Downfall ds-1

by Jean Rabe

  Without his hooded cloak, which Rikali said had to be thrown away because it was so smelly, the kobold presented a frightening figure to the humans, despite his small size. He spat at a portly middle-aged woman who clutched a canvas sack in front of her, and he pointed with his hoopak, indicating she should drop it on the ground. She shook her head furiously, held it tighter, and shouted "Demon!"

  "Leave her be," Rikali said as she joined the kobold. "There's plenty of other things for us. Let the ol' bag keep her precious ol' bag." She chuckled at her own keen sense of humor.

  Rikali and Fetch shoved the merchants forward. There were nine all together, eight adults and two of those, by their dusky skin, Ergothians like Rig-a long way from home. All were alternating expressions of fear with whispering curses. The grizzled man was the loudest.

  "You can't earn an honest way in the world! Shame!" he muttered.

  "This is honest enough to suit us," Rikali shot back. She lined the merchants up and looked each one over carefully, her hand darting out to snatch the arm of one of the Ergothians. "The silver bracelet. Take it off. That's it. Now hand it over to me. No tricks. Slow. Ah, it's a beauty." She tried to slide it on her wrist, but found it much too large. She hollered for Fetch, and the kobold scrambled over and hooked the bracelet around her knee, just above her boot cuff.

  "Yer welcome, Riki dear," the kobold told her, grinning when a few of the merchants gasped to hear that the demon-creature could speak.

  "Fetch!" This time Dhamon was calling for him. "Check the wagons. Make sure there're no surprises inside." Dhamon and Maldred turned their full attention to the line of merchants, hot and defeated and looking for some measure of mercy.

  Dhamon sneered at the Ergothians and drummed the fingers of his free hand against his belt. His eyes narrowed, as if telling them "give me an excuse for a fight."

  "No need for anyone to get hurt," Maldred said, offering the merchants a bit of reassurance.

  A few of them relaxed at his words. But the Ergothians watched Dhamon warily. The old man showed a little courage and ground his heel into the edge of the trail. "Hurt? Stealing from us isn't hurting us? You're taking everything we…"

  "Shush, Abril," the portly woman whispered. "Don't provoke them. They've a little demon that serves them."

  Without warning the mountain rumbled. But rather than quickly dissipating, the quake grew in intensity, pitching the old man to the ground and causing Dhamon and everyone else to scramble to keep their balance. Fetch had been climbing into the lead wagon when the trembler struck, and he cursed shrilly in his odd language as his head thumped against a crate inside. He cursed again and poked his head out from under the canvas flap, hollering in an odd, snarling language.

  "It's nothing," the big man consoled Fetch. "A slight tremor. Happens all the time in the Kalkhists-ever since the Chaos War."

  "It's not a tremor. It's the very earth angry at you!" the portly woman said. "Stealing from good people! The spirits of the gods are furious with you!" She instantly stepped back and rounded her shoulders, terrified of the bandits and that her words might provoke them.

  The others seemed cowed too, except for the old man who continued to glare as Maldred explained that there was a stream about two days away by foot, perhaps a little more, where they could get something to drink and rest for the night before moving on. He tossed them his largest waterskin to share sparingly until they got there. And beyond that, Maldred said, there was a trail to the south that would eventually take them to either of two dwarven towns-though the farthest might have fewer accommodations available.

  "But likely you know about those towns," he finished.

  "You were probably heading to one of them, or to a larger human settlement even farther south."

  "No. They were heading to the coast," Dhamon guessed, smiling thinly when a surly look from the youth acknowledged the correctness of his suspicion. He padded by the Ergothians, noting they too had relaxed a bit. All bluster, he thought. "Maybe to Kalin Ak-phan. It's got some size to it. They're toting enough goods to sell to a ship captain there. Especially with all these horses."

  "Well then," Maldred said. "We've saved them quite a trip, haven't we? The coast is a considerable distance, too far to travel in this heat."

  "So feel free to thank us," Rikali taunted. She dug the tip of her boot into the gravelly ground and stirred it up. "Indeed, we…" She stopped as she spotted a flash of gold peeking out beneath the sleeve of one Ergothian, and she slipped closer to examine it. In a heartbeat, the once-seemingly acquiescent man darted forward and managed to grab her, spinning her toward him and snatching the knife from her grip. He was surprisingly strong. He shoved the blade under her throat. "Stay still!" he barked to Maldred.

  "Let her go!" the big man snapped. "Now!"

  "Not all merchants are easy marks!" The Ergothian returned. "We don't all give up our goods to brigands!" His companion reached under his shirt and pulled two wavy-edged daggers from hidden sheaths. "We heard about robberies along the trails, and we came well prepared. Now you back away! And you drop your weapons."

  Maldred and Dhamon didn't budge. Neither made a move to surrender their weapons.

  "If you kill her," Dhamon said flatly, "that'll just mean fewer ways to divide the spoils." He noted Rikali's outraged expression but kept his blank face. "Besides, she complains a lot. And we could do with a bit of blessed silence."

  After what seemed like several long minutes, where the only sound was the wind rustling through the pass, Dhamon rolled his shoulders, a signal to Maldred that he had sized up the Ergothians and was ready.

  Maldred took a step closer to the two Ergothians, watching the other merchants out of the corner of his eye. "You'll be dead before you can cut her throat," he stated. "I'm faster than you. And I'd really prefer not to kill you. Certainly you have relatives somewhere who would prefer you stay alive. So why not drop the blades? You'll live to see tomorrow."

  The Ergothians held their position for a heartbeat, then Dhamon flinched, forcing their hand. The one with the twin daggers lunged. Maldred effortlessly swept his sword up, slicing through the man's right arm. The limb fell to the ground, and the Ergothian dropped to his knees, screaming and holding the stump while blood sprayed the horrified merchants.

  At the same time, his companion pressed the knife into Rikali's throat, but the half-elf was quicker. Before the Ergothian could cut her, Riki's hands shot up to grip his arm. Throwing all of her strength and weight against it, she pried his arm back. The half-elf scrambled away just as Dhamon stepped forward and swung his sword, cutting deep beneath the man's ribs and killing him instantly.

  The portly woman shrieked in terror. The boy sprang into action, his feet churning over the gravel until he was close to Maldred. He launched himself at the big man's back and grabbed hold of him by wrapping his arms around Maldred's thick neck. His grandfather moaned with fear. Rikali spun back to the corpse, plucked the gold bracer off its wrist and fitted it high on her arm. Then she retrieved her knife.

  Dhamon held his bloodied sword out, directing the rest of the merchants to stay in line or they'd be next to die. "I'm not as charitable as my large friend," he hissed. "I've no qualms about killing any of you."

  Everyone nervously complied, their eyes locked on the scene playing out before them, the old man begging for his grandson's life. The youth's arms were wrapped around Maldred's neck, his knees pummeling the big man's back. But Maldred seemed unaffected.

  Rikali slipped behind the pair and pried the youth off, tossing him to the ground and grinding her boot heel into his stomach. "I'd hate to see Maldred kill you, boy," she hissed, waving her knife for emphasis. "He'd keep us up for days fretting about it, moaning about how sacred life is and all that rot. ‘Course, Dhamon could do it and save Maldred the grief. Dhamon wouldn't moan over the likes of you." The boy struggled for a moment more, until he was silenced by her icy stare. He lay still.

  "Fetch!" Dhamon wiped the blood off his sword onto the
dead Ergothian's shirt. "What did you find?"

  The kobold's head poked out of the second wagon, a dark red cap resting awkwardly on his small head. "First one's filled with clothes and such!" he called out, hooting when Rikali let out a whoop. "This one's got some food and spirits and boo-ti-ful smoking pipes." He held out an exquisitely carved sample of a bearded old man, the stem rising from his head. "Pipes for me, tobacco. Lots of tobacco. There's some crates I can't get into. Lots of nails in them." He scampered out of the wagon and ran to the third. "Maybe our luckll be better here."

  "Clothes. Good. You need some clothes," Rikali told Dhamon. "And you could do with some, too," she added to Maldred. "Of course, I can always…" She grimaced. The Ergothian missing an arm moaned louder. "Shut up!" She pounced on him, cracking him in the side of the head with the haft of her knife and knocking him out. He lay in a pool of spreading blood which seeped under the toes of Rikali's boots. Turning to the portly woman, who had broken out sobbing, she added, "If you don't want him to die, you better lose some of your skirt and tie off that stump. Put some pressure on it. Don't need to be wearin' so much in this heat anyway." She pivoted and returned to Dhamon, rubbing her soles on the ground in an effort to get the blood off. "Now, about some new clothes…"

  A cacophony of high-pitched screams from the third wagon cut her off. "Watch them," she said to Dhamon and Maldred, pleased with herself that she gave an order for a change. "He's worthless, Fetch is." Then she was dashing toward the sound.

  "Monster!" Rikali shrieked a moment later. "There's a horrible monster in here!"

  Dhamon, holding his position, glanced among the merchants and the small caravan. He gestured with his head to the last wagon, and Maldred jogged toward it. The big man thrust his head in the flap and immediately pulled it back out. Rikali scrambled out behind him, holding only the haft of her knife. The blade was missing. Fetch was close behind her, thin cuts crisscrossing his small torso.

  "Pigs!" Rikali fumed. "Pigs, but there's some odd-looking beastie tied up in that wagon." She glared at the merchants, waving her knife handle.

  "It's not a monster," one of the men quickly offered. "It's just an animal. Leave it be. Please."

  Dhamon singled out the wailing merchant and directed him to the wagon. Maldred pushed the man inside, while Dhamon tried on the boots of the dead Ergothian and pronounced them a reasonable fit.

  A few moments later the merchant came out leading an unusual creature by a thick rope he had looped about its neck. The thing was as large as a fat calf, but looked like an insect for the most part, with six chitinous legs and feelers that twitched slowly in the air. It had saucerlike black eyes that swiveled back and forth to take everything in, and a small nose that quivered and was aimed toward Maldred. It began to sniff, its purple tongue darting out to lick bulbous lips.

  "Bring it over here!" Dhamon called. "Mai, stay back from it. I heard about them when I was stationed in Neraka. The thing eats metal."

  "So I discovered," Rikali complained. "That was my favorite knife. Filched it from a handsome noble in Sanction last year. Had lots of sentimental value."

  The merchant led the creature like a dog, keeping it in line with the rest of the merchants and clucking softly to it and calling it Ruffels.

  "You want it to live… you want to live… you start heading down the mountain," Dhamon demanded. "Now. All of you-and that beast. Keep going and don't look back. As I said, I'm not so generous as my large friend. I've truly no qualms about killing each and every one of you."

  The youth grabbed his grandfather and started down the trail, the portly woman following, still sobbing hysterically, and two men bringing up the rear, carrying the injured Ergothian. The man with the insect-pet was last.

  "Wait!" Rikali called, bounding after them. "Is that beastie valuable?"

  The man kept walking and shook his head. "No."

  Her eyes narrowed and she scratched her chin, deciding she was being slighted, that he hadn't at least properly answered her. She waited a moment, then ran to catch up. "Then if it's not worth anythin', you won't mind leavin' it behind."

  He tugged the beast closer and clucked to it. "Please," he said. "You've taken everything of value. Don't take Ruffels. He's a pet."

  She leaned forward and jerked the rope away, pushing the merchant with her free hand. "I'll have this, too. He's worth somethin', this beastie is. I'll just bet. Sell him somewhere for a good turn of coin." She shook her fist at the odd-looking creature. "And he owes me for my sentimental knife." Then she waved the merchant down the hill. "You'd best catch up with the rest before we decide to sell you, too. You're not so old and ugly. I could get me a few steel for you in an ogre town!"

  It took some maneuvering to turn the wagons around in the pass and point them west. While Maldred, Dhamon, and Fetch handled that job, Rikali inspected the metal-eating creature. "Gonna sell you, I am," she told it. "Buy me some fine rings with the coin. Someone'll want a peculiar beastie like you. Rich people're always wantin' peculiar things. Ruffels. Gonna change your name first. Call you Fee-ohn-a, I think. Yeah, I like that. Fee-ohn-a the peculiar beastie."

  "This won't be enough either, eh?" Dhamon had been in the wagons, eyeing the contents, picking up objects and running his fingers over them. He noted makers' marks on some, which in some circles added to their value. But he could find nothing especially worth all the trouble.

  "Valuable, to be certain, but not wildly so. And not what we need to deal with a certain man. We'll still need to visit the valley. But… I know a bandit camp where we can sell all of this. Should give Rikali and Fetch enough to stop complaining for a while," Maldred told Dhamon as they made sure the merchants' horses were tied tightly. "We might make more in a town."

  "No." Dhamon drew his lips into a thin line, his dark eyes flashing. "We don't want to risk running into people who saw these merchants earlier-or saw others we've run across."

  Maldred nodded his agreement. "Very well, then. We'll keep one of these wagons, or get a new one-which is my preference. In the bandit camp. We'll need at least one good wagon for the valley."

  "The gems you mentioned, and the mine…" Dhamon's face became serious, his eyes intense. He brought a hand up to scratch at the stubble on his chin, then he met Maldred's gaze.

  "If fortune favors us, we'll be done with robbing merchants for a while. This is the first time one of these caravans has put up a fight. Next time we might come across mercenaries."

  "I'm spoiling for a good fight!" Fetch was dancing around the big man and twirling his hoopak. "We can take on anything. Can't we Dhamon? You've never lost a fight!"

  Dhamon ignored the kobold, jumping into the second wagon. There was a large water barrel inside, and he nudged the lid open, drank deep, and splashed water on his face and chest. Then he began prying at the crates that Fetch couldn't open, while Maldred retrieved their horses and tied them to the last wagon.

  A scream interrupted them.

  Rikali stood in the middle of the trail, yelling at the metal-eating creature and waving her fists. The buckles on her boots were gone, so was the bracelet about her knee and the gold armband. Her right hand was devoid of rings. "I'll kill it!" she hissed. "My jewelry. Quick as a rabbit that cursed beastie grabbed and ate it!"

  The creature's nose twitched, and its tongue snaked out to lick its lips. It trundled toward her, eyes locked onto the rings that still sparkled from her left hand.

  "Dhamon!" She swung at it wildly, clawlike fingernails raking the beast's tender skin. The creature made a sniffling sound and skittered back a few feet, but its nose continued to twitch. "Dhamon, get over here!"

  He peered out of the wagon, grinning at her predicament. "Fetch!" The kobold hurried over. "You've got nothing metal on. Take that thing and tie it back in the wagon where you found it."

  Fetch grumpily did so, getting some help from Maldred to boost the creature up and under the canvas, keeping away from its front legs and its metal-devouring mouth. This wagon was held toge
ther with wooden nails and there wasn't a trace of metal anywhere on it. "We don't keep this wagon," the big man said. "Or this creature for long. Let's get moving."

  * * * * * * *

  Dhamon picked his way along the mountain trail, scouting ahead as the sun melted into the horizon, painting the Kalkhists with a soft orange glow. He relished his time alone, no one to badger him with small talk and questions he didn't want to answer. No one to make any demands of him.

  When he was in the company of Maldred and Rikali he often ranged ahead, as he was doing now, seeing if there were any obstacles along the course they would take in the morning. Or if there were any strangers in the area who might bother them during the night. It was his excuse for some silence and peace.

  Despite the approaching evening, the heat didn't seem to be letting up. The air was thin this high in the mountains, and coupled with the temperature, Dhamon found it a little discomfiting. He paused to rest on a flat rock, fishing about in his pocket for a piece of candy. Fetch had found a small bag filled with sweets in one of the merchant wagons, and Dhamon made sure it was divided-before the kobold could manage to devour it all.

  He stared at the vanishing sun for several moments, breathing as deep as was comfortable and savoring the sugar on his tongue. Then he glanced down the trail. It was just wide enough for the wagon. They would be taking the fork to the north, according to Maldred's directions. The man he needed to see was to the south, but there was the matter of gaining more treasure before they could take that trail.

  The north fork appeared less-used, with scrub growing in patches here and there, and wheel ruts so shallow he could barely make them out. Dhamon scooted off the rock and headed north. Just for a few minutes, he told himself, just for a little more time alone.

  It wasn't that Dhamon didn't like his current company, he simply believed he needed some solitude once in a while. Maldred had become his closest comrade and partner, and Fetch had a few endearing and useful qualities. Rikali… well, she wasn't at all like Feril, the elf he used to keep company with and whom he often thought of. But when he looked past the cosmetic paint and her constant prattle, Rikali was all right. She was here, and Feril was…