The Titan was using an elf’s life force to overwhelm the medallion, and neither Idaria nor the Solamnic could stop him.
XVII
A very good time to die,” agreed Atolgus. “My ascension is nearly complete! I’m a true Titan now! Equal to her and, therefore, worthy of her!” He took a step closer to Golgren. “And with your head as a gift, worthy of her love.”
Golgren did not argue with the crazed warlord. Atolgus was too far gone and too much of a threat to the half-breed.
The deposed Grand Khan readied himself for a desperate leap at his adversary. The advantages all belonged to Atolgus.
As if reading Golgren’s mind, Atolgus laughed again. “Come to me, mongrel! Come to-”
Atolgus gasped. His back arched, the warlord bending so much that his face looked to the ceiling. The sword fell from his trembling hand, and he whirled in a half circle.
Another sword was buried in his spine.
The sword wielded by Wargroch.
“Flee, Grand Khan!” the Blodian shouted. “Hurry!”
Atolgus tried in vain to reach the blade lodged in his back. Meanwhile, Wargroch desperately fended off Atolgus’s other hand. Despite the tremendous wound, Atolgus was still very much alive, his stamina enhanced by the magic within him.
Indeed, Morgada’s puppet, with a furious roar, seized Wargroch by the throat with his other hand. The Blodian grappled with him, grabbing Atolgus around the waist and wrestling as best he could with the much larger figure.
But Wargroch had again underestimated the altered Atolgus. Wargroch’s powerful grip meant nothing to the larger ogre. Ignoring Wargroch, Atolgus added his sword hand to the Blodian’s throat.
With what was almost a casual twist, the warlord broke the other ogre’s neck. Wargroch let out a short gurgle then went limp in Atolgus’s grip.
But as that happened, Golgren barreled into his back, the half-breed using the force of his jump to shove the sword deeper.
Atolgus grunted. He fell to one knee but still fought. Shaking like a wet amalok, he dislodged his slighter foe. Golgren landed hard but managed to roll to his feet.
The transformed chieftain’s hands glowed darkly. The golden orbs burned with menace. “I will-will-”
The severity of his wound momentarily seized the gigantic warrior. He faltered.
As Wargroch had risked himself, so Golgren threw his smaller form into Atolgus’s arms. Unprepared, the warlord caught him in an awkward grip. The energies Atolgus had been summoning burned Golgren’s skin where his hands touched the other, but the half-breed clutched his larger foe’s neck.
A laugh escaped Atolgus. The Titans’ puppet seemed undaunted by his punier foe.
But Golgren had no intention of trying to choke Atolgus. He had only one attack, one attempt, left to him.
Opening his mouth as wide as he could, the half-breed bit into Atolgus’s throat.
Hot blood spurted over Golgren’s face, but he continued to sink his teeth in as far as he could. Ogres had much stronger jaws and harder teeth than elves or humans, and even Golgren’s mixed parentage had not moderated that one trait.
With effort, Atolgus finally pushed his smaller foe away. However, in doing so, he enabled Golgren to rip away a good portion of the flesh.
A river of blood gushed from the gaping wound. Even more than the sword in his back, the torn throat took a toll on the Titans’ puppet. Atolgus staggered. He tried to say something, but only a wheezing sound escaped from him.
The former chieftain fell first to one knee then both. His golden orbs lost their evil radiance. Atolgus fell dead.
Golgren wiped his mouth as clean as he could. His gaze strayed to Wargroch. He gave a grunt of satisfaction at the Blodian’s final honorable actions then turned to Tyranos.
Once again, the wizard had reverted to his true form. Golgren leaned down to check on the minotaur.
Tyranos opened his eyes. Immediately, he saw his own hands. He snorted in anger.
“I won’t let this be!” the mage growled.
“What matter is it?” Golgren responded dismissively.
“My kind turned their back on me for my crimes of ‘magic,’ and so I turned my back on them! Humans are far more adaptable; I will be one of them, and the Fire Rose will see to it.”
Their argument went no further, for the sounds of battle had drawn guards to their vicinity. The ogres, obviously fearful of intruding wherever Titans were concerned, tentatively peered inside.
Several gaped at the sight of Wargroch then doubly so upon sighting Atolgus. There was no one to tell them that the former had sacrificed himself to wound the latter, so to their minds came the logical conclusion: Both had perished at the hands of Golgren.
Then they saw Tyranos, and the discovery of an Uruv Suurt in their midst made them forget all else. The first of the guards charged through the hole.
“Can you transform yourself quickly?” Golgren hissed to the wizard.
“Yes.” And with that one word, Tyranos became a human again.
Golgren nodded and stepped forward to confront the guards. He did not strike a battle stance; instead he simply stared.
The ogres faltered then stopped.
“Lower your weapons,” the half-breed commanded as if still Grand Khan.
The guards hesitated.
Golgren frowned. His eyes narrowed in anger.
One guard obeyed. That was enough to make the rest follow suit.
A light flared behind Golgren. Without glancing back, he said to the guards, “This is no Uruv Suurt. This is a human. A curse made him appear to wear the wretched skin of an Uruv Suurt.”
The guards looked perplexed. It was not that they did not understand Common-and Common was what Golgren had chosen to speak to them because it reminded the ogres just who he was-but they were obviously uncertain whether a human in their midst was any better than one of the horned ones.
“I suggest that now is a good time to leave this place,” Tyranos whispered in his ear. “If that isn’t asking too much, oh Grand Khan.”
Giving him a slight nod, Golgren said to the guards, “I leave you now, but I will return shortly to bring order back to Golthuu.”
Tyranos cast his spell. The pair vanished before the awestruck eyes of the ogres.
Idaria prepared for the worst, but then the Titan’s laugh became a howl of rage. He doubled over, stricken.
Despite the elf blood at his command, the Titan had underestimated the power of the medallion … or rather, of Kiri-Jolith. The sorcerer clutched his throat and chest as if unable to breathe.
“Reject your evil intention!” Stefan shouted to the Titan. “Reject it and your pain will pass!”
However, either the spellcaster did not hear Stefan’s offer or he refused it, still thinking he could overwhelm the medallion. The Titan gritted his teeth and raised one hand as if to cast a spell.
Instead, he let loose with a new, more terrible roar. Unable to endure, the sorcerer collapsed into the frightened and confused throng.
Fearful for her people, Idaria pressed toward where the Titan had fallen. However, she had taken no more than a step when she noticed a sudden and ominous change over the elves gathered ahead. The fear and confusion had vanished, replaced by an emotion it took her a moment to recognize.
Fury.
Instead of moving toward the entrance, many of the elves suddenly reversed direction. A muffled shout arose. Several slaves raised fists then swung them down.
“No!” Stefan called from the other side. “Don’t fall to his level!”
The mass of elves paid him no mind. More and more swarmed to the spot where the Titan had fallen. The sorcerer, already stricken helpless by his own treachery, howled as the slaves pummeled him.