"You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve been coerced into lethal battles of wit. It’s given me the confidence to claim the title of ‘intellectual’, and the surname Witsbane.”
- Excerpt from Anecdotes of an Adventurous Acolyte, by Veigus Witsbane
Percy thanked his lucky stars that he didn’t have to stab his hand. The earlier cut was barely scabbed over so, with a wince, he tore it open again, tracing the same shape the kobold had made only moments ago.
“Why is magic always so self-sacrificey?”
And with that expert incantation, the arch of blood pulsed, and the shape filled with a vortex of blue. Percy stepped through. A cool sensation—like running through a sprinkler on a hot summer’s day—washed over him, and the heat of the volcano vanished instantly.
Now standing in the cool darkness, Percy exhaled, wiping away sweat he hadn’t realized had formed on his forehead. The gauntlet’s light diffused through the air, bouncing off the obsidian that poked out of the tunnel walls like jagged fangs.
The ground rumbled again, and an incredibly deep voice that shook Percy’s bones moaned down the corridor, “Five more years! Just five more years!”
Percy stumbled, falling forward toward a small gap in the wall near the floor. He peered into the gap, seeing the familiar glow of lava shining up. Heat flooded out of it, quickly drying his eyes. He pulled back, catching a glimpse of a hulking shape in a cavern deep beneath him. It slithered out of sight.
Dark caves and giant snakes? Percy thought, shivering. That combination is nothing but nightmare fuel.
He crept slowly down the tunnel, double-checking his footing to be sure he wouldn’t fall through a piece of open floor. He certainly didn’t want to interact with whatever was below him, no matter how cool of a monster it might be. Percy had been harshly reminded of his mortality when his barrier had broken after his fall.
I wonder if I can get any more of those, actually. He thought. They’ve already proven themselves to be extremely useful. He made a mental note, planning to look into that if he ever made it off of the magical island he was on… or even just out of the damn volcano.
The light from his gauntlet shone into pure darkness, the tunnel ahead completely absent of the obsidian teeth. It struck Percy as odd. He’d grown used to their presence in the tunnel, and now, all of a sudden, without any indication, they were gone?
He paused, his foot inches away from the sudden darkness. With a frown, Percy shone the gauntlet toward where the tunnel wall should be. But there was only black. Where before, he’d been able to see the rock that formed the tunnel around him with ease, suddenly, everything was cloaked in shadow. A shadow his gauntlet’s light couldn’t pierce.
The kobold had gone this way, right? The boy hadn’t seen any other passages for the creature to take along the way… unless it had fallen through one of the holes on the floor. And Percy wasn’t willing to do the same.
He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves. This was the only way forward, and he’d paid in blood to be here. He closed his eyes and stepped through into the darkness.
Cold washed over him, as though the shadow itself was manifesting around his body, and Percy gasped. Light and heat suddenly crashed against his eyelids, and he opened them, gasping again at what he saw. Having failed to properly breathe out between the two gasps, Percy devolved into a hacking fit as he tried to clear out the saliva he’d inhaled. He tripped, falling against the wall and knocking his tome from his waist.
The room seemed to be crafted entirely of obsidian, with massive shiny black pillars rising toward the darkness far above. Lava freely flowed from perfectly carved circular vents, splashing into a river that framed the space. Percy stood on a slippery black bridge that arced over it. The room filled with an overpowering chuckle, followed by a voice deeper than anything any human could ever produce.
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“And I thought my sleep had been interrupted by someone powerful.”
Percy gaped at the monster before him.
It sat in the center of the room, letting the lava that fell from above cascade over it, flowing across the iridescent copper scales that completely covered the reptilian body. Two large amber eyes gazed down at the boy, curiosity flaming within.
The book snapped open of its own accord, rapidly flipping through pages until it found the one it wanted, but Percy didn’t need the presented information to know what he was looking at.
“You-You’re a dragon!” the boy exclaimed, excitement overriding his fear. “A real dragon! Not a wyvern, or a wyrm, but a dragon! I mean, I knew there was magic and monsters and—but I never thought I’d see a dragon!”
The dragon sighed, steam trailing out of his nostrils. “Yes, I’m a real beast, I know, but I’d recommend keeping your distance. Those who fancy themselves as knights tend to perish horribly by my hand.”
Percy picked up the tome and read the entry.
#002: Silvaroth, Awoken Calamity
Number two? Percy thought. That’s the best ranking I’ve seen yet!
He wondered if the closer the number was to zero, the stronger the individual creature was. Or perhaps they’d simply been catalogued in an order. But the other one… Plumeria? She’d been number eleven, and Percy had witnessed the devastation she was capable of firsthand. He could only imagine what Silvaroth could do.
“Have you forgotten how to speak?” the dragon asked, a hint of humor in his voice. “I do seem to have that effect on humans. Well, if nothing else, you’ll make for a good snack.”
“You’re going to eat me?” Percy asked, edging back toward where he’d entered from. If Silvaroth was any stronger than Plumeria, he didn’t want to risk it. Especially when his only barrier was destroyed. He placed a hand against the wall behind him, trying to find the shadows he’d come through.
Silvaroth chuckled. “Oh, you won’t be leaving now, snack. That portal was only open so my minion could report to me.” He swung his head to his left, lava splashing toward a dark corner. With its fading glow, Percy saw the outline of the kobold he’d followed in. Silvaroth tilted his head. “Though I must admit, I’m surprised you managed to follow him.”
“And uh… why’s that?” Percy asked, trying to keep the dragon talking while he tried to figure out an escape plan. Slap the magic parchment onto the dragon? That was a good idea, if he wanted to get fried alive while moving toward the lava-drenched beast. Dragons have a wonderful ranged attack called breathing fire, after all.
The reptilian eyes glowed as Silvaroth’s mouth turned up into a smirk. “Well, you must’ve wounded yourself to open the portal in the first place. Not many mortals I knew would’ve been so willing to chase a kobold down a tunnel at the cost of their own flesh. Knights? Wizards? Perhaps. But a mere child? Never.”
Percy glanced around the room again. Unless he could swim in lava to get to one of those vents, he was out of ideas. “I’m, uh, not from around here.”
“Yes, I’d imagine. You smell… cleaner than most.”
“Really?” Percy asked, genuinely surprised. “I’ve been sweating, running, and falling since I woke up today. And I was bleeding, too.”
The dragon smirked again. “Yes, I picked up on that. But… it’s only fairly recent.” He stroked his chin with a clawed hand, an eerily human gesture for a monster to make. “You must be anywhere from ten to twenty years old, if my knowledge of mortal development is accurate, yet you lack the acquired scent of having lived in this world for a decade or two. Where… are you from?”
He’s curious, Percy realized. That’s good. Maybe I can use that.
Percy sat on the obsidian floor. The only way he was getting out of here was if Silvaroth let him out. “How badly do you want that answer?”
“Ahh, a bargainer. Clever.” Silvaroth glanced upwards, bouncing his head as if he were calculating the value of the boy’s life against the answer. “How does this sound?” he offered. “You and I will play a game of riddles. I’ve always liked riddles. And having been asleep for almost a hundred years, I’m sure I’m a bit rusty. The game lies in your favor.”
In spite of himself, Percy smiled. Riddles with a dragon? This was just like the stories the older boys in the orphanage would invent, shortly before playing games of riddles themselves. And if Percy was good at anything thanks to his life up till now, it was riddling.
“If I win, you let me go?” Percy asked.
“Indeed,” the dragon replied. “And if you lose, I learn about that unique scent of yours, and eat you.”
“So if I win, I only get to live, and if you win, you get to eat me and gain access to rare information? That hardly seems fair. Can I add another condition?”
The dragon tapped his claw against the rocky floor impatiently. “Shall we play or shall we not? You’re a snack either way, but the game offers you and I at least some entertainment before you perish.”
“Alright,” Percy conceded, seeing no other options. “Let’s play.”