by Jean Rabe
A deep chuckle escaped from Donnag's doughy lips. "We come by many treasures. This one from a little thief with no spine. He stole from the dead rather than from the living. And then he sought to sell his prize to me." Softer, he added, as a smile spread across his stern face, "The little thief is with the dead now."
Donnag rose to tower over Dhamon. Dhamon didn't flinch, tilting his head up to meet the steely gaze of the chieftain. "We will consider this fabled sword yours, Dhamon Grimwulf-more because you are a friend of Maldred, whom we accept as one of our own, than because of your wagonful of gems. Still, before we hand it over, we must require an errand of you."
"And what is this errand?"
"We want you to accompany your two human friends into the mountains. To the goatherders' village, Knolls-bank. We want you to make sure they live up to their word of stopping the raids. Help your friends deal with the wolves."
"Rig and Fiona are not my friends."
"But they are your kind," Donnag swiftly returned.
"I've no desire to remain in their company. All I want is the sword. You've said I more than met your price."
"But we do not trust the Knight and the dark-skinned man. If they indeed make good on their word of helping the village, we will give the Knight her ransom-only because her notion of buying her brother's freedom amuses us. Then, too, we will give you the sword."
Dhamon frowned.
"And more," Donnag continued. "We will give you a few other trinkets from my treasury to sweeten the deal. For your trouble of helping my loyal subjects in Knollsbank."
Dhamon's jaw clenched. His eyes darkened and narrowed and his voice grew threatening. "I'll take the sword now and accompany Fiona and Rig. But I want the sword up front."
Donnag shook his head. "We make the rules in this city, Dhamon Grimwulf. You can demand nothing of us."
"You do not trust them," Dhamon said evenly. "How can I trust you?"
"Oh, you can trust him." This came from Maldred, who stepped from behind the ogre to join them. "On my word, Dhamon Grimwulf, you can trust Chieftain Donnag."
"Done, then," Dhamon said, extending his hand. "We will tend to your village of goatherders, and then we'll conclude our deal." He pivoted on the balls of his feet and strode quickly from the room.
When he was out of sight, Maldred turned to Donnag. "I don't understand. Why the interest in helping a village of goatherders? I've never known you to be so concerned about the peasants in the mountains. Or to be concerned about anyone, for that matter."
"We are not concerned," Donnag returned, gesturing with his fingers as if he were shooing away an insect.
"Then why…"
"You are not to go with Dhamon Grimwulf and the others. Do you understand? Neither is Ilbreth. Stay here, Maldred, in our palace."
Lines of curiosity spread across Maldred's forehead.
"Those three will not be returning from Knollsbank," Donnag continued. "We've sent them to their deaths. We will keep the precious gemstones and the sword of Tanis Half-Elven, and we will rid ourselves of all of those bothersome people in the process."
CHAPTER NINE
Life From Death
The rain made the rockface cruelly slick, and Mal-dred had to use all of his strength to struggle up it, digging fingers into cracks, his feet scrabbling, arm muscles bunching, and finally pulling himself up onto a wide ledge. Catching his breath, he tossed his rope over the side, braced himself, and pulled Fiona up to join him. He held her in his arms for a moment, the others waiting below.
"It is fortunate you decided to join us," Fiona told him.
"Yes, I decided the matters I needed to address in town could wait." Maldred's face was cloudy, recalling Donnag's orders to stay behind. The chieftain would find out soon enough that Maldred and Fetch joined the mission to Knollsbank. Maldred wondered what could be so dangerous in these hills, and he hoped his presence and sword skill would be enough to keep this from becoming a death's errand.
"Something troubles you?"
"Wolves, Lady Knight. The wolves that raid the goats."
Maldred doubted wolves truly were the cause of the goatherders' problems.
"We will send the wolves hunting for food elsewhere," she said.
His face lightened as he banished his thoughts of death and Donnag. "You are indeed fair," he said, his eyes capturing hers and twinkling with an inner light. "I swear by all I hold dear you surely take my breath away." His words sounded achingly sincere.
"I think it is this height that is making it difficult for you to breathe, Maldred."
"No," he chuckled. "It is you, Lady Knight." He dipped his head and met her lips, the kiss long and forceful.
When he pulled back she blushed and eased herself away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and glancing down the steep ridge. They were too high to see the crumbling buildings, the misshapen ogres, and the poor humans and dwarves struggling to barely eke out an existence in Bloten. The rain, coupled with the heat of summer, had engendered a mist around the ogre city, a pale pink and gray halo that made the place look serene and beautiful and very remote from this high vantage point-a magical city from children's bedtime stories where everyone lived well and happily. Not used to the altitude, a feeling of dizziness overtook her and she stepped back to lean against Maldred.
"Are you all right, Lady? Not that I mind."
"I don't look like much of a lady in these clothes," she said. He'd managed to convince the Solamnic to leave her plate mail at Donnag's, since it was not proper attire for climbing mountains. She had staunchly disagreed, and Rig voted with her just to side against Maldred, but then, she got a good look at just how sheer and dangerous the mountain was. And so she was wearing a pair of tan breeches and a long-sleeved black tunic, man's garb, tucked in at the waist. Rikali had grudgingly offered to share her more fine and more colorful clothes, and was secretly pleased to discover them too small for the muscular Knight. "In fact, Maldred, I look like an old field hand."
"You do not take compliments well, Lady Knight," he said, dropping the rope over the side. "Perhaps that is because the company you've been keeping does not think to offer them. And perhaps they do not have the good sense to realize what they have in their presence. I mean the big stupid mariner-Rig. You cannot marry him, Fiona."
"People really live up there?" she asked, changing the subject. Her eyes remained locked on Maldred.
"Goatherders in the village of Knollsbank-and from other smaller villages. They know better ways around these mountains than I, and likely would have chosen a much simpler path. Chieftain Donnag says they climb these rocks easier than most people walk. And, of course, goats live up here too."
"And wolves, apparently," Rig added. The mariner was the next to arrive, using the rope primarily as security, climbing as Maldred had done, as if he was born to the activity. Like scaling the masts of a ship, he fondly mused as he finished with this portion of the ascent. He was weighted down with his weapons, the glaive strapped to his back. Dhamon followed him, Fetch on his shoulders.
Maldred started up the next section of rock, Fetch accompanying him this time, while Dhamon stayed behind to wait for Rikali. The half-elf skittered up the mountain like a spider, not needing the rope, as her fingers and sandaled feet found cracks and crevices the others had somehow missed. It was a skill she learned from the thieves' guild in Sanction, fitting her fingers and toes into the narrow crevices between the bricks that made up the exteriors of the nobles' walled houses. Dhamon helped her up on the ledge, just as Fiona turned to go.
Just then, the mountain rumbled slightly, as it had a few times since they began their climb. Rikali clung to Dhamon, feigning fright and then becoming genuinely afraid when the tremor continued unabated. Her hands nervously massaged the muscles in Dhamon's arms. When the tremor finally passed, she let out a deep breath and grinned slyly.
The rain had continued steadily for the past several days, at times pounding down, and at other times, like now, a fine drizzle
, the sole purpose of which seemed to keep them from bearing the brunt of the otherwise hot day. Rikali now turned her face up to catch some of the rainwater in her mouth, then dropped her chin to his chest again. "Dhamon Grimwulf, I love you."
"Rikali, I…"
"You lovebirds joining us?" Rig had made it up to the next ledge and was peering down at the two. Fetch was at his shoulder, red eyes twinkling mischievously.
Dhamon reached for the rope, not noticing the clouded expression on the half-elf's face. He had nearly made it to the next ledge when he felt his leg tingle with warmth from the scale. It gave him little warning this time, turning instantly to a fiery heat. He gripped the rope, his eyes squeezing shut, teeth digging into his bottom lip. He tasted blood in his mouth, then put all of his effort into simply hanging on as he was wracked by wave after wave of intense heat and bone-numbing cold.
Each time the pain was profound. And each time it was different, hotter, then so cold, shifting violently back and forth. Now from behind his eyelids he saw nothing but red, the flames of a fire, the breath of the dragon overlord who had cursed him with the scale on his leg. He fought to focus on something besides the flames, real or imaginary, it didn't matter. Anything that might lessen the pain. For an instant he saw the face of a Kagonesti, soft and beautiful. But then the red overwhelmed it and he saw a pair of blinking red eyes.
"Dreaming," he croaked. He bit down hard, almost relishing that pain.
"Dhamon?" Rig was looking over the side, waiting to hoist him up.
Rikali was nervously prancing about on the ledge below, realizing what was happening.
"Dhamon!" Rig shouted.
"You leave him be!" she hissed to Rig. She started up the rockface. "Hold on," she urged him. "Lover, you just hold on." The half-elf caught up with him, reached out and grabbed the belt that held his sword and ale skins. His trembling threatened to pull her off the cliff face.
In the span of a few heartbeats Dhamon started shaking even more. Rig pulled on the rope, Rikali climbing up with it, one hand in a vertical crevice, the other still clutching Dhamon's belt. Between the two of them, they were able to drag him up to the ledge, where they tugged free his bow and quiver and laid him down away from the lip. Rikali hovered over him and pushed Rig away, clucking like a mother hen. "You keep going," she told the mariner, waving her arm. "Dhamon and I will be just fine here. We'll catch up in a few minutes." Then she quickly thought better of the situation. "Mai!" she screamed. "He needs help!"
It looked as if Dhamon was having a seizure. The half-elf tugged a skin free from Dhamon's belt, raised his head, and poured the liquor into his mouth, a good portion of it dribbling down his chin and onto his shirt. She massaged the muscles of his throat, helping it go down.
"That won't help him, Riki." Maldred had climbed down from the higher ledge, nudged Rig aside and squatted next to Dhamon. "It just makes him a little numb, is all." He took Dhamon's arm and gripped it as Dhamon gripped him back with all his strength, fingernails digging into the big man's muscles. "That's it," Maldred coaxed, concern etched deeply in the lines around his eyes and mouth. "Ride it out, my friend."
Rikali replaced the skin, pointedly ignoring the mariner and Fiona, who was calling down from above. "It's none of your business about Dhamon," she finally told them.
A few minutes later, Dhamon stopped shaking. He gulped in the damp air and opened his eyes. "I'm all right now," he said, not arguing when Maldred helped him to his feet and helped him strap the quiver and bow on his back. He met Rig's stare. "I am all right," he repeated more strongly.
"The hell you are," the mariner argued. "It's that damned scale, isn't it?"
Maldred brushed by the pair and started climbing again, dropping the rope when he got to the top and bracing himself to lift Dhamon.
"Aye, it's the scale." Dhamon grabbed the rope, relying almost entirely on Maldred's strength to pull him up. The episode had exhausted him.
Rikali motioned for the mariner to go next. "Dhamon has these shakes once in a while. That's all," she said. "He gets over them and is good as new. Mai helps him through it. Mai's his best friend. Dhamon doesn't need your sympathy."
The rest of the climb was in silence, and by late afternoon they reached a narrow plateau, where the goatherders lived. It was a small community, the homes a collection of tiny caves and lean-tos constructed of pine logs and skins set against the side of the mountain, which rose up for at least another four hundred feet. The residents were humans and mountain dwarves, the former short and thin, almost spindly, but obviously agile as monkeys. The latter were ruddy and stocky, somehow equally at home in this high outlook. All the men wore short, pointed beards, as though they had taken on the appearances of their four-legged charges. The air carried a pungent scent of wet goats, wet people, and something unidentifiable-and most unpalatable-that was cooking in a covered fire pit.
Rikali dug about in her satchel for a vial of perfumed oil and liberally applied it, adding a drop beneath her nose. "Better," she pronounced.
"I'm Kulp," an older human said, extending his hand to Dhamon. The two were near the fire pit, where several goatherders had gathered. "I lead this village, called Knollsbank, and I'm the one who sent word to his exalted Lordship Donnag that our herd is dwindling. Our gratitude to the lord for any help you can provide. Truth, though, I am most surprised he sent us aid. His lordship is not known for caring about these villages' well-being."
His lordship? Rig mouthed.
Maldred walked around the village, Fiona at his side, looking for some sign of the dread wolves. They made pleasant small talk with the people as they went, answering questions about the town far below, the styles of dress for the women, the music that was popular, the threat from the Black called Sable, what was going on in the world to the east of the Kalkhists. When Maldred revealed that Fiona was a Solamnic Knight who had stood up to the Dragon Overlords, all attention turned to her and the questions focused on the great dragons. The villagers had all heard of the overlords and knew what they'd done to Krynn. Yet none of them had seen a dragon, save a rare silhouette high overhead, and all of them were in disbelief that Lord Donnag would send someone as important as Fiona to help them.
On the opposite side of the village, Rikali locked her arm with Dhamon's as he introduced himself and the half-elf. "These wolves that are slaughtering your goats, Kulp…"
"Wolves?" The goatherder scrunched his face in a question. "Wolves don't live in these mountains. It's giants. Giants are stealing our goats." There was instantly a great sadness on Kulp's face, as if he had lost a child. "Our herd is half of what it was in the spring. If it continues, by winter we'll be finished. They took four kids last night who were being mothered on that ridge."
Dhamon's mind was working, his fingers drumming against his belt in irritation. "Giants?"
Kulp nodded. "So our messengers told Donnag."
Dhamon drummed faster. Trust Donnag? he said to himself. Maldred said to trust him. Anger flared in his eyes, and Kulp stepped back, startled.
"So they haven't actually hurt you, these giants?" Dhamon finally asked.
Kulp looked shocked. "Hurt? They hurt us most horribly! Taking our goats is hurting us, our livelihood. The goats are all we have. We won't have the goods to pay Donnag's taxes if this continues. We will have nothing to barter with and we will lose our home."
"Pay Donnag?" Rig interrupted. The mariner had been edging over during the conversation.
"We pay the chieftain in milk and meat for the right to live on his mountain. Certainly that is why he sent you-to stop the giants so we can continue to meet his fees and taxes."
"Giants?" The mariner growled and looked about for Fiona. Where was she-she ought to hear this evidence of the ogre chieftain's fiendishness. He spotted her and Maldred leaning over a small pen where a mother goat and three newborns rested.
Dhamon cleared his throat. "And where are these so-called giants…"
"We believe the giants live in those caves,
Mister Grimwulf." Kulp was pointing toward a peak that rose up high away from the village. "Some of our young herders fought one and thought they'd killed it. Said it was a massive creature with long arms and wicked claws. It must have only been stunned and then came to, escaping as they tried to drag it here. A few of them tracked it, heading toward that peak." He dropped his gaze and shook his head. "But those young men did not return."
"Tracking the giants now-tracking anything-is not possible," Dhamon said, looking at the ground. What earth there was consisted of broad patches of mud from which sprouted tall grass. There were small gardens, reasonably protected from all the rain by a network of skins and lean-tos. But mostly there was shale and granite and goat droppings.
Dhamon looked toward the lofty peak, squinting through the rain to spot caves where the goat-raiding giants might live. "Kulp, that's another several hours climb, at the very least. We'd like to stay here the rest of the day, get an early start."
The village leader clapped his hands loudly. "We will make accommodations for Donnag's men," Kulp said. "And we will feed them well." Then he was off to evict a family to make room for the companions for the evening.
The rain had stopped for a few hours during the night, and beneath the scant stars that poked through the wispy clouds they were fed a meal of boiled roots, spicy broth, and hard bread. The broth was what had been simmering throughout the day and tasted surprisingly good despite its strong smell. The bread was among the foodstuffs the herders received regularly in barter from Bloten. There was a strong liquor, which the herders made themselves and Dhamon pronounced acceptable.
Maldred instructed the half-elf not to let the kobold out of her sight while they were in the village, not wanting him to stir up any trouble. He spoke in whispers to Dhamon, vowing that when they returned to Bloten he would make sure Donnag kept his part of the bargain. The sword would be his-along with plenty of baubles for dealing with giants rather than wolves. When the big man left their company, Fiona followed him until they were alone beside a spindly rock. That is when Maldred drew her into his arms.
