“Sir Bertrum! Sound the halt! Swiftly!”
The other knight looked puzzled but gave the signal. The horns blared as the expedition came to an immediate stop.
“What is it, my lord?” Bertrum, a younger, black-haired fighter asked. Around them, other knights leaned toward their commander, also curious.
Augustus swallowed in sudden anxiety. He had no source for that abrupt concern, but he trusted his instincts as much as he trusted his beloved nephew. “Turn the ranks about! Now!”
It was not a standard order, but it was an order, so Bertrum signaled for the command to be passed on to the men.
There came a thundering sound.
“The sorcerers are back!” someone growled.
Augustus Rennert shook his head. “No. They’re defeated. We’d have never come this far if they had not been.”
The thundering grew more intense. The ground began to quiver.
Ahead, the horizon grew more distant.
The commander squinted. No, the ground was rising.
“Get the lines moving!” he roared.
Bertrum and some of the others stood in their saddles, trying to make out what they saw. “My lord, what-?”
“There’s a damned wall racing toward us! Get the men moving, or we’ll be crushed by it.”
Like the minotaur emperor, Sir Augustus also had no doubt as to the one who was behind the astounding conjuration, and the faces appearing later would only serve to verify his beliefs.
“It is done,” Golgren announced, a touch of weariness in his otherwise bland tone. Only his eyes gave any hint that, in actuality, he suffered from far more than a touch of weariness. “The spell will finish itself out. Uruv Suurt, Solamnics, Nerakans … all will understand what I wish them to understand.”
Tyranos bent over the hunched figure. “You need rest. Give the Fire Rose to me.”
Golgren shook his head. “No.” He straightened. “No, you do not want this, and I will not give it to you.”
“So you do plan to keep it for yourself.”
The half-breed glared. “No, I wish to destroy it still.”
“Something you cannot do,” said another, familiar voice.
They both turned around to see Kiri-Jolith standing beside them. However, the god was not alone. Stefan Rennert was also standing there, the Solamnic looking pale, almost deathly.
The deity bowed his head to Golgren then eyed the Fire Rose. “And before you ask, it is something that I cannot do either.”
Golgren thrust the sinister artifact toward him. “Then take it from Krynn. Take it and place it so far in the heavens that it will be no danger to this world.”
Kiri-Jolith looked at the half-breed with interest. “The Grand Khan Golgren now fears for the rest of Krynn?”
“Does not the god of just cause fear for it in the hand of the mongrel, of Guyvir?”
The bison-headed deity shook his head, saying, “I came into this situation concerned for the sake of the humans and the minotaurs, two races of particular interest to me. Yet I also was concerned for the ogres, so long bereft of purpose and guidance … until the coming of the one who calls himself Golgren. Golgren represented the ogre race’s best chance in centuries to rise above the brutality to which they had been condemned, for which they have paid too high a price. I am forbidden to act directly, but I did what I could throughout the years to see to it that such a hope could be nurtured.”
That caused Tyranos to snort with derision. “Are you telling us that you also had a hand in the emergence of our dear Grand Khan? Ha! What a jest! For one who’s strived to be his own creature, Golgren, you seem to belong to everyone else!”
“Golgren’s ultimate decisions were and are still his, lost one, just as yours are yours.”
The wizard scowled. “If that’s the case, then give me the Fire Rose! That’s my decision! I want it!”
Once again, Tyranos brandished the staff at Golgren, that time with clear menace. The two stared at one another, gazes battling. The wizard would not back down, yet neither did Golgren.
Only when Kiri-Jolith stepped between them was the battle of wills broken. “The Fire Rose was not the cause of the High Ogres’ fall, but it eliminated any hope of redemption by those few who sought to regain their former glory here. Xiryn was the most ardent of its victims, but he was not alone. When those few who had the will to-for the time being-fight the Rose’s seduction-managed to steal it, they called to me to help them destroy it. At that time I could not, due to the nature of its making by Sirrion.”
“But it was damaged,” Tyranos pointed out. “The fragment proves it.”
“Damaged, not destroyed and with an effort that cost lives and left the fragment in the control of Xiryn. And though he could not wield it, Xiryn used it through the centuries as a lure, drawing unwary and ambitious spellcasters to his cause while he formulated his master plan and sought the artifact-”
“Which you hid oh so well.”
The god continued to ignore the mage’s arrogant tone. “Yes, I did guide them to what even I thought was a place where it would remain buried forever. Yet I discounted the obsession of some mortals, like yourself.”
“Spare me your woes,” Tyranos interjected. “Give me the artifact, and no one need ever worry about it again.”
“Xiryn said the same thing. Will you be the next Xiryn?”
“It does not matter,” Golgren stated. “You will not have it, wizard, despite our agreement.” To the god, the half-breed demanded, “Show me a way to be rid of this.”
Stefan, who had been silent all that time, stepped up. “That would be my duty.”
Tyranos did not take that lightly. “Yours? Why yours?”
“Because it’s my choice,” the Solamnic answered calmly. His face was more pale than ever. “And it is a way for me to fulfill the oath I took to myself just before I died.”
Golgren arched a brow. “The citadel …”
The knight bowed his head. “I was on the edge of death when my patron came to me. But he came to me because I demanded it of him. With my last conscious thought, I prayed to him to let me redeem myself for failing”-he swallowed hard-“for failing Lady Idaria, you, and everyone else, myself included.”
“For the gods, there is no more powerful demand that a mortal can make of them than such a prayer at such a time.” Kiri-Jolith grunted. “Only you can release yourself from this vow, Sir Stefan Rennert, and I ask you to consider that now.”
“I’ll not change my mind. I’ll do as we discussed. You know my time’s short on the mortal plane. You stirred the last embers of my life long enough for me to help, even though I failed to help Idaria.”
“Very well.” The armored deity reached out a hand to Golgren. “I will take the Fire Rose now.”
But Golgren would not give it up yet. “What will be done with it?”
“There is another place. A place between places, truly. There, I will hide it.”
“And someone will eventually find it again,” argued Tyranos, the crystal on his staff flaring.
“Doubtful, but if they do, this time it will be well guarded.”
Stefan straightened, looking proud. “Such is my decision. Until it no longer needs be-even unto the end of time-I will guard the Fire Rose from all tempted by its legend!”
Without any further hesitation, Golgren handed the artifact to Kiri-Jolith, who, in turn, gave it over to the Solamnic. As Stefan took hold of the artifact, the Fire Rose’s inner energies faded. Only a hint of its terrible power could be sensed.
The god of just cause then did a startling thing; he went down on one knee before Stefan, in clear homage. “You are what my father, my brother, and I sought to believe of the Knighthood, Sir Stefan Rennert. I am honored.”
“The honor is mine to serve,” the Solamnic replied. His body took on a translucent appearance. Stefan quickly glanced at the half-breed. “My lord Golgren, forgive me for failing her.”