A guard interrupted. “General! He is here!”
Thandorus looked up. “Who? The governor?” The colonial leader was supposed to meet Thandorus before the morning’s march, but that appointment was still hours away. “Why now?”
The legionary, a scarred, hardened soldier whose expression looked uncommonly startled, shook his head. “Nay! Not the governor! The emperor himself!”
The commander snorted furiously. Tossing aside a berry- juice-tipped quill he had been using to make notes on the charts, he bellowed, “You dare jest with your general? You-”
“He doesn’t jest, Thandorus.”
As his commissioning had taken place at a ceremony overseen by the emperor, the general had no trouble recognizing the first figure who stepped into the tent. However, the one who followed Faros inside astounded him, and the third troubled him.
“An ogre? A human?” As Thandorus peered at the pair, he saw the maimed limb of the second newcomer and realized that he was no ogre, but a rare half-breed. He recalled there was only one such with a maimed hand who matched that description.
“Golgren!” Thandorus reached for his gleaming, twin-headed ax, but Faros gestured for him to stand down.
“Matters have changed,” the emperor declared. “And Badger has new orders.”
Faros stepped to the charts, shoving aside one of the two stools set near the table and leaning over the maps for a better view. Golgren and the human followed his example. Eyes darting between the charts and the infamous half-breed, the general listened as Golgren pointed out several locations in the more vague areas north of the minotaur-ogre border. The more Thandorus drank in the discussion, the more eager he became. The intelligence passed on by Golgren was invaluable; over the past two years, dozens of scouts and spies had unsuccessfully attempted to learn as much.
Eyes afire with anticipation, Faros finally gave Golgren a grim nod. Golgren retreated to where Tyranos waited.
“We are done here,” the deposed Grand Khan quietly informed the wizard.
“About damned time!” Tyranos readied the staff.
Before they could vanish, Faros suddenly rejoined them. He paid no mind to Tyranos. With a gaze as strong as the half-breed’s, he looked into Golgren’s eyes.
“Matters are not settled between us,” the minotaur calmly announced.
“A good enemy is more preferable to a terrible one,” Golgren replied.
Grimacing, the wizard summoned the power of the staff.
The pair vanished.
And a moment later, Golgren and Tyranos landed in a desolate region. The brown hills led into dank mountains; a harsh wind blew. The silence marked a place barely inhabited by even the most stubborn wildlife. Yes, it was very familiar territory to the former Grand Khan. They were in the midst of ogre country, perhaps but three days’ distance from Garantha.
Tyranos all but dropped onto the ground. Gasping, he muttered, “Glad that’s over with!”
The half-breed looked around. “Why are we here? This is not where I dictated we go next.”
“Because you may think that with the staff I can send us all over the length and breadth of Krynn, but there are severe limitations and we’ve reached them!” The brawny wizard held up the staff. The five-sided crystal glowed only faintly. “If I use this right now, we’ll likely end up over there.” He pointed at a spot perhaps two yards away.
Golgren frowned then sat down beside the robed figure. “You have reservations about where we must go.”
“Even more than I did about our previous destination.”
“It is essential-”
Tyranos angrily cut him off. “Everything you desire is ‘essential’! I’ve gotten little on my end of the bargain! I might be better off on my own, as I was for so long, with only Chasm beside me. And I’d trust that gargoyle a thousand times more any day than I trust you … partner.”
Golgren opened his mouth to reply then saw a thoughtful look pass over the wizard’s face. “What do you sense?”
“Nothing. I’m merely exhausted.”
“As well you should be. I did not give the matter proper consideration, how dangerous the meeting with the Uruv Suurt might be for you.”
“No more dangerous than for you,” Tyranos uneasily countered.
The deposed Grand Khan shook his head. “Untrue. You are to be admired, Tyranos, for all your efforts but especially in this last. This good face you put on, even when likely confronting your own people after so many lonely years-”
The mage stiffened. The color drained from his face. “What by the Kraken do you mean-?”
Golgren snatched the staff from the distracted Tyranos. Concentrating, he uttered the magical word that he had heard the other use.
The half-breed disappeared. Echoing in his ears was a last-moment epithet from his betrayed companion.
It had been a calculated risk. During the attack by the skeletal army on the capital, Golgren had discovered that he could wield the staff as if born to such powers. It was possible that the signet had something to do with it, but whatever the true reason, it had given Golgren the impetus to dare what he had just done. The pact between Tyranos and him had become strained, and the wizard’s actions had given the half-breed reason to believe that he could no longer expect help from Tyranos.
Golgren reappeared elsewhere. However, perhaps because he was not very familiar with the staff, the deposed ruler materialized several feet in the air. He struck the ground hard then tumbled down a hill.
At the bottom, Golgren came to a painful halt. He had lost the staff midway in his descent, but as he raised his head and cleared the dust and tears from his eyes, Golgren spied the staff lying a short distance away. As he had surmised, the staff had retained more power than Tyranos had claimed. It had been the wizard who was weary … and untrusting.
Then Golgren noticed a pair of fiery feet clad in sandals of brilliant gold.
The half-breed looked up to meet the amused gaze of Sirrion.
Without hesitation, Golgren moved quickly toward the staff. However, Sirrion raised his right hand, and a furious ring of high, blinding flames surrounded both of them.
“Unpredictable, amoral, mercurial … you are more my child than your mother’s … or his. It will be interesting to see how you are further tempered, should you survive the tempering.”
“What do you want-?” Golgren started to demand.
Yet Sirrion was already gone. The flames extinguished a breath later. Once more, the half-breed caught sight of the staff.
He also caught sight of several wary riders heading his way, riders who clearly had not seen the god of fire nor his handiwork.
Riders who were Knights of Solamnia.
The time is upon us, the ghostly master of the citadel announced.
The gargoyles shrieked their eagerness. For generations, they had been bred to serve and perish for the master. All their activities, from birth onward, were aimed toward making themselves as fit as possible, readying them for the battle that might achieve his centuries-long objective.
And finally those assembled heard that they were to be so honored.
You know where you must fly. You know what you must do. Go, my pets, and die if need be so that I may obtain that which was so basely stolen from me.
One by one, shrieking all the while, the gargoyles rose from their perches. Vast dust clouds arose as the winged creatures took flight. Spiders and other vermin scurried into the shadows.
The flock leaders roared out orders in their bestial tongues, summoning the subservient to them. Each lesser flock chose a different avenue of departure from the ancient mountain citadel. Out of the mountainside itself came some, summoned by the voice ingrained in their brutish minds. A veritable airborne army blanketed the already-shrouded sky above the Vale of Vipers.
For a moment, the huge swarm hovered in expectation. Then with a shriek that thundered throughout the dread mountain range, the gargoyles headed toward the ogre capital.