Room8ab
Jora reaches toward the mirror and it rushes forward to engulf them. The cold chill of the mirror cuts deep into their cores. In the blink of an eye they are standing in the same white room but something is different.
The mirrors have disappeared from view as well as the white door. The group finds themselves standing upon a carpet of gold coins and gems.
“Holy shit, we’re rich,” Conrad says and reaches down to grab a handful of gold.
A rumbling growl, so low that its vibrations can be felt deep in their chests, fills the room.
A primal fear freezes each of the adventurers in place. The part of their brains which remembers what it was like to be prey to the great beasts takes control and, rigid with fear they turn slowly to see the dragon looming over them.
As in the vision, its scales seem to glow a deep, fiery red. Its luminous yellow eyes pin each of them in place.
“You dare steal my treasure?” Its voice is the rumble of an avalanche or the thunder of a summer storm.
“Conrad, stop,” Jora says and then, remembering the vision in the mirror, he turns toward the dragon.
He feels as if he is encased in amber as he tries to move. His arms spread wide, displaying his lack of weapon and he takes a shaking step toward the dragon.
“Mighty one, we come not to steal but to speak with you. My friend was impressed by your treasure and wished to admire it, not pilfer it.”
“You are a witty one, human. I wonder how you would taste?”
“Please great dragon,” Lamia says. “We are prisoners of the wizard’s tower and are trying our best to escape and the path leads to you.”
“Yes, we chose the path of parley,” Jora says. “We wish to be friends, not foes.”
“A wise choice,” the dragon rumbles. “I have been kept here for more centuries than you can reckon. Tell me of the outside world and I may let you live. Entertain me with the tales of battles and monsters from above.”
Jora and Lamia look toward each other with equal expressions of alarm.
“Um,” Jora clears his throat nervously. “Great dragon, the world above has changed. There have been no great battles within my lifetime. Magic and the monsters it spawned fled the world years ago.”
The dragon’s head draws back as if slapped. A menacing rumble begins low in its chest.
“But,” Jora rushes on, holding up an entreating hand. “I can tell you a tale of my grandfather’s adventures. He was a great warrior.”
The dragon ceases its menacing sounds and settles down upon the carpet of gold. It rests its head upon its talons and stares at Jora expectantly.
“In the reign of Havarth the third a band of ogres menaced the kingdom. This veritable army of monsters traveled from village to village demanding tribute.
“When tribute was refused the monsters would raze the village, eating all the children. The fates of the men and women were unspeakable.
“The ogres would show mercy to those villages which provided tribute. Of course, the mercy of an ogre is not like that of a man. When mercy was given, only one in every ten children would be eaten by the brutes.
“King Havarth called upon all the young adventurers of the kingdom to rally to his banner. Two dozen of the mightiest young heroes answered the call. They rode against the ogres and were soundly defeated. The bravest heroes of the land were slain en masse. The King barely escaped with his life.
“My grandfather, Valoran the Silver upon learning of the defeat called up his companions. They had been powerful adventurers in their youth and had not ventured on a quest in years but he could not stand by idly while such a threat existed to the kingdom.
“Stangar Hammerhand was his lieutenant and he wielded a mystic hammer which summoned lightning bolts with each blow. Arwenrod of the Glade was a druid who could call upon the forces of nature to aid her. Faisal the wizard was a mage of the second-order and could summon the fires of hell to do his bidding.
“Valoran called his companions to his side and armed with his magical sword which could cut through anything they set forth in search of the ogres.
“There were dozens of the brutes in the invading force and one would think that such a small band of adventurers would be no threat to such an army but the heroes came upon the ogres at a crossroads and gave battle.
“Arwenrod raised a wall of thorns around the battlefield, penning the brutes in while Faisal rained fire down upon their ranks.
“In this cauldron of death my grandfather, Valoran and Stangar marched to battle. Lightning flashed and limbs were severed. While the heroes were wounded, the ogres were decimated.
“For hours the battle raged until all that remained was a single enormous ogre, the commander of the ravening horde. Valoran offered the ogre clemency but the brute had no concept of mercy and chose to give battle.
“In truth, Valoran hoped that such would be the case and his ever-sharp blade separated the monster’s head from its shoulders in one blow. The kingdom was saved and the King bestowed lands and honors aplenty upon the mighty heroes.”
Jora, whose voice was beginning to tire, bows to the dragon, signaling the end of the tale.
The dragon lifts its head and regards Jora. “It is saddening to learn how the world has been lessened but your tale has pleased me. I shall treasure its memory and relive it to carry me through the long years to come.”
Jora expels a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“I offer you a reward, human.”
The dragon reaches into the piles of gold and daintily extracts a single coin between the tips of two claws. It offers the coin to Jora who looks at the dragon quizzically.
“Keep this coin; you never know when you will have to pay the boatman.
“Now, begone from my lair humans lest I change my mind and decide to eat you after all.”
Jora pockets the coin and rejoins his companions.
“That was amazing,” Safir says. “You could be a bard.”
“I never heard that tale,” Lamia whispers to him. She pats the sword at his hip. “Is this thing really magical?”
“Of course not,” Jora whispers.
“Was any of that story true?”
“Well, there were some ogres and my grandfather did fight them, but otherwise not really. Of course, the dragon doesn’t know that, so let’s get out of here before it changes its mind.”
What choice should the adventurers make?