Downfall ds-1

by Jean Rabe

  "Maldred says they were enchanted. Not really snakes at all. Simply vines brought to life through a spell. He knows because he dabbles in magic."

  "Well, he's just full of surprises, ain't he?" Rig's fingers were prodding at the ground. "Anyway, it must be a powerful spell to bring all of those slimy creatures after us. Something that would've been out of Feril's realm."

  "Dhamon thinks…"

  "Yeah, I know, maybe a minion of the black dragon. Or Sable herself. I got ears. But I don't think so. Dragons leave bigger tracks. And besides, I don't care what Dhamon thinks."

  "He didn't say a dragon, he said a…"

  Rig dismissed her words with a beckoning wave of his hand. He found a footprint, a small one, no longer than his open hand. Then another and another, narrow and childlike. He pointed to them. They led off into a bog.

  She crept closer and examined them herself. "Maybe an elf," she said. "Maldred!"

  Rig scowled when he heard the big thief sloshing over. Maldred knelt next to Rig, and Dhamon padded a few feet away, examining more of the small footprints.

  "Fiona is right," Maldred said. "It could be an elf. There used to be plenty of elves in these woods before the Black moved in and turned everything into a swamp."

  Rig moved away from Maldred and Fiona, edged closer to the bog, which spread to the west as far as he could see in the torchlight. "Damn. Took my glaive, some faerie or little elf, maybe whatever made it rain snakes. Maybe it rained snakes so the little demon could make off with my weapon. My very magical weapon. Better have your ogre friends look around the camp and see if anything else is missing. See if they can spot my glaive."

  He tested the ground at the edge of the bog, his boot sinking deep.

  "You're not going after the weapon," Fiona stated. "It's too dangerous."

  It might not be too dangerous if you came with me, he mused. He almost said it aloud, but he didn't need to. She must have picked up on what he was thinking.

  "If the circumstances were different," she began, "if we weren't going to Takar to ransom my brother, we'd all go with you and help you find the glaive. But a weapon isn't worth…"

  A wave of his hand dismissed the rest of her words. A frown was etched deep in the mariner's face. He treasured weapons, had ever since he was a youth and stole aboard a ship to escape an unfortunate home life. The glaive he'd been toting around was remarkably enchanted, and he prized it above all the others he had strapped to him. An artifact, Palin Majere had called it, from a very long ago time. It had been given to Dhamon Grimwulf by a bronze dragon, discarded after Dhamon had nearly killed his friends with it-including the mariner. Rig was quick to snatch it up. It parted metal like it was parchment.

  "Took my glaive," he repeated. "Now how am I gonna get it back?"

  Dhamon persisted in examining the footprints as he listened to the mariner continue to grumble. For a brief moment he considered asking Wyrmsbane where the glaive was. But he quickly discarded the notion, not wanting to do any favors for the mariner. He would save the magic of Tanis's sword for his own questions, which might, tomorrow morning, involve these small footprints that troubled him.

  "Too dark," Dhamon said, finally giving up on the footprints. He rejoined the ogres, seeking out Mulok and sharing some more of the bitter drink, then he began examining the ogre corpses.

  Fiona backed away from the shaggybark and Rig, and instructed her charges, via Maldred, to search through the dead ogres' belongings. "Just in case other things are missing," she said. "Make sure they gather any rations they find."

  Mulok and the other ogres busied themselves stacking their dead comrades around the base of a cypress tree. It wasn't practical to bury them here, or to burn them. Maldred said they'd be left for carrion-after they were first stripped of any weapons and armor that could be used.

  Rig noticed Dhamon pluck a large silver ring off the hand of one corpse and stuff it in his pocket. He watched him take a silver bracer off the arm of another and slip it in his pouch, then move on, pretending to be interested in the lianas. The mariner was disgusted, shaking his head and wishing ardently that he'd never crossed paths with Dhamon Grimwulf, and that the Solamnic Knights had agreed to this ransom. They could've done it for Fiona, who had dedicated her life to the Order. It would have saved Fiona and him time-weeks. They wouldn't have had to struggle across the length of the Kalkhists following Dhamon and Maldred, and they wouldn't have gone to the village of goatherders on an errand for the arrogant ogre chieftain.

  And they might have gotten to the old bozak draconian in Takar in time. Fiona's brother might have lived.

  "If the dragon was to be trusted about accepting a ransom," Rig grumbled. "If the draconian was in Takar. If. If. If." He growled from deep in his throat. He wanted desperately to go after his glaive. But if the person-or creature-who took it was responsible for all the snakes, he suspected he'd be throwing his life away. And he wanted to go to Shrentak, a notion he'd allowed himself to become obsessed with, and rescue all the people held there. "Shrentak," he hissed.

  The mariner spotted Dhamon and Maldred conferring by one of the torches. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he made his way toward them. Fiona was nearby. Good, he thought, she'd get an earful of what he had to say.

  "The chest." Fiona was pacing in a tight circle as she talked. Her hands were shaking, her shoulders uncharacteristically rounded. "Something took the chest. With the gems and coins. The ransom for my brother!"

  "For your brother's body," Rig corrected her.

  Her eyes were fire when she stopped inches from the mariner. Her lips were moving wordlessly. The mariner knew what she was thinking. If they hadn't wasted time trying to collect a ransom with Dhamon and his overlarge friend-if the Solamnic Council had simply given her the coins she neededj — her brother might still be alive. Maybe.

  "It wouldn't have mattered," the mariner told her, though he didn't completely believe that. "Ransom or no, that dragon wasn't going to let him or any of those other Knights free. It was probably all a sick game. So we're walking through this damned swamp for nothing. This whole expedition is pointless, Fiona. How many times do I have to tell you that I saw your brother die?"

  She started to say something, but he cut her off.

  "So you want his body for a proper burial. That's admirable. But so far this has cost the lives of ten ogres. And my glaive. And now the chest with all the loot is gone, too. No ransom. No body. We're not where we're supposed to be. Let's just go home. We can honor your brother by…"

  "You can't say that," Fiona countered desperately. "You can't say this is all pointless. Maldred had sent scouts ahead-before the snakes came. They'll find the ruins of Takar and…"

  Dhamon nodded. He had silently padded up on the two, listening intently to their conversation. "Maldred sent two good scouts." He gestured to the south. "They should be back soon, if we're as close to the place as Mai thinks."

  "I think we're practically right on top of it." This from Maldred, who was still looking about to make sure no more snakes were descending.

  "On top of what?" Rig boomed. "Certainly not Takar. We're too far south from the ruins of Takar. So where'n the layers of the Abyss are you taking us, Maldred?"

  The big man offered Rig a look of puzzlement.

  "You heard me. Where're you and this Mulok fellow leading us?"

  "To Takar, as we agreed."

  "Like hell." The mariner took a few steps back, so he could regard Dhamon, Maldred, and Fiona. He set his clenched hands against his waist, shoulders defiantly thrown back, lip curled up in a sneer. "We're nowhere near Takar. Not at all where we're supposed to be. And you know it, Dhamon."

  "Rig?" Fiona moved closer, though she positioned herself so she was between Maldred and Dhamon.

  Three against one, the mariner thought. "I got a good look at the stars when I was snake bait. I can read the stars, you know, steer by them. I used to make a living by them. We're south and east of Bloten. And, yes, the ruins are in that d
irection. But we're too far to the south, and we're not east enough."

  "Is that true?" A look of suspicion crossed the Solam-nic's face. She glanced up at Maldred.

  "Impressive," the big man stated. He thoughtfully rubbed his chin and met the mariner's glare.

  "So tell me, Maldred, Dhamon," Rig persisted, "just where are we going, and why?"

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Trueheart And Battered Spirits

  A noise in the brush caused Maldred to jerk away, his hands reaching for the pommel of the sword strapped to his back, stopping when he recognized the two ogre scouts he'd sent out a while back. The creatures looked shocked by the aftermath of the battle, and Maldred gave them a curtailed version of the events.

  The scouts reported quickly, Maldred and Dhamon listening attentively, while Fiona gave Rig an inquisitive look.

  "Are you certain we're not near Takar?" she asked.

  Rig nodded. "But I don't know where we are."

  "1 do. We're less than a mile from the Trueheart Mines," Dhamon said, squarely facing the mariner, his eyes dancing in the torchlight. "If you want to rescue somebody, there are plenty of prisoners there in need of it."

  Fiona looked incredulously between Dhamon and Rig, then let out a deep breath from between her teeth and angrily took a step toward Maldred. Dhamon's hand slammed against her breastplate, stopping her. Maldred was talking to the scouts in the ogre tongue, gesturing at the force of the mercenaries, and then to the south.

  "He's getting them ready," Dhamon explained. "Issuing a few orders. You know how that is, Fiona. Soldiers need instructions before a fight."

  Rig batted Dhamon's arm down. "You and Maldred lied to her. You promised her a small army of mercenaries."

  "I didn't promise her anything."

  "Maldred, Donnag…"

  "Well, Rig, there're thirty mercenaries left-after the snakes."

  "For Takar," Rig stated flatly. "They were to be for Takar."

  "We didn't want to go to Takar," Dhamon returned. "I certainly had no intentions of going there-or anywhere else in this blessed swamp, for that matter. You should have realized that days ago, Rig." His voice was icy, his stare hard and unwavering. "Maldred had his own agenda, and he thought he could use your sword arms. You're good in a fight, the both of you. And he seems quite fond of Fiona."

  "Fiona," Rig stated softly. "This is all about her. Maldred is more than fond of her. He lied to her just to keep her around."

  Dhamon didn't reply to that. "I suspect you two would've gone along with us from the beginning if you weren't so bent on going to Takar to ransom a Solamnic Knight. Sorry, a Knight's body. Maldred's plan is equally as noble as yours. Just not quite as dangerous-or futile."

  "We're not going any farther." Fiona stepped back, wrapping her fingers around the pommel of her sword. "With any of you." Her tone was as venomous as Dhamon's, her posture rigid. "Rig was right all along, and I was a fool not to listen to him. What was I thinking? Are my senses so muddled that…"

  Rig took her arm and pulled her a few feet away from Dhamon. "We can't afford too much of a confrontation here," he whispered, his eyes darting back and forth between Dhamon and Maldred, who was still occupied with issuing orders. Several ogres had joined the big man.

  "Wish I could understand them," he grumbled. "Can't trust them. Don't know what they're saying." His expression softened when he looked at her heart-shaped face. "Listen, there're way too many of them, and I know for certain now that there's not a single one of them that can be believed."

  "1 agree. Can we find the way to Takar alone? If my brother is truly dead…" She let that thought trail off, inhaled deep and adopted her military posture again. "It is my fault for not finding another avenue to raise the coins and gems. And now the ransom I had managed to extract from Chieftain Donnag is gone." She eased her fingers away from the pommel of her sword and steepled them in her nervous gesture.

  "Fiona…"

  "Oh, Rig. Maybe I don't need the coins. If we go to Takar I can find that old draconian. I'd recognize him in a heartbeat. Perhaps I can persuade him to tell me for certain if my brother is truly dead. I must have something more than your vision. Maybe, just maybe, the black dragon might release him…" She paused. "My sword has value, my armor. Perhaps everything isn't lost."

  Rig placed his hands on her shoulders. "Fiona, please. Let's stop this. Forget Takar. If you want to honor your brother, forget his plight. Forget all of this. Let's go to Shrentak instead, try to rescue the prisoners there who are still alive. Maybe where a garrison of Knights failed, two people could succeed. Unnoticed. Slipping in and out. That would be an honorable thing to do."

  Her face softened for a moment, her eyes watering, her posture relaxing. It looked as if she might agree with him, but then Maldred strolled over, reached out and thumped her shoulder, drawing her attention. Fiona's eyes met his and instantly brightened.

  "Fiona," Maldred began. He was holding a torch, which sharply revealed the planes of his face and the injuries he had suffered, his wide, dark eyes that held hers despite her fury. "We mean to free the ogres that the Black works as slaves in the Trueheart Mines. They're Donnag's people, good men all of them, and the dragon's killing them with the work. Dhamon and I want your help."

  "We don't intend to help!" Rig said, glaring venomously at Dhamon and Maldred. "We don't intend to go another step with the likes of you!"

  "We had our own agenda," Maldred admitted. "It just happened to be convenient that you wanted to travel through the Black's swamp. We thought we could use your fighting skills along the way. You're good in a brawl, the both of you. We certainly would have lost more ogres to the snakes if you'd not been with us."

  Maldred made a gesture with his hand and turned. Fiona followed him. Rig watched dumbstruck as the two of them walked toward the assembled ogres. Maldred addressed them now.

  "Fiona? What are you doing?"

  She kept pace with Maldred and did not acknowledge the mariner.

  "Wish I could understand you, Fiona," Rig grumbled. "Can't. Can't trust them either. Can't understand anything of what they're saying." His expression softened a little when he looked at Fiona. Her face was calm, which troubled him.

  "Lady Knight," Maldred began. He talked softly, so Rig would not hear. "Dearest Fiona, it is true that we have our own agenda, one I was obviously wrong to keep from you." His voice was deep and even, so pleasant to listen to, almost like a melodic chant. "But I honestly want to rescue your brother in the process. We'll free these ogres, then go directly to Takar. You have my word. You can trust me, my love."

  She continued to stare into his eyes. "Rig believes my brother is dead. He said he saw a vision…"

  "I heard him. And Dhamon told me that as well. But you cannot trust a vision, Fiona. You cannot trust Rig. Remember, he does not deserve you. Above all, you must have hope that your brother is alive. I would very much like to meet him, you know. Continue to the mines with us and then we'll go to Takar and find this old draconian you spoke of."

  "The scarred one," she said softly. "The one with the heavy gold collar."

  "Yes, we'll find him. Stay with me. And we'll gain your brother's release."

  "But I've got no ransom."

  "We'll think of something. The mines themselves are filled with silver."

  She shook her head, her red braids lashing behind her like a whip. Still, her eyes did not leave his, and her fingers remained clenched around the pommel of her sword. Fiona blinked furiously, as if trying to clear her head. For a moment she felt faint, and bent her knees to steady herself. When she regained her composure, her eyes were bright and filled with ire.

  Fiona met Maldred's surprised stare. "No. I don't know what I am thinking. Talking to you. A thief. And a liar. You'll get no help from me in these mines you're going to, Maldred. This deception you've contrived, leading me away from Takar. I'm leaving your little band. I believe Rig. I believe my brother is dead. And I believe I could have prevented this tragedy if
I had found another way to raise this ransom. If only I would have acted sooner."

  Rig was silent, watching the two, his glance occasionally resting on Dhamon, who was only a few feet away. All around them the ogres were gathering into a column and inspecting their weapons, chattering softly in a tongue that sounded primitive and coarse. Finally, Rig crept closer to Fiona, intent on hearing the conversation between her and Maldred.

  "Fair Lady Knight." Maldred's words grew softer, more musical, his expression relaxing, too. A hand hidden in the folds of his cloak began gesturing to aid in his incantation. Her anger had lessened his hold on her, and he had to correct that. "Lady Knight, from high above when I was held captive in the trees I watched you battle the snakes. You are worth any four of these men, more formidable than I originally believed. I need your help. Please."

  Her expression calmed a little, and her fingers eased from the pommel of her sword.

  Maldred's lyrical voice continued. "Dozens of ogres are being forced to work the mine. They are beaten, fed barely enough to live. It is slavery, Lady Knight, of the worst kind. And it needs to be stopped. It is a problem I had intended to rectify before you came along. You merely make the task less onerous." The fingers of his hidden hand fluttered even faster. "I should have been honest with you, I realize that now. But I feared you would not accompany us. I promise you, Lady Knight, if you help us free the ogres, then we will discover the truth about your brother. If he lives, he will be freed. You have my word. Stay with me."

  "All right. I will stay with you."

  "No!" Rig roared. He had inched close enough to hear some of what the big man had said. "Fiona, you can't trust him. Can't trust Dhamon. Can't believe any of this." He interposed himself between the Solamnic and Maldred. "You can't be serious."

  Her expression was odd, her eyes unblinking. "Slavery is wrong, Rig, and freeing the ogres from the mines is just and honorable. I will help Maldred. And then we'll all go to Takar." She turned and took a position at the beginning of the column. Dhamon moved to stand at her side.