Then Golgren spotted another passage that was just wide enough to admit two guards side by side. Without hesitation, he dived toward it.
The meredrake mimicked him-only to find the fit was too snug for its huge form. The beast thrust itself forward as much as it could, but succeeded only in becoming stuck.
Furious, it snapped and hissed at the dwindling figure safely ahead. Golgren paid the meredrake no more attention. His mission was to find his way out of there and locate Safrag.
That he had as yet faced no guards did not surprise him. It was possible that they were too wary of the shifting form of the palace. It was also possible that Safrag had dismissed them and that he was patiently waiting for Golgren to reach him.
The hisses of the mutated meredrake echoed far behind Golgren. But he had to contend with a new threat, which while not immediately dangerous, had even more potential than the beast to turn his plans awry. Safrag’s palace had become a veritable maze of corridors, many of them without windows. Golgren had to rely on his innate sense of direction, which was being taxed to its limits. The longer he spent time running around in circles, the more confused and exhausted he was bound to become.
Finally he detected a voice far ahead. What it was saying, Golgren could not tell, but he went in that direction. He gripped the dagger tightly, aware that he was at a clear disadvantage; any guards would be wielding huge axes or long swords.
The voice grew louder and more familiar. For one of the few times in his life, Golgren felt a rage rise up in him that he was barely able to control. He knew that voice, and he had expected to hear it again eventually, but it was too soon.
“Go!” roared the speaker in Common. There was then the clatter of armored figures marching off at a rapid pace.
Golgren peered around the corner, saw that his quarry had his back to him, and thus, he was able to slip up behind the figure.
His dagger’s point pressed against the side of Wargroch’s thick throat.
“So good to see so loyal a warrior,” Golgren whispered, also in Common.
“Grand-” Wargroch’s voice halted as the point dug into him, causing a slight dribble of blood that descended onto the officer’s armored shoulder.
“A single sound that I do not require will mean your death. Understood?”
Wargroch silently nodded.
Although his prisoner could not see his face, Golgren bared his teeth as he asked, “And Khleeg?”
The Blodian swallowed hard before murmuring, “Dead.”
“And it was Wargroch who slew him, yes?”
To his credit, Golgren’s traitorous follower did not lie. “Yes.”
“There is much blood on Wargroch’s hands, dishonored blood. I should slay Wargroch here and now, but there is value in your life … if you obey.”
“Grand Khan-” Again, the heavier warrior broke off as the dagger dug a little deeper, adding to the tiny, crimson rivulet of blood.
“A whisper only, good Wargroch.”
“Grand Khan, I have no honor. I am a traitor, as you say. But I swear on my ancestors to serve you now.”
Golgren let the dagger trace a line toward the back of the ogre’s neck. “So you did once before. Only one pact now is between us. Wargroch will take me where I wish and I will perhaps not execute him. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Safrag … he is here in the palace?”
“No.”
Pressing the dagger harder, Golgren repeated his question, only to receive the same answer. What Wargroch did not realize, though, was that the half-breed was reading the officer’s composure or lack thereof, a trick he had learned long before.
So at least as to the question of Safrag’s whereabouts, he accepted that Wargroch was telling the truth. On the other hand, Wargroch’s oath to serve Golgren again had too much bad history behind it to make it trustworthy under any circumstance.
“Where is Safrag?”
“Don’t know. Morgada and Falstoch are here. They watch the city for Safrag. There is also Atolgus-”
At mention of the former chieftain, Golgren touched the point to a different part of Wargroch’s neck. “Is Atolgus near?”
“No. He waits for the female Titan in his chamber. He always waits.”
Aware of the dark enchantments of the lone female sorcerer, Golgren was unsurprised. Atolgus was no more than a hound, then, willing to do whatever she commanded of him and, thus, whatever Safrag desired. Which made him yet another danger.
But Safrag’s absence was something Golgren had not expected, and he had to decide what to do. “Morgada is here.” Golgren smiled to himself. “Lead us to her, then, good friend.”
The Blodian stepped forward, but Golgren pulled him back.
“Betray me and you will die even if I forfeit my own life, Wargroch. Your life is bound to mine.”
“As you say,” the officer replied. “My sword?”
Golgren had noted that Wargroch carried next to him a sheathed weapon. It was not the one the former Grand Khan had awarded him, but rather another that Golgren was familiar with. The markings on the hilt showed it had once belonged to Atolgus.
“Leave it.”
Wargroch said nothing. Golgren lowered the dagger to a place where it could be thrust through a slight separation between the front and back plates of the officer’s armor, while remaining hidden from the view of any approaching the pair. He then tapped Wargroch with the blade to let him know to move.
Although shorter and wirier than Wargroch or most other ogres, Golgren had no fear that the other would turn on him. Wargroch knew his former lord well, especially the legendary agility and speed that had enabled the half-breed to bring down foes of even greater might than the Blodian.
“Many guards?” Golgren asked as they walked slowly, close together.
“Few. They are not comfortable here and not needed much.”
“But Wargroch is very comfortable here, yes?”
The Blodian dared turn his head slightly toward Golgren. “Grand Khan, you should not come here! You seek Safrag but Safrag also seeks you! We thought you dead, but Morgada told us that Safrag sensed you alive! Since then, he has waited! You and the Fire Rose, the two of you are all he thinks of!”
Golgren’s expression remained masked. “This I am aware of. Lead.”
With a defeated grunt, Wargroch continued walking. Golgren glanced at the signet. He counted on it to help him against Morgada or any of the other Titans. The risk was great, but Golgren had not risen to Grand Khan without great audacity.
Then the sound of footsteps racing down the hall forced Golgren to drag Wargroch into a side corridor. The oversized, arrogant countenance of Safrag, decorating the wall, mocked the half-breed as he and Wargroch pressed against the opposing side.
Half a dozen well-armed ogres trotted down the main hall. They wore murderous gazes, and Golgren felt certain they were hunting for him.
“You must leave Garantha,” whispered Wargroch just after the small band passed.
Golgren did not reply, for more warriors could be heard racing down the hall.
There were nearly a dozen in that group. Unlike the last set, they slowed, as if seeking their quarry in a more methodical fashion. One paused, about to peer down the side corridor, when a harsh voice ordered him to move on ahead.
The Grand Khan bared his teeth as Atolgus stalked past.
The former chieftain was barely recognizable to him. His skin already had a blue tint to it, and his eyes were golden and without pupils. He was also much, much taller than the last time Golgren had seen him, at least two feet taller than the brawniest of his guards.
Atolgus gestured to an unseen follower, revealing in the process that he also sported short but no-less-wicked talons like the Titans. Golgren, who was somewhat familiar with the process that turned an ogre into one of the towering sorcerers, was morbidly fascinated by the unique, gradual transition.
The former chieftain drew his sword-the sword Golgren had originally presented to Wargroch-and followed after his warriors. The half-breed waited for several seconds before deciding that it was safe to continue.