The draconian fidgeted in front of him, wanting to say something but quiet behind the invisible barrier Dhamon had erected with his aloof, burning eyes.
“Leave me alone, Ragh.”
The draconian stepped back a pace but continued to stand there, studying Dhamon. Finally he looked away when Dhamon’s gaze became too uncomfortable. Ragh batted at a large insect that landed on his chest. Dhamon watched it fly away, only to be replaced by another.
He can feel the fly bites, Dhamon realized. He couldn’t. Dhamon could feel the breeze blowing against only parts of his skin, not where the scales grew.
“How far are we from Shrentak?”
“Two miles I’d say, Dhamon, maybe three. We came here in a hurry when it was dark so it was hard to tell just how far we—”
“What about Maldred?”
Ragh folded his arms. “Maldred scooped you up after you fell unconscious in the street. Said we had to move quick and get out of the city before Nura came back with reinforcements. Fiona and I started to argue, but then…” The draconian shifted his weight. “Everything got quiet. I mean everything. Lights that were burning in windows started going out. The drunks disappeared. Not even a rat moved in the alley. Maldred said the naga had allies in the city and that it wouldn’t be safe for us to stay. So we stopped arguing and followed him. To tell you the truth, I think Maldred helped you—all of us—out of a bad spot.”
Dhamon rubbed his back against the trunk. There weren’t so many scales on his back. He glanced down at the back of his right hand, opened and closed his fingers.
“They… the scales,” Ragh began. “They started growing even faster, once you were unconscious, spreading like some dark rash. Maldred tried to work some magic to stop them. I think he managed to do something to at least slow them down. We didn’t notice any more cropping up after dawn.”
“Where’s my glaive?”
The draconian glanced around. “Fiona has it. She grabbed it when you dropped it, and she hasn’t let go of it since.”
“I heard a crocodile a while ago. The river has to be near.”
Ragh nodded. “A tributary. My nose’ll lead us right to it.”
“I can’t smell the water.”
“I can’t imagine why not.” There was a wry look on Ragh’s scaly visage. He pointed to the northeast.
* * *
Dhamon spent quite a while in the clean water. Not only did he want to scrub away the stink, he wanted time away from his companions’ prying eyes. Doffing his tattered clothes, he discovered more scales—a few on the tops of his feet, under his arms. Each time he touched one he hadn’t noticed before, he silently cursed the shadow dragon and the day he’d first met the mysterious creature. He scrubbed his clothes and found some humor in the notion that since he’d left the Knights of Takhisis he had a hard time keeping any of his garments intact for long. He didn’t quit until enough of the smell was gone from his pants and tunic that he could live with himself. He put them on, climbed out of the river.
The soreness persisted in his limbs. If anything the pain had become worse, a dull throb that was echoed by a pounding in his head. While annoying, the pain would keep him alert and angry and feed his obsession with the shadow dragon.
“Rig!”
Fiona came scurrying toward him, holding the glaive over her shoulder, and smiling widely.
“I had a horrible dream, Rig. I dreamed you died in Shrentak.” She thrust the glaive at Dhamon, then wrapped her arms around him, holding him close and pressing her face against his chest. Dhamon squirmed uncomfortably.
Behind her came Maldred, thick eyebrows raised and mouthing the word, “Rig?”
Dhamon wasn’t sure why he did it, perhaps to unsettle the ogre-mage or perhaps because some of her madness had rubbed off on him through the wight, but now he returned Fiona’s embrace, kissing her forehead. They held each other until Ragh began pacing around them. Dhamon slowly released the Knight.
“It was a horrible dream,” Fiona repeated breathlessly. “I can’t ever lose you, Rig. We shouldn’t go back to that ghastly city.”
“We’re not going back to Shrentak, Fiona. I promise.”
Maldred cleared his throat. “Think otherwise. Just take a look at yourself, all your scales. I know a secret way into the city, not a pleasant one, but our best bet now. We’re going to have to try to defeat the Black if you ever want to be cured of those scales. The shadow dragon—”
“Is going to get an unpleasant surprise,” Dhamon finished. “Now you’re going to prove your friendship by taking me to him.” I’ve a worthy weapon now, Dhamon thought, hefting the glaive over his shoulder. A fine magical one.
“Dhamon, listen to reason,” Maldred persisted. “We’re going to have to—”
Dhamon flung himself at the ogre-mage, dropping the glaive, fingers spread wide. His nails dug into Maldred like claws, pulling him down, raking him. Before the surprised Maldred could react, Dhamon threw an elbow into his chest, knocking the wind from him. Then he continued his assault, driving a fist into his stomach, pushing him on the ground and slamming his fist into him repeatedly.
Dhamon had his hands around the ogre-mage’s throat. Maldred’s eyes bulged with fear.
The spittle flew from Dhamon’s mouth. “You’re going to lead us to the damn shadow dragon, and you’re going to do it now.”
“Dhamon…” the ogre-mage gasped. “I’ve got Blode to think about.”
“You’ll have nothing to think about, ogre, if you don’t cooperate. You’ll be dead.” Dhamon’s eyes said he meant it, despite the good times they had shared, despite once thinking Maldred as dear as any brother, and despite the fact that the big thief had pulled him out of a bad scrape or two. “You won’t be able to do anything for your damnable dry homeland if your corpse is rotting in this swamp.”
Fiona had reclaimed the glaive. She eagerly joined in, swinging the big weapon around, leveling the axe-like blade of it straight at Maldred.
“Blue-skinned monster. You’ll do what Rig wants, or I’ll help him kill you.”
Maldred looked between the two with darting eyes and finally nodded, pained resignation clear on his face. Dhamon let him up, and as he did so, he grabbed the ogre’s two-handed sword away from him and passed it to Ragh.
“Bad enough you have magic,” Dhamon told him. “You’re not going to have a weapon, too. Ragh, if you hear him mumble or twitch his fingers, don’t be afraid to poke him with that.” He reached out and took the glaive back from Fiona. “Let’s get going. Maldred’s in a hurry to take us to the shadow dragon.”
The female Knight smiled hopefully. “So you can be cured, Rig.”
“Aye, so I can be cured.” And so I can exact a promise that my child will be safe. Dhamon took her hand, as Maldred started off. The draconian followed right behind the ogre-mage, sword held out in front of him behind Maldred’s back.
They traveled the rest of the day in relative silence. Fiona spoke only to Dhamon, addressing him as Rig the whole time. Her madness was getting worse too, Dhamon told himself. They stopped before sunset on the bank of an inviting fresh stream, and here, with Ragh hovering menacingly at his side, Maldred made another attempt to speak to Dhamon and convince him to turn around.
“The shadow dragon is very powerful, my friend.”
“Aye,” Dhamon admitted. He watched Fiona kneel at the stream and splash water on her face. “All dragons are. And I’m not your friend.”
“I believe he would keep his word about curing you and…”
“I believe all dragons are duplicitous, and I think I should have never agreed to go on his foolish errand to begin with. I wasted precious time. I should have found a way that very night to attack him and to make him cure me and obtain a guarantee that he would leave Riki and my child alone.”
“Dhamon…”
“You’ll have to find your own remedy for Sable, ogre. Exchanging one dragon overlord for another is foolhardy. Idiocy. Oh, the shadow dragon might stop the
spread of the swamp, but he very well could do something worse.”
“It’s never good to be under any dragon’s claw,” Ragh interjected.
Maldred hung his head. “Dhamon, my people are desperate. I had to take the chance to save them, and now you’re taking that one hope away from me.”
“Too bad.” Dhamon looked at Fiona. She had the long sword out and was crazily whispering to it. “Long ago you taught me to look out only for myself, ogre. You were a very good teacher.” He paused, eying the ogre-mage up and down. “To think I once considered you a good friend. Foolish of me.” Dhamon wore a disgusted look. “How much farther to the lair, ogre?”
“An hour at best.”
“Then let’s move. I don’t want to travel through the swamp in the dark.” Dhamon looked back to the stream and saw that Fiona was gone.
* * *
They searched for Fiona until it was too dark for them to see. Dhamon forced Maldred to create some magical light so they could look longer.
They knew she hadn’t been hauled away by some furtive swamp-beast. There were no signs of a struggle near the stream. Her tracks indicated she’d simply strolled away into the undergrowth, but they stopped abruptly after several yards, as if she’d vanished in thin air. There was nothing to indicate she’d climbed a tree or retraced her steps, and there were no other tracks around hers.
They rested briefly that night but found no further clues even after the sun came up. When they called for her, they received no reply. Dhamon exerted his heightened senses, listening for her, listening for anything unusual. He tried to pick up her scent, he strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of her through the undergrowth.
At every juncture he cursed himself for not watching out for her more closely, for not keeping her safe, for not being able to rescue Rig in Shrentak.
It was past noon when Ragh, tugging on his tunic, spoke. “We’re not going to find her, Dhamon. Fiona either doesn’t want to be found, or something devoured her. In this place, I’d say it’s probably the latter.”
“No, we’ll find her, my friend.” Dhamon stopped. He’d not called Ragh “friend” before, but the draconian hadn’t betrayed him, like Maldred. Ragh was the closest thing to a friend he had right now. “We have to find her, Ragh.”
The draconian grabbed Dhamon’s left wrist and forced him to look at his own hand. The entire back of Dhamon’s left hand was covered with scales now, and tiny scales decorated most of his fingers, too.
“How much longer can you afford to tarry?”
Dhamon’s limbs still ached fiercely. All of his worsening troubles could be blamed on the shadow dragon’s heinous magic. “I don’t know.”
“Well, my friend, I know that if we don’t continue after the shadow dragon soon, you won’t be any good to Fiona—even if she’s still alive. You won’t be any good to the child you keep mentioning, and you certainly won’t be any good to yourself. You’re liable to end up looking like some misshapen spawn, and the first swordsman who comes across your path is going to try to cut you in two.”
Dhamon felt oddly stronger today than yesterday, and his senses had become even more acute. He thrust the end of the glaive haft into the ground, looked around to make sure Maldred was in sight, then ran his hand through his sweat-damp hair. “All right. No more searching. For now. I find myself taking your advice, Ragh. Frequently I find myself taking your advice, my friend.”
“I suppose that troubles you.” Ragh gave him a rare lopsided grin. “I’ve been around a long time, Dhamon. I’ve got lots of advice to give, when I’ve a mind to give it. Now, let’s go looking for this shadow dragon before I take some of my own advice and part company with you.”
* * *
Because they had ranged several miles in their search for Fiona, it took them until past dawn of the following day to backtrack and reach the large cave mouth concealed by willow leaves that Maldred identified as the shadow dragon’s favorite lair. It didn’t look especially familiar to Dhamon, but then he’d been there at night before. A quick search found old tracks—his, Ragh’s, Fiona’s, Maldred’s. Yes, this was the place. But one set of tracks was more recent. They were smaller tracks, belonging to a child.
“The naga.” Dhamon hurried inside. He headed straight toward the depths of the cave. “Ragh, keep a close watch on the ogre.”
The cave was very dark and heavy with peculiar, fetid odors. Ragh came in behind Dhamon, prodding Maldred forward. “Some light,” the draconian instructed, “and I know the gestures to that spell now, so don’t try anything else.”
Maldred cupped his hand and fluttered his fingers, mumbling a few fast words in an ancient language. A ball of glowing light appeared. The draconian held the great sword in one hand, cupped his other hand, and copied Maldred. Another glowing sphere appeared, hovering above their heads, following them.
“I’ve got a little magic in me, too, ogre. So watch yourself.” Ragh hoped for a surprised reaction from Maldred, but he didn’t get it.
“I taught a kobold that spell, Ragh. A kobold. It’s easy magic.”
Ragh poked him with the tip of the sword. “Move, ogre.”
They caught up with Dhamon, who was deeper in the cave where the air was still. “Nura got here first and warned the shadow dragon. Now we’re both in a fix, Dhamon. You’ll not get your cure, and the swamp will swallow my homeland.”
Dhamon was peering into the recesses of the cave. “Maybe. But this cave goes on for quite a ways more than I first believed.” He could detect no hint of the dragon, not the slightest stirring of air from its noxious breath, not the faintest glow from its filmy eyes. He couldn’t smell the naga either—she had a distinctive musky odor he’d locked away in his memory. “Let’s see how far it goes.”
“It goes nowhere,” Maldred said. He’d been here a few times before and thought he knew the full extent of the cave, but he allowed the draconian to prod him along.
The cave twisted and turned, heading deeper into the earth. The air grew cooler and more repulsive. They came upon a chamber filled with the skeletons of giant crocodiles, great lizards, and other beasts. Some were half-eaten and rotting, covered with a carpet of feasting insects, others were old, bleached bones.
The cave trail wound farther down, narrowing, and Dhamon still pressed on, though he realized the dragon could not possibly squeeze down here.
“Dhamon, this is pointless.”
“Shut up, ogre.”
“Stop calling me that.”
Dhamon whirled. The light from the ball of light above Maldred threw shadows upward along the planes and angles of his wide, blue face. “That’s what you are, isn’t it, an ogre? That’s why you betrayed me, because you’re an ogre. Because you had to find a way to save your precious ogre lands. Well, ogre, as you said—it’s pointless—and your lands aren’t going to be saved, are they?” And neither will my child if I can’t find the damn shadow dragon, he thought.
“I’m sorry”
“Maybe if you’d come to me as a friend, I would’ve helped you. Maybe I would’ve marched straight into Sable’s lair, with whatever forces we could muster. Maybe I would’ve done that for the Maldred I thought I knew. But not for the ogre I can’t stomach. Not for the ogre who put my child at risk and who is at least in part responsible for Fiona wandering somewhere blindly in this wretched swamp.”
His tirade finished, Dhamon turned around and started retracing his steps. “You said this was the shadow dragon’s favorite lair. Where are its other hiding holes?”
Maldred didn’t answer until Ragh poked him sharply with the sword. “Nura led me to believe there are a few, but I’ve not been summoned to any others.”
“So where would the dragon go?” Dhamon thought back to the cave high in the mountains where he first encountered the shadow dragon. Maybe there, but he hoped not. He’d stumbled into the cave by accident and had no way of finding it again.
“I don’t know.”
“Not good enough.” This came from R
agh, who warily watched Dhamon.
Dhamon was feeling his way along a wall that was a mix of earth and stone. Ragh nudged Maldred closer, and the twin globes of light revealed a side passage.
“I thought I felt air blowing in.” The passage was too narrow for the three of them, and after several feet yielded to a natural staircase that wound its way up into darkness. The dragon certainly couldn’t have fit in here, Dhamon decided, but the naga might have. If she’d been this way, perhaps he should let the naga lead him to the dragon.
“Dhamon,” Ragh cautioned.
“I know, but do you have a better idea at the moment?” Without waiting for an answer, Dhamon slipped into the passage and started up the stairs. The other two followed him, single file, with the draconian at the rear prodding Maldred. Dhamon’s legs ached with each step and he felt a burning sensation on his back, which he suspected was more scales sprouting. “Damn all the dragons in the world.” His head pounded.
The steps were worn away in several places, but a stream of water trickled down and disappeared in a wide crack. The light globes revealed handholds here and there and deteriorated carvings and etchings. Dhamon traced one with his finger. It looked like the image of some kind of draconian or perhaps a bakali, and there was a smaller bulbous-nosed creature flying above it. The other creatures were too faint to make out.
It was a tight squeeze at the very end. As Dhamon stepped out into a worked stone chamber, he felt the floor give way beneath him. Reflexes like lightning, he sprang forward, rolled, and stood up again just as Maldred forced himself through the entrance and lost his balance, throwing his arms out at the last minute to catch himself from falling through a widening gap. The ogre-mage looked down and saw jagged iron spikes a few feet below. He wormed his way past, as Ragh carefully stepped into the room, scraping his shoulders on the rocks.
[Dhamon 03] - Redemption Page 17