The goblins had filled the hole with rubble, a very common commodity in Xak Tsaroth. Riverwind, ever a temperate man, was sorely tempted to swear blasphemies against the unjust gods. Di An wept quietly.
“There, there,” Catchflea said. “We'll find another way.”
“It's not just that,” she sniffled. “My knees ache terribly!”
“The pain is moving up, yes,” Catchflea said. He held the weeping elf girl close and stroked her short hair. To his surprise, strands came off in his hand. Catchflea discreetly let these fall to the ground and remained silent. Inside, he was very afraid for Di An. What might Krago's potion do to her?
“We'll go to the Aghar town,” Riverwind decided. “Maybe there we'll find willing allies.”
“Suppose they turn us over to the lizard men?” Catchflea said. “To win Thouriss's favor?”
“Gully dwarves are stupid, not cruel,” Riverwind noted. “Besides, I can't think of anything better.”
The two goblins had rounded the corner and were headed back toward the Court of Reception. “Let's go,” Riverwind said.
They cut across the street in front of the old tower. Di An could hardly walk, much less pad silently, so Riverwind scooped her up.
It seemed to the plainsman that Di An was heavier. But, like Catchflea, he kept silent, not wishing to add to her fear. His own worry increased.
On the other side, a deep gash split the street. The stream that ran down the center of the old road splashed into the hole. Riverwind and Catchflea waded through the knee-deep water. Another street branched off directly in front of them. The blank walls of the gully dwarf settlement gave no clue as to who or what lay on the other side. Light spilled out of the adjoining street ahead. In single file, Riverwind- still carrying Di An-and Catchflea crept down the street, always keeping to the shadowed side of the wall. They halted at a corner, and Riverwind set Di An gently down.
Dropping low on the pavement, Riverwind peeked around the corner. A small plaza opened out at the end of the short alley, and there, lit by bundles of torches, was a terrible sight. The goblins had erected a gallows, and a single gully dwarf still hung there. Riverwind whispered this to his friends.
“The families must have claimed the others,” Catchflea said. “I wonder who the poor fellow is who's still there.”
“Whoever he is, he doesn't deserve a fate like this,” Riverwind replied. “I'm going to cut him down.”
“Suppose you're seen?” Di An said.
But the plainsman was gone. He slipped around the corner and moved slowly down the street. Riverwind unhooked the mace from his belt and flattened himself against the near wall. The torches threw the shadow of a lurking goblin on the opposite wall. He was standing guard. Riverwind found a loose stone chip and tossed it into the plaza. The guard presented his pike and growled, “Who goes there?” When no one answered, he advanced a pace. Riverwind could have reached out and touched the wicked iron head of the pike.
The goblin was about to return to his post when Riverwind flicked another pebble into the dark end of the square. The guard advanced three steps this time. He never saw Riverwind as the mace came down on his head. Riverwind dragged the heavy creature into the alley. He donned the goblin's cloak and helmet, and ported the pike on his shoulder. He marched out into the middle of the plaza. There were two more goblins off to the left, but they paid no attention to one of their own.
Riverwind stepped up on the stone slab that had been set up as the base of the gallows. The poor gully dwarf's face was turned away, for which Riverwind was grateful. He put his shoulder under the thick little man and cut the rope with the pike head. Riverwind lowered the gully dwarf to the scaffold.
It was Brud Stonesifter.
Thouriss had succeeded. Riverwind felt a lump in his throat. Along with many of his fellows, Brud had suffered and died because of them, because they had forced him to help them.
“I am sorry,” Riverwind whispered.
“Huh?” said Brud.
Riverwind nearly fell over backward. “Did you speak?” he hissed, eyeing the two goblins. They were hunched over, busy in conversation. They hadn't heard.
“Uh-huh. Brud hungry. Got a rat leg I can gnaw?”
Aghar eating habits aside, Riverwind was astonished. “I saw you hanging! How can you be alive?”
“Little rope not hurt Brud. All Sluds got necks like iron. Glups, they tough, too. Bulps are sissies. They-”
“Never mind. We've got to get out of here. Where can we hide?”
“How 'bout cave?” suggested Brud, still lying on his back with his eyes closed.
“They filled the entrance with stone,” Riverwind said.
“Ho, lots of ways into that cave,” Brud avowed. A harsh voice intruded.
“What are you doing up there?” A draconian officer stood at the foot of the scaffold. Riverwind kept his face averted.
“Taking him down,” he said in the deepest rasp he could make. “Orders.”
“From whom?”
“Krago. The human wants the body to cut up.”
“Huh! I always said warm-bloods were barbarians. All right. Get on.” The officer turned with a flourish of white cloak and stalked away.
Riverwind stood and tucked Brud under his arm. The little miner grunted and said, “Careful, human. Brud got delicate back.”
“You're supposed to be dead,” Riverwind reminded him. “Be quiet.”
Brud would not keep still. He prattled on about a dream he'd been having when Riverwind roused him: “-and then Highbulp, he says to my brother, 'You cannot say stew like life. Only can say life like stew.' Ho, some Highbulp. Should be Lowbulp, or Lowest of Lowbulps, or-”
“Shut up, will you? You're the most talkative corpse I've ever seen.”
“Brud see talking corpse one time. Was six days dead, and birds had pecked it-”
Mercifully, Riverwind reached the alley once more, where he could set Brud on his feet. The two of them hurried along the lane. Riverwind asked Brud if any of the other Aghar had been hurt.
“Naw, hang not hurt Aghar. Like hang ham-just get better.”
“Didn't the goblins or lizard men notice the other victims weren't dead?”
“Ho, uglies and scale faces not see sun rise in morning if it burn their noses. Aghar scream, cry when brother or sister go on rope. Look sad. Uglies and scale faces go away, we take down. All us look alike to them, so they not know.”
Riverwind almost smiled. “Why were you still up there?” he asked.
“'Spose wife forgot me. Anywhy, Brud fall asleep till you wake so rudely.”
The plainsman shook his head. Crude and uncouth they might be, but no one could say the Aghar weren't a hardy breed. Imagine, falling asleep while hanging…
He stopped Brud with one hand. They were near the corner. Riverwind drew the cloak around him to conceal his ungoblinlike body and stepped boldly into the street. There was no sign of Catchflea or Di An. A few yards away, the North Falls pounded down the cliffside in a swirl of spray. He looked in that direction, but they were nowhere to be seen.
“Human!” called Brud. “Come look!”
On the blank wall of a large building the gully dwarf had found a smear of blood and a scattering of short, dark hair. There were nicks in the wall and pavement, nicks such as pikes or swords would make.
Thouriss had them! He had them both. Riverwind cursed
his negligence…
“Where would he take them?' Riverwind demanded of Brud.
“Many bad places. Maybe old palace.” The gully dwarf put his nose down to the bloodstain and sniffed loudly. “That not girl. Smell like old man.”
“Can you really tell?”
“Brud sniff girl before. This not her,” he answered confidently.
So Catchflea was wounded. The old man wasn't that strong and any wound would weaken him further.
The air stirred. It swirled around Riverwind and Brud, flinging dust in their eyes. The plainsman shaded his face
with one hand and felt heat tingle on his skin. Through squinted eyes, Riverwind peered down the street. There was a strange light there. It flickered like firelight but was brighter than twenty torches. As his eyes adjusted to the glare, he saw that the odd light came from a ball of fire the size of his head. Tongues of flame leaped and fell, writhing around the central mass. The fireball slowly approached, weaving from side to side like a hound sniffing for a scent. Brud gave a high-pitched yelp and slid behind the plainsman.
The fireball, trailing a long tail of glowing smoke, came straight toward Riverwind's face. He could feel the heat, smell the burning. Riverwind gripped the goblin pike in two hands, ready to swat or strike the strange intruder. The glowing sphere halted just out of range.
“Riverwind,” said a loud, echoing voice. “Riverwind.”
“Who is it?” he shouted back.
“Greetings, barbarian! This is the voice of Thouriss. I am disappointed at the way you abused my hospitality by trying to escape. If you want to see your friends alive again, surrender yourself at the front steps of the old palace at once. Do not delay or they will die.”
“How do I know they aren't already dead?” Riverwind demanded. The fireball was already moving again. It flew straight at his face. Riverwind ducked and thrust the pike at it. The fireball burst with an ear-splitting clap of thunder. Riverwind was blown off his feet-though Brud clinging to his leg didn't help his equilibrium-and landed heavily on his back. The head of the pike was vaporized, along with ten inches of the shaft. Riverwind got to his feet and kicked the useless pole aside in disgust.
Brad stood up, rubbing his rather square head. “Ow-wah! You heavy, human. Should eat less stew.”
“Never mind. We've got to get to the Great Plaza right away!”
“We, human?” Brud said. He shook his head. “Brud go home. Have dinner.”
“No, you don't.” Riverwind hauled the little fellow to his feet. “I need someone to watch my back if I'm walking into a square full of lizard men and goblins. Besides, you owe me,” he said.
“Brud not fighter. Let me get wife; she tougher than dog steak!”
“No, Brud, there's no time. You're quick on your feet and plenty smart.” Besides, the plainsman added silently, you're all I've got. Brad's implacable expression began to soften. “With you at my back, I won't fear anything Thouriss tries to do,” the plainsman coaxed.
Mention of the fearsome commander took the stiffness out of Brud's spine. He slouched and said dispiritedly, “Maybe skinny girl and old man dead. Then you and Brud walk into trap. Maybe get dead?”
Riverwind unfastened the cloak and dropped it in the street. The helmet he tossed over a pile of broken bricks. “I want you to walk behind me and keep both eyes open for treachery. Understand?” The gully dwarf nodded reluctantly. “Don't look so downcast! Think of what a great story this will be to tell your children,” Riverwind said.
Brad scowled. “All children do is talk back, play loud drum music all time night and day. No 'spect for hardworking father.”
Riverwind wound the rawhide thong attached to the mace handle around his knuckles. “Stand by me, Brud, and all the Aghar will respect what you are about to do.” He set off toward the plaza with urgent strides.
“Huh! All Aghar pay 'spects at funeral!” he muttered. But Brud did follow on Riverwind's heels, his hanging rope still looped about his neck, its cut end trailing in the dust.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Warriors's Way
As Riverwind and Brud entered the great plaza, they saw that Catchflea and Di An were tied to the stumps of broken columns in the portico of the ancient building. Both were gagged. Riverwind's eyes went first to Catchflea. The old man was pale. A streak of blood was drying on his left side. Di An's face was twisted in pain. The goblins had tied her high enough on the column that her feet hung several inches above the floor. The tight ropes drove her copper metal dress into her flesh.
Thouriss stood at the head of the cracked steps, resplendent in green enameled armor mottled with black and gold to resemble a snake's skin. The ophidian commander was vain enough not to be wearing a helm, and his smooth, nearly human features contrasted sharply with the corps of goblins and draconians assembled in the plaza.
Must be the entire garrison, Riverwind thought. Perhaps a hundred armed goblins lined the curved walls that faced the plaza. At the foot of the stairs, near Thouriss, the captain, Shanz, and six more draconians stood at attention. Of Krago there was no sign. Riverwind glanced left and right. No archers on the rooftops that he could see. So far, so bad, he thought grimly.
He halted where the stream flowed into the large triangular pool that dominated the plaza. The streams from the three waterfalls that ringed Xak Tsaroth converged here. Footbridges made of stout wooden planks spanned each of the three streams, though none of these creeks was more than waist deep. Perhaps the lizard men do not enjoy getting wet, Riverwind mused. He filed this thought away as his mind raced, trying to decide on a plan.
“We're waiting, barbarian!” Thouriss boomed.
“I don't want a spear in the back,” Riverwind retorted.
“I have ordered my warriors not to interfere with you.”
“Warriors? These?” Riverwind waved at the silent ranks of goblins. “All they are fit for is enslaving and murdering defenseless gully dwarves.”
“Bold talk coming from a warm-blood! Does the little one guard your back? Ho! Ho!” There were guffaws from the goblin soldiers. “He was dead once. Soon he will be twice dead. Come ahead and meet your own fate, barbarian!”
“Brud stay here,” the gully dwarf whispered behind Riverwind. “Goblins not strike. You hear what great master say.”
“Don't believe it. Thouriss would like it very much if we separated, then he could pick us off one at a time.” He felt a bump as the Aghar moved even closer to him.
Riverwind advanced across the eastern footbridge. Brud stayed close to his back. At the foot of the palace steps, Riverwind paused.
“Are my friends all right?” he asked. He gripped the mace's handle so tightly that his hand went numb.
“They are well. The old one got nicked by my guards. The fool tried to stave off my warriors barehanded,” Thouriss said with a sneer.
“I want to hear them speak.” He put a foot up on the first step.
Thouriss drew a gleaming two-handed sword. “Stand where you are, warm-blood.” Thouriss called out, and a draconian came running to his side. “Unstop their mouths,” he ordered. The lizard man unwound the gags from Di An's and Catchflea's mouths.
“Are you hurt, old man?” Riverwind called.
“Only a scratch,” Catchf lea replied hoarsely.
“And you, little one?”
“He means to kill you!” Di An cried.
“This is no secret,” Thouriss put in genially. He motioned to the draconian, and the gags were jammed back in. Raising his sword high, he slashed an “X” in the air. “Your name will be forgotten in the ranks of the many to fall to Thouriss the Conqueror.”
“Only if you plan to talk me to death,” Riverwind remarked coldly.
Thouriss laughed, a very unpleasant sound, like a hot iron plunging in cold water. “You have a mace in your hand. Do you know how to use it?” he asked.
“It's not my weapon of choice.”
“Shanz! Give the barbarian your blade!” The draconian clomped out of his place in the cordon. Brud cowered behind the tall plainsman, making himself as small as possible. Shanz handed Riverwind his straight sword, pommel first. Riverwind gave Shanz the mace.
“I have trained long against Shanz and the other Bozak,” Thouriss said, “but I haven't yet fought a human. I am curious to discover what it's like to kill one.”
“We haven't crossed blades and already you have me dead,” Riverwind said. “Why should I bother to be sport for you?”
“Did I not say?” Thouriss asked with exaggerated surprise. “If you acquit yourself well, I will spare the old hu
man and the elf girl. Does the weapon suit you, barbarian?”
“A bit heavy, but it will do,” Riverwind replied. Outwardly, he seemed calm and controlled. Inside, he was seething with anger, fear, and anticipation. He had the beginnings of an idea, a way to beat the formidable commander-
His wool-gathering vanished with the first swing Thouriss made with his great sword. The two-handed blade cleaved the air toward Riverwind's skull. The plainsman backed off the steps and parried clumsily. Shanz's sword was a good deal heavier than his saber, but it looked like an actor's wooden blade compared to the monstrous weapon Thouriss wielded. Poor, terrified Brud threw himself flat on the lowest step and quivered.
The commander advanced down the palace steps two at a time. His muscles bulged and knotted beneath his scale-and-mail armor like the workings of some fantastic machine. With everyone's attention fixed on the fight, Brud leaped up and scampered up the steps of the palace. He ran right past Catchflea and vanished into the ruined interior. There was no blaming him. The old man wished he could disappear, too.
Riverwind dodged the strokes Thouriss aimed at his head.
“How am I doing?” Riverwind asked, trying not to gasp for air.
“Not badly.” Thouriss brought his point up from the resting position, an underhand cut at Riverwind's chest. The plainsman met the two-hander with the flat of his borrowed blade. The impact stung his hands, but he was grateful for the added weight of the draconian sword he wielded. He turned Thouriss's attack aside. Riverwind extended his arm full-length and lunged. Thouriss made a coup parry and backed up a step. His clawed heel caught on a slab of broken marble and he stumbled. Riverwind disengaged and slashed hard across the commander's chest. The sword tip scored a bright line along Thouriss's brilliant armor. The goblins shifted their feet and muttered, but a glance from Shanz silenced them. Riverwind withdrew a pace to catch his breath. Swinging Shanz's huge sword was tiring!
“Well played,” Thouriss said. “If it weren't for my armor, you'd have seen my blood.”
“I noticed you wear armor, while I wear only leather,” Riverwind panted.
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