Hidden Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 6) by Al K. Line Page A

us shoving but to no avail. Stepping back, we nodded to each other, and on the count of three we gave it all we had.
    The door held for a second then sprang open. We both sprawled onto the floor as gold coins and all manner of exquisite goodies spilled out of the doorway, leaving us face down in a pile of priceless dwarf gold.
    "Ugh, geddof me," I moaned as I stood, Mithnite grabbing me to try to help himself up. This was getting ridiculous. The sooner I was up top and could figure out what to do with him the better.
    "Oh, wow!" Mithnite was transfixed, and as I stood and took in the vast room it was easy to see why.
    Right inside the cavernous room the gold hoard began, and already the door had pushed shut behind us with the weight of the treasure. A few steps, taken without even thinking, and we were sinking up to our shins in riches beyond imagining.
    Up and up it went, a vast mountain of bling that just kept on growing. The space was impossibly large, lost to shadows and darkness, the scale mind-boggling. It was big. Very big. Huge pillars came down from the ceiling at regular intervals, supporting great arches that soared into mist high above, a micro-climate complete with what looked like clouds.
    What there wasn't was a dragon shifting in the stolen stash, readying itself to burn us to a crisp, eliminate the intruders with a quick roar of flame.
    "Where is it?" whispered Mithnite, getting too close again. Hadn't this kid heard of personal space?
    "Ssh. What the hell is the matter with you? Be quiet. We need to wait and then introduce ourselves properly." I'd zero dragon experience but was sure I recalled, maybe something I'd read, believing it to be a fairy tale as a young man, that when you first meet a dragon you have to be very conscious of your manners and introduce yourself with all possible politeness if you are to survive that initial contact for more than a second.
    "I think I hear something."
    I turned in the direction he was looking, and damn if he didn't have seriously good hearing. A few seconds later the piles of gold began to shift. Then the stirring turned into an avalanche.
    The dragon was awake, and it was definitely a he.
    What was rather surprising was that I'd been such an idiot—okay, maybe not so surprising—not once even considering it could be such a legend that was holding the dwarves' gold to ransom in its lair.
    "Do not, and I mean under any circumstance, move or talk unless you're spoken to. Do I make myself clear?" I said hurriedly, unable to take my eyes off the approaching figure.
    Mithnite shifted uncomfortably, almost as baffled by the revelation as I was. "But it's only—"
    "Just be quiet," I snapped. "Let me do the talking."
    I stepped forward, ready to introduce myself. Damn, but I was nervous. You'll see why.

 
     
     
     
    The Dragon
    Suddenly it all clicked into place. How had I missed it? Princess Dekosli had basically spelled it out for me. Not a dragon, the dragon, she'd said. I'd just not thought she could mean "The" Dragon.
    Everyone believed him to be dead, long gone, lost in the annals of time. A legend, a mystery, most not even believing him to have ever been real. Sure, much of what we knew today of magic was based on his teachings. The long years, endless centuries, that he'd studied, discovering the Empty and bending it to his will. Wizards spoke of him with awe, but most of us, even those many years older than myself, those thousands of years old, only half-believed in the existence of the man.
    He had become almost a religion. There were certainly many that followed his teachings obsessively, known as wyrmlings, refusing to believe he was a myth, or dead, waiting for the day he would rise and lead them on a new path. But most in our world saw them as extremists. They were definitely an odd bunch, almost militant, following sacred texts handed down over generations, copied and recopied until the more dubious wondered if any of it was still a match for the original