Page 117 of Dragon Champion (Age of Fire 1)

The caravan stopped for two days of rest at the well, forming itself into the triangular fortress Auron knew so well, though tighter, and with a ditch dug all around. He walked up the hill with Djer as a line of dwarves with wheelbarrows hauled casks to the top of the hill, corded muscles glistening in the sunshine.

The temple was made of metal. It showed only dirt, no sign of rust or tarnish. Djer ran a hand along the smooth side, leaving the black face underneath as shiny as if it were wet. The four sides of the square inclined slightly to a flat roof thirty hands above. A column of metal pointed from it like a lance aimed at the sky.

“What ore is that?” Auron asked. His Dwarvish was accomplished without effort, though it didn’t ring quite right in the ear because of the way his head was constructed.

“If I knew, I’d own the Chartered Company,” Djer said. “Wizardly artisans must have made it, and the skill is lost, like so many other gifts, in these bitter days.”

Auron placed his claws on it; a metallic ping sounded as he touched the surface. “It’s a bare surface. I thought men wrote on everything.”

“Just above the door,” Djer said, pointing.

Auron looked at the apocryphal letters. “I must learn to read one of these days.”

“Many who can wouldn’t know what to make of that. The characters are unknown to me.”

“You know it’s time for me go.”

“Yes,” Djer said, his stubbly face turning serious. “I keep hoping you’ll change your mind.”

“I want to find my own kind. NooMoahk, first of all.”

“Steel yourself. It is a hard journey across the desert.”

“I know. I’ll ask you for a set of saddlebags, with plenty of water skins.”

“Done,” Djer said, rapping Auron’s crest with his knuckles. “But I cannot let a friend such as you go without something.”

“You’ve given me my tail-point. That is enough.”

“Not hardly,” he said, searching his pockets with eyes rolling skyward. He fished out a ring. “I’ve put the seal of the Diadem on this,” he said, showing it to Auron. “It’s my Partner-seal, and more besides. Have you seen what I’ve chosen as my insignia under the diadem?”

Auron looked at the etching on the golden surface. “Is that supposed to be me?”

“A dragon. Well, I thought it looked like you, anyway. I’m no artist.”

“Dragons have wings. I don’t . . . not yet.”

“Winged or no, you’re the reason I’m a vested dwarf.”

“I’m honored,” Auron said, his skin flushing reddish with pleasure.

“You can honor me by keeping it. Should you be in great need someday, showing it to one of the Chartered Company will get you whatever assistance we can offer. Traditionally a Partner gives his emissary ring only to a chief-of-staff on an important journey. You’re welcome to this for the rest of your life—may it be blessed with many healthy years.”

“I would wear it with pride, but it won’t fit my finger.”

“Then wear it on a horn, once you grow a proper one. Or a chain around your neck, for that matter,” he said, pulling a long, thin strand of steel from his other pocket. “I hope I’ve made it big enough for a fully grown dragon. I could wear this for a belt.”

“Thank you.”

“The chain is special, Auron. A piece of my people’s magic. It’s a dwarsaw. Pull any part of it tight, and it will cut even an iron collar if scraped back and forth across it, should anyone succeed in putting you in chains again. Keep it as a memento of the first favor I did you.”

Auron tried pulling the links tight, and tiny serrated crystal blades like teeth appeared from their shell-like housings.

“You honor me with it.”

“By my shining beard, Auron, this’ll be a tale no one will believe in a century. A dwarf and a dragon, brought together by chance and bonded by friendship.”

Auron reared up, took the dwarf’s hand in his sii and shook it, dwarf-fashion. He flicked out his tongue, smelling Djer and his pipe tobacco into his memory. “That’s the best thing about friendship. It is a gift that cannot be lost. Only thrown away.”

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