Upon This World of Stone (The Paladin Trilogy Book 2) by James A. Hillebrecht Page B

ring on Malcolm’s right hand lifted himself from the ground and carried him slowly back down one of the broader corridors. Albathor roared his fury, shaking his neck in preparation for a lunge at his retreating tormentor, but a hiss from the Eldest Dragon brought him up abruptly. Yellow eyes gleamed at each other in the darkness, unspoken messages being exchanged, and finally, Albathor slowly retreated, his eyes like venom still burning the wizard who had humiliated him.
    Malcolm’s instincts warned him this tunnel was the very course Mraxdavar wanted him to take, a long, wide corridor with numerous side tunnels, but there simply wasn’t any other choice. He went only a short distance along, however, before settling himself back down on the stone floor, preferring to be uncomfortably close to the master of the tunnels than what might be lurking in the labyrinth farther back.
    Mraxdavar took a heavy step forward, the ground actually trembling from the blow as the great dragon revealed more of himself. Huge and glistening, gigantic muscles flexing beneath armored scales, moving with a snake-like speed despite his size, Mraxdavar radiated power, the ability to easily obliterate anything as small and insignificant as a human being, but Malcolm held his ground, holding his staff slightly ahead, power coursing up and down the wood in warning. It was clear the intruder would not be pushed further down the corridor, so the dragon, too, came to a halt.
    “My son will one day crush your bones between his teeth for this offense,” breathed the dragon slowly, his eyes glinting with a light of their own in the darkness. “He will dream restlessly of your blood through all the long ages of his life.”
    The voice filled the corridor, surrounding Malcolm, threatening to enchant him with its sheer volume. He held off the fascination and shook off the fear, staring at the monster’s long neck to avoiding the hazard of those shining eyes while still watching him carefully.
    “If this is the extent of his ability, then he faces a long life of frustration,” the Wizard answered. “To match his father’s power, he must first match his wisdom.”
    “Perhaps. But it depends still more on the power of his prey.”
    The dragon’s head was in slow, constant motion, the movement itself hypnotic, its sweeping eyes trying ever to catch his glance, to drive home its overwhelming presence on this mere mortal, to capture him in the dragon-spell. Malcolm was ever cautious to avoid the eyes, and never to let his attention slip for even a moment.
    “You have risked much to return to my home unbidden,” the Dragon said. “Have you come seeking treasure?”
    “Aye,” answered Malcolm, “the greatest treasure of all. I come seeking the aid and counsel of the Lord of Dragons, the Master of Fire and Air.”
    “Indeed?” the dragon whispered, and there was the slightest touch of amusement in his deep voice. “And what matter could be of such import for you to risk instant death?”
    The voice, too, was melodic, rhythmic, seeking to capture his attention, to hold him captive with words. Malcolm cleared his throat harshly, the echoing sound helping to hold the Dragon’s voice at bay.
    “There is a mighty movement of creatures of my kind across the northern plain,” he said. “An invasion the like of which has never before been seen.”
    “Alacon Regnar and his tribes of barbarians,” sighed the dragon. “But the movement of such ants is nothing to me. If humans kill each other, it makes the world a safer place for all other creatures.”
    “But Regnar brings with him an army of Rock Goblins,” Malcolm answered, knowing the name would send a shiver of hatred through the dragon. “A long train of the creatures marches out of the Earth’s Teeth, bearing down on the Mountains of the Winds. Bearing down, perhaps, on these very caves.”
    The gigantic front claw came forward a half-pace, the cave shaking slightly from its impact, and Malcolm