The half-elf squatted by Dhamon and stirred the gems with a finger. She stared into the chest, clearly looking at something far beyond the flawed baubles.
“He’ll make a good father, don’t you think?” She ran her thumb across the face of a chipped piece of jade.
“Riki…”
She tipped her head back and put on a face when the breeze shifted and brought the stench from the corpses their way. After a moment she met his stare. “I better go wake him, huh? We’ll be headin’ out of this ghastly place soon. I heard Mal talkin’ about some pirate loot in his sleep. I fancy goin’ after some real treasure.” She jabbed a finger at the flawed gems. “This stuff isn’t worth my time.”
She disappeared into the hut, leaving Dhamon to stare at the villagers who were approaching. The villagers had taken apart one of their lean-tos to build a small litter, atop which rested several satchels filled with food, along with the dozen or so waterskins and Dhamon’s backpack filled with the heady elven wine.
He inspected the litter and supplies, only vaguely noting the contents of the satchels. His companions had awakened, and Varek and Maldred and Riki all poked through the Solamnics’ clothes to find something to wear.
Maldred snorted and gave a nod of his head toward the sivak, his foot tapping. “Time to take care of that thing.” He reached to his back and unsheathed his greatsword, which he’d managed to recover from a hut, the edge catching the dawning sun.
The sivak stood, carefully regarding Maldred and showing no sign of fear as the big man approached. It had made no move to attack them, though its chain clearly would reach far enough. That told Dhamon that it wasn’t going to put up a fight.
Dhamon caught the sivak’s gaze. “They didn’t want you to fly, did they? Afraid you might more easily escape?”
The draconian moved closer to the trunk.
“So they cut off your wings.”
Maldred paused. “The thing isn’t going to talk to you, Dhamon. Look at that wound on its throat. It probably can’t speak and—”
“It was the price I paid for saying no,” the sivak answered. There was a whisper wrapped around the edge of the draconian’s voice, giving it a soft and unpleasant huskiness. Coming closer, Dhamon detected a scent he hadn’t noticed when he first spied the sivak. It reminded him of hot metal and smoke, a newly forged sword—as if the creature had been birthed in a blacksmith’s shop. Did all sivaks smell like this?
“Nura Bint-Drax did this to you?” Dhamon persisted.
A nod. “Because I would not willingly help her.”
Maldred took a step around Dhamon, eyes searching the sivak’s face. “It doesn’t make sense that you wouldn’t want to help Nura Bint-Drax. Your kind serve dragons.”
The sivak did not reply.
“I suspect it didn’t mind serving Sable,” Dhamon observed, “and before her, Takhisis. But this Nura…”
The creature glanced back and forth between Maldred and Dhamon.
“Sivak, I thought only the dragon overlords could create spawn,” Dhamon said. The sivak fixed his eyes on a spot on the ground.
“Nura Bint-Drax could do it, couldn’t she? Make spawn.”
“Yes,” the creature replied after a moment’s hesitation. The draconian canted his head, listening to something beyond the perimeter of the village. He didn’t notice Dhamon listening too. He turned slightly and spied through a break in the underbrush a large panther slinking to the north.
“What is she? Just what is Nura Bint-Drax?”
The answer was quick this time. “A naga, a being neither snake nor human, but resembling both. I believe Takhisis created them not long after she gave life to us.”
“Tell me more.”
The draconian shrugged. “I don’t know much beyond that. In all the years I served Sable, I saw only two of them—and Nura Bint-Drax was the greater. Even some of Sable’s dragons fear her. Nagas are powerful, and Nura Bint-Drax is particularly skilled.”
“They can be killed,” Dhamon persisted.
The sivak inhaled deeply. “Everything that breathes can be killed. As you will slay me.”
“I don’t suppose you’d object to that.”
Maldred cleared his throat. “It doesn’t matter to me if it objects. I revere life, but I don’t see that we have a choice here. We can’t just let it go.” He addressed only the sivak now. “We’ll make it quick, though. You won’t feel anything.” He tightened his grip around the pommel, took a few steps forward, and raised the sword above his head.
“No.” Dhamon’s hand shot out, preventing Maldred’s blow. “We need the sivak, Mal.”
“Yes, like we need a—”
“It can help carry our supplies.” Dhamon pointed to the litter the villagers had assembled. Maldred shook his head. “I don’t know about this, Dhamon. Even without wings, this thing is dangerous.”
Dhamon stared at the draconian. “Not as dangerous as I am.” He turned to Maldred and said, “Or you, my friend.” He laughed grimly, but a tense moment passed before Maldred responded with a forced chuckle. He lowered his weapon.
“Now, can that map show us the quickest way out of this damned swamp and to your Hollering Hills or Screaming Valley or just whatever it is you called it? There’s a pirate’s horde to be after, and…”
“… and the healer after that,” Maldred finished. He reached into his pocket for the bone tube, carefully extracting the map and holding it open to the sun. Images danced along the surface as he asked the enchanted parchment for a route.
“Find us a place to get some horses and a wagon along the way,” Dhamon added. “I’m hoping there’s so much treasure we won’t be able to carry it ourselves.” He stepped close to the sivak, drew his long sword, and used the tip to saw through the chain around his neck.
“Have you got a name?” Dhamon asked the sivak.
“Ragh,” he replied. “Ragh of the Lords of Doom.”
“Meaning you served Takhisis in the Lords,” Dhamon supplied.
A nod.
“Well, Ragh of Doom, you serve me now.”
The sivak eyed him coolly but said nothing.
Chapter Twelve
Graelor’s End
Maldred stood on the bank of a narrow stream, listening to the musical noise the water made as it rushed over the rocks that littered its bed. A few of the larger stones that protruded above the surface gleamed in the early morning sunlight, looking almost like gems. He found himself staring at them for more than a few moments, then he raised his gaze to the horizon, a scowl etched deep on his handsome face.
“What’s the matter, Mal?” Rikali sidled up to him and poked him in the arm. “This is lovely. You should be enjoyin’ it. No more swamp. No snakes. This all smells so sweet, an’ all you can see is tall grass and trees… an’ that town ahead.”
Maldred refused to look at her. Instead his eyes were locked onto what appeared to be the largest collection of buildings and the thin trails of smoke rising around them.
“C’mon, Mal, what’s up? Why are we just standin’ here rather than goin’ into that town? I figure I could buy me a nice, big breakfast—over which you can tell me all about this pirate treasure again. Pigs, but I’m hungry, Mal. An’ then I thought…” She shook her head when she noticed he was thoroughly ignoring her. “And then I thought I might dance around naked and stick mushrooms in my ears.” She snorted when there was still no reaction. “You could at least listen to me, you know.”
“I’m listening to you, my love,” Varek gently tugged her away from Maldred. He nuzzled her shoulder and twirled his slender fingers in her hair. She relaxed slightly, resting the back of her head against his chest, but she still kept her eyes on Maldred.