"I surmise by your presence that Lord Darkmist is calling in his armies," Drixel said, settling to the floor like a leaf on the wind. "He will be impressed with the forces I have assembled."
"Forces?" Phlegothax asked warily. "I see no army at your command."
"Which is exactly why Lord Darkmist will be pleased." The smug Dukarr turned and whistled a shrill note. The dark pools surrounding them roiled with hidden shapes.
"We command the waters, Phlegothax. My army numbers in the hundreds, and can invade any city or town simply by swimming up their water supply. Even the fabled Fengotherond is downstream of us, and therefore vulnerable!"
The dragon glanced about in wonder as a mass of huukkol, or water trolls, shambled from the inky depths. Their long, apelike arms trailed in the water, clawed hands sporting jagged knives of quartz or calcite. There were easily seventy or eighty in this chamber alone, their coarse, matted hair shedding the icy water as their toothy grins gleamed in the chill light. This was a formidable force indeed, and would undoubtedly have been useful to the lord-general. Unfortunately for Iveron, Phlegothax was not particularly interested in whether he could use the additional troops. He was here to collect the gems, and to ambush the thieves who had caused him pain in the depths of Zellohar Keep. Drixel and his troops were expendable.
"A pity," Phlegothax said, a gob of caustic spittle dripping to hiss on the damp floor.
"What do you mean, 'pity'?" Drixel spat, clutching the gem to his breast as if it could protect him. One glance at the dragon's leering visage told him the irrefutable truth of the situation. "I remind you that Lord Darkmist needs me! My forces could be invaluable!" The huukkol closed the circle, sensing their master's worry.
"Iveron Darkmist needs nothing, except that gem you clutch so dearly." Phlegothax lowered his head, grinning at his prey. "You have become nothing but a nuisance, though perhaps a quite tasty nuisance." He moved closer, enjoying the terror on Drixel's face as he backed away.
"If Darkmist desires the gem, he will have it!" Drixel exclaimed in futile hope. "In exchange for my life, I offer you more than that traitorous noble-born brat will ever give you!"
"What can you possibly offer me that he cannot?" the dragon asked in mild curiosity. Hungry as he was, his avarice still outweighed his appetite.
"These caverns, to start," Drixel explained with an expansive wave. "The chambers above are dry and comfortable. And an army of huukkol to make it a stronghold worthy of you."
"What else?" Phlegothax hissed with interest.
"Treasure!" the Dukarr gasped in desperation. "Allow me to leave this cavern alive and you may keep all the wealth I have amassed over my years of searching for this gem. The upper caverns are mounded with gold and jewels!"
"Dismiss your troops, Drixel," the dragon bargained with a concerned glance at the horde of huukkol, "and we will talk."
"Very well!" Drixel shuddered with a sigh of relief. As he turned to wave his troops back to their watery lairs, his relief, his words, and Drixel himself were suddenly cut short as sabre-like teeth snapped around his neck. The body crumpled as Phlegothax crunched and swallowed his tasty morsel.
Never bargain for what can just as easily be taken, my delectable Dukarr, the dragon thought.
He grasped the sapphire between two foot-long claws and lifted it from the lifeless body of the former master of huukkol. As the dragon's muzzle lowered for a leisurely meal, the horde of huukkol stared, at first stunned, then enraged. The furious horde charged, intending to tear the treacherous dragon to shreds.
Phlegothax simply heaved a deep sigh, and surrounded himself with a torrent of flame. The fire enveloped half of the charging mass, and sent the survivors screeching back into the chill waters to douse their smoldering hair.
Of course it did, the dragon thought smugly, snapping up Drixel's limp form. Do not these water creatures realize that their one true weakness is fire? And fire is the one element of which I am the complete and uncontested master!
Avari cast a concerned glance at Hufferrrerrr. "I think we've been pushing him too hard." The leotaur had collapsed when they stopped, too exhausted to even eat.
"Tomorrow's pace will be less rigorous," Shay said as he shook out his blanket and lay it on a mat of pine needles scraped clear of snow. "It's my guess that our destination is near. I must save my energy, so breakfast will have to be mundane, and there will be no magical flight for our furry friend."
"Jist as well," DoHeney agreed. "With this here rough country, it's a might dangerous to be racin' along like we been doin'. Me pony near broke a leg, and them Shadowknives could be settin' up an ambush or somethin'. The cover'll work ta their advantage, ye know."
Shay head bobbed as he scanned the area. The grassy plains had given way to a sparce forest of rising foothills. His finger crooked toward a small boulder near the edge of the camp.
"That would be a good spot for a watch. Who wants to be first? I must study before sleeping, but with Shadowknives about, I don't trust myself to be sufficiently attentive."
"I'll take first watch," Lynthalsea volunteered, nodding in the opposite direction from the boulder. "But I think I'll move down wind and find some cover. That way I can smell anything coming, and watch from hiding."
"Aye, now yer thinkin' proper, lass," DoHeney said as he arranged his blankets. "If ye sat on that there rock, yer askin' to be picked off. Jist poke me when yer tired. I'll wake Avari when it's time fer breakfast. I like her cookin' better'n mine."
"Well, since breakfast without a fire is going to be hard tack and apples, it won't require much cooking." Avari busied herself with her own blankets and bedded down.
"I wouldn't call myself a mage, but I think I can warm some porridge. Wake me when everything is ready." Lynthalsea picked an arrow from her quiver and moved away.
She sat down in its shadows and looked back at camp. Shay sat studying one of his books, using Avari's borrowed dagger for light. The other two were already huddled in their blankets. Lynthalsea breathed in the night air, sifting through the maze of scents drifting on the breeze. Squirrel, owl and the distant odor of raccoon were the only discernable aromas, aside from those of her unusual pack.
Dart glared down at the dying horse in disgust. How could anything meant to be a mount be so frail? Its left foreleg was twisted at an impossible angle, the fractured bone gleaming through the torn skin. It had stumbled on a rotten stump in the dark, and now lie wide eyed, gasping for breath while its master looked on, immune to its suffering.
"I would trade all these miserable beasts for one decent rock lizard!" the assassin spat as he drew a knife.
One stroke opened the arteries in the neck, ending the horse's life in moments. Dart butchered a portion, slicing thin strips of the warm flesh and handing them to his kinsmen. They chewed the gristly meal mechanically, not really enjoying it but knowing that a fire was out of the question.
"Tastes better than rock lizard, anyway," Garrote said, casually wiping his bloody hands on his cloak. But Dart saw the tiny blade slip into his companion’s palm with the movement.
"How do the others fare?" Dart asked, his eyes flicking between his kinsmen. They were nervous, and for good reason: they now had three riders and only two horses.
"Well enough," Whip said as he inched away. A shift in his wrist indicated to Dart that he had dropped his favored weapon, a throwing star, into his left hand. "The stream we crossed helped, and they have rested here enough to continue on at the slower pace that this terrain has forced upon us."
"I suppose so." Dart nodded as he made his decision. Since their pace was already slowed, all three may as well continue the pursuit. He recovered his possessions from his dead mount, then approached to claim one of the surviving horses. "We will ride double on first one mount, then the other."
His companions hesitated for an instant, then nodded in unison. They unobtrusively put their weapons away and mounted the other horse, obviously relieved at his decision.
Dart, howe
ver, had other thoughts. If he gauged their pace too slow, one of his kinsmen would be dead before morning. He looked to the east, then dug his heels into his horse's flanks.
"Proceed cautiously. We are close now... I can feel it."
CHAPTER 28
Well, well, now what do ye think o' that?" DoHeney asked as he gazed in the direction indicated by the gem, right into the cold curtain of the waterfall that plunged into the far side of a broad blue lake. "There must be a cave back there."
"I think we're going to get wet." A shiver raced up Avari's spine as she eyed the water. Legends of slimy denizens of deep dark pools rose unbidden. "There's got to be a way through it."
"There is a path over there," Lynthalsea said, pointing.
"I suggest we circle around within the trees," Shay advised. "If we are not discovered already, we may very well gain access to the caverns without notice."
"Well, let's be at it then! An' I suggest we tie up like we did in the swamp." DoHeney unlimbered his crossbow and fitted a bolt. "Dwarves don't swim well, ye know."
"Well," Avari assured him as she slipped Gaulengil off her shoulder, "if you fall in, at least you'll get a bath."
A deep rumble rose from the dwarf's throat as they set off through the trees. All too soon they encountered the ice-coated rocks and Avari withdrew a rope from her pack. Four pairs of hands trembled as they fastened the familiar slipknots around their waists and began their ascent. Despite their banter, they knew that this, the last of the four cornerstones, would be guarded jealously, perhaps even by Iveron Darkmist himself.
Hufferrrerrr's guilty gaze followed his friends. His broad shoulders slumped with shame at remaining safe while his comrades ventured into danger, but he knew that he was serving a vital purpose. As they vanished behind the spray, he let a deep growl of displeasure rumble up from his belly, then put the matter out of his mind.
The leotaur checked the horses one more time, then moved downwind and settled into the shelter of a tall pine. He lay with his feet curled under his long body, the caricature of a huge house-cat. He sniffed the air while checking his weapons, making sure the obsidian edges were sharp and clean.
Leotaur senses are as sharp as their blades, but even the keenest ears cannot hear the footfall that is utterly silent. Hufferrrerrr sheathed his dagger, the last weapon he had to clean, and sniffed. A troubling scent tickled his nose, just as a thin wire snaked over his head and tightened around his throat.
The path that led up behind the waterfall was steep and slick with ice, but the companions' ascent transpired without incident. Although they did not have to pass beneath the pounding flow, the mist left them soggy and chilled. Behind the falls, tier after tier of pools and short plunging falls receded into the gloom.
"This damn water's freezin'!" DoHeney mumbled between chattering teeth. Pools only knee deep for Avari reached some sensitive areas of his anatomy.
"It's shallower over here, DoHeney," Lynthalsea whispered.
"Aye, thank ye, lass." The dwarf struggled to higher ground.
Avari picked their way a careful step at a time, Gaulengil held sheathed in the crook of her arm. The roar of the falls masked any noise they might make, but her hands and feet were becoming numb with cold, making each step and handhold even more precarious.
She grasped a slick knob of wet stone and heaved herself up onto the rim of the last pool. A quick glance confirmed that this was indeed the top of the trundling falls, but a second look around froze her heart in her chest. She turned back to warn her comrades into silence, but not quickly enough.
"The ceiling is higher than I can see," Shay remarked.
"Sssst!" Avari hissed. Gaulengil severed the restricting rope with one slash. She crouched in the water and heaved the others up, casting nervous glances over her shoulder.
Her companion's faces drooped into horrified mirrors of her own as they joined her. Around them loomed a cavern fully a hundred yards across and, as Shay had mentioned, who knew how high, but their unpleasant déjà vu was inspired by the clear blue glow that shone from atop a pedestal of sorts at the center of the room's dry, central floor. It was, of course, the gem they sought. Twice before they had happened upon tauntingly displayed gems, and had nearly paid with their lives.
It did not calm their fluttering hearts that the pedestal was a pyramid built of dozens of huge, soot-blackened skulls. The top skull had been holed so that the gem rested easily upon it. The lurid, skulls grinned balefully at them in the gem's cold, light; row upon row of needle teeth and empty eye sockets.
"Somethin' stinks!" DoHeney whispered, wrinkling his prodigious nose in disgust.
"Smells like... burned hair." Avari said.
"No," Lynthalsea said quietly. "Well, yes, burned hair, but not just..." She sniffed the air. "Something else. A scent I've never encountered before."
"Now that's right strange," DoHeney countered, sniffing again. "I was jist gonna say it was familiar. Like I smelled it once before—maybe somewhere underground—like a sulfur reek, but fouled with rotten cinnamon..."
"Zellohar—," Shay gasped breathlessly.
"Yeah, that's it! Down in where we first seen the—"
Three of the four companions stared at one another in stark horror while Lynthalsea looked at them in worry.
"The wha—"
Her question was interrupted by the plink of stones falling into the water. The noise rang loud in their ears despite the roar of the falls, drawing reactions honed by weeks of mortal danger. But it was already too late; their luck had finally run out.
The dragon plunged from the upper caverns like an enraged whirlwind from hell, flames trailing from the corners of its maw to course along its scaly bulk.
Its immense wings billowed, clapping like thunder to pull it out of its dive and streak toward them. For the barest instant, Avari stood in awe of its power and grace. As it swooped past the sapphire, its long sinuous neck snaked out to snap up the enchanted stone like a pearl from an oyster's shell. Its lightning quickness boggled her mind.
Avari's awe melted like a snowflake in a raging inferno as she realized that the scaly horror was streaking straight at her. There was no time to run and no place to hide. Her companions had scattered. From her left she heard Shay screaming an incantation, and from her right, arrows and bolts from DoHeney and Lynthalsea flew at the dragon's head, some missing, some glancing off its scales, and some embedding in its flesh.
Avari stood transfixed, her eyes steady on those of her rushing assailant. All else about her slowed to the syrupy crawl of adrenalin haze. She looked deeply into the crimson orbs of death incarnate, and to her astonishment, her fear fled. The tall warrioress stood firm, her heels steady on the wet stones. She raised Gaulengil to strike, its glowing emerald leading the great beast toward her, away from her friends.
Lightning erupted from her left, arcing along the dragon’s bulk. In the stark silver light she saw the great arms lash out, grasping. She swung Gaulengil with all her strength and felt the blade bite, parting iron-hard scales, tender muscle, tendon and bone, but her satisfaction was short-lived. Something struck her... hard. Her feet left the floor, and she felt herself falling... falling into a cold blackness that eagerly enveloped her.
Phlegothax exploded through the waterfall like a screaming demon. And indeed he was screaming—in anguish. Arrows riddled his head, one even lodged in the corner of his left eye, sending stabs of agony whenever he moved it. Pain coursed along the deep burn that had blasted through his scales for half his length. Mercifully, it was cauterized, unlike the bleeding gash left by the tall woman's magical blade. Blood gushed from his flank, and his left leg hung askew.
He banked hard, his wings beating like a ship's sails jibing in a gale. He thanked Draco that they were intact as he gained altitude. He knew he was badly hurt, but a quick inspection told him that the bleeding was slowing, and would soon stop.
Something tickled his palm. Phlegothax looked down at the tiny figure that struggled to free
itself from his claws. The dragon longed to squeeze the life out of it, but repressed the reflex for two reasons: first, Darkmist wanted the thieves alive; second, and vastly more important, if he squeezed too hard he might touch one of the gems he knew they carried. He already held one in his mouth and knew that if he touched another, the consequences would be dire.
But what hurt Phlegothax even more than his grievous wounds was his failure. Such a simple task, he had thought, to kill four such puny creatures. He had convinced himself that his injury back in Zellohar had been bad luck. Now, once again, they had hurt him, and he had recovered only two of the three stolen gems. A dragon's pride is a mighty thing, but Phlegothax knew deep in his dark soul that if he returned now to battle the two remaining thieves, he would not survive. He needed to rest and heal. He whirled on the wind and headed for the mountain peaks, to a high eyrie where he could recover unmolested.
"Well, that ends our responsibilities to Iveron Darkmist." Dart smiled with no real satisfaction, watching coldly as the dragon thundered overhead, then banked off toward the mountains. The beast held two of the thieves in its clutches; the other two had no doubt been its dinner.
Just as well, he thought, noticing that the dragon bore obvious tokens of its recent encounter.
As if to confirm this, a spray of blood fell onto his upturned face and dotted the snow around him. His tongue flicked out to taste the dragon blood, and anger filled his dark heart: anger at Darkmist for not trusting them to complete their mission, and anger with himself for failing to complete his assignment.
"Now we can enjoy ourselves before blinking back to Zellohar." Garrote smiled and prodded their captive with his own obsidian dagger, laughing at the deep growl he got in response. "What? Did I hurt the big kitty? Well, why don't you come get me?"
The leotaur growled again, straining against the ropes that strung him up tightly between three trees. Thin cords bound his wrists and hind legs; his forelegs were free but he could not lash out without dislocating his upper shoulders.
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