The mine cart's wheels screeched as they gripped the rails.
The immense friction forced the cart to brake abruptly at the edge of the precipice.
"It seems our journey has encountered a small obstacle."
He spoke in that disguised, hoarse, flat voice, looking over Gornuk's head toward what lay ahead.
"Not an obstacle, Mr. Terry."
The goblin Gornuk recovered from the violent jolting, his wrinkled old face frighteningly dark beneath the faint glow beside the tracks.
"This is part of the rules. Every client visiting a vault below level seven hundred must face it."
Then a wave of heat mixed with the pungent smell of sulfur struck them.
Below lay a bottomless rift, glowing faintly with dark red subterranean fire.
An enormous, scar-covered dragon crouched on the suspended stone bridge ahead.
Its cloudy, whitish eyes rolled sightlessly in the darkness.
Its heavy breathing shook loose fragments from the surrounding stone walls.
Gornuk pulled an iron implement strung with metal plates from the pocket of his voluminous robes.
The old goblin shook his withered wrist hard.
An ear-piercing clatter erupted underground.
The sound became countless sharp barbs of malice, piercing their eardrums.
The dragon's enormous body flinched.
It let out an utterly miserable growl.
Then it scrambled backward toward a crack in the rock behind the stone bridge.
The huge creature forced itself into the cramped crevice.
The passage was now completely clear.
"Look at this perfect example of taming."
Gornuk put away the clankers.
He turned to look at Douglas.
His face bore a merchant's smugness and spite.
"Even the Ministry of Magic cannot find security this efficient."
Douglas straightened his collar with his well-defined fingers.
"A Ukrainian Ironbelly, if I'm not mistaken."
"Only... it doesn't look to be in very good condition. Blind, and seemingly malnourished."
He watched the