All around him, the chaos of battle began again. The villagers attacked the goblins, at first seeming to drive them away, but then more poured out of the trees, and the defenders were forced back. The stench of death began to rise around him.
    Everywhere Delgar looked, there was horror. One man went down, clutching desperately at his slashed throat. Another died when a goblin cleft his skull with an axe. One villager lay on the ground, trying to gather his spilled intestines, a shocked look on his face.
    Delgar ran as fast as he could towards the tree-line, praying he wouldn't be spotted. His prayers were not answered: a shrill cry sounded behind him, and he heard noises of pursuit. He pounded into the forest, heading towards the mountains.
    He needed a cave. If he could just find a cave, then he could hide in the darkness there and the goblins would never find him. The mountains rose high and snowy above him, and he skirted along the rising slope.
    He had to rest. He heard his pursuers coming closer, but he just couldn't run any farther. He staggered past an outcropping of rock and then stopped.
    A huge cave lay before him, its open mouth inviting him in. Without hesitation, he staggered into the cave, gasping for breath. He saw two tunnels before him, both of them leading into darkness, one wider than the other. As he tried to choose, he found himself attracted to the wider passage, but the attraction was joined by a sense of dread.
    He heard the goblins behind him, and his hesitation vanished. He walked into the larger passage, his hands on the mossy walls as he was cloaked in darkness. The cave headed downwards into the mountain, and Delgar thought he could hear something breathing all around him as he walked for what seemed like hours.
    For a moment he heard the clanging of hammers, but then there was silence. He stopped for a moment, listening in the darkness. He heard his pursuers behind him, muttering and grumbling. Then he pressed on, determined to hide.
    He felt as though he walked for hours, his hands first on moss and then on rough bare stone, praying for some light to guide him. The stone was cold to the touch, and he swallowed. If he could see his hand, what would it look like? Would it be blistered and cut from the rough rock.
    Suddenly, he was bathed in light, and he saw short forms running in the tunnel before him. All around him the ringing of hammers on metal sounded, and then a cry of alarm.
    Fleotdraca! Wigendes, ofsloh thone Fleotdraca!
    Then there was a roaring and a rushing of flame, a searing heat, and then there was darkness.
    Delgar paused, staggered by the vision. For a moment he took his hand off the rock, rubbing the raw flesh. In amazement, he found himself unburned. The only pain came from the scrapes and blisters he had earned in the cave. Then he heard the breathing and muttering behind him.
    Were they still the goblins, pursuing him because they had become lost in the darkness themselves and had nothing else to do, or were they ghosts? Delgar paused, but caution won over curiosity. If they were goblins, as soon as they found him they would kill him. He put his hand back onto the tunnel wall and began to make his way downwards again.
    He found the wall arching away from him, and reached out with his other hand, only to find empty air. I must be in a room, Delgar decided. He traced his way along the wall, seeking another passage. To his amazement, the stone became smooth, as if it had been carefully carved.
    Once again he was bathed in ethereal light. He saw the small men, standing around a broken body in strange leather armor. One of the small men spoke, his rough voice echoing through the cavern.
    Mathmas. Miccel Mathmas!
    The small figure held a gold bracelet up to the light, watching as it shone. The bracelet had a serpent design, and radiated a strange sort of power. Delgar gazed at it in awe, transfixed, for it was finer than anything he had ever seen. Then the room went dark, and his last impression was of two passages on the far wall, the one to the left larger than the other.
    Once again, Delgar felt the strange attraction to the larger passage, and he heard the calls of the goblins as they made their way towards the room. Without hesitation, Delgar struck out to where he remembered the large tunnel being, and breathed a sigh of relief as his hands met the carved stone at the edge of the passage. Slowly and carefully, hyperaware of every sound, he made his way down the passage.
    The echoes of the ancient tongue arose to haunt him once more, breaking the silence. Fleotdraca! Delgar only shook his head, willing the ghosts to go away. Behind him he heard the goblins getting closer, and he began to move as fast as he could down the tunnel. As he walked, the walls became rough again, as if the delicate carving had been destroyed.
    For a moment Delgar blinked, unable to believe his eyes. At the end of the tunnel was a soft glow, illuminating the broken walls and darkness around him. For a moment Delgar wondered if he would be silhouetted against the light for the goblins to see, but he found himself drawn towards the light, moving surely among the battered rock. As he approached the end of the tunnel, the light became brighter, until he finally had to shield his eyes.
    He came to a large cavern, and the illumination blinded him. Finally, his eyes adapted to the brilliance, and he gaped in amazement.
    The cavern was filled with treasure, and the hoard itself glowed with an unearthly light. Looking at the ground, Delgar saw that much of the treasure was old, ancient beyond his understanding. Old, unreadable ruins decorated one sword, which was slowly rusting away. He looked closely at an old cup, decorated with images and pictograms he could not fathom.
    He heard the ringing of metal on metal, and gasped in horror as he saw a great, serpentine head rise above him out of the gold. The huge eyes regarded him for a moment, glowing slightly against the midnight black scales. A single word came to mind: Fleotdraca.
    The Dragon's head reared above him, looking far into the tunnel. Delgar heard the shrill war cry of the goblins, and then a great roaring as the Dragon called out in anger. He threw himself to the side of the hoard as the goblins charged, only to stop short as they came to see the great wyrm.
    As Delgar scrambled in the hoard, he looked back to see the goblins glance behind them, and then charge. First there was a great light, then a burning heat, and then Delgar saw only darkness.