The Last Thane

Chapter Twenty-nine
The Grotto

"It feels like solid rock." Tarn said, stepping back from the wall with the hilt of his sword still humming in his hand. "There's no hollow sound."

"Get a hammer," his father said without hesitation. "This is the place where the waters of the light garden are born. I ought to know that well enough!"

"What does that mean?" asked the son, still unsure of Baker Whitegranite's intentions.

"The words on the scroll told me to seek the Grotto where the waters of light were born! It's the fountain in my own garden! Don't you see?"

Tarn saw the connection, though he still wondered how they could break through such a thick wall of stone. Still, the half-breed went down to the cellar hallway and into his father's small smithy-a standard fixture in most dwarf homes. In seconds he returned with a large hammer.

A solid swing smashed into the stone wall and Tarn-who had braced himself for the recoil-nearly tumbled forward as the hammer punched right through. Pulling it back, he pounded several more times, quickly opening a hole big enough for a dwarf's head.

"Keep going," Baker urged quietly. "Make it big enough that we can crawl through and get in there."

In another minute Tarn had worked up a sheen of sweat and the hole leading into darkness was roughly three feet in diameter. Stale air wafted out, and he speculated that this was a chamber that hadn't been opened to the outside for many thousands of years.

Baker was eager to advance, ducking and pushing his way through the opening to land with an "oof." In moments Tarn, Belica, and Regal had followed. They found themselves perched atop a slope of rubble at the base of the wall in a surprisingly large chamber. They scrambled down to join the thane on the floor. Tarn looked up to see a ceiling, studded with jagged stalactites, that arched high over their heads.

"It was here that it began thousands and thousands of years ago."

Baker spoke softly, his eyes bright with emotion. The thane of the Hylar looked around slowly, reverently, as he paced the circumference of the circular cavern. Tarn was vaguely aware of soft light, and he realized that a glow was emanating from the top of a mound near the chamber's center.

"The good dragons were here in the Age of Dreams. Here they hatched and grew and learned from Chisel Loremaster."

"Wait," Tarn interrupted. "Chisel was a dwarf, you said. And there were no dwarves during the Age of Dreams, were there?"

But his father wasn't listening. Instead, he bustled around exclaiming about this, whistling in amazement as he searched the chamber.

To Tarn, except for the gentle illumination, the cave looked unremarkable, an ordinary hollow in the limestone rock that probably had been forged by water. Once it had been slick with moisture. Perhaps this dusty rock had once been crystalline and bright, but now it was old and mummified-dead.

"It's odd to think that it was under your house all along," Belicia observed.

"Not really," Baker replied. "In fact, I've long deduced that it was somewhere around here. That's one reason I chose to live in this quarter of Level Twenty-eight. And yet we never would have suspected where exactly I believe there is a reason Reorx has revealed this to me now."

"Why didn't the wall sound hollow?" Tarn wondered.

"I assume that's part of the ancient protection of this place: a magical enchantment. This was once the lair of wondrous dragons, you know-great beasts of powerful magic and even a scion. It was sealed so that it wouldn't be discovered until the right time-until now."

Tarn looked skeptical. He still wondered what use this place could be now, but his father was too moved for him to interrupt. For Baker Whitegranite, this was the culmination of a lifetime's searching.

Instead, it was Regal who spoke up. "What's this stuff about a scion?"

Baker smiled. "All wise, he was, the recorder of our dwarven lore. The records call him Chisel Loremaster. He wrote the greatest histories of our race. But I have a theory: I don't think he was a dwarf. No. I believe he was one of the ageless wise ones of the sort that have ever lurked around the fringes of Krynn's history."

"Uh-huh. No doubt," Regal replied modestly. "Though I prefer to think of him as 'Ever Wise.'"

"Wait. Regal?" Tarn asked, alerted to a sudden change in the gully dwarf's manner. All of a sudden the Aghar didn't look so filthy, so plump, nor so ill-mannered. All of a sudden, he looked solemn, and maybe even wise. "Hey, what's happening?"

"Huh?" Regal asked, picking his nose. "To me?"

"It's you! The chronicler of the dwarves!" gasped Baker. "You're Chisel Loremaster!"

"Again, correct," replied the diminutive Regal, who suddenly transformed into clothes that, if not fine, were at least well cut, nicely adorned, and neatly maintained.

"The honor of this moment… I can't explain." The thane tried to speak, but Regal made a deprecating gesture with his hand. Tarn looked on with mouth agape.

"However, there is a job to do, if you are ready," the gully dwarf scion said.

"Yes, of course. The egg. Now, let's see. This was the nest-it must have been," Baker said, suddenly animated as he moved toward the large mound in the center of the large cavern. The white light was rising from an unseen source atop this domed shape. Tarn and Belicia followed, a little dazed.

"The young dragons were born in there?" asked Tarn, his head still whirling. Scions were beings of legend. In fact, most inhabitants of Krynn had never heard of the ancient race.

"Yes. Darlantan, Aurican-all their nestmates," Regal-or Chisel-explained. "And I happen to know that they left behind a single, significant artifact."

Tarn, Baker, and Belicia scrambled up the sides of the nest. Tarn saw that, despite the coating of dust and dirt, the nest was actually woven of metal wire. He cut himself on a sharp rock that was embedded in the metallic surface and was startled to see the facets of a huge ruby. All over the nest was studded with these fine jewels. But he didn't stop to explore, instead he climbed higher until he could join the others in looking into the bowl-shaped basket from the top.

The object inside was spherical, larger than a dragon egg. It glowed and was covered with a sheen of pale silver-platinum.

"The Platinum Egg," said Regal solemnly. "Or The Silver Dragon Sphere. Whichever. Very powerful. Very dangerous."

"Father, what do we do now?" Tarn asked nervously.

Baker turned to his son and there were tears in the elder dwarf's eyes, a curious mixture of elation and sadness pouring from his face.

"Now that we have located the Grotto, found the Platinum Egg? And now that you have seen it too? My son, it's time for you and Belicia to go. I will stay here, for there remains only one thing for me to do."

"We've all got to go!" Tarn insisted.

"No. I'm afraid there's no time to explain. Now, you and Belicia must find your way into the ceiling above Level Twenty-eight, find one of the tunnels the Klar used when they attacked us here."

"Yes, but you-"

"No!" The thane spoke sternly. "This is one time you must obey me!"

Helplessly, Tarn looked at Regal.

"Your father is right," declared his diminutive companion. "It is written: the power of the Grotto will awaken when a true ruler of the dwarves takes the Platinum Egg in hand. And Baker understands-he has proven himself a fine leader and warrior, but he is also a great scholar. This is the power of the Graygem, the power that gave birth to Chaos."

"The true ruler of dwarves is me!" declared Darkend Bellowsmoke as he emerged from the hole in the wall. Several Daergar followed close behind him. The thane wore his black armor with the tusks jutting from his face plate and held a wickedly spiked mace in his gloved hands. Fierce and warlike, he glared around the sacred chamber. "You made a lot of racket with your pounding," he sneered. "Don't you know there are enemies nearby?"

More Daergar spilled into the Grotto, and now they stood in a line along the far wall. Several had crossbows, and these were held unwaveringly upon the four dwarves in the center of the cavern.

"Take aim," said Darkend Bellowsmoke. The thane of the Daergar spoke to his victims calmly. "Now, do you wish to die quickly, or would you prefer to writhe in excess pain?"

He advanced toward the nest. "A platinum egg of great power for the true ruler of the dwarves?" Darkend all but cackled. "Perfect timing! I will take the egg, and my conquest shall be redeemed!"