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 he dragon regarded them indifferently with eyes of fire, and emitted a warning roar but made no move toward them. Jewels draped its neck and adorned its claws. The beasts’ scales glittered with a ruby red sheen; almost appearing to give off a light of its own. It arched its neck proudly and cocked its head to one side, as if waiting for a command.
The five warriors stepped cautiously out of the rubble and into the room, weapons unsheathed but not raised. Raggot discreetly stayed at the back of the group.
A man stepped forth from behind the beast. His silky voice held a challenge. “Who are you?” he demanded.
Peacefrog noticed that several other people also stood in the dragons’ shadow, and the sounds of swords being drawn echoed around the room. Arana stepped forward with commanding presence.
“Arana Stormcrow and company,” he announced matter-of-factly. “But who are you, who hide behind such a wondrous beast?”
A woman stepped forth jovially. “Arana!” she purred, smiling and radiant. “Is it really you?!”
Arana squinted a bit, and then lit up as he recognized her. “M’Ladyhawke!” he cried, sheathing his sword and rushing into the room. They met in the middle, and he swept her into the circle of his arms. Peacefrog groaned. “Oh, no… not her again,” he whispered to Keith, who nodded and closed his eyes. Shahrressa blushed as the couple exchanged a long kiss before them all.
Peacefrog sheathed his weapon, waved his friends further into the room and cleared his throat, interrupting their affectionate display. “Ahem. So, Ladyhawke, I have a question…” He trailed off a bit and got right to the point. “Whatever are you doing here?”
The lady regarded Peacefrog coolly, reluctantly releasing her embrace of Arana and smoothing out her skirt. “Peacefrog,” she said simply, acknowledging him with a nod of her head and a lessening of her smile. She was dressed in quite revealing leather armor, dyed a deep red, which served to highlight her creamy skin and long, golden hair. A belt around her waist defined its smallness. She was a lady who carried herself with confidence, well aware of the appreciative glances of the men around her.
Well, all of the men except Peacefrog, apparently. She ignored him totally and instead, directed her comments to Arana. “Tell me, M’Lord Arana Stormcrow, how is it that you appear before us, crashing dramatically through the wall, yet? Would not the door have served you better?” She laughed lightly, as if her laugh danced upon the air.
The Paladin blushed as she indicated a wide, open foyer, which contained two enormous oaken doors. “I had no idea, M’Ladyhawke,” he told her. “My friends and I were following the directions we were given, and it made no mention of a door.” He pushed his hair out of his face and became very self-conscious of his dirty hands. In remedy, he pulled a kerchief out from his pocket and wiped them off. He tried to act casual, but felt an odd twinge of disappointment that M’Ladyhawke managed to find him here. “Tell me you are not here seeking a chest of gold?”
She regarded him with a speculative look in her jade-colored eyes. “And what if we are?”
Her companions had begun to filter out around the room. Shahrressa and Orange looked upon the group, but recognized none of them. Peacefrog, on the other hand, did.
“Well, if it isn’t Silent Mobius himself,” he said. “It’s almost like a family reunion, indeed!”
The man in question stepped forward. “I thought that was you, Froggy,” he said. “But I didn’t recognize you with that crazy pointy beard!”
Mobius was a slight man, tough, lean and sinewy. His course black hair gleamed in the torchlight, and his eyes and teeth shone bright white against his ebony skin. Orange thought he looked like a thief out of a fairy tale, and guessed the reason for his presence.
“So let me get this right,” Orange concluded. “We have both come to the same spot, at the same time, from different directions, to find the same chest?”
No one answered him. The two adventuring companies regarded each other in silence.
Orange threw back his head and let out a great peal of laughter, slapping his knee and wiping a tear from his eye. His laughter was infectious, and soon the entire room was full of good humor. “What a song this will make!” he cried. “I could not have done better if I had invented it myself.”
Shahrressa felt the tension in the room diminish and sighed in relief. Chuckling, she stepped lightly over to Arana and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Well, milord, aren’t you going to introduce us?” she asked.
Arana wiped his brow with his kerchief and nodded. “Aye, of course, where are my manners?” He cleared his throat purposefully and turned to the lady that had so much of his attention, and indicated his friends with the palm of his hand. “M’Ladyhawke, meet the Lady Shahrressa. Next to her, Orange of Skara Brae, and the little fellow is Raggot.” Raggot stood shyly behind Orange and did not step forth. “Peacefrog you already know, of course, and Keith as well.” Keith nodded politely. “Ladyhawke,” he greeted her plainly.
She smiled sweetly, and gave her companions an adventurous toss of blond hair. “And these are my companions,” she said, gesturing their way. As she named them one by one, each of them gave a dip of their head. “Our dragon tamer, Freestander. Mobius, seeker of treasure. The Lady Magess Kendra, wise in more ways than just fashion sense. Proud Knight Shogun, slayer of trolls of all kinds. And this,” she said, putting her arm around the waist of an enormous barbarian, “is Gladstone.”
Gladstone slipped his meaty arm around her shoulders and squeezed her affectionately. “Well met, Arana Stormcrow,” he said in a thick brogue, without extending his hand. “I’ve heard many tales about ye and yer adventures.” He held back a chuckle. “I must say, I dinnae imagine meeting ye, least of all here.” There was a touch of sarcasm to his tone that Shahrressa disliked.
“Why?” interrupted Keith. “Where are we?”
Kedra chuckled, placing a delicate hand over her mouth. “You mean to tell us, you don’t know where you are?” The group with M’Ladyhawke rippled with humor. Arana seemed bewildered.
“Obviously, M’Ladyhawke, you know something we don’t.” He flashed her his best dazzling smile.
She returned it with one of her own. “M’Lord Arana,” she said dramatically, “you have led your unsuspecting friends to a goldmine. You stand in the Treasure Chamber of Fayrhaugh!’
She gestured with one sweeping motion of her hand, and her group split down the middle to reveal an enormous wall, made of the finest sandstone bricks. It was draped in heavy red velvet, tied off with golden ropes. Halfway between the ceiling and the floor, five mechanical levers projected into the room. Peacefrog sputtered in amazement.
“Impossible!”
“Nay, my cynical friend,” she corrected him. “Not only possible, but truth.”
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