It had been simple to elude her guard, who had been more interested in saving his own hide than in chasing after some mad elf. From there, though, Idaria’s mission had proved far more difficult. Her mount she had abandoned far back because the animal was at far greater risk than she under such conditions. Idaria carried only a dagger; any other weapon would have been too unwieldy. The dagger was more for comfort, for it was useless against the undead. Fortunately, she eluded them; the quake was keeping them busy.
How long Dauroth and his followers would-or even could-keep up their monumental spell was the question. Even among the most advanced elf mages, such an effort would be highly taxing.
In the distance, she caught a glimpse of Khleeg. The ogre was no longer mounted either. Around him had gathered perhaps half a dozen other warriors. The ogres battled desperately against undead attackers. Yet there was no sign of Golgren, and Idaria moved on. She didn’t care about Khleeg’s fate.
She alighted on a rock, and that rock sank into the rupturing land with a suddenness for which even the elf could not adjust fast enough. Falling, Idaria got tangled in her chains. Her dagger went bouncing away, disappearing in a new chasm.
As she struggled to free herself, one of the f’hanos appeared. Twice it staggered and nearly fell over, thanks to the continuing tremors, but still it lumbered on toward the elf. The hollow areas where its eyes were missing somehow radiated malevolence and, although unarmed, the creature had nails and teeth more than capable of rending her soft flesh to bloody gobbets.
Unable to free herself, Idaria blindly groped for some weapon. Her fingers slipped over something metal and rounded on one side. Without hesitation, she threw it at the undead.
The piece of metal bounced off the skeleton without having any effect on it, and Idaria saw that it was part of a breastplate. The ornate design identified it as having belonged to the highest rank among the ogre army: none but Golgren himself. Despite the menace bearing down on her, her eyes followed the clattering armor, which looked banged and battered as though it had been ripped off the grand lord’s body by some terrible force.
Then she heard a labored grunt from the direction of the ghoul. She turned to see a figure in ravaged silver armor barreling into the creature from behind, smashing the f’hanos into a wall of rock.
Stefan, his helmet lost and his face scratched and bleeding, seized the half-shattered undead and flung it into the nearest widening hole. He bent down to help Idaria.
“My lady!” he gasped. “I saw the merest glimpse of silver hair, but I couldn’t believe that it was you in all this danger! You should be in the city … or in flight to some land beyond this one!”
“There is nothing in the capital for me if Golgren dies,” the slave retorted, “and there would be even less for my people, whom he has promised to free!” As the Solamnic helped her to her feet, she added, “If there is any chance he lives at all, I must find him. I found a fragment of his armor-”
“Stripped from him by some base mage-Tyrus-Tyron-the name-”
“Tyranos?” Idaria frowned. “What is that one doing here, and why would he choose to slay Golgren?”
“No more talk!” He pushed her against the most stable rock around them then raised his sword. Driven by fury, the blade smashed through the chains binding her wrists. Taking a deep breath, the knight repeated his maneuver on the shackles keeping the movement of her legs limited.
“Only Kiri-Jolith knows how you ever got this far so bound! My sword may never again be as sharp as before, but it was worth it to finally cut those dreadful chains! I’m only sorry I can do nothing to remove the pieces from your wrists and ankles, my lady!”
“It is all right.” She gasped. Then, suddenly, she looked beyond him, a strange light in her eyes. “Then Golgren is still alive?”
“When last I saw him, yes! For an ogre, he has a quick wit, but I can’t say how long that’ll help him!”
He started to pull her in the direction of the city, but Idaria resisted, pointing at the line of the quake quickly running toward them along the already heaving and buckling ground.
“Not that way!” Idaria warned, tugging at Stefan.
He tried heading in the opposite direction. No sooner had he turned than another roar like thunder erupted and the land in that direction also exploded into boils and rupturing cracks.
“There’s nowhere to go!” the Solamnic yelled.
Again, the elf pointed. “To your left! No! Here! Follow me!”
“But, my lady-” But the sure-footed elf had started off in a zigzagging path, and he allowed her to pull him along.
“Wait! Why do we not go there?” Stefan abruptly demanded, tugging at her to stop and pointing ahead. “Look! It could take us to Garantha! To continue in your direction leads us away-”
“I must find Golgren!” the slave insisted, tugging at him.
“There is nothing you can do for him, my lady! There is nothing even I can do! You think I’d abandon a comrade of any sort? I-”
His words cut off with a gasp that startled Idaria. She looked where the Solamnic was gaping and shaking his head.
She followed his gaze to see a pair of f’hanos converging on them. They even had bits of loose armor dangling from their bony bodies, but other than that, Idaria could not see that they were any different from the other undead that surrounded them.
Yet the knight muttered the same thing over and over as he stood, slack jawed, his sword hanging limply in his hand. Idaria finally made out his words, which only puzzled her more.
“Forgive me,” the Solamnic repeated. “Forgive me … I couldn’t do anything … forgive me … ”
The two horrors were nearly upon the bedraggled duo. Idaria did not want to abandon the human, but he stood there as if frozen in place. “Sir Stefan! Come! Sir Stefan! Why do you-?”
Then she realized that there was indeed something different about that pair of f’hanos. Not only were they shorter of stature than any of the others, but their skulls were differently shaped and lacked any hint of the tusks of ogres. The skulls of those two were much closer to those of elves.
Except they were human.
“Willum … Hector … please forgive me,” the Solamnic pleaded.
The slaughtered humans had once been Stefan’s comrades.
XXII
It was not how it should have gone. Tyranos had put together scenario after scenario, but none of them had accounted for that … nothing, unless …
He shook his head. All that mattered was salvaging the situation as best he could and preserving his relationship with the Grand Lord Golgren if that was still possible.
“Chasm!” he shouted, calling the broad-shouldered gargoyle’s name. “Find the ogre!”
Chasm did not have to ask which ogre his master meant. There was only one that concerned them both. The huge gargoyle banked, swooping down closer to the devastation. High above it, the winged creature was not overly concerned about the tremendous quake, save that it stank of foul magic. Gargoyles could smell the magic to a degree, but even if he didn’t have the nose for it, Chasm would have recognized spell work in the madness below.
Still gripped tightly by his servant, Tyranos, whose hood was off and whose hair was whipping about, pointed the tip of his staff toward the ground. Whether or not he could successfully locate Golgren was another question. The remarkable energies organized by the Titans made it difficult to ferret out anything amid the chaos and destruction, but the wizard thought he might have a chance. Golgren was unique; even he did not understand just how unique he was. That very uniqueness was in part why Tyranos had chosen him in the first place.