"What occurred?" the dwarf asked with a calmness he did not feel.
Keak looked sick. "The bolt missed," he said through thin lips.
"These unfortunate apelings?" inquired Obmi mildly as he eyed the smoking remains of the losels.
"They were in the path of the stroke, or else in the tree, and took too much electricity and died," Keak replied with a wince as the dwarf stared unwinkingly at him. "That bastard cat is fast. Lord Obmi," the elven mage hastened to add. "It watched me stand near and begin my casting. Just as I loosed the stroke, it leaped away – vanished, possibly, I don't know. It is very smart and more than any were-beast I've ever seen, and you know I have slain my share!"
Obmi nodded at that and reslung his hammer. Keak did not make stupid errors like that without cause. Angry as he was, Obmi valued the elf too much to waste him for no purpose other than the satisfaction of frustrated ire. Too much, far too much, was at stake in this whole game for him to make foolish misjudgments or allow rage to blind him.
"See that the column is halted. Get sentries out. Make sure that we are as well protected as possible. When that's done, come back to me at once, dear Keak. You and I must work together on a plan to solve our problems."
The elf bowed and hurried off, relieved that Obmi bore him no malice for the failure. "Too bad," he mumbled to himself as he went. "Too bad the runt didn't have the balls to go after the black devil of a cat himself. Then he'd find out a thing or two. Hammer or no, that leopard would have a dwarf for dinner, and then I would be commander and bring the prize to Lord Iuz. What power I would have then…" Continuing to mull over this pleasant reflection, the elven renegade went about his duties.
In the hours just preceding dawn, Obmi and Keak worked out a plan of action. As they huddled in conference, there were several more incidents, but after a scream and the following commotion, the black killer went elsewhere to strike again. It didn't matter. The cat-creature seemed unwilling to come near the center of the party, and that meant that it was most certainly vulnerable to spell and weapon – at least, those enchanted weapons wielded by Obmi, Keak, and a few others of the officers of the motley collection of humanoids.
"Let us summon Klabdul, Phlug, and the gnollish captain… Harhaff, then."
"The name is Harharaff, Lord." Keak corrected the dwarf politely, being careful not to giggle. "I'll bring them here at once."
"You're certain this will work?" Obmi asked again.
"I see no flaw, Lord Obmi."
"Get them, then. Hurry!"
Chapter 25
"Meeowww!" said Chert.
Gord shot the hillman a dark scowl that threatened mayhem.
"It isn't funny, Chert. Stop it," the bard said, just managing to suppress a smile.
Gord looked at both men disdainfully. "What I managed was more than either or both of you could have done… besides, if you think it is a joke to creep through an encampment of towering humanoids as a little pussycat in order to overhear what's being said, you try it."
"We can't," the barbarian said with a broad grin of contentment. "As you yourself pointed out, only you can manage the trick!"
Thatch and his small companion, Shad, were sitting cross-legged nearby. They had listened solemnly to the tale of Gord's using the ring to take cat-form. They were frightened by were-creatures of any sort, the very thought making them shudder. Yet this man who told them about turning into a huge, black leopard and killing losels thereby was a friend – and losels were awful things, too! They could only listen and withhold judgment. It seemed there was a whole lot more to the world than Tusham village and being successful hunters! Both lads listened carefully, not only because the story was exciting and full of danger, but because they wanted some clue about the treasure. So far they had seen more of trouble with evil humanoids and the like than folk were ever expected to. The rewards must be really terrific for these men to go through all this sort of danger just to get the key. What would the dragon be like? Thatch looked at Shad, and Shad stared back for a moment. There was an unspoken exchange then, both boys wishing that they hadn't decided to set out into the forest as hunters quite so soon.
"That foul little dwarf is a wily one," Gellor said. "If he has done as he said, we must either separate or find a way to get rid of the gnolls quickly."
"Pardon, Master Gellor, but what are gnolls?" Thatch asked.
Chert answered before the bard could speak. "Nasty, dog-faced things as big as I am. They're mean killers, too, and would cheerfully roast you two over a fire."
"That, boys," Gellor added, "is no exaggeration, and they'd eat you too, after they were done. AH that as it is, we'll see to it that you never have to face any gnolls until you're able to deal with them on terms they find not to their liking."
"Like Master Gord did to the losels?" Shad said eagerly.
Gord was somber. "You'd not like that much, Shad. Gellor means that when you're grown fully, trained to fight properly, and have armor and all, you and Thatch there will be more than a match for a pair of gnolls."
The boys sat back, feeling bigger and more confident.
"What's to be done, then?" asked the bard, looking at Gord.
There had been a subtle change in roles, the young man noted. Over the time he had known Gellor, the one-eyed man had been many things to him – fatherlike, a mentor, a leader, a rescuer, and more. The shift had occurred subtly, all right, but it was distinct. Not only was Gellor now treating him as an equal, but at times the bard was deferring to Gord almost as if the young thief were a superior! This was a bit disturbing, but there was no time for pondering the matter now.
"We move ahead," said Gord, "and if we find the band of gnolls spread out in our path, you four turn back a ways and stay put. I'll get by them without difficulty, and catch up with Obmi and his filthy train of scum – they'll be deserting the damned dwarf now, not flocking to him. Somewhere along the trail, somehow, I will get the chance to kill that miserable dastard and gel the Second Key," the thief said vehemently. "I'm certain it is on his twisted body somewhere, and I'll tear him apart to find it."
"Let's get going," Chert said practically. "Listen now, my boys. Here's what you two are to do if we meet any of these half-human scum and there is no way for you to get away. Hold your spears before you, thus…" and he went on with his instructions as their small group headed for the hard-beaten pathway leading toward the north and the realm of the demoniac Iuz.
"They're ahead, all right," Chert muttered as he slipped back to join his friends. He had gone ahead on the path to see if Gord's recounting of the conversation overheard as a small, midnight-black tomcat had been correct. It was. Gord had said that Obmi had ordered the gnoll captain, a huge monster named Harharaff, to remain behind to prevent any enemy from following, while the remainder of the force went northward as before. Gord said that the gnoll leader had seemed almost relieved to be given such duty, for the fear of the predatory killer of losels was spreading from ores to gnolls.
Gord nodded. "This is where we part company, then."
"Maybe if I picked off a few of those flea-bag bastards, the rest would take off," Chert said halfheartedly.