Crimson Shadow, The - R. A. Salvatore Page 0,48

they are accompanied by . . .”

The great mound of silver and gold shifted suddenly and fell apart, coins rattling and bouncing to every part of the large chamber. Oliver and Luthien looked up into the slitted eyes of a very angry dragon.

“Yes,” the halfling finished, pointing at the great beast, “that is it.”

CHAPTER 11

BALTHAZAR

LUTHIEN HAD LIVED HIS LIFE beside the oceans of the great whales, had seen the bodies of giants taken down from the mountains by his father’s soldiers, had nearly been bitten apart by the monstrous turtle in the other room. And he, like every other youth in Eriador and Avon, had heard many tales of the dragons and the brave men who slew them. But none of that could have prepared the young Bedwyr for this sight.

The great wyrm slowly uncoiled—was it a hundred feet long?—and rose up on its forelegs, towering over poor Oliver. Its yellow-green eyes shone like beacons, burning with inner fire, and its scales, reddish gold in hue and flecked with many coins and gemstones, which had become embedded during the beast’s long sleep, were as solid as a wall of iron. How many weapons did this monster possess? Luthien wondered, awe-stricken. Its claws appeared as though they could rend the stone, its abundant teeth gleamed like ivory, as long as Luthien’s sword, and its horns could skewer three men in a line. Luthien had heard tales of a dragon’s fiery breath. He knew then what had melted the ore in the walls near where he and Oliver had entered, and knew, too, that it wasn’t the turtle that had destroyed those stalagmites. The dragon had been there, four hundred years ago, and had taken out its frustration at being imprisoned.

And now it stood before Oliver, seething with rage.

“YOUR POCKETS BULGE WITH MY JEWELS, LITTLE THIEF!” the beast roared, the sheer strength of its voice blowing Oliver’s hat to the back of his head.

Oliver unconsciously dropped his hands into his pockets. He kept his wits enough to slip aside from the ashen remains, away from the one spot in this chamber that was relatively clear of dragon treasure.

Luthien stood open-mouthed, amazed that this reptilian beast had spoken. Of course, the dragons of the ancient tales spoke to the heroes, but Luthien had considered that an embellishment on the part of the tale-teller. To hear such a monster, a giant winged lizard, speaking the language of the land was perhaps the most amazing thing of all.

“WELL?” the beast went on, still looking only at Oliver, as though it hadn’t yet even noticed Luthien. “DO YOU NOT WISH TO BEG MIGHTY BALTHAZAR FOR YOUR PITIFUL LIFE?”

“I only wish to stare at the magnificence before me,” Oliver replied suddenly. “I came in to find, so I thought, only the treasure, and that was magnificent indeed. So very magnificent.”

Luthien could hardly believe that the halfling would make any references to the treasure, especially with so much of it obviously in his pockets. He could hardly believe that Oliver found any voice at all in the face of that wyrm!

“But it was not thoughts of your treasure that brought me here, mighty Balthazar,” the halfling went on, trying to appear at ease. “It was to beg sight of you, of course. To let my eyes bask in the magnificence of the legend. You have slept away the centuries—there are not so many dragons about these days.”

“IF THERE WERE MORE DRAGONS, THEN THERE WOULD LIKELY BE FEWER THIEVES!” the dragon answered, but Luthien noticed that there was some measure of calm in the monster’s voice this time, as though Oliver’s compliments were having some minor effect. The young Bedwyr had heard, too, of the vanity of dragons—and by the tales, the greater the dragon, the greater its conceit.

“I must humbly accept your description,” Oliver admitted, and began emptying his pockets. Coins and jewels bounced on the floor at his feet. “But I did not know that you were still to be about. I only found a turtle—in a lake not so far away. Not so great a beast, but since I have never seen a dragon, I thought that it might be you.”

Luthien’s eyes widened, as did the dragon’s, and the young man thought the wyrm would snap its serpentine neck forward and swallow the halfling whole.

“You can imagine my great disappointment,” Oliver went on, before the wyrm could move to strike. “I had heard so very much about Balthazar, but if that turtle was you, then I