The Complete Riftwar Saga Trilogy: Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon

Dolgan cocked a brow at this but said nothing. ‘Tomas, how did you come to this place?’

Tomas seemed unmindful of the dragon, and Dolgan found this reassuring. If the great beast had wished to harm them, he could have done so with little effort. Dragons were undisputedly the mightiest creatures on Midkemia. And this was the mightiest dragon Dolgan had heard of, half again the size of those he had fought in his youth.

Tomas finished the fish he had been eating and said, ‘I wandered for a long time and came to a place where I could sleep.’

‘Aye, I found it.’

‘I awoke at the sound of something and found tracks that led here.’

‘Those I saw also. I was afraid you had been taken.’

‘I wasn’t. It was a party of goblins and a few Dark Brothers, coming to this place. They were very concerned about what was ahead and didn’t pay attention to what was behind, so I could follow fairly close.’

‘That was a dangerous thing to do.’

‘I know, but I was desperate for a way out. I thought they might lead me to the surface, and I could wait while they went on ahead, then slip out. If I could get out of the mines, I could have headed north toward your village.’

‘A bold plan, Tomas,’ said Dolgan, an approving look in his eyes.

‘They came to this place, and I followed.’

‘What happened to them?’

The dragon spoke. ‘I sent them far away, dwarf, for they were not company I would choose.’

‘Sent them away? How?’

The dragon raised his head a little, and Dolgan could see that his scales were faded and dull in places. The red eyes were filmed over slightly, and suddenly Dolgan knew the dragon was blind.

‘The dragons have long had magic, though it is unlike any other. It is by my arts that I can see thee, dwarf, for the light hath long been denied me. I took the foul creatures and sent them far to the north. They do not know how they came to that place, nor remember this place.’

Dolgan puffed on his pipe, thinking of what he was hearing. ‘In the tales of my people, there are legends of dragon magicians, though you are the first I have seen.’

The dragon lowered his head to the floor slowly, as if tired. ‘For I am one of the last of the golden dragons, dwarf, and none of the lesser dragons have the art of sorcery. I have sworn never to take a life, but I would not have their kind invade my resting place.’

Tomas spoke up. ‘Rhuagh has been kind to me, Dolgan. He let me stay until you found me, for he knew that someone was coming.’

Dolgan looked at the dragon, wondering at his foretelling.

Tomas continued, ‘He gave me some smoked fish to eat, and a place to rest.’

‘Smoked fish?’

The dragon said, ‘The kobolds, those thou knowest as gnomes, worship me as a god and bring me offerings, fish caught in the deep lake and smoked, and treasure gleaned from deeper halls.’

‘Aye,’ said Dolgan, ‘gnomes have never been known for being overly bright.’

The dragon chuckled. ‘True. The kobolds are shy and harm only those who trouble them in their deep tunnels. They are a simple folk, and it pleaseth them to have a god. As I am not able to hunt, it is an agreeable arrangement.’

Dolgan considered his next question. ‘I mean no disrespect, Rhuagh, but it has ever been my experience with dragons that you have little love for others not your own kind. Why have you aided the boy?’

The dragon closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again to stare blankly toward the dwarf. ‘Know this, dwarf, that such was not always the way of it. Thy people are old, but mine are the oldest of all, save one. We were here before the elves and the moredhel. We served those whose names may not be spoken, and were a happy people.’

‘The Dragon Lords?’

‘So your legends call them. They were our masters, and we were their servants, as were the elves and the moredhel. When they left this land, on a journey beyond imagining, we became the most powerful of the free people, in a time before the dwarves or men came to these lands. Ours was a dominion over the skies and all things, for we were mighty beyond any other.

‘Ages ago, men and dwarves came to our mountains, and for a time we lived in peace. But ways change, and soon strife came. The elves drove the moredhel from the forest now called Elvandar, and men and dwarves warred with dragons.

‘We were strong, but humans are like the trees of the forest, their numbers uncountable. Slowly my people fled to the south, and I am the last in these mountains. I have lived here for ages, for I would not forsake my home.

‘By magic I could turn away those who sought this treasure, and kill those whose arts foiled my clouding of their minds. I sickened of the killing and vowed to take no more lives, even those as hateful as the moredhel. That is why I sent them far, and why I aided the boy, for he is undeserving of harm.’

Dolgan studied the dragon. ‘I thank you, Rhuagh.’

‘Thy thanks are welcome, Dolgan of the Grey Towers. I am glad of thy coming also. It is only a little longer that I could shelter the boy, for I summoned Tomas to my side by magic arts, so he might sit my deathwatch.’

‘What?’ exclaimed Tomas.

‘It is given to dragons to know the hour of their death, Tomas, and mine is close. I am old, even by the measure of my people, and have led a full life. I am content for it to be so. It is our way.’

Dolgan looked troubled. ‘Still, I find it strange to sit here hearing you speak of this.’

‘Why, dwarf? Is it not true with thine own people that when one dieth, it is accounted how well he lived, rather than how long?’

‘You have the truth of that.’

‘Then why should it matter if the death hour is known or not? It is still the same. I have had all that one of my kind could hope for: health, mates, young, riches, and rest. These are all I have ever wanted, and I have had them.’

‘’Tis a wise thing to know what is wanted, and wiser still to know when ’tis achieved,’ said Dolgan.

‘True. And still wiser to know when it is unachievable, for then striving is folly. It is the way of my people to sit the deathwatch, but there are none of my kind near enough to call. I would ask thee to wait for my passing before thy leaving. Wilt thou?’

Dolgan looked at Tomas, who bobbed his head in agreement. ‘Aye, dragon, we will, though it is not a thing to gladden our hearts.’

The dragon closed his eyes; Tomas and Dolgan could see they were beginning to swell shut. ‘Thanks to thee, Dolgan, and to thee, Tomas.’

The dragon lay there and spoke to them of his life, flying the skies of Midkemia, of far lands where tigers lived in cities, and mountains where eagles could speak. Tales of wonder and awe were told, long into the night.

When his voice began to falter, Rhuagh said, ‘Once a man came to this place, a magician of mighty arts. He could not be turned from this place by my magic, nor could I slay him. For three days we battled, his arts against mine, and when done, he had bested me. I thought he would slay me and carry off my riches, but instead he stayed, for his only thought was to learn my magic, so that it would not be lost when I passed.’

Tomas sat in wonder, for as little as he knew about magic from Pug, he thought this a marvelous thing. In his mind’s eye he could see the titanic struggle and the great powers working.

‘With him he had a strange creature, much like a goblin, though upright, and with features of finer aspect. For three years he stayed with me, while his servant came and went. He learned all I could teach, for I could deny him not. But he taught as well, and his wisdom gave me great comfort. It was because of him that I learned to respect life, no matter how mean of character, and vowed to spare any that came to me. He also had suffered at the hands of others, as I had in the wars with men, for much that I cherished was lost. This man had the art of healing the wounds of the heart and mind, and when he left, I felt the victor, not the vanquished.’ He paused and swallowed, and Tomas could see that speech was coming to him with more difficulty. ‘If a dragon could not have attended my deathwatch, I would as soon have him sit here, for he was the first of thy kind, boy, that I would count a friend.’

‘Who was he, Rhuagh?’ Tomas asked.

‘He was called Macros.’