The sivak sped by them, pushing Dhamon out of the way of a burning tree limb, then continued on, barreling through a wall of flaming webs.
It took them only moments to find their way clear and reach the rise outside the forest. Maldred was panting, exhausted. “The fire,” he gasped, “will not burn the whole forest. It’s too damp.”
“It will finish that creature,” Dhamon said. “By all the vanished gods I didn’t know such a thing could exist.”
Ragh was shaking his head and looking at the welts on his scaly arms. “In all my years on Krynn I’ve never seen such a thing,” the sivak said. “Birthed of sorcery, to be certain.”
Maldred edged down the rise. “I hope there aren’t any more of these spider-woods. We’ll be wishing we were back in Blöde.” He gave Dhamon an appraising look. “I also hope I don’t look as bad as you.”
“Worse,” Dhamon answered.
There was no part of them that wasn’t covered with sweat or webs or spider blood. Purple welts dotted their exposed skin. Varek was carrying Rikali, despite her protests.
“Mal and I were just standin’ in them woods,” the half-elf explained. “I thought I heard a babe cryin’. Pigs, but it was them spiders. Cryin’ Like babes, those big ones were. Those horrible, horrible spiders.”
Varek hushed her, and when they’d returned to the stream just north of Graelor’s End, he fussed over her. He smoothed the rest of the webs away from her as best he could.
“We could all use a bath,” Maldred said, sniffing at his tunic and making a face. He studied the welts on his arms and tentatively touched them. They felt warm. “That town you visited…” He nodded toward Graelor’s End. “If there’s not too many Knights there, we could…”
Dhamon shook his head. “We’re not going into that town. Ever.”
Varek gave Dhamon a wry smile. “I talked to Commander Lawlor there. He said more Legion of Steel Knights would be marching in today or tomorrow. Graelor’s End is a staging point, it seems. Word is the Dark Knights are out in force.”
Maldred raised an eyebrow. “Then we’ll keep a good distance from Graelor’s End, my friend.”
“Aye.” Dhamon reached into his backpack and retrieved a bottle, took a few swallows and replaced it. He glanced toward the forest, where a thick plume of smoke was rising. He did not realize that he was being watched from inside the forest. The child with copper-colored hair was perched in a tall maple tree. She stared out of an elaborate web that shimmered like her diaphanous dress.
“I believe you are the one, Dhamon Grimwulf,” the child said.
Chapter Fourteen
River of Mud
The full moon made it easy to see the enchanted map Maldred was unrolling. He laid his greatsword across the northern edge to keep it from curling, and across the southern he placed the Solamnic long sword Dhamon had taken from the spawn village. The Solamnic blade gleamed in the moonlight, revealing a rose that had been deeply engraved in the steel near the hilt and three or four initials that were so scratched as to be illegible.
“ ’Tis not so fine a sword as the one you lost to the Ergothian wench,” Maldred mused. “This blade is not as strong or straight.”
“Ha! The one your father sold me was worthless,” Dhamon said with a snort, “and though this one’s not magical, it worked well enough to kill abominations and spiders. It will serve until I find something better.”
“Perhaps we’ll find you a keen-edged cutlass in the pirate horde.” Maldred’s eyes gleamed in anticipation of the treasure.
“Aye,” Dhamon agreed quietly, “but I’m hoping we find far more than ancient weapons—else I’ll not have enough to pay this mysterious healer of yours. Provided she exists.”
Maldred’s gaze dropped to Dhamon’s thigh, where trousers hid the large dragon scale and the few dozen smaller ones that had sprouted around it. He had tried to ask Dhamon about it on a few occasions since they’d left the spawn village, but the others were too nearby or Dhamon was too distracted or too quick to cut him off. He decided now would be a good time—with Riki and Varek sound asleep several yards away and the sivak resting with his back propped up against a tree.
“Past time indeed to discuss it.” He gestured to Dhamon’s leg. “Those scales, my friend. Are they…?”
“My concern only,” Dhamon answered quickly and a little more brusquely than he had intended. He pointedly avoided meeting his friend’s stare, instead making a show of studying the map.
“Dhamon.”
“Look, Mal, I hope every last one of the scales’ll be a bad memory if this healer exists and—”
“She exists.”
“And if this treasure exists so I can pay her.”
“I have every confidence it exists.”
“I wish I did.”
Maldred rubbed at his chin. “The map seems to validate all the tales. I can show you again if—”
“If the map is reliable.”
“It led us to Riki in the spawn village.”
In an effort to change the subject, Dhamon stabbed a finger at the south section of the map showing an ancient river that emptied into the sea.
“Dhamon, how long have you had them?” Maldred asked. “The scales.”
“I said they were my concern.” Dhamon’s eyes were daggers when he raised them from the parchment, and he waved his hand as if to bat away a bug.
“You can shut everyone else out,” Maldred said, his soft voice terse. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the half-elf and Varek were still sound asleep, then locked eyes with Dhamon. “You can ignore Riki when you want, pretend Varek doesn’t exist for whatever reason. I’m not so easy to dismiss.”
Dhamon’s face became an unreadable mask.
“Dammit! I’m your friend, Dhamon,” Maldred persisted. “I feel as close to you as I would to a brother. We’ve risked death together, saved each other’s lives.” A sharp intake of breath. “How long have you had all those scales?”
The silence was tense, neither man blinking nor looking away. The breeze brought the scent of the tall grass and damp earth and the blacksmith’s odor that surrounded the sivak. From somewhere in the distance an owl hooted softly and repeatedly. Rikali murmured something in her sleep.
“What’s happening to you, Dhamon?”
“Nothing, Mal.”
“Dhamon.”
“By the Dark Queen’s heads, Mal, leave it.”
The big man shook his head.
“By the Dark Queen’s… oh damn it all.” Finally Dhamon relented with an exasperated sigh. “The scales started growing a month ago, maybe more. Time’s been a blur to me. Who knows what they’re doing to me?” Killing me, probably, he added to himself.
“Nura Bint-Drax couldn’t have—”
“No, it wasn’t her doing. Though she gave me a few more to worry over.”
“Malys then.”
Dhamon shook his head. “The overlord’s presence is long gone. I don’t know what’s causing it.”
After a moment he added, “I don’t care what’s causing it. I just want to be rid of the things.”
There was another stretch of silence before Maldred said, “Maybe it’s a disease. A magical one.”
“Maybe, but my dwelling on it—and you talking about it—won’t make them disappear.” Dhamon shrugged and returned his attention to the map. “Let’s just hope this pirate treasure exists and that your healer exists too.”
“They do.” Maldred’s voice seemed more hopeful then certain. “She’ll get rid of the scales.”
Dhamon let out a grim chuckle. “If not, perhaps you’ll have two draconians in your midst. Now, about finding this treasure.”
“As I said before, it’s supposed to lie just beyond the Screaming Valley.” Maldred gave a shudder that Dhamon didn’t notice. “The valley is around here.” He pointed to a faded swirl of ink at the edge of the ancient river.