridly relaying the escalating tension inside. “It’s all about to go south very quickly,” he warned. Octavian’s bravery impressed him, but he wasn’t sure it was the wisest course of action.

“Gentlemen,” Arlington announced, “We should…leave.” Morgan raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Octavian heard the order. “We will leave. You will have this lair, and I will tell the kobolds to worship you. That’s a good deal — you are very smart and you must know that. No more cages.”

Calcryx settled back onto its haunches. “Return with their leader and I will consider it. Else nothing. And you leave that one with me,” it said eyeing Meepo.

“Let’s just leave!” Arlington called from the hall. He was, frankly, terrified. “I don’t care, we’ll bring them and then we are out of here!”

“Only if you will give your word not to harm him. Your word!” Octavian demanded. He knew he was skating on thin ice, but Calcryx was still half-wyrmling and strength was perhaps the only thing it would respect at this young age.

Calcryx nodded slowly. “Once the leader returnssss.”

Tarquin had waited patiently, hearing only the snatches Morgan translated, and he sensed his opportunity now. “Octavian, ask it who its father is.”

Octavian passed on the request and translated the replies, and Calcryx swung its gaze to the bard. “I do not know my father.”

“Your mother then,*” Tarquin asked.

“What is your interest in my mother, human?”

“I thought bloodlines were important.”

“Do you know of her?”

Octavian continued translating, but glared at Tarquin as he did. ‘We were out’, his eyes said but Tarquin wasn’t ready to leave. “There are stories,” he said with a wry smile. He knew the name but wasn’t about to give it up so easily.

Calcryx shook its head again, looming higher again. “Why do you ask.”

“I am a teller of stories.”

“And what story do you bring me?” Calcryx said leaning down low and coating Tarquin with ice-cold breath.

“I am a teller, not a writer. What story do you have for me? Are you of that great dragon?”

“I am, if we talk of the same great dragon.”

“And what is her name?”

Tarquin thought Calcryx almost grinned — it was enjoying this game. “You tell me, small one.”

“Ah. I only hear but whispers. You are her offspring!”

“I am, and if you would have her name from me, I must have it first from you. A storyteller surely knows the value of namessss.”

“If you will not divulge it, I will leave.”

“It seems we are at an impasse then.”

“And your story remains small. Held within these four walls, but travelling no further,” Tarquin grinned, bowing.

“My story will become legend. It is your story that will be nothing.”

Morgan ferried on the debate as best he could. “They’re arguing about the name of the mother — Tarquin makes out like he knows, but the dragon won’t tell him the name — I think Tarquin is posturing?”

Morgan’s earlier high-moral stance had rapidly faded the more he heard Calcryx talk. He turned again to Arlington and Jankx. “I’ve changed my opinion. The tone of this dragon is… have you ever met the child of a local lord? And the lord is an asshole, and the kid is bred to follow in those footsteps? That’s what this dragon is like when it talks to Octavian. An asshole. And it’s going to grow up to be that too,” he frowned. “The heroic thing to do is not let it grow up.”

“It will be destroying a lot of towns in the future,” Jankx nodded.

“So there’s one question here,” Arlington said. “Is it talking above it’s station?”

“Not as far as it’s concerned.”

“Can we take it?” Arlington asked simply.

Morgan hesitated. “It’s big. Big as a horse.”

“But it’s a bad dragon, right?” Arlington demanded, proffering his crossbow.

Jankx nodded — this was a sensible question — and glanced over at Morgan. Morgan returned the look and slowly nodded, quietly drawing his sword. Tarquin glanced over his shoulder and caught Arlington’s eye as the hunter raised his crossbow in readiness. Octavian groaned as he saw Tarquin’s stance change to battle-ready. This can’t be happening, they can’t be that stupid…

Meepo sensed what was happening and quickly stepped out from his shelter, catching Octavian by surprise. Meepo stood up to his full height and spoke. “I hear what Calcryx say. I will be hostage. Calcryx will not hurt Meepo.”

This time Calcryx really did smile. A hungry smile. “Lisssten to Meepo.”

“I don’t give a damn about the kobolds,” Arlington snarled. He lined up Calcryx and fired. The bolt shot through the open doorway and thudded harmlessly into the table.

“My firssst trophiesss,” Calcryx hissed with delight. “You are foolsss!”

Meepo screamed in distress and leapt across the room toward the dragonling. He pulled out his dragon-collar and tried to loop it around Calcryx’s head, but it was far too small. But his aim was true, and he managed to wrap it around the claw instead, only to be flung into the wall behind as Calcryx batted him away.

The wyrmling reared up again and took a deep breath before unleashing a storm of frozen ice into the room. It thundered into Octavian, hurling him back against the wall and icing him in place. Eearwaxx and Tarquin staggered back, the wizard taking the brunt of the blow and falling into the doorway, whilst Tarquin managed to half-shelter behind a shattered table. Only Meepo was spared.

“Stop! Stop!!” Meepo cried in terror, pleading with Calcryx. “They friend!”

Tarquin shook off the ice that clung to his clothing. He saw Eearwaxx sprawled on the floor and grabbed him and hauled him through the doorway. He looked with distress at Octavian who looked close to death, and spoke a quick spell of inspiration to hopefully keep him standing until help could arrive.

Morgan saw Tarquin and Eearwaxx stumble out of the lair, both covered in frost and badly wounded. He didn’t hesitate, nodding at Jankx and rolling into the fray. He stepped past the half-frozen Octavian and bounded atop the table behind which Calcryx stood. Morgan swung his massive blade and crashed it hard into the dragon’s flank, ripping open a wound that bled ice-blood.

Eearwaxx clawed his way back to the doorway — his friends were inside and needed help, much as he didn’t want to hurt Calcryx. He mumbled a few words of power and a bolt of witch-lightning arced across the room and flashed up the broken table toward Calcryx. The dragon reared back but barely seemed touched.

“Why are the spellcasters at the front?!” Arlington screamed, cursing his faulty aim. He reloaded his weapon and fired again, this time shooting true. The bolt ripped through the fleshy wing drawing a cry of anger from the dragonling.

Jankx slid quickly into the room after Arlington’s shot, keeping his distance. He pulled out the bottle of fire-liquid Eearwaxx had collected earlier and popped the stopper off. He hesitated for a tiny moment — but what was life if not for taking risks? He glugged the searing liquid down in one swallow.

For a moment there was nothing, just the heat of fire-water. Then Jankx felt something erupting inside his mouth. He opened wide and a river of flame shot across the room and exploded into Calcryx. The dragon writhed under the burning assault, screeching in pain as magical fire met dragon-ice.

Jankx was astonished. He closed his mouth to seal the flames and regather his equilibrium — it wasn’t every day your breath was fire.

Octavian felt the heat from Jankx’s roar, and the surge of strength Tarquin’s urgent rhyme had granted. Despite being more dead than alive, he wrenched himself free of the frost and ice and crashed his staff into the ground. “I am the dragon!!!” he roared.

A blinding beam of radiance seared into Calcryx, merging with the flames into an explosion of light. The wyrmling’s wings were ablaze and its body rent. The dragon’s eyes darted over to Octavian in terror and surprise.

Meepo continued his screams, begging for mercy for Calcryx now. He jumped onto the dragon trying to protect it from further blows, knowing it could not survive another round of relentless assault.

Calcryx shook Meepo off and retreated to the far corner of the room, batting the flames away. It shuddered and twisted it’s neck in agony as it panted — but didn’t lift its head in anger. It turned to Octavian.

“Arveiaturace. Arveiaturace was my mother. Do not kill me.”

Octavian didn’t move. Morgan stood with his blade raised, hands shaking with barely controlled strength. His eyes, normally blue, glowed gold — the colour of Ezra’s, Jankx realised with a jolt.

“You have bested me. With your next blow I will fall. Let me live and I will be in your debt. One favour I will grant.”

Octavian stared at Calcryx, now pitiful where before it had been majestic.

“You are of my race. Let me live,” the dragon repeated. Meepo dropped to Calcryx’s side, weeping and trying to tend to the wounds. This time Calcryx allowed it.

Octavian let out a long breath. “Cease action,” he said quietly.

Morgan had stopped translating, no longer interested in saving the beast. But Eearwaxx understood and repeated what had happened. “Don’t hurt it. It is over.”

“It has surrendered,” Octavian confirmed.

“Surrendered?” Tarquin scoffed. “On what terms? One more blow and it is ours.” He pulled his rapier free and pointed it toward the dragon.

“Arveiaturace,” Calcryx breathed again, looking to Tarquin. Tarquin recognised the name immediately. Finally. He lowered his rapier. “What did it say?”

“Calcryx will surrender. And offer us a boon,” Octavian explained.

“You may summon me, but once, you understand, and when you do I will come.”

Octavian relayed the parlay. Tarquin nodded his agreement and sheathed his blade.

“That sounds like a deal we should take,” Jankx agreed, orange flames licking around his lips. Tarquin put his hand out to quell Morgan, who slowly lowered his weapon, the fire in his eyes settling back to deep blue. “Lucky,” he spat at Calcryx.

“I underestimated you,” the dragon conceded.

Calcryx turned to Octavian. “You are of the black dragons. I understand now. You are truly a powerful one. Thank you for sparing me.” Meepo smiled again on hearing Calcryx praise his master. Octavian bowed, grabbed Meepo, and walked out of the room.

Calcryx indicated to a small pile of treasures it had gathered. “Take the hollow-tooth whistle, and when you blow on it I will hear.”

“We will hold you to this, Calcryx,” Tarquin warned as he threaded the whistle to a leather thread and slipped it over his head.

“Your story begins now, it would seem.”

“Indeed. We have a story after all — we just don’t know it ends,” Tarquin said with a flourish, turning to Arlington. “I think our work here is done?”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Arlington said, relighting his pipe. “Make sure you write this one down — how we defeated the white wyrm.”

“I won’t need to embellish,” Tarquin laughed, clapping Arlington on the shoulder.

---

Eearwaxx lingered behind as everyone left. He walked over to the recovering dragon. His shoulders were slumped as he removed his horse-hair beard, revealing the very young face of a thirteen year-old boy to the dragon. Slowly he started to speak.

“You and I are both a bit young right now I guess… I am sorry, I hoped we could be good friends… I don’t have any left alive anymore and you are a dragon after all,” Eearwaxx whispered sadly. He took a deep breath and continued.

“I think It will get better… You are growing up fast — faster than I am. I think… I am really sorry we fought. Feels a bit silly now and I hope it gets better for you. The Kobolds don’t seem that bad? Maybe treat them nice when you are bigger. At least you won’t be lonely. I think they really like you. Good luck.”

Earwaxx, hesitantly at first, tentatively, ever so gently, reached out and stroked the dragon’s scaly flesh carefully, in a reassuring manner. His look was one of genuine kindness, a small boy helping a friend.

Calcryx, wounded, shrunken, yet still majestic — a dragon, a living, breathing dragon — focused its ice-blue eyes on Eearwaxx, who thought those eyes softened as it spoke, before the cold returned.

“Do not fear. Our paths will crossss again. And you will find your way, wizard.”

Hearing that final word Eearwaxx felt something settle inside. Wizard. Yes.

He straightened up, pushed his shoulders back, adjusted his beard and resumed his abnormally tall posture. He sighed and quietly walked away to join his companions.

---

“Our first dragon defeated!” Tarquin said, regaling everyone with a recount of the battle.

“Defeated is a little strong — can we settle on ‘bested’?” Arlington countered, ever the voice of reason amongst his rather more inexperienced troupe.

“I think we got a good deal out of this,” Tarquin added, brandishing Calcryx’s whistle. “That dragon is only going to get bigger.”

“Scarily big,” Jankx muttered.

“I agree,” Arlington nodded, then turned to Octavian. “Historically, what’s the — I’m not sure what the word is — what’s the ‘adherence to promises’ of dragons like?”

Octavian went to answer but Tarquin cut in. “I think we will find that this is a binding term that has been set down. And if not — we will come back here and best him a second time,” he grinned. “From the stories I know of dragons they are more than men. They are creatures of their word — though we may have to be careful next time we come down here.”

“That sounds familiar,” Arlington said thoughtfully. “Can I put it quietly to everyone that this dragon couldn’t get out of that room when the door was locked. And we have the key. So why don’t we just—”

“Lock it,” Morgan finished.

“For the moment,” Tarquin agreed.

Eearwaxx disagreed, shaking his head as he recovered from his wounds. “He gave us his word. He’s fine. Leave him to be free.”

“I agree with the boy,” Octavian said, “He will not break that vow.”

“That vow doesn’t necessarily preclude him mowing us down, but he won’t be mowing us down now. When we make a call on this dragon, we must be careful how we word our request,” Tarquin said. “We set it one task and then it turns around and exacts it’s revenge.”

“Given that this promise is such a great boon to us, let’s not forget that it is grievously wounded,” Arlington explained patiently, “We don’t want anyone going in there right now.”

“Actually I think the hunter has a point,” Tarquin nodded respectfully. He hadn’t considered a stray goblin accidentally killing the prize. “I think we might need to lock the door.”

“Don’t lock him in! The kobolds will look after it,” Eearwaxx suggested quietly. “Meepo will bring them.”

“Just close the door,” Octavian added.

Meepo nodded sagely. “Do not lock, we cannot open. Calcryx will need food, but we will bring.”

“Why don’t we just give the key to Meepo?” Arlington suggested.

“A nice idea, but I think it would be a grand gesture to give it to Yusdrayl. That way we gain sway with them for very little cost. We’ve made a deal with the dragon anyway, so we get a win-win-win.”

“What about the key on Yusdrayl’s throne?” Eearwaxx asked. “Should we trade for that?”

“We this it’s for the undead dragon-priest tomb,” Octavian said. “So we’ve already been there.”

“Why don’t we ask her?”

“They won’t like that,” Morgan said quietly. “They think it’s a sacred place, and if they find out we’ve been there…”

“Well let’s not tell them,” Arlington offered.

“If they ever decide to go in they are going to know.”

“What place you been?” Meepo asked.

“Around the dungeon,” Octavian explained. “Nowhere special.”

Eearwaxx knelt down to address Meepo. “What does that key with your leader open?”

“It open dragon-tomb, full of treasure vaults!” Meepo whispered conspiratorially. “I tell you, but I not tell — Yusdrayl angry at Meepo if know I tell.”

“We understand,” Octavian smiled.

“Let’s give Meepo the key and escort him back,” Tarquin said.

“It make him a bit of hero too,” Jankx said approvingly. He pulled the silvered key from his pocket and presented it to Meepo with a small bow.

Meepo’s eyes were wide as he took the treasure. “Meepo honour key. Meepo keep key safe.”

“Meepo. The dragon…can you speak… do you understand me, Meepo?” Arlington demanded patronisingly.

“I know, yes. You speak?”

“The dragon is grievously wounded,” Arlington continued. “If we leave here, goblins might come back and kill it.”

“No! We kill goblin!”

“Ahhhh, no all of them.”

“We kill then!”

“I have no opinion here, I don’t care about it’s safety, but I’m just saying if you want to keep it safe you might want to lock the door.”

Tarquin put his hand on Meepo’s shoulder and looked him square in the eye. “You are the keeper of the dragon.” Meepo looked at Tarquin with great seriousness and Tarquin bowed on one knee.

“It’s your decision,” Arlington added.

Octavian rolled his eyes and turned to Meepo, speaking quickly in draconic-kobold. “Lock the door. We’re going to take you back and you can show the key to the Queen. And then you can give this as tribute to her, to show you have control of the dragon again. And this part of the dungeon! No more goblins.”

Meepo nodded once and turned back to Arlington, glancing for confirmation from Octavian as he spoke. “Meepo decide. Meepo lock door. Meepo take key to Yusdrayl.”

“Good work, mighty keeper of the dragon!” Tarquin beamed.

“And keeper of key!” Meepo beamed.

“You are a world class mind-fucker my friend,” Arlington whispered to Tarquin approvingly.

---

After dragging a few dead goblins in for Calcryx to devour, Meepo locked the door and prepared to lead everyone back to Yusdrayl.

“Now that we’ve done whatever this is,” Arlington said waving his hands toward Calcryx. “Are we venturing down that hole?”

“We have to go back to Yusdrayl first,” Octavian said, standing.

“Do we?” Arlington groaned. “For why?”

“Yes. Look, Arlington, if you could please think through this process. We only get favours from these people for future effect, possibly. So let’s just do it. Then we come back and look into the hole. It will only take half an hour.”

“I have never in my life spent half an hour procuring favours from a kobold,” Arlington spat disdainfully. “But! You are wise in the ways of these…folk. So, alright.”

Meepo followed the path back unerringly. Arlington noted a few untaken corridors and unopened door for future exploration.

Yusdrayl stood from her throne with a look of surprise as Meepo entered the dragon-hall and prostrate himself before her. She turned to Octavian. “Welcome, Octavian. What news do you bring of Calcryx?”

“We are victorious. As we promised we have defeated the goblins. Their territory you can now take. And we have recaptured the dragon. It is safe, for now, in its lair, and you can take care of it and worship it as you wish.”

Yusdrayl was flabbergasted, and momentarily lost for words. She quickly regained her composure. “You have routed the goblins?”

“And the hobgoblins. We have killed them all.”

“Great Octavian has done what he say,” Meepo confirmed. “All goblins—most goblins are dead. And big goblins dead. This place now yours! We have claimed!”

“And Meepo is now the keeper of the dragon key,” Octavian added. “Show them, Meepo!”

Meepo held the silver key aloft, like a sacred offering.

“This is the key to the lair of the dragon!” Octavian boomed, turning to the room. “Everyone listen! Meepo is the dragon-keeper and key-keeper!!” The guards in the room frowned slightly, then looked down quickly as Octavian glared.

“And where can I find Calcryx?” Yusdrayl asked.

“Meepo will lead you, for he is the keeper,” Octavian said.

“It is simple to get there,” Arlington interrupted. “You go left, you go left, left, right, go up two, then left, then right, then left and left, left, right, right, left, right, then—”

“—then watch out for the hole, then left, left,” Tarquin finished with a laugh.

Meepo looked stunned. “Yes. I will lead!”

Yusdrayl’s eyes shone. “I find it hard to believe but I trust you speak the truth. We can finally establish our empire here, safely. This is something I had only dared dream.”

“Well you had never met Octavian!” Octavian said in all seriousness.

“No I have not,” Yusdrayl smiled attractively. “We will honour you, and our great hall will bear your name, as promised, mighty Octavian.”

Octavian bowed his head in thanks, then addressed her in rapid kobold-draconic. “One of the things I do ask, Queen Yusdrayl, is that you use your networks, spread the word in the Underdark that it was us who helped you. That it was Octavian Malleus Orichalcum who came and conquered.”

“Yes. Octavian and his minions.”

“No. They are not my minions, they are not below me. They are my compatriots.”

“You may say that but I know they are. In my heart I know. I will reward you with more than a mere hall, Octavian. If you wish to mate — I am here,” Yusdrayl said, eyes burning with hunger.

Octavian didn’t hesitate. “Unfortunately I am not of age yet to do that. I am under an obligation — my father’s.”

“You look of age,” Yusdrayl breathed huskily.

“Yes. Well. Should I say there are politics at work,” Octavian apologised a little uncomfortably.

Yusdrayl looked disappointed. “Should you change your mind — or your politics — I will be here. Waiting for you.”

Octavian bowed low as Yusdrayl turned to the room. “All hail, mighty Octavian, goblin-slayer and dragon-warrior!” The guards knelt this time, raising their spears in tribute.

“I thank you, Queen Yusdrayl. You should know there is one more task we will undertake — a shaft leading down to a lower level that we will check to make sure you don’t get any surprises.”

“Or unwanted guests,” Arlington added. He was impressed at Octavian’s presentation to the ‘Queen’, but so far had heard nothing of the so-called favours they could offer.

As if on cue, Yusdrayl spoke. “You have done much for us — is there now anything we can do for you?” Yusdrayl offered gracefully.

“Arlington? Is there anything you ask of the Queen?” Octavian said.

Arlington nodded slowly. “Several. Firstly — the goblins that left, I assume they didn’t come through here. So which way did they go? How did they get past here without drawing Kobold attention? Because the way we came in requires flying up thirty-feet. Not something a goblin can usually do.”

“Right. So there’s another exit somewhere. I will need to phrase this carefully,” Octavian pondered briefly. “Yusdrayl — we need to investigate the well-hole, but after that we would like to leave. Leave you to rule. Where would we go to get out?”

“We come and go via the Underdark.”

“Do you think the Goblins used the same path?”

“Not ours. Perhaps they use this ‘hole’ you talk of?”

Octavian agreed, but shook his head to Arlington and the others. They didn’t leave that way, that much was clear.

“Another question then,” Arlington said. “The great white wyrm from twixt Calcryx was birthed. Where does this creature reside?”

“You speak of Arveiaturace.”

“Indeed I do,” Arlington bluffed, glancing at Tarquin who nodded keenly.

“She makes many lairs here in the frozen North. Above ground, she does not lair below. There is not one place you will find her. Many see her flying high, with her rider.”

“Her rider?”

“Yes, for she is bound to him. And him to her.”

Octavian was surprised at this revelation. Dragons may partner with other powerful beings, but normally not for long — their powers rarely match well enough for a life-bond.

“Do you know the name of this rider?” Arlington probed.

“I do not.”

“Do you know anything about this rider?”

“Our tales say that he was a great wizard. But that is all we know.”

The phrase ‘great wizard’ drew everyone’s eyes to Eearwaxx who stood mesmerised by this tale.

“Spend enough time here and you will see her too,” Yusdrayl promised.

Arlington was stumped. He had spent ‘enough’ time here — over six months! — but had never heard of this ‘Arveiaturace’. Nor any dragon now that he considered it. Just the cold and mooses. Surely any dragon in this environment would hunt humans, not avoid them. “Right. So. Octavian — you showed them the drawings in the dirt that amazed Meepo, is there any chance any of these other folk are familiar with maps? At all?”

“I doubt it but I will see. You want the information to?”

“These various lairs that she speaks of.”

Octavian nodded and spoke in kobold-draconic to Yusdrayl. “He would like to know a map to one of the lairs — maybe where you got the eggs from — so that he can see this incredible beast.”

“We know of one which Arveiaturace is said to frequent. In the Sea of Moving Ice.”

Octavian started sketching a map on the floor. “This is Ten-Towns, and here are we. Where is this lair?”

Meepo watched closely as Octavian drew. He pointed to the map. “Ten-Towns? And Meepo?” Octavian nodded. Meepo beamed, then pointed to the north-west of the Towns. “Sea here! Meepo understand map!”

Octavian turned back to Yusdrayl who nodded. “The lair is in the sea here,” Octavian explained to his gathered companions.

“I should warn you that if you do seek the great white wyrm, she in an ancient one. You will not survive,” Yusdrayl said in common.

“See this wooden leg!” Arlington cried in a sudden outburst, raising his non-wooden leg. “I will have my revenge!” Calming down quickly, Arlington glared at Octavian. “Ask her where they found the egg that hatched Calcryx.”

Octavian knew this was a bad question to ask. The kobolds would never divulge that secret if they could help it. He sighed and spoke quickly in kobold-draconic. “The big one wants to know where you got the egg. I have already signalled that would be not information that you would give. And I will now tell him that.”

“He oversteps his mark,” Yusdrayl confirmed shaking her head.

Octavian turned back to Arlington. “She won’t give that information because her whole tribe depends on that knowledge. She’s given you the dragon, be satisfied with that.”

“In what way does the tribe depend on that?” Arlington said, huffing up again.

“What?! That information would be so valuable in the Underdark!”

“These are the people that promised us great treasure,” Arlington steamed, “In return for securing their dragon. And they have given us so far—”

“Okay! I get it!” Octavian turned and spoke to Yusdrayl again in kobold-draconic. “Arlington makes the claim — rightfully so — that he was promised a great treasure, and he has only asked for information. So I think you’re going to have to make good, since he — or we — have given you this entire lair.”

Yusdrayl leant back. “I do not recall promising ‘great treasure’,” she said archly.

Octavian sighed. “Didn’t you imply that there was another hidden area?” he said, playing dumb.

Yusdrayl glared at Meepo who put his hands above his head. “It not me! I not tell!”

Octavian saw what was happening. “No, no, Meepo has told us nothing. You know Meepo! I have worked this out myself.”

“I understand what you are asking,” Yusdrayl said in common, “And I acknowledge that you are owed something”. She turned and walked back to the throne, taking the large steel key from the carved dragon’s mouth. “This will lead you to great treasure,” she said dropping it in Octavian’s hand.

Octavian turned back to Arlington and thrust the key toward him. “You idiot. We’re getting something we already had, but losing anything else we might have negotiated,” he hissed.

“How is that my fault?!” Arlington accused.

“I do not give this lightly,” Yusdrayl said to Arlington. “This opens the entrance to the dragon-priests tomb. None have broken that seal for time immemorial!”

Octavian thought quickly. He spun around back to the Queen. “Queen Yusdrayl! This is too great a boon,” he said proffering the key. “I return it to you. They are not worthy. We shall leave now.”

“I am confused. But I accept your offer,” Yusdrayl said, taking the key. Octavian smiled weakly and turned to Arlington: time to go.

Arlington laughed, mock bowed to Yusdrayl, and walked away, whispering to Octavian as he did. “I wonder if your skills will be as useful when we are not dealing with kobolds.”

“Yes, that will be interesting,” Octavian answered earnestly, ignoring Arlington’s sceptical tone. He felt a tug at his sleeve and turned to find Meepo looking earnestly at him.

“Meepo come with Octavian. Meepo learn more from Octavian great wisdom. Maps, not kill goblins, save dragons, give back treasure key. Meepo watch and learn.”

Octavian grimaced. “Meepo! You will not survive out there. You are a bit stupid — just take care of the dragon.”

Meepo looked crestfallen. Arlington took pity. “Meepo. If you sacrificed you life now, how will you ever become the next great dragon…rider?”

“That’s a really important and good question,” Jankx added. Tarquin leant back against the wall listening with amusement.

Meepo’s eyes went wide. “Dragon rider?”

Octavian caught on. “That’s how it happens. You take care of the dragon, you become the rider!”

Arlington turned to his bard. “Note this down.”

“Oh I am,” Tarquin grinned.

“But Meepo not mighty wizard?”

“Not yet,” Arlington teased. “The first thing you need to do is gain the trust of the dragon.” Meepo looked wide eyed up at the great hunter and nodded.

“Meepo,” Octavian said taking pity. “Your best job now is to care for Calcryx. He likes you now. Feed it, let it grow, it will love that. The problem is if you come with me, as you can see this is a hard life. You’ve got to be thinking quickly, I don’t know if you’re…built for it.”

Meepo slumped again. “Octavian not want Meepo?”

“It’s not that. I don’t want you to get hurt following me,” Octavian said kindly.

“Meepo not hurt! Octavian hurt. Small boy hurt!” Meepo said looking to Eearwaxx who scowled.

“That’s the problem Meepo. I got hurt to defeat the dragon — that’s what great people do!” Octavian cried. “You hurt it a little bit but did nothing!”

“Meepo try save dragon! Meepo not hurt dragon, dragon not hurt Meepo!”

Octavian was defeated. “Very well. If you want to come with us you can. I have no problem, but I am worried for you.”

“Meepo come with!”

“Okay. You tell the Queen, then come.”

Meepo paused. “I show Yusdrayl way, then meet Octavian.”

“Good. Meet us at the hole. Now go!”

“Who will feed the dragon is not you!” Arlington cried to Meepo’s departing form.

“Arlington, it’s okay,” Tarquin said loudly. “If he doesn’t want to be the dragon-rider, that’s his choice.”

Meepo skidded to a halt. “Meepo can’t be dragon-rider?”

“That’s your destiny son!” Arlington emphasised.

Meepo started grabbing his ears and head, struggling with indecision. “What do, what do??”

“How old are you Meepo?”

“Young old. Still grow Meepo. Not old like you old.”

Arlington nodded. “I say we take him with us! He can’t be the dragon-rider until he is of age.”

“Go on Meepo, we will see you at the hole,” Octavian ordered, and Meepo finally departed.

---

Arlington pulled everyone up at the second to last — or was it third — left turn. Ahead lay the lone corridor that he had earmarked for further exploration. “I want you to know that I have been listening to some of you who are more, ah, adept at this process. And I feel that we should perhaps not leave these unknown places behind.”

“These stones unturned?” Tarquin smirked.

Morgan led Jankx up the corridor. Each of the six doors ahead were slightly ajar. The nearest room was empty, but had obviously been used as a nest or lair for rodents. “Large rats,” Morgan suggested smelling the unmistakable scent. As he said that he heard the sound of scuttling from the room opposite. He hauled the door open and a giant rat leapt on him, quickly joined by three more who scuttled out of the other rooms.

The fight was short and sharp this time — no trap to fall into, and significantly more combat prowess on show. The rats barely got started before they all lay slaughtered. Arlington pinged one, shooting through the crowded corridor fearlessly (Jankx noted with slight discomfort as the bolt whispered past his head), Morgan beheaded another by ripping it apart with his bare hands, and Eearwaxx burnt another to a crisp. “Killed it!” he cried.

Morgan continued up the corridor. An open door at the northern end let to a room with a cobblestone floor which contains two trapdoors chocked open by iron spikes. The north wall held a dry fountain carved with an overarching diving dragon. A faint rotten stench pervaded the room, worse than the rat-rooms to the south.

Jankx studied the pitons, noting they were human-sized, evidently pre-dating the goblin and kobold occupation. Morgan traced the stench to the pit-trap and door on the west side of the room. The pit was empty, but the smell was obviously coming from behind the closed door. “There’s something dead behind this door,” he reported.

“Dead dead?” Octavian asked, thinking of undead.

“Dead.”

Jankx reinforced the chocks on the trap so the door could be safely opened. “More rats,” he said as he listened closely. Arlington wound his crossbow as Morgan prepared to open the door.

“Before we open it, check the fountain,” Arlington ordered.

Eearwaxx moved to the fountain and looked carefully, noting the similarity to the one where he had collected the fire-potion. Octavian immediately saw that too. “Boy, can you mend the fountain? See if it has similar writing?”

Eearwaxx ignored the insult. Octavian sighed and corrected himself. “I mean, old man.”

“That’s better,” Eearwaxx mumbled. “You can call me wizard.”

“Wizard! Can you mend the fountain?”

Eearwaxx did so, cleansing it to a gleam and revealing another draconic phrase. This time he was careful not to speak it: “Let there be death”

“Oh. Be very careful if you can speak draconic!” Octavian warned. “It has a phrase, and I’m scared that all the dead people in that room might have said it. Poisoned in some way.”

“Well let’s just not say it and open the door,” Arlington suggested.

Tarquin spoke emboldening words for Morgan. “Whispers in the wind, take the sword and strike. A clean death ensues.” Morgan nodded and pulled the door open.

An oppressive smell suffused the air, rising from chewed carcasses of cave rats, smaller vermin, and a few humanoid-looking creatures. The bodies lay upon a floor of filth, old bones, hair, and fur that combine to make a particularly large and vile nest. Perched atop was a monstrously swollen female rat, obviously diseased and suckling dozens of smaller rats.

The giant rat reared up, tossing off the sucklings, revealing rotting boils and bloated maggot-infested flesh. Giant guard-rats leapt forward toward Morgan who charged into the room. He flung the rat away with a fist and plunged his blade into another. Arlington’s bolt crashed into the mother-rat, releasing a spurt of fetid green-blood. Tarquin followed the shot in to finish another off with a sweet rapier stab. Eearwaxx killed another with more flame, and smell of burning rat-flesh almost preferable to the rooms other odour.

Octavian lined up the queen-rat with a guiding bolt, thumping his staff into the floor. A beam of radiant light flew across the room and exploded the bulbous lumbering rat, covering Morgan and Tarquin with gobs of rotten flesh and dripping pus. Hundreds of small rats streamed out of the room, skittering in terror and vanishing down the hall or into the pits.

Tarquin quickly got his water-skin out and did his best to remove the stinking remains. Morgan seemed unperturbed as he started rustling through the pile of refuse. Jankx noted that the young warrior appeared to have no problem at all with the gore — decomposed bodies and rot that was causing Tarquin to retch had no effect on Morgan.

Tarquin found a half-eaten human body amongst the filth, from which he recovered a gold-ring from a half eaten finger (‘easier to remove’, Tarquin quipped to Morgan), and the satchel the dead man wore contained some healing potion. Morgan collected half-a-hundred worth of coin and gems.

Arlington turned his back on the scene — this kind of kill was far beneath him and not worthy of consideration. “This room has confirmed my prejudices against such endeavours. This is appalling and not gentlemanly in any way whatsoever,” he decreed.

“God’s sake! It’s treasure!” Tarquin quipped raising an eyebrow and echoing Arlington’s declaration from the dragon-priest ‘haul’.

“And what was the number?!”

“Fifty! I understand that you had greater expectations for what was coming out of the south, but we all know what happened there…”

“I think it was closer to seventy,” Morgan corrected. “There were seventeen gold pieces in a pouch.”

Arlington grimaced. “None-the-less this is beneath us all, gentlemen. Now. About this fountain,” he said, standing well back and pointing. Tarquin followed suit then called to Eearwaxx. “Say it!”

“If you’re going to say it, everyone should leave the room,” Octavian suggested.

“Please get on,” Arlington sighed. “Eearwaxx you are far too hurt, get out of the room.”

Morgan lent over to Jankx. “Am I wrong, or last time someone said something didn’t that fire-breathing potion just pour out of the fountain? So why is everyone so scared of what’s going to happen to this one?”

“Because of the word ‘death’,” Jankx said matter-of-factly.

“Don’t let that stop you young man,” Arlington called, leaning on the giant-rat door. Morgan nodded, turned to the font, and spoke the words: “Let there be death”

A poison mist sprayed forth from the dragon’s mouth, engulfing all but the periphery of the room in danger. As luck would have it, everyone was out of harms way, including Morgan who quick-footed his way back to the corridor. Arlington could have followed but instead panicked — or made a strategic retreat — and stepped back into the nest-room.

“Cowards!” Arlington’s strangled voice cried.

Tarquin said a small prayer for Arlington. Octavian rolled his eyes and muttered a quick cantrip and the deadly gas swept over the room and sunk into one of the exposed pits. “You can come out now Arlington,” Octavian called.

The great hunter stepped out into the fountain-chamber and planted his hands on his hips. “What are you afraid of?!”

“Death!” Tarquin reminded from afar.

Arlington strode past with a determined look on his face. “So, that led no-where. Back to the hole,” he stated factually and took the first right.

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After a few more turns, Arlington flung open the last door to find Yusdrayl standing outside Calcryx’s chamber, looking concerned as Meepo stood by her side. She turned to Octavian. “Calcryx is badly wounded, Octavian. How did this happen? Was it the goblins?” she demanded.

“No. I had to bend the dragon to my will. It is now subdued, as you can see.”

“You did this?”

“And we have extracted—” Tarquin started.

“We don’t need to go into all the details of how I bested him,” Octavian hurriedly interrupted.

“You bested him, Octavian?” Yusdrayl asked, clearly impressed despite her concern.

“I did have support from my troop, but the dragon had to be wrested under control before it killed more. It nearly killed Meepo.” Meepo started to defend himself but Octavian hushed him with a frown.

“I see. Calcryx has told me as much. He has grown since we have held it.”

“And it will grow further.”

“And it wishes us to worship it,” Yusdrayl said carefully.

“As you should! All dragons should be worshipped.”

“I agree. And we shall. Calcryx shall become the totem around which we establish our power.”

“I think that is a good choice,” Octavian said firmly.

Arlington noted Yusdrayl’s guards weren’t showing any great deference to Meepo. “Meepo is not getting the respect he needs,” he muttered to Tarquin. “Perhaps a uniform and some headwear?”

“Look, I must admit this kobold etiquette is a little bit beyond me,” Tarquin agreed.

“I’m not familiar with it myself, I’m trying to adapt to it but Meepo needs to be respected.”

Yusdrayl glanced over at Arlington. “Meepo has atoned for his mistake in losing Calcryx—”

“And more I would imagine,” Octavian interrupted. “He has given you this whole lair.”

“Meepo has? Or you have, Octavian.”

“Well, Meepo helped me. Meepo was your representative — the Queen’s man on this mission,” Octavian almost growled, feeling the injustice as keenly as the humans.

“Meepo represented your clan well in the battles that went on here, battles that I will regale people with. He stood side-by-side with us as a hero. He showed no fear.”

“He is foremost amongst your warriors, without a doubt,” Arlington added. The guards shuffled their feet at this, but stood their ground.

Yusdrayl sighed. “Meepo. Step forward. You are promoted. You will stand by my side as the Dragon Master.”

Meepo was thrilled. “I, Meepo, offical Dragon Master,” he said with awe. “And I carer, not keeper, carer.”

Arlington smiled and put a hand on Meepo’s long snout. “And forget not your destiny.”

“Dragon-r—,” Meepo whispered before Arlington clamped his jaw shut.

“Meepo want go with friends,” the young kobold said to his queen. “To learn. To bring glory more to Yusdrayl. And then Meepo care for Calcryx.”

“Meepo my friend, you are at a crossroads,” Arlington said wisely, channelling the spirt of the the much-missed Baldur’s Gate oracle Madam Portencia, whom his mother used to consult with on a regular basis. Arlington himself had visited her once before her mysterious disappearance. He smiled fondly as he recalled her reading of his coffee-dregs (‘a great white moose!'), before snapping back to the present. “You can join us and grow in knowledge, or you can stay here and grow your bond with the dragon.”

Yusdrayl nodded. “It is your choice, Meepo. You stay and care for Calcryx as my general, or you leave — and you do not return. Your loyalties are tested.”

Meepo looked down at the ground, then over to Octavian. His eyes pleaded for help. “What Meepo do?” he whispered.

Octavian knelt down and placed his hands on Meepo’s shoulders. “Meepo. You have been selected by your Queen. You have been given a dragon to care for. How is this a decision!? If you come with me most likely you will not survive — most of these people will not survive,” he said indicating his motley companions. “They are not Octavian! You are not Octavian! Stay here!”

Meepo leapt into Octavian’s arms and gave an enormous hug and whispered, “Octavian visit Meepo?”. Octavian returned the embrace. “I am sure that you will hear of me in the Underdark. And if I can come back I will.” He then held Meepo away and nodded firmly. “Now take your place by your Queen.”

Meepo nodded and stepped bravely to stand tall by Yusdrayl’s side. “I thank,” he said turning to each of Arlington’s troupe.

“You will be the first amongst kobolds,” Arlington nodded. Octavian raised a scaly eyebrow.

“That’s a little strong, Arlington” Tarquin whispered with amusement as he bowed.

“This mind-fuckery is fun,” Arlington winked.

As Yusdrayl and her guards retreated to the well-room, Octavian called Meepo back. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a single gold piece. “Take this. Keep it for an emergency.” Meepo looked in wonder. “Octavian give great treasure.” Octavian nodded and demonstrated how to conceal the coin in Meepo’s sandle. He stood and placed his staff on Meepo’s shoulder. “Now go.”

Meepo nodded respectfully and turned to face his future.

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Sessions played: Feb 1, 8, 15, 22, Mar 8, 29, 2022