by Jean Rabe
Dhamon spied them, casting a glance at Rig who was engrossed in a conversation with one of the villagers. He looked back at Maldred and Fiona, who were kissing. Mal-dred's fingers were wound tightly in the Knight's hair.
Dhamon shrugged and sat facing Rig, engaging him in conversation to keep him distracted.
Dhamon asked the mariner about his wedding plans and about whether Fiona had managed to convince him to join the Knighthood.
Rig was quick to talk about the former and preferred to avoid the latter. "We are to be married on her birthday, a tradition among the women in Fiona's family," he happily explained. Yet there was an edge in his voice. "It's not so long from now. Two and a half months. In fact, we…" His words trailed off as he spotted the Knight walking toward them.
"Where've you been?" Rig was quick on his feet and took her hand. "You've been…"
"… visiting with some of the villagers," Fiona returned.
Dhamon was startled at the lie and strolled away, finding Rikali perched on a ledge overlooking Bloten. He looked over his shoulder to see Fiona and Rig engaged in conversation.
"Fiona, that Donnag is far from a good man," the mariner said, keeping his voice low. He told her about the milk and meat tax here, the heavy taxes the humans bore in Bloten, the fear all the people had for the ogre chieftain, how oppressed everyone was in his realm. How wolves had become giants.
"I know," she said finally, her face soft and a little sad. "And it is good that it bothers you. It bothers me, too. But we can't right all the wrongs in this world, Rig. We have to choose our battles. And bad as Donnag is, the Black in the swamp is far worse. The ogre protects these people from her, and his forces work to keep the swamp from swallowing up these mountains. So by helping Donnag, in one respect we are fighting her. And if you get rid of Donnag, being overtaxed would be the least of these people's worries."
The mariner sat silently, digesting her words. "I still don't have to like it, and I don't have to agree with it," he said, sighing as raindrops trickled down the end of his nose. "I don't have to like the fact we're going to accept coins and gems for the ransom of your brother from that evil… creature. Provided he comes through, which I still doubt. And I don't have to like all this rain. This isn't right. These mountains should be dry as a desert."
"A while ago you were complaining it hadn't rained in weeks."
"Didn't mean I wanted it to rain for weeks."
He tried to slip his arm around her, but she was on her feet and heading toward their borrowed lean-to, from where they watched the rain pound the rocky plateau for the rest of the evening.
Morning was no different, the rain continuing, slapping against the rocks and drenching everything and everyone. Only the goats seemed not to mind. Lightning arced through the sky, and the thunder that chased it sounded loud and eerie in the mountains.
"Up there," Maldred said, pointing toward a series of black holes. "Maybe the giants are in all of them if they're spread out, maybe all bunched together in one-but I hope not. I'd rather deal with them one at a time. In any event, we'll have to search a little until we find them. The dwarves I spoke with last night are certain there are only three because of the tracks they spotted."
"Only three," Rikali murmured. "They're giants. I would think three are plenty more than enough."
"Well, at least we know what we're up against," Dhamon said.
"Have you ever fought giants?" Rikali asked mockingly as he started up the ridge.
"Once. When I was with the Knights of Takhisis. There were two of them, and each had two heads. Ettins, my commander called them."
"Well, you obviously came out on top. You're here. Were they very tough? How big do giants run?"
He shook his head, not caring to answer her stream of questions until they reached level ground again. After a few dozen feet of climbing he motioned to her, pointing to evidence of the giants-the gutted carcass of a goat wedged tightly between two rocks, the bones of another goat some fifty feet above.
Rikali covered her mouth and gagged.
"Messy eaters," Fetch observed as he yanked a twisting horn off the carcass and held it up to his ear as if he might hear the ocean. Picking off a few pieces of rotten flesh, he stuck the horn in his belt. "Parents never taught them to clean up when they were done eating. Bad giants."
* * * * * * *
"Three caves, and nothing. Nothing but rain and goat bones. They've been here, but they're not here now. Doesn't look like they've been here for a couple of weeks." Rig leaned against the cliff and looked up at Dhamon who was climbing higher, his clothes looking dark as charcoal against the glowering sky. The mariner patted his stomach as it grumbled. "Sky and my gut tell me it's about sunset. An' there isn't much left of the mountain." He tugged a piece of boiled root from his pocket, snapped it in two, and popped a piece in his mouth.
Fetch scampered up after Dhamon, Rikali following him and scolding the kobold about something.
"Perhaps they've moved on," Maldred suggested.
Fiona's shoulders sagged. "I need the reward Donnag promised. I need those forty men."
"Ogres," Rig cut in. "He promised you ogres, Fiona." Softer, he muttered that the chieftain's promise was worth about as much as the goat carcasses they found.
"Ogres are men, Rig," she returned. "And I would welcome their help."
Maldred stepped between the two of them, eyes twinkling at the Solamnic. "You'll get the men, Lady Knight. We will search in one or two more caves and then leave. I will explain to the chieftain that we did our best, and that maybe they've moved on and will pose no more threat to Knollsbank. As long as the menace is gone, Donnag will keep his word about the men."
Will he? the mariner's arched eyebrows asked.
"Up here!" Dhamon called. He was standing on a ledge before a high, narrow slash in the rocks. The cave mouth looked jagged and irregular, as if the talon of some great creature had torn the mountain open.
"Find a trace of them?" Maldred called from below.
Dhamon shook his head. "No trace. But I did find something else very interesting." And then he vanished inside the cave, with Fetch and Rikali behind him.
"Lady Knights first." Maldred bowed to Fiona, who started up the ridge. He made a move to follow her, but Rig put a hand on his shoulder.
"She's my woman," the mariner said simply. "We're gonna be married in a few months. I don't like the way you're always looking at her. And I'm tired of you occupying her time."
Maldred grinned. "I'd say she's her own woman. And you're not married yet." Then he pushed in front of the mariner before the astonished Rig could say anything.
The mariner stood alone on the ridge for several minutes, listening to the rain pattering against the rocks and glancing down at the village, which looked like scattered doll houses, the people and goats merely bugs meandering around in senseless patterns amid the puddles that he hoped would become a lake and swallow Knollsbank up.
* * * * * * *
Little light filtered in from outside, but it was just enough for Dhamon to see this wasn't a normal cave. He stood inside the tall, narrow entrance, on an ancient mosaic floor made of variously colored stone chips. Six lofty pillars stretched from floor to ceiling, at least forty feet high. They were gigantic tree trunks, practically uniform in girth, and he wondered what engineering feat brought them up this mountain and then fitted them inside this place. They were practically white with age, and carved with the images of dwarves standing atop each others' shoulders. The one at the very top of each column wore a crown, and their upreached arms seemed to support the cavern's roof.
"By my breath!" Rikali slipped in beside him, Fetch sliding between the pair.
"A torch," Dhamon began. "I want to get a better look at this."
"Fee-ohn-a has them in her pack," Rikali said unpleasantly.
When the others finally joined them and a torch was lit, many more dwarven images were revealed. Carved into the walls of the cave, each visage was different an
d incredibly detailed: men, women, children, some warriors by their helmets and scarred faces, others religious folk by the symbols worn around their necks. A myriad of emotions were displayed on the faces: happiness, pride, grief, love, wonder, and more.
The floor was smooth and level. The chips of painted stone were tiled across it to form the face of a most impressive dwarf, wild hair flaring out to touch the cavern walls, the pillars practically framing an aged, wise-looking leader. The color had faded, but Dhamon surmised the braided beard was bright red at one time, and the beads woven into it were tinged with silver and gold. The wide-set eyes were sunken and black, forming braziers that might have been used in some long-ago ceremony.
"Reorx," Dhamon said, his hand drifting down to the pommel of his sword. The nape of his neck was tingling. Something didn't feel right in this place, but he couldn't identify what was wrong. He stared into the image's eyes. It was like someone was watching him, a sensation he learned to identify when he was with the Knights of Takhisis. He wanted to be back in Bloten, with his new sword and on his way. He glanced away and to the pillars. "This must be one of Reorx's temples."
"Who?" Rikali tugged on his sleeve. "Who is Re-or-ax?"
"You don't know?" This from Fetch.
The half-elf shook her head.
"A god," Dhamon said softly. "A dwarf I once knew, Jasper, told me a lot about him. Jasper considered himself a priest of Reorx. Even after the gods left."
"And this Jasper, did he ever meet Re-or-ax?"
Dhamon shook his head.
Rikali made a tsking sound and whispered it was foolish to revere someone you'd never met. She raised her voice. "Well, did this Re-or-ax accomplish much when he was around? Other than to have temples built to him high in some stupid mountain?"
"According to dwarven tales, Riki, the High God was disturbed at the jumbled chaos all around him. He whittled twenty-one sticks, the stoutest of which became the god Reorx." Dhamon pointed at the image on the floor. "Reorx said he would make a world, round and sturdy, in his own likeness. He was called the Forger, and by striking his hammer at the jumbled chaos, the sparks became stars. The last blow birthed Krynn. I'd say that's accomplishing quite a bit."
"So the tales say," the half-elf laughed. "You don't believe all that nonsense, do you? Not that it matters none, what with all the gods being gone anyway."
Dhamon shrugged. "When the gods were here, the dwarves considered Reorx the greatest of all the powers. Humans saw him merely as Kiri-Jolith's helper. But the dwarves…" His voice drifted off and again he found himself staring at the pits that made up the image's eyes. "It is said that Reorx's next-greatest creation was the Grey-stone of Gargath, which led to the creation of dwarves, gnomes, and kender."
"So the tales say," Fetch added.
"Greystone. So he made a rock. And did you ever worship this Re-or-ax, lover? You seem to know a lot about him."
"The only vanished god I ever revered was Takhisis," Dhamon answered flatly. He recalled being regaled with tales of the Queen of Evil Dragons from the time he entered the Knights of Takhisis. But none of her priests' old worship halls were as impressive as this place. This place definitely intrigued him, perhaps in part because he still had that tingling sensation. He decided he would look around for a few moments, then head back down the mountain, demanding Donnag relinquish the blade.
"And why are you so terribly certain this place was a temple to Re-or-ax? Not just a palace belonging to some old rich dwarf?"
Dhamon brushed by the half-elf and glanced toward the far end of the chamber, where there was an altar carved to look like a forge with an anvil atop it. Two shadowy alcoves extended behind it. "Aye, this was a temple to Reorx the Forge. Wonder that the Knollsbank folk didn't mention this, especially the mountain dwarves."
Maldred was at the entrance, examining the stone. "Probably didn't know it was here. The rocks are sharp, Dhamon, not worn like they are everywhere else on the mountain and around the other cave openings. I'd say one of the tremors opened this place up, and not very long ago." His fingers fluttered over the edges, drawing back as he cut himself. He licked the blood away and joined Dhamon. "I would guess this hasn't been open more than a month. Feel how dry it is inside here? Despite the rain?"
"It smells old," the half-elf said, wrinkling her nose. "Smells like a musty cellar in someone's house." She stood in front of one of the pillars, fingers tracing the features of a face at eye-level. "Said I had my fill of dwarves, I did," she mused aloud. "But I might make me an exception. Might be something valuable here in this temple to Re-or-ax." She pointed to the image of a dwarven priest a dozen feet above the floor. The figure had chips of onyx set for eyes.
"We shouldn't try to take anything." Fiona was looking at another pillar, this one filled with the broad faces of female warriors. "To defile a temple is wrong. Sacrilege, no matter your faith."
The half-elf cackled and adopted an exaggerated hurt look. "I have no faith. The gods are gone, Lady Knight. So this is a temple to nothin'. Absolutely nothin'. Pigs! I can take whatever I please. I won't be defiling anyone or any-thin'. And there ain't no gods around to come and damn me for it."
Fetch had begun climbing a pillar, using the ears as handholds and the mouths for his toes.
Maldred glanced up at the kobold and shook his head. "Come on down, Ilbreth," he said sternly.
The kobold's head spun in surprise at Maldred using his real name-which he did only when he was very mad or earnestly wanted to get the creature's attention-and the kobold nearly lost his grip.
"Dwarven gods are of no concern to us. We've got giants to find, my little friend, and then…"
Fetch was holding onto an ear with one hand and gesturing wildly with the other. His mouth was open, as if to speak, but his surprise kept the words from coming out.
Dhamon spun instinctively, retrieving his bow in the same motion. He pulled an arrow from the quiver, fitted it, and aimed-at what?
"Thought I saw the cave move," the kobold finally managed to gasp. "I really thought I… there! A giant!"
Something was watching us! Dhamon released his arrow at a huge creature that suddenly came shambling out of the wall. But it wasn't a true giant. It was only a little larger than an ogre, with overlong arms and clawed hands. It looked like it was made of stone.
The creature reached out, batted Dhamon's arrow away before it could find its mark, and snarled ferociously. The creature had the face of an old man, wrinkles looking like cracks in stone, cheekbones exaggeratedly angular, nose long and curved down like a beak. Its eyes were pupiless and dark gray, and its teeth were jagged and shot through with black lines, making them look like shards of granite.
Dhamon immediately set another arrow and fired, this missing the creature by several inches. His hand moved lightning fast as he fitted a third and aimed more carefully this time. The creature's eyes locked onto his, just as Dhamon pulled the bowstring back and released it.
"Damn," he swore, as he watched the arrow glance off the thing's bony-looking shoulder. He dropped the bow and shrugged out of the quiver. "Wasted my coins on this in Bloten. Should stick with what I know." He drew his sword and advanced.
The others were doing the same, drawing weapons and moving in cautiously, studying the creature-the likes of which none of them had seen. They formed a semicircle about it, the creature keeping its back to the wall and eyeing all of them.
"Wh-wh-what is it?" Fetch squeaked from his perch on the pillar.
"Pigs if I know!" Rikali spat. "It's ugly, whatever it is. Probably the giant that's been eatin' all the goats."
"I don't know what it is, but it ain't a giant. Giants look a lot more human than that," Rig mused. "Yah! Over here!" His shout drew the thing's attention. The creature took a step toward the mariner and opened its maw, snarling now like a maddened beast. "I'll gut you like a…"
"Wait, Rig!" Fiona cut in. "We're the intruders here. We shouldn't just attack the beast. We don't know what it is. And we don't kno
w if it truly means any harm."
"You're right," Maldred told her. "I revere life and…"
"Oh, it means us harm all right," Rig shot back. "Just look at it."
The creature stood still for several moments, its head moved jerkily, taking in Rig, Fiona, Maldred, Dhamon, and Rikali. A thick, black tongue wagged out to wet its bottom lip, then it snarled again, and with a speed that seemed peculiar for its malshaped body, it rushed toward Maldred.
Dhamon moved in that instant, too. He was quicker than the stony creature, darting in between it and Mal-dred. "I could use the exercise. I'll take him!" he hollered, as he drew a deep breath, pulled back, and swung. He braced himself, expecting to be jarred for striking the creature's stony chest. But the creature's flesh was soft like a man's, yielding when the blade connected, and the bones beneath crunching from the violent impact.
Both it and Dhamon were surprised. The creature glanced down at the line of dark green blood forming across its middle. It rubbed a hand against the wound and brought its claws up to its eyes, as if to study its own blood. It howled then, long and angrily, and it slashed at Dhamon.
Dhamon barely managed to drop beneath the swipe of its needlelike claws. Then he swung again, connecting with the creature's distended abdomen this time. The creature cried in pain, the sound echoing hauntingly off the cavern walls and bringing a squeal from Fetch.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dhamon saw Rig and Mal-dred edge closer. "I said he's mine!" Dhamon called to the mariner. It wasn't that he didn't mind help defeating the creature, he just had no desire to fight side-by-side with Rig again. "Back off!"
"It's your neck," Rig said as he retreated.
Dhamon slid to the side so he would be between the mariner and the creature. It howled once more, remaining fixated on Dhamon, who noticed that the wounds on its chest and stomach had stopped bleeding.
"So you heal quickly," he commented. "I can fix that."