Lord of the Rose

by Doug Niles

  This draconian was even bigger than the gatekeeper. A least a dozen heavy chains draped his neck, jangling as he walked. A belt of the yellow metal encircled his lean waist, and golden cuffs gleamed from his ankles and wrists. He halted before the dwarf and the warrior, looming over them. Massive, taloned fists rested on his hips, and his forked tongue flickered out insolently, almost brushing the man’s nose. The warrior didn’t flinch, though his eyes narrowed slightly.

  “You got the bounty? You show me the bounty,” growled the bozak.

  The human glanced sideways at his companion, and the dwarf raised his right hand to show a strand of cord that pierced a number of leathery flaps, like some crude, gigantic necklace.

  “A score of goblin ears!” declared Dram Feldspar, tossing the grisly strand toward the draconian—who made a flailing swipe to try and catch it but had to bend over, muttering, to pick it up off the sawdust-covered floor. A growl rumbled within that massive chest, as he squinted at the first ear.

  “Huh, real goblin.” He nodded in apparent satisfaction, and starting sliding the dried ears past his fingers on the leathery strand. “Four … eight, ten … twelve, fourteen, sixteen, eighteen. Yep, two more makes a score.”

  He looked at the pair with somewhat more interest, filmy lids half-closing over the vertical slit pupils of his snake’s eyes. “Come this way. Cornellus will see you. If he likes you, you might even come back out alive.” The draconian threw back his head and roared with laughter that was echoed by appreciative chuckles from the dozen or so other draconians in the rooms.

  The hobgoblins, close relatives of the goblin race, were not laughing. Instead, they glared murderously at the bounty hunters. One burly chieftain put his hand around the hilt of his knife, but—at a sharp glance from the bozak—made no move to draw the weapon.

  Still chuckling, the gold-bedecked messenger raised a paw, the sharp talon of his forefinger extended like a stiletto toward the door at the back of the inn. The bozak stood back to let the visitors pass in front of him. The man led the way while Dram Feldspar stepped right behind, with a glance at the draconian who followed at a respectful distance.

  Two baaz draconians armed with short swords flanked the sturdy, iron-strapped door. At a nod from the bozak, one of them pulled it open and the other drew his weapon, warily studying the dwarf and the human. The two sauntered inside.

  Cornellus the Large was seated upon a stout wooden throne, a chair that would have held two normal sized men with room to spare. The bandit lord not only covered the seat, his body seemed to bulge outward over either arm of the massive platform. His half-ogre lineage was clear in the small, round eyes that glared from the folds in his fleshy face and in the twin tusks that jutted upward from his lower jaw. Those tusks were gold plated, an ostentatious display of the bandit lord’s wealth.

  Beams hewn from solid pine trunks supported a ceiling dozens of feet overhead. That space was cloaked in shadow, for no windows broke the solid stone walls of the chamber. A massive blaze roared in a cavernous fireplace, shedding light if not much heat. The flaring illumination revealed several other doors leading deeper into the mountain.

  A plump human woman stood behind Cornellus, holding a fan. She gaped stupidly at the man and the dwarf as they approached until the bandit lord reached back and cuffed her. Quickly she began waving the huge feathered device.

  Not that it was hot in here; it was frigid as a root cellar, half-buried in the bedrock of the mountain. The fire was so far from the throne that it had no effect on the chilly temperature. Still, Cornellus was sweating like a slave laboring in the hot sun. By the time the visitors reached him, another female slave had stepped forward with a towel. Gingerly she mopped the perspiration from his forehead, cheeks, and jowls.

  “So, you claim to be brave goblin-slayers? Is this true?” His voice rumbled as though it came from a deep well, gurgling on the last words.

  “As a matter of fact, Your Lordship, that is true,” said Dram, stepping forward. He grinned, bowing with a flourish. “We are only too happy to—”

  “I was asking you, warrior.” The bandit lord raised a massive paw, pointed a wrinkled finger the size of a large sausage at the human. “You like to kill goblins?”

  “I kill my share.” His voice was quiet, matter of fact. “We work as a team.”

  “A score is many goblins. Where did you find them?”

  “In the foothills of the Garnet range. South of the city the Solamnics call Solanthus.”

  “Ah, yes.” Cornellus allowed himself a rumble of amusement. The sound was like a massive cauldron full of boiling water. “A realm of the knights. But the goblins breed like maggots down there, fill the valleys, spill through my woods. They are a plague upon my humble business.”

  It was well known that the bandit lord’s humble business was the import of smuggled elf slaves and other contraband from the lands south of the Newsea. Goblin raids ate into his profits.

  “We have heard of the bounty you offer for those enemies of your humble business!” said the dwarf. “That is what brings us here.”

  “Ah, the bounty. No one kills goblins just for the sport of it anymore—always, there has to be a reward.” The half-ogre sounded rueful and contemplative. “Snaggart, have you inspected the ears?”

  “Aye, Lord Cornellus,” replied the bozak draconian, who had followed the visitors into the room. He still clutched the dried flaps and their leather thong. “Indeed they have a pretty score.”

  “Well, ahem, I regret to inform you that the bounty has changed,” said the bandit lord tersely. “I pay only one steel for one ear, now.”

  “One steel?” sputtered the dwarf. “For years the bounty has been five!”

  Cornellus shrugged, a massive rippling of his flesh. “You are out of touch. I offer one now. Take it, or do not take it. The gobs are no longer such enemies. Maybe soon they collect bounty for human and dwarf ears!” The bandit lord guffawed momentarily at that thought then scowled and added, sniffing, “Either way, you bore me. It is time for you to go. Maybe I tell gobs where to find you.”

  “One steel might be all right,” said the warrior, his voice still calm and quiet, “but we also need a little information from you, just a few words.”

  “Eh? What words would these be?”

  The man stepped forward, pulling a flat object from beneath his cape, and, not incidentally, revealing one of the small crossbows, cocked and ready, that he wore at his waist. At the gesture, more draconians stepped forward from the shadows to either side, but Cornellus held up his hand and the guards halted. The half-ogre squinted his tiny eyes as the man unwrapped a piece of white stone about the size of a small dinner plate.

  “This is a piece of marble, part of a tablet we found at a place near here. It bears a name.” The man extended the shard upward for the bandit lord to take it with his sausage-sized fingers. The bandit lord looked at it, blinked once, and shook his head.

  “I have never seen this name before. ‘Brilliss.’ What does that mean? It is nothing but a name!”

  “Think. Hard. I have reason to believe that it was an important name known to some in the Garnet Range. Everyone knows that Cornellus is the best informed lord in all these hills and valleys.”

  “I tell you, I do not know this name. Where did you find this? Exactly where, tell me!” His beady eyes glittered, and the tip of his fat tongue showed between the grotesque flaps of his lips.

  The man took the fragment back. “I may tell you if you tell me what I want to know first.”

  “I tell you, I know nothing of this gnome! Now, go!”

  For several seconds the warrior’s gaze held the bandit’s broad face. Cornellus licked his lips, making a visible and ultimately unsuccessful effort not to glance down at the shard of tablet held so casually in the human’s hand.

  “I said nothing about a gnome,” the stranger noted.

  “That is obviously what it is. A foolish gnome’s name.”

  “So he is a foolis
h gnome now,” said the human warrior. With the wrist of his left arm he held his cape back, allowing easy access to the small crossbow.

  “You dare to challenge me?” The half-ogre’s eyes bulged from his meaty face, as more sweat beaded on his forehead. “You dare?”

  In response the human snatched up the crossbow, spun, and fired the bolt straight into the chest of the nearest draconian—a baaz. That reptilian guard uttered a strangled growl and fell dead, already rigid.

  The curved cutlass was in the warrior’s hand even before the draconian died. The two slave women screamed and ran for the rear of the chamber as the man lunged at the throne, chopping a bloody gouge into the bandit lord’s knee, drawing an ear-shattering bellow of pain.

  The axe was whirling in the dwarf’s hands as he rushed to the side, driving back the pair of draconians that had tried to close in from the right. With slashing swipes of that heavy blade he held them at bay, while the warrior pulled his sword from the bloody cut, raising it toward the bandit lord’s face. Cornellus, his eyes wide, blubbered unintelligibly.

  “Left side!” called Dram urgently.

  “Durafus—bizzeerr—kar—” The gold-ornamented bozak had both hands raised, snaky eyes flashing as he started to spit out the words to a spell.

  Without lowering his sword, the man whipped his second crossbow up with his left hand and shot the bolt. It took the bozak right in the gut, and the end of the spell became a bloody gurgle. With a bubbling cry the big draconian doubled forward and dropped to the floor.

  “Kill them! Stop them!” shrieked Cornellus, using the momentary distraction to shift his massive bulk in his tall throne, tumbling the chair backward onto the floor. His great foot kicked out, knocking the cutlass away.

  The bozak continued to thrash, screams growing weaker as it convulsed in its death throes. Knowing what was coming, the warrior and the dwarf were already moving, darting to the sides and ducking low.

  The bandit lord cowered behind his overturned throne, eyes flashing from the two attackers to the dying bozak. The draconian expired and, in the next instant, exploded. The blast rocked the chamber, knocking dust from the massive beams below the ceiling and slamming the dwarf against the far wall. The man tumbled through a roll and bounced into a crouch, cutlass at the ready. The bandit lord, his face blackened by the effects of the blast, lumbered to his feet, turning his great head this way and that.

  Baaz draconians, hissing with lust for blood, sprang forward from various alcoves. Spears raised, they spread out, a trio of them converging on the man, while another joined the pair of guards challenging the dwarf. Even as they attacked, Cornellus shoved past his bodyguards, ducked through an archway, and vanished into the shadows at the rear of the room.

  The dwarf’s battle-axe whirled, snapping off the tip of one draconian’s spear and holding the other two at bay. Throwing down the nub of the spear, the first baaz sprang at Dram, pulsing its leathery wings, adding weight to the attack. Both hands, studded with wicked claws, slashed toward the dwarf’s bearded face—then those hands, with forearms attached, tumbled to the floor, severed by a lightning slash of the dwarf’s axe blade.

  The baaz howled and staggered away, mangled arms clutched to its chest. The others stabbed and stabbed, but neither spear could get past the dwarf’s dazzling, dancing axe. A cold grin split the thicket of beard, and Dram Feldspar began to advance, challenging first one, then the other draconian. He spun through an abrupt circle, bringing the axe into the flank of one baaz, tearing open its sinewy gut. The creature groaned a plaintive death cry, slumping, falling forward into a spreading pool of gore. The other bobbed and weaved, cautiously retreating as its comrade stiffened in the final posture of death.

  Across the room, the warrior had retreated into a corner where he was using his cape like a shield, sweeping it past his chest and out again to hold spears at bay. He wielded his curve-bladed cutlass in his right hand, the weapon weaving like a living organism. A thrust here, then a parry, and with a lunge he stabbed one of the baaz right through the throat, at the same time knocking away another’s spear tip with his deceptively sturdy cloak.

  Gagging, the throat-pierced baaz fell back, as stiff and rigid as a statue by the time it struck the floor, breaking off one wing before it finally came to rest. The other two draconians pressed in, hissing, snapping fanged, jutting jaws. The warrior stabbed hard at one of them, hitting the lizard-like attacker in the open mouth. The blade penetrated the draconian’s palate and sliced through its brain—and in that instant the creature turned to stone, pinning the weapon in its petrified flesh.

  With a curse the man let go of his sword and spun away from his last attacker. The baaz’s speartip thrust again and again, deflected each time by the warrior’s sweeping cape as the pair bobbed across the stone floor. Abruptly, the last draconian gasped and toppled forward. Dram pulled his axe from the back of the creature’s neck a split second before it solidified.

  “Where did Cornellus go?” the dwarf asked.

  “In here somewhere,” the warrior replied, starting toward the dark alcove. He stopped, looked back at his trapped cutlass, and grimaced. Shaking his head, he reached both hands over his shoulder to pull out the heavy sword he wore strapped to his back. Holding the great pommel in both hands, he held the blade angled slightly upward and squinted into the shadows. “I’m ready now.”

  Nodding grimly, the dwarf held his axe ready and advanced at his companion’s side. They paused at the archway. No look, no sound, no signal was needed—each knew what the other would do. Together they burst through the opening and spun around, back to back. They stabbed deep into the shadows—and the dwarf struck scaly flesh, his axe carving into the chest of a big, black draconian. The creature, a kapak, had been lurking in ambush with a large cudgel. Now it flung away the weapon and started to stumble off. It didn’t get very far, before the sinewy draconian collapsed to the floor, thrashing and gurgling as its black body dissolved into a bubbling, steaming, toxic puddle. The dwarf skipped back an instant before the liquid spread to his boots.

  The man twisted the hilt of his great sword as he slashed the long blade through the air. Flames burst, hot and blue, along its metal edge, light spilling through the shadows, revealing a door before him. The man struck one side of the wall, then the other, with the fiery blade. Flames surged eagerly into the dried logs, licking upward, spreading.

  Dram stepped to his side, waving away the thickening smoke with the broad blade of his axe. He pointed at the fire-framed doorway. “Well, it looks like he got away. He musta gone through there.”

  Tongues of flame still flickered along the long, broad sword blade. Raising it over his shoulder, turning his other side toward the door, the man gave a shout of frustration and brought his weapon around in a long swing. Flames and sparks trailed from the blade, lingering in the air. The sword struck the door and sliced through the stout, metal-banded boards as though they were a tapestry. With a grunt, followed by a sharp backswing and vertical slash, the man used the sword to carve his way through the locked door.

  The bandit lord Cornellus stared at them through the hole, wild-eyed, deep within another cavernous room, this one a hall with many stout timbers, whole tree-trunks, supporting a lofty roof. The huge, blubbery half-ogre backed away from them as they kicked their way through the door. With a sudden move he lunged for a piece of lumber and lifted it like a club.

  “Stay back!” he warned.

  “Or what?” sneered Dram Feldspar, swaggering forward.

  The man edged closer, waving his burning sword, then turned and chopped into one of the support pillars. Flames immediately took hold there, crackling eagerly, licking up the length of dry wood into the dry roof.

  “You’re crazy, the both of you,” spat the bandit lord, watching the growing fire. “Let me out of here, or my retainers will take their vengeance. Even now, dozens of them are flocking outside, ready to kill you.”

  “Why ain’t I scared?” the dwarf asked. He lunged,
and Cornellus stumbled backward in his haste to elude the dwarf’s deadly axe.

  The warrior followed close behind. His sword no longer blazed, though the blade still flickered and pulsed as if the fires lingered below the hard surface of the metal. He held the hilt in both hands.

  “Tell us what you know about that shard,” the human said coldly. “You recognized it—I saw the spark in your greedy little eyes. You knew that Brilliss was the name of a gnome. If you tell us what you know, I might yet decide to let you live.”

  “No! Yes! That is, perhaps there was a glimmer there, something I had heard rumored long ago,” stammered the half-ogre. He looked to either side of them, seeing no means of escape, no rescuers on their way, then back at his two tormentors. “The name … what was it again?”

  “The part I can read is ‘Brilliss,’ but it looks like that’s only part of the word. What is the rest? Tell me!” The tip of the man’s mighty sword was raised and pointed at the bandit’s hammering heart.

  “I—I can’t be sure. There was a band of gnomes that lived in these mountains one time, south of here. Every so often they would come here to trade. I believe they had a master named Brillissander Firesplasher or something like that. The first part of his name, anyway, I remember—it was something like Brilliss. You know how gnomes are with their names.”

  “Aye,” the dwarf said, his axe poised. “Your memory is getting better. What about this Brillissander? Where is he nowadays?”

  “Dead as far as I know, I swear it! The whole town—Dungarden they called it—was destroyed three years ago. It was underground, like a dwarf cavern—but full of gnomes. They were always working on foolish things. Dangerous, too! The whole heart of the place was ripped out, I think one of the dragon overlords went in there and devoured it.”