Jeremy looked down from where he hung above the lava. Sure enough, the end of his rope had caught fire, and the fire was moving upward. He pulled out his dagger and cut the rope, sending the burning half into the lava. A small chunk of lava flew towards him. He swung his knife and deflected the magma so it bounced off the stone next to him, tiny droplets burning his hands and arms. Climbing up to the bridge deck and pulling himself up to the fifth section, he really wished he'd put more points into endurance; it was all he could do to keep going. The final gap between the fifth and sixth sections of the bridge was the largest, and he was down a spear and almost half of his charmed rope.

  Reaching the end of the fifth section, he jumped desperately, knowing there was no way he could make it across. Even rested, he wasn't strong enough to make such a jump, and now he was anything but. As the arc of his jump sent him plummeting past the stone bridge, he flung out his rope, barely reaching the bottom of the bridge, some fifty feet below, leaving him hanging over molten lava. He climbed the rope, trying not to succumb to the heat and exhaustion. He avoided being hit by large lava droplets, but not smaller ones. When he reached the end of his rope, he grabbed the lower end and sent it flying upward until it stuck a quarter of the way up the stone face. He kept climbing. When he reached the end of the rope, he sent the bottom end halfway up the stone face. A huge chunk of lava came out of nowhere, slamming into the stone above him. The lava left him unscathed but burned through the rope, sending him sliding down the rock face. He pulled out his dagger and stabbed a crack in the rock face, stopping his fall.

  “Squeak! Time for plan C!”

  “Squeak!” Squeak was on the job. Jeremy removed a second rope, one he'd made from strips of his dungeon cloak, tied together and thoroughly soaked in water. One end had a makeshift claw he'd made from a couple of low-quality daggers.

  Jeremy's familiar wrapped itself around the rope's claw as Jeremy whipped the rope around in a circle, using centrifugal force to send it flying upward. With difficulty, his familiar pulled the rope the rest of the way up the stone face and wedged the claw into a crack in the bridge's stone. Jeremy climbed the rest of the way, expecting his rope to fail any second.

  Pulling himself to the top of the sixth and final section of the bridge, he drank his last healing potions as he ran up the steep bridge.

  The fire was really hurting. His lungs burned from breathing in the heat, gas, and flames. The bridge curved upwards, becoming steeper. He smelled his cloak beginning to burn. He kept putting one leg in front of the other. Water from his water bottle turned to steam as fast as it came out. He felt his hair catch fire and slapped his head to put it out. At the end of the bridge, the fire went out, and he collapsed.

  He'd made it. Unlike the tiny ledge on his side of the chasm, this ledge had about half a football field's worth of space to move around in.

  The fire dragon guarding the large treasure chest awoke and yawned lazily.

  Jeremy grabbed his backpack and ran/staggered toward the dragon.

  “Only one?” the fire dragon communicated by thought. Jeremy could feel this one was male. “You've come a long way to die, little adventurer.”

  Jeremy's mouth and throat were too dry to speak, assuming he had anything to say. When the dragon charged, Jeremy hurled his backpack at the attacking dragon, flinging himself to the side as the backpack full of water burst inside the fire dragon's mouth in a cloud of steam. The dragon let out a mental scream of pain and anger, backing away.

  Jeremy pulled out his bow and arrows, aiming for the fire dragon's eyes, but failing to hit anything vital and doing little more than further angering him.

  The angry, wounded fire dragon retaliated, charging and lashing out at Jeremy with his claws.

  Jeremy backed up frantically, approaching the edge of the chasm. He grabbed his bag of holding and released hundreds of gallons of water, thoroughly drenching the attacking dragon. The water surrounding the dragon turned into steam.

  Jeremy kept backing away until he was a few feet from the edge of the chasm. He felt the dragon—half-blinded from wounds and steam—charge him. Jeremy pretended to stumble, falling to one knee, letting the dragon think it had him trapped against the lava-filled chasm. The charging dragon slashed at him with a clawed foot to send Jeremy flying into the lava. Jeremy threw himself forward, under the slashing claws. The dragon slid on the wet stone, and Jeremy darted behind him.

  For a second, it looked like the dragon would recover, but Jeremy hurled himself at the dragon's backside, stabbing with his venom dagger and releasing every bit of electricity he'd stored, kicking the dragon with all his strength. The dragon slid over the ledge and spread his wings, but, after being soaked with water, could not fly. He plunged into the flowing lava with a splash and explosion of steam.

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  Jeremy didn't think either the poison or magma would kill a fire dragon, but as long as the dragon was out of the picture, he was fine with this.

  His spell Divine Fury left him, and he collapsed on the ground, too tired to move. Whether the dragon was dead, it would seem the battle was over.

  Jeremy forced himself to stand. He grabbed his water bottle and drenched his body while drinking so fast he coughed and choked.

  The lava continued to rise, approaching the ledge. He staggered to the treasure chest the fire dragon had guarded and was about to open it when he sensed an imperceptible shift in the shadows. He looked up and laughed.

  On a small ledge, over fifty feet above him, was a second chest, much smaller than the first.

  If he knew anything about the dungeon, that was the Dragon Queen's gift.

  He was tired! He could barely move and was completely out of healing potions. From the heat and bubbling noises the lava was making, he had little time.

  The chest he stood next to was too large to go into his pack, but it wasn't particularly heavy. When he pried it open, he saw armor of a higher quality than what Banxi had tried to bribe him with: a storage ring, weapons, including a beautiful charmed short sword, vibrating with power, and a charmed shield that might be light enough for him to use.

  Before he could try to identify anything, there was another shift in the shadows. The ledge and chest above him had vanished.

  He closed the chest, and the ledge and its small chest returned. So it was one chest or the other.

  He studied the almost-smooth cliff face. Climbing it would have been difficult even at full strength. Weak as he was, he wasn't sure he could do it.

  The lava poured over the ledge.

  He had just enough time to drag the chest to the exit. He had won a valuable prize. Dying for something that might have infinite value was crazy, and who knew what a dragon queen would consider of infinite value?

  In his moment of indecision, the lava crept closer.

  He dragged the chest to the cavern wall, stood it on end, and, with a groan, he pulled himself onto the chest and jumped to the first real handhold on the wall face.

  The pain of clinging to a hot stone wall with a burnt hand made him cry out. The lava covered the floor; if he fell now, he wasn't getting up. He reached for the next handhold, praying his badly burnt left hand could support his weight. His left hand slipped off, slippery from his blood. His bones ached, his muscles were like jelly, but he tried again, and it held.

  Only the knowledge that he'd be burnt alive stopped him from letting go. He reached up for the next handhold. His left hand slipped again, just as he grabbed with his right. Holding himself with one hand, he forced his right foot into a tiny crack in the rocks and used that to push himself up. The wall grew hotter, and he could feel the lava rising. The next handhold was three feet above him. Hyperventilating, he flung himself upwards. He missed the handhold, crying out in fear as he dropped, somehow catching the handhold with his left hand on the way down. A magma bubble popped, and a piece of lava missed his head by inches. Legs shaking from fear and exhaustion, he pulled himself up and jumped a second time, catching a handhold. He kept climbing, pushing past his pain and exhaustion until he'd found places to rest his hands and feet. He took a breath, then another, until his legs shook less. The next few handholds were close enough that, aside from the heat, there wasn't a problem. He reached out with his left foot, catching his toe in a tiny crack in the rock face and pushing himself another few feet to find and cling to the handhold above. Then nothing. He looked around for anything that looked like a handhold.

  A strand of spider-silk thread dropped, hanging next to his hand. “Come on, you idiot!” Flint shouted. “You've made it this far, now get the treasure so we can leave this dungeon!”

  “Squeak!” As exhausted as Jeremy, having lost most of its essence, his familiar supported some of his weight, helping as well.

  There was a roar behind him. The dragon was coming back! Probably swimming through the lava like a giant eel.

  Crying from the strain, Jeremy grabbed the thread and pulled himself from one handhold and foothold to another, until he reached the end of the thread and held onto the rock face. Flint grabbed the thread and tied it to another bump.

  He felt the dragon approaching.

  Forcing his body to move faster, he reached the tiny ledge with the treasure and pulled himself onto it. A doorway opened in front of him.

  Unable to move the chest with his burnt, blackened hands and forearms, he fell on top of it and crawled forward, pushing and pulling the chest along. There was an angry roar from the dragon as the door slammed shut behind him.

  He slowly crawled up the stairs, rolling the chest with him, so exhausted that he was barely aware of what he was doing. One step at a time. An eternity later, he reached the top of the stairs and blessed coolness. He collapsed.

  When he woke, he realized he was in a safe room, looking up at a normal starry sky. He groaned in agony, but not as exhausted as he'd been earlier.

  What had he almost died for?

  He reached for the chest.