[Dhamon 03] - Redemption

by Jean Rabe - (ebook by Undead)

  “The eyes!” Ragh shouted. “Don’t look at the umber-hulk’s eyes! There’s magic in them!” The draconian repeated this order in the goblins’ tongue. His eyes averted, he stumbled forward, leading with the long sword, but in a second the Solamnic Knight stepped in front of the draconian, cut him off and snatched the sword from his outstretched claws. Ignoring his exclamation, Fiona advanced on the beast, her blade gleaming in the light of the full moon.

  The umberhulk held its arms out to its sides in a macabre, triumphant pose, then roared even louder and stamped forward to meet the female Knight.

  “It was hunting the goblins,” Maldred said in a low voice. The ogre-mage was sneaking looks at the umberhulk without meeting its gaze. “The vibrations in the earth mark its passing. It was burrowing like a gopher.” The ogre-mage had his hands in the air, fingers splayed, and his palms were glowing with enchantment.

  Dhamon hadn’t given Maldred permission to cast any spell, but now was not the time to argue. He dashed forward, trying to reach the umberhulk before Fiona.

  Fiona got there first, staring up into the umberhulk’s four dizzying eyes. “Madness,” she pronounced, as she blinked and shook her head. “Beautiful eyes.” Then for a moment she stood as though paralyzed, weaving back and forth as the umberhulk roared. “Madness,” she repeated, somehow rallying her senses.

  Nearly all of the goblins who had not fled either stood spellbound or were wandering aimlessly along the edge of the brook, as if they were caught in some mind-clouding magical spell. One wandered too close to the beast, too dazed to see a pincer-arm shoot out, too numb to feel the pincer close about its waist.

  The umberhulk held the goblin high, then squeezed the little creature, nearly slicing it in two. Then the creature tossed back its head, opened its mouth, and swallowed it in one motion. The umberhulk reached to snatch another one.

  “Monster!” Fiona howled, sounding like the Fiona of old, momentarily. As she drew back on her sword and brought it down hard, the blade bit into the chitinous shell of the thing’s pincer-arm but did no significant damage. The female Knight, as if possessed, struck at the massive creature again and again. Ragh managed to maneuver behind them and join in, clawing at the umberhulk’s back while kicking dazed goblins out of the creature’s reach.

  Another goblin dropped into the umberhulk’s maw.

  “We’ll be at this all night!” Dhamon shouted, noting that neither Fiona nor the sivak seemed able to cause the umberhulk any real harm. “Its skin is as tough as plate armor!” He edged closer, narrowly avoiding a pincer and knocking it away with the butt of his glaive. With Ragh and Fiona so near, Dhamon couldn’t risk sweeping the glaive in a wide arc. Instead, he raised it above his head and brought it down in a powerful chopping motion. He felt strangely eager for a good fight.

  As the blade of the glaive sliced into the umberhulk’s shoulder, its thick, green blood fountained into the air and rained down on them.

  “It bleeds!” Fiona shouted. “If it can bleed, it can die!” She accelerated her efforts, some blows bouncing off the thing’s armored hide, a few miraculously cutting into its arm just above the pincer. The runes along her blade glowed brightly blue, and its sharp edge sparkled in the moonlight. “I can kill it with this sword!”

  She drew back for a thrust, just as the umberhulk turned with a speed unexpected for its size. A pincer-arm shot forward, clacking loudly. Fiona had fast reflexes and pulled away at the last instant, yet it snagged her clothes. She spun around behind the creature, pushed Ragh aside, and stepped up her frenzied attack.

  “We’re actually hurting the foul creature!” This was shouted by Ragh, who also managed to cut the creature and draw some repulsive-smelling blood.

  Dhamon stepped in for a hard chop, this time cutting even deeper into the umberhulk’s shoulder and wounding the creature so badly that one pincer-arm twitched, then hung limp. He drove his blade down again, this time with more force. The umberhulk screamed, a horrible sound, like stone scraping against stone. The ground rumbled, and cracks raced away from the umberhulk’s clawed feet. Its legs churned, and it began to retreat down its huge hole.

  “It’s fleeing!” Ragh shouted in triumph. Still, he pressed his attack. “We’re winning!”

  “We can’t let it escape!” Fiona cried angrily. “Don’t let it go!”

  “She’s right!” Dhamon said, as he brought the glaive up again, swinging it down this time into the center of the creature’s back. He bunched his arm muscles and yanked the blade free. “If it gets away, it can pop up anywhere for another chance at us!”

  The ground rumbled louder, as the sinking umberhulk roared its defiance.

  “Wait, it’s not going anywhere.” As Maldred finished his spell, a soft yellow glow poured from his palms onto the ground. Like a line of molten lightning it streaked to the umberhulk. “Out of the way! Move, Dhamon!”

  Dhamon had to grab Fiona, for the Knight was continuing to lunge at the beast with rapid sword blows. Ragh jumped back just in time. The magical light struck its target, spiraled around the umberhulk, and took root in the ground.

  “What’s going to happen now?” Ragh said. “What kind of magic…?” The rest of his words were swallowed by the furious upheaval of the earth.

  As they watched, everywhere the light flowed the ground began to thicken, trapping the creature’s legs and its one good pincer-arm in solid stone.

  It shrieked its rage. Whipping its head about, its four eyes fixed on Ragh and magically befuddled him. The draconian’s snout dropped open, and he started shuffling toward the screaming umberhulk and the still-hardening earth.

  “Now, Dhamon!” Maldred shouted. “Finish it!”

  Dhamon was in good position. Releasing Fiona, he swept the glaive at waist-level with all of his strength. The great blade parted the chitinous shell of the umberhulk. The creature howled, and the earth shook wildly. The stone earth in which he was embedded began to crack as the creature fought to break free.

  Again Dhamon swung.

  “It bleeds!” Fiona cried gleefully. “We can kill it! I can kill it!” She leaned in and landed a few more blows before the thing gave a tremendous shudder and stopped moving.

  The earth quieted after a few moments. Dhamon stepped back and took a breath. It took several minutes for Ragh and the goblins to come to their senses and many minutes after that for the goblins who’d run away to straggle back.

  Dhamon went over to the brook to clean the blood off himself and the glaive. Glancing up, he saw the draconian trying to take the sword away from Fiona.

  “It talks to me!” she was shouting madly.

  “Let her have it,” Dhamon said, as he walked over to join them.

  The draconian raised an eyebrow. “She nearly killed you, Dhamon. Are you as mad as she is to let her keep this weapon?”

  Maybe, he thought. Aloud he said, “We’ll rest here an hour, no more, then be on the move again.”

  * * *

  They pressed on until dawn, following the brook that widened into a stream as they proceeded north.

  “Yagmurth says the village you want is just around that rise,” Ragh told Dhamon. “They want to know if you’re going to lead them into battle against their hobgoblin cousins. Because you slew the umberhulk, they think you can perform miracles.”

  Dhamon didn’t answer at first. He was staring at his reflection in the water. I am a monster, he thought. The fire in his stomach had spread all over his body. For the past several miles it was all he could do to ignore the pain and plod onward.

  “You’re getting taller,” Ragh said, glancing at Dhamon warily, then looking over at the Knight, who was still carrying her magic sword and talking to it. “You realize that, don’t you? I’d say by a few inches at least.”

  The seams of Dhamon’s ragged garments were stretched over his growing limbs. “Aye, Ragh, I know.”

  Dhamon continued to stare at his reflection. His face was different, too, and it took him a few moments to unde
rstand how different. His forehead was slightly higher, and a ridge was forming over his eyes. Like Ragh, Dhamon thought his neck was thicker, too, though he couldn’t be sure. His ears were smaller, slightly, as though they were melding against the sides of his head.

  “Maldred, ask Sabar if there’s still enough time.”

  “Taller,” Ragh commented quietly, “and more forgiving. You let Fiona keep the sword. You call the ogre-mage by name.”

  “There’s time,” Maldred replied after several minutes of silence, during which he consulted the magic-woman in the crystal. “But not much. She says to hurry.”

  I am hurrying. Dhamon ran his hand through his hair, a shiver racing down his spine when he saw his palms were dark gray like the bottoms of his feet. He stepped back from the stream and looked toward the village. “I need to make sure Riki and the child are safe.” A moment later, “And I can’t let them see me. Not until I’ve forced a cure from the damn shadow dragon. If I can find the dragon in time.”

  The old yellow goblin shuffled over, careful to keep a polite distance, waiting until Dhamon was done speaking before it began chattering to Ragh. The other goblins huddled together, watching the exchange between the draconian and their leader.

  “Yagmurth asks again if you will lead them in battle against their hobgoblin cousins. He wants very much to fight.” Ragh bent closer to the old goblin, waving a hand in front of his face to ward off the stink. He growled and snapped in the guttural tongue until Yagmurth seemed happy.

  The old goblin squared his shoulders, whipped about, and trundled back to his fellows. Fiona gave the whole bunch a look of loathing, then joined Dhamon and Ragh.

  “What did you say to him?” Dhamon watched the goblins chatter happily among themselves, making whooping noises and raising their spears.

  Ragh glanced over his shoulder, watching Maldred replace the crystal ball in the makeshift bag. The ogre-mage tied it to his waist. “I told them that I, the greatest of Takhisis’ creations, would lead them into battle against their hobgoblin cousins.” He lowered his voice. “If necessary. If we can’t get Riki and her family out of town any other way. If the crystal is true, and the hobgoblins aren’t there at the shadow dragon’s behest, there might be some problems with a rescue operation.”

  “And what about me?”

  “I told Yagmurth you had business elsewhere.”

  Dhamon shook his head. “No. I—”

  “…Have to get your cure before it’s too late. Your child doesn’t need a draconian—or spawn—for a father. Save yourself, Dhamon, and I’ll endeavor to save your woman and child.”

  “Ragh, I…”

  “I will go with you, sivak.” Fiona put her hand on the pommel of her sword. “I will go with you to help the half-elf Riki. That is an honorable cause.” The Solamnic Knight’s eyes were wide and staring, but the fiery madness seemed temporarily gone. “I will not help Dhamon find a cure, and I will not stay in the company of the ogre-liar, so I will go with you. That is what I should and will do.”

  She shrugged and wiped at a stain on her tunic, then looked up with a wild look in her eyes again. “But when Riki and her family are safe, I will track Dhamon—as high into the mountains as he chances to go.” She turned from the draconian and locked eyes with Dhamon. “And then, Dhamon Grimwulf, we will finish this, you and I. You will pay for Rig’s death—for the deaths of Shaon and Jasper and whomever else you betrayed. You will pay for everything.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Visions and Shadows

  “Riki will be all right, Dhamon. They might not have to fight the hobgoblins to get her out. They might be able to slip in, take her, your child, and Varek too.”

  “Aye, maybe.”

  It was the first either of them had spoken since they’d left Ragh, Fiona, and the goblins, hours ago. They were making their way toward the mountain ridge. The wind was strong, cutting across the uneven plain, rustling the tall, dried grass and whipping up small rocks. The sky was cloudless and blue, making the brown landscape seem even more desolate and drab. The few trees that grew on the craggy ledges were thin and barren, save for a lone pine that stretched tall and defiant.

  Dhamon lengthened his stride, keeping his eyes on the pine. He’d chosen a route that avoided the cluster of small settlements and farms between Haltigoth and the mountains, and one that roughly paralleled a merchant road to the south.

  Maldred maintained his appearance as a blue-skinned ogre-mage. Earlier, Maldred had attempted to don his human guise when two men on horseback rode by, but Dhamon became angry and shouted at the ogre, so Maldred kept his true appearance. The sight of the ogre kept the men on horseback at a distance.

  Dhamon didn’t want to be reminded of Maldred as a human, the sun-bronzed friend who once shared many an adventure with him, but as they neared the shadows of the mountains, he realized, too, that he didn’t want Maldred to look human because he, himself, didn’t look human anymore. And unlike Maldred, he couldn’t cast a spell to make himself look like a man again.

  Did Sabar speak the truth? he thought. Was there still time to reach the shadow dragon and force the damnable creature to cure him?

  He wondered if Maldred would betray him again, warn the shadow dragon somehow of their approach. Would he cut some new deal to save Blöten and the surrounding land? He wouldn’t put it past the ogre-mage. Dhamon would have left Maldred behind with Ragh and Fiona, if he didn’t think the ogre might be needed to find the shadow dragon and if he didn’t need Maldred’s crystal-ball scrying.

  “We had some good times,” Maldred said.

  “Aye,” Dhamon admitted. “A few.”

  It was even cooler in the shadow of the mountains, and the coolness was a welcome antidote to the fever that consumed Dhamon. Dhamon found himself staring up at the mountains and wondering if perhaps the dragon had chosen its lair here wisely after all. The peaks were stark and imposing, like the dragon.

  “Dhamon, we can wait here a moment, ask Sabar to look in on Riki, to see if the Knight and draconian have accomplished anything.”

  Dhamon shook his head. He didn’t want to know that, not at this juncture anyway. They’d traveled too far to turn back now. He couldn’t afford to be distracted either by Ragh’s success or failure. Dhamon needed to concentrate on confronting the shadow dragon. He’d put his trust in Ragh, and that was that.

  He suspected the ogre-mage had volunteered to use the crystal because it would afford him a moment of rest. Dhamon had been driving them pretty hard, and neither man had slept in nearly two days.

  “Look in on the shadow dragon instead,” Dhamon suggested. “Try to pinpoint the exact location of his cave. If you can’t get us a good idea of where he is, we’ll spend days wandering around here.” And I don’t have the time, Dhamon thought. Softly, he added, “Or maybe you prefer us to wander around. Maybe you don’t want me to find the cave until it is too late. Maybe you want the shadow dragon to win.” The fever hadn’t lessened. If anything the fire in his stomach and across his back was more intense. Just walking was a chore.

  While Maldred was summoning the image of Sabar into the crystal ball, Dhamon closed his eyes. He focused all his thoughts on the heat and pain, attempting to use his willpower to shut them down, but it didn’t work.

  Dhamon stared at the mountains. The dragon was somewhere up there, hidden in some massive cave. He gazed toward the south, where the peaks were the highest, then suddenly felt a spasm of fiery pain and almost buckled.

  “Dhamon?”

  “I’m fine,” he said tersely. A few deep breaths and the worst of it passed, but his chest ached now. He tore his robe at the neck, then ripped it open down to his waist. Leaning on the glaive for support, he rubbed his chest and his ribs with his free hand. His left side was now covered with scales that burned to the touch. As his fingers moved over his abdomen, he felt another fiery jolt. There was a similar sensation low on his back, and he knew that more skin was disappearing.

  How much of m
y skin remains? he wondered. There was a stream nearby. He wanted to look at his reflection, but perhaps it was better if he didn’t know.

  “Dhamon.”

  “I said I’m fine.” He turned to face Maldred, seeing the ogre-mage seated on the hard ground, the crystal between his knees. Maldred stared at him with wide eyes. Dhamon reached up to feel his face. There was a slight popping sound, and he felt his jaw extend outward and the scales under his chin thicken. “Is there…”

  “Time yet? A chance for your cure?” Maldred dropped his gaze to the purple-clad woman in the crystal ball. “Sabar says there is time—very little.”

  “Does she really say that?” Another streak of fire raced across his face. “Or are you just telling me what I want to hear? Are you playing some game?”

  Maldred didn’t look up. “I’m not lying to you, Dhamon. Not now. Not ever again.” He ran one of his hands across the crystal globe’s surface. “I know I made a mistake in allying myself with the shadow dragon, a very serious mistake. I was so frantic to save my people and my homeland that I took the first good opportunity that came along. You can damn me for my stupidity and desperation, but don’t damn me for putting the ogre nation before one man. Even a friend.”

  “It was your father’s idea. Wasn’t it? For you to side with the naga and the shadow dragon?”

  “Yes.”

  “And like the dutiful son you are, you bought into it.”

  “I thought at the time the idea had merit. I should have looked for another way. I well know that now. I should have asked your help. Instead I deceived my best friend and lost your friendship, and I’ve done my father and his kingdom no good. There might be no saving them now.”

  “There might be no saving any of us if these cursed dragons go unchecked,” Dhamon said. “The shadow dragon….”

  Maldred turned his attention to the crystal, seeming to caress it, and in response the woman inside conjured up an image of a mountain range. One high peak melted away to show a great dark slash.