The Cave Part 18

My knees still felt weak, even after Garthax had instructed me on how to get out of the lair, and into the passage that would lead me out into the world again on the other side of the mountains. One does not stand in the presence of a dragon for long unless one is extraordinarily confident or utterly crazy. Part of me realized I must have followed my earlier companions up this tunnel early in my adventure to confront the dragon, but I still had not received back those memories.

A cool breeze stirred the air of the tunnel, and I looked around for evidence of those who I had traveled with. Under normal circumstances, the failed attempt of a party of adventures would have resulted in dead bodies and gear cast about. However I did not find these. Apparently Garthax had let them go with equanimity. At least there was no evidence of a struggle. Following steps carved into the floor, I counted them out to get an idea of how far down I had come.

A dragon's lair is generally a complex place consisting of the actual treasure room he or she sleeps in, and depending on the environment, traps, guardians, mazes of warrens, and protective spells of enchantment. This was general knowledge that even a thief of the streets learned in a tavern over full tankards of ale. What I learned on my journey in the dark, was that it was far less frightening when one was on the good side of the master of the domain. I felt I could take time to study the things around me.

The stone work was accomplished in a monumental style, chambers so large that it was clearly made for the dragon. Relief carvings depicted scenes of war on the left side as I descended the stair, showing what must have been the great battles of Garthax's past. On the right were narratives of people giving respect to the dragon with gifts and praise. I saw many dwarves, men, and some elves in the pictures, but the overwhelming bipedal creatures where small people who I assumed to be goblins.

Using the light of my staff, I did my best to read what was inscribed. Much of it was not familiar, in spite of the time Tharkin had spent trying to educate me in other tongues. From the carven images it appeared that at some time the goblins were enslaved by another power, a creature somewhat shrouded behind great wings or shadows of darkness. It was difficult to make out what the image was, almost as if the carvers had purposefully not wanted to depict what it truly was. Another dragon, or something as big as one?

Clearly Garthax had striven with the creature and cast it down. Possibly killed it. That explained the joy of the freed goblin kind. Gradually I began to wonder who the artists where who had made the two murals. Though dwarves were well known for their stone work, it was just as possible that the goblins had done it. I had heard many things about the other races of the world, but this was an angle I had never before considered. I would have liked to stay longer to study, but it was getting cold in the tunnel, and I really did want to get out eventually.

Reaching the end of my descent at a large cavernous doorway, I entered a large room that resembled an audience chamber. It was clear that Garthax would emerge here and look down on his petitioners if they had the nerve to show up in a host. Silently I wondered how often this had happened in the past. Currently the dragon would lead me to the assumption that he had lain on his treasure for many long years. The very mention of dream wandering that he had made, suggested he traveled that way and not in person. Torch brackets on the walls lay empty, but there were no spider webs or dust of the years. Someone had made sure to keep them clean.

Sounds of running water first hit my ears here, and I could see that the next opening chamber beyond was also illuminated by some external light. Was I really at the exit already? It seemed then that Garthax had wasted no effort on traps or false rooms to confound his enemies. With supreme confidence, the dragon effectively waited at the end of a long and fairly straight tunnel if one considered the stairs part of that.

A long silvery waterfall cascaded down to the left as I emerged outside, forming a flowing creek that passed around in front, and under a thick and solidly built bridge. This final doorway had been open to the world as the rest of the lair was, giving ample room for the dragon to walk out if he so wished. Sunlight fell around me and lit the bridge with the golden light of morning. It had not taken nearly as long as I thought, speaking with Garthax and making my way out, as I had imagined. Fear had made it seem like days.

Shady trees welcomed me under their cool leafy canopy, and I entered the forest considerably relieved to be in the open again. There continued to be no sign of the adventuring party that I had first set out with. So much time had passed it really was not surprising, but perhaps I was starting to be lonely for other human companionship. Under the trees I could not see if Kar was flying above in the very clear blue sky, but I imagined he would be up there. After healing from his wound, he had left the vale to return to his people. We had not been on very sociable terms particularly, our conversations short in general, but it would have been nice to see a friendly presence above me.

The trail that led away from the lair eventually shrank dramatically in size. This made sense as the dragon would not go crashing about the forest when he could easily fly into the air. This trail was thus made by his followers or petitioners. The tribe Garthax had mentioned was surely to be found along it. For several hours I continued my walk, observing that the trail snaked its way north no matter what the obstacles that emerged. At one point, the edge of a cliff was traversed by a very narrow ledge and I felt obliged to hug the rock face as well as I could and not look down lest the sight disorientate me.

I stopped when deep in the woods again, roving over the undergrowth with my weary eyes. So many shades of green offered a comforting promise of thriving life all around me. It was in the silence that followed, that I heard a snuffling sound. I looked up to see the ginger hair of a red fox considering me. I was startled by the intensity of its gaze, but not truly afraid. It made no move to come closer or to leave, and was beginning to be unsettling in its behavior. Pulling out my rations, I tossed a piece of dried meat towards it, hoping it would show some signs of normality. I was rewarded when it snapped the piece out of the air and chomped it down rapidly.

"Well I guess you are just a fox," said I, thinking at the same time it looked a little on the big side.

"Oh really? Ya think so?"

My mouth dropped as I stared at the fox who had just spoken. Then to my utter astonishment, the creature got up on its hind legs and grew taller with ease, its face going lifeless and sliding up while the fur came apart and receded backwards. The body shrank until I saw the fox was nothing more than a pelt and head draped over the form of a green skinned person with quick and curious eyes. Maybe the nose was a little more pointed than a humans, and the canines were a little longer when he smiled, but I could see I was looking at a goblin in hunting garb. He was bare chested, and aside on his belt he wore a dagger. A bow was slung over his shoulder too, so I gathered there were arrows I could not see.

"Long time has Glip practiced shape shifting, but still happy to see ya surprise."