“Maldred!”
Dhamon felt about on his friend’s chest, finding nothing broken. Mal’s face was ashen. “Be alive, Mal. Be… ah!”
Maldred sucked in a breath and began shivering uncontrollably. The temperature had plummeted so quickly from the presence of the undead that frost coated everything. Maldred was changing. His form expanded, his skin turned pale blue, his hair grew long and turned white before Dhamon’s eyes. His human form melted, replaced in an eyeblink by his true self—a hulking ogre mage.
Dhamon gritted his teeth and pulled at the rocks that pinned his friend. He shouldn’t have been able to move the chunks of stone, he knew. They were too big, too heavy for one man to manage—but he was stronger than a normal man.
What’s happening to me? Dhamon thought as he picked up the largest stone and threw it aside. He worked his way behind Maldred and grabbed him beneath the armpits, dragging him from the room. Maldred’s limbs and mouth quivered. It was several minutes before he opened his eyes. “Dhamon?”
“Aye, I’m here.”
“They were—”
“Undead. Yes, I know. Without an enchanted blade I could do nothing against them.”
“My sword…”
“Probably isn’t enchanted any longer. It seems they robbed you of your magic. They were drinking it like a mob dying from thirst.”
“No. My magic.” Maldred propped himself up on his elbows. He closed his eyes and his brow wrinkled in concentration. “The spark. There has always been this spark inside of me, a fire that I called on to cast spells. It’s gone, Dhamon. I can’t even cast the simplest of enchantments. The one that lets me look human—that magic is gone.”
Dhamon had gone back inside the building and was moving the rocks that pinned Varek. He thought he’d find the young man dead or his ribs crushed, but Varek was breathing regularly, though unconscious. A deep gash across his forehead had been caused by a rock. Dhamon checked his eyes.
“You’ll live,” he said.
The heaviest of the rocks had fallen on Varek’s legs, and when Dhamon moved the last of the rubble aside, he grimaced.
“Maybe better that you had died,” he said. One of Varek’s legs was crushed. From the knee down it was a pulpy mass of blood and tissue. “Maybe I should let you bleed to death. Your spirit might thank me for it.”
For a moment Dhamon considered doing just that, then closed his eyes, let out a deep breath, and carried the unconscious Varek out into the cavern.
Maldred had managed to sit up. His hands were balled into fists, and he was pressing them against his chest.
“Gone,” he repeated. “All of it.” His expression changed from pity for himself to concern for Varek.
“By my father!”
“That leg has to go,” Dhamon said matter-of-factly. “Part of it anyway. If not he’ll bleed to death, or his body will become so badly infected he’ll die that way.”
Dhamon stepped away from the young man and walked to the nearest ship, tugging free a few dry pieces of railing.
“We’ll need a fire,” he explained as he worked, “so we can cauterize it when I’m done. I’ll use your sword, if you don’t mind.”
Maldred was pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll do my part. They took my magic, but not my strength. Where’s my sword?”
Dhamon nodded toward the building. “Now, Varek, if you’ll only stay asleep until this is all over it will go much… wonderful.”
Varek’s eyes fluttered opened, and his face twisted in pain. He started shaking, and Dhamon put his hands on the youth’s shoulders.
“You’re hurt,” Dhamon said.
“C-c-c-cold,” Varek stammered. “I feel so cold.” Beads of sweat dotted his face and arms, and he felt clammy to Dhamon’s touch.
“You’re in shock,” Dhamon told him. “You’ve lost a good bit of blood. We’ll take care of you, but you need to—”
Varek screamed. “Monster! Dhamon there’s a…”
Dhamon glanced over his shoulder to see Maldred coming out of the building, greatsword in hand. His clothes were in tatters, hanging on his giant frame.
“He’s not a monster, Varek,” Dhamon said. He positioned his face over Varek’s to help blot out the sight of Maldred’s ogre body. “It’s Maldred. We’ll tell you all about it later. Just close your eyes.”
Varek refused and, tossing his head from side to side, tried to rise. He screamed again, this time in excruciating pain. “My leg, I…”
Dhamon kept one hand on a shoulder, relying on his strength to hold Varek down. The other drifted to the knife in his belt, the pommel of which he thrust between Varek’s teeth to quiet him. “Now, Mal! Just above the knee.”
Maldred raised his greatsword above Varek. The young man’s eyes went wide with fear. He saw the blade descending and felt it sunder his limb. Varek’s teeth clamped down on the knife pommel, and darkness claimed him.
Dhamon thrust the Solamnic long sword in the fire, and when the steel was hot he applied it to the end of Varek’s leg.
“You’ve done this before,” Maldred stated.
A nod. “When I was with the Dark Knights.” Dhamon added, “Most of the men didn’t make it. They’d lost too much blood or had other injuries. I think Varek will live through it.”
“He’s young.” Maldred shook his head. “My loss of magic seems inconsequential next to that.”
“We’ll stay here until he comes to again and get him drunk on that wine we saw. Got to be enough alcohol left to put him in a haze. Then we’ll drag him out of here.”
“Riki…” Maldred sighed.
“She’ll handle this,” Dhamon said. “She’s tough. Now, let’s find something reasonably clean and make a bandage. After that, we’ll see what’s worth hauling out of here with him.”
“I’m going to bring something along I think Varek will need,” Maldred said. His hulking blue body disappeared into the gaping hole of a caravel’s hull.
* * * * *
Rikali screamed and jumped to her feet, waving her arm at the blue-skinned ogre who had barely managed to scrape his way through the crevice, dragging a big canvas bag behind him and holding a lantern high in one meaty hand.
Ragh was up in a second, claws flashing, trying to put the half-elf behind him.
“M-m-monster,” Rikali cried, hand flying to the dagger on her waist, pulling it free. She spun from behind the sivak and crouched, ready to meet the creature. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted Maldred’s greatsword strapped to the ogre-mage’s back.
Dhamon emerged from the crevice, tugging a still-unconscious Varek. Rikali screamed again at the sight of her battered husband.
It took the better part of an hour to calm her down and to explain what had happened to Varek and to Maldred and to tell her who and what Maldred was. All the while her fingers stroked Varek’s too-pale face.
“This is my fault,” she moaned, “I told you to follow them. It’s my fault. Oh, Varek, your leg.”
Dhamon didn’t say anything, knowing his words of sympathy would ring hollow. Without a word, the sivak shouldered the canvas bag, picked up one of the lanterns, and started down the corridor.
“Wait for me,” Maldred said, following the sivak.
“Monster,” Riki said, as she watched Maldred head down the corridor.
“Dhamon.” Tears streamed from the half-elf’s face. “Varek is…”
“Going to live at least,” he said.
“He’s maimed,” she sobbed, “and Maldred’s a… a monster. Should’ve never saved you from them thieves, Dhamon. I should’ve never talked Varek into coming after you and Mal. Should’ve let them women kill you.”
She brushed at the tears, streaking dirt across her face. “My husband’s maimed for life!”