“Looking for something there?” asked the wizard. He gestured, and the already-damaged breastplate ripped in two, along with the tunic underneath. “Now just where is that vial I’ve wondered so much about? I have my own use for that vial, not that you’d understand what I have in mind.” Tyranos stopped short. “What by the Sea Queen-?”
The leonine human had reached to grab the vial, trying to tear it free. Golgren screamed, the pain eating at him.
Just as suddenly as he had seized the sealed vial, Tyranos let it go. The mage raised his hands angrily, cursing the sky.
“Damned spellcaster!” cried Stefan, coming up from behind Tyranos and standing protectively before Golgren. “Send your dead back to their graves before I oblige you to join them!”
The mage looked over his shoulder. “You blame me for these undead? Are you mad, Solamnic? Are you-stand aside!”
A staff materialized in the spellcaster’s left hand. It shot to full length, its bottom tip stretching past the frowning knight’s head.
“That’ll be your end!” declared Stefan, thrusting his weapon at the spellcaster.
Tyranos grunted in pain as the sword lanced his side. If not for the wizard’s quick reflexes, the knight would have run him through.
At the same time, both Golgren and Stefan realized that Tyranos had not been aiming for the Solamnic, but at another f’hanos charging toward the Solamnic. The staff struck the undead warrior directly on the breastbone. A silver aura briefly surrounded the skeleton, and the ghoul went flying.
“Damned swift with that weapon of yours, aren’t you, you cursed fool?” Tyranos clutched his bleeding wound. “And after I saved both your miserable hides!”
The knight looked chastened and doubtful. “I-you-saved us?”
Tyranos glared at Golgren. “Tell him!”
Golgren rubbed his chest. “I have trouble believing this also.”
As Stefan stepped closer to the spellcaster, Tyranos grew furious. “You two are impossible! That starburst was not supposed to possess any power after it was taken from its puppet, at least that was what I thought! I had him leave it as a warning for you, but only-”
“A warning?” Golgren grew cold with distrust. “By a gargoyle … by one of many gargoyles … ”
Tyranos bared his teeth. “Not all gargoyles serve-”
“Look out!” Stefan shouted.
A huge paw nearly slammed down on the three of them. The skeletal mastark had moved silently and quickly sneaked up on them, despite its lack of flesh and muscle. Even without flesh and muscle, its heavy bones could have easily crushed them.
Golgren and Tyranos were momentarily thrown away from Stefan. The grand lord spotted the wizard’s magical staff, an item he had often coveted, which had fallen to the ground. Grabbing it, Golgren held it over the spellcaster’s throat.
“Traitor!”
“Drop this foolhardy notion, oh Grand Lord. You think if I controlled these creatures, I’d let one of them tromp all over me?”
“If not, then why don’t you destroy them!”
Tyranos snorted. “You overestimate me, Grand-”
The undead mastark loomed over them again. The wizard threw himself to one side as the fleshless foot came crashing down.
Golgren, on the other hand, suddenly clamped his teeth around the staff and grabbed hold of the bony limb. He climbed up the creature’s leg with a dexterity that was astonishing. He felt driven by fury, driven by the need to prove himself.
The mastark tried to jab at him with its long, curled tusks. When it was clear that Golgren would not let go, the huge f’hanos tried to buck and spin and shake him off.
Golgren wanted to cry out when the creature’s tusk tore away what remained of his tunic, painfully scraping his skin, but he held tight to Tyranos’s staff.
The scarred tusk came at him once more.
Golgren released his grip, wrapping his good arm around the mastark’s tusk and letting it lift him up.
The mastark wildly shook its head back and forth. The ogre reached up for its neck.
Then Golgren noticed a movement to his side. The grand lord scrambled to pull himself up as an undead warrior-possibly the mastark’s original handler-also climbed up the side of the beast, trying to reach him. The skeleton wielded the long, hooked bar normally used for guiding the great beasts.
The long iron hook came at Golgren just as he succeeded in getting one leg up around the mastark’s neck. He used that leg to push at the hook but only partially fended it off. The hook drew a jagged red line in his leg, and Golgren was wracked by fresh pain.
The ogre leader tried to beat at the skeletal warrior with Tyranos’s staff, momentarily stymieing his horrific foe. His arm ached, yet he held on while continuing to stab at the f’hanos.
The undead beast continued to shake and sway, but the ogre leader finally managed to get a good grip and reach the top of the mastark.
The moving mastark proved devilish to try to stand upon, though. Golgren satisfied himself with a crouching position, holding the staff while watching the f’hanos, which had not given up.
The skeleton lunged at him with the hook again. Golgren caught the hook with the staff and twisted the weapon around. He disarmed the creature, which immediately lunged forward in an obvious attempt to send both of them plummeting over the side.
Golgren swept the staff across, catching the f’hanos just above its ankles. It stumbled, then slipped down. One bony hand sought the grand lord, but he kicked it away.
As the creature fell off, Golgren struggled forward. The mastark appeared more determined than ever to shake him off. It was all that he could do to inch his way toward the creature’s skull.
Below, the clash of weapons and the screams of the dying told Golgren that his followers were in dire straits. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tyranos, moving in a blur, and Sir Stefan, eyeing him. The grand lord swore at Dauroth and the Titans.
The gigantic beast whirled in a circle as it tried to reach or topple its unwanted rider. Golgren inched forward.
At last, he made it to the top of the mastark’s skull. The undead giant reared, almost succeeding in shaking off the pest atop it.
Golgren readied Tyranos’s staff. He knew the power it contained. That he did not know how to wield that power did not worry the ogre leader. Some sixth sense made him certain that it would do what he ordered it to do.
So Golgren raised up the staff and struck the mastark’s skull with the crystal head.
The silver light flashed so bright, he pulled back in startlement. The staff slipped from his hand, and he lost his balance.
At the last moment, Golgren snagged one of the dead beast’s ribs. He dangled there, surrounded by the silver light that covered the gargantuan f’hanos from tusk to rear. The skeletal giant shivered and creaked, and as the grand lord struggled, parts of the behemoth began breaking off.
Golgren tried to use the rib to slide toward the ground. However, he had only just begun when the beast began to lurch and trip. A heavy bone struck the ogre in the shoulder.
He fell. Golgren was certain of his death, but then the air suddenly thickened beneath him and his descent slowed. Unfortunately, ribs and bones rained down on him from all sides.
“C-consider that another debt that you owe me!” growled Tyranos, shaking the gleaming staff, which had fallen down and was back in his hands again. “And no-no thanks to you! You could have destroyed it! What by the Maelstrom were you thinking?”
Golgren did not bother to answer him, especially because he did not know what to say. The urge had come upon him and he had acted.
With a deep moan, the mastark finally collapsed. Its skull came plummeting down, crashing within a foot of the pair. Ogre and wizard rushed away from the massive crumbling skeleton.