Dropping the disk into a secure pouch at his waist, Nekros bent to lift up one of the eggs. The loss of his leg had not yet weakened his arms, and so the massive orc had little trouble hefting the object in question. A good weight, he noted. If the other eggs were this heavy, then at least they would produce healthy young. Best to get them down to the incubator chamber as soon as possible. The volcanic heat there would keep them at just the right temperature for hatching.
As Nekros lowered the egg, the dragon muttered, “This is all useless, mortal. Your little war is all but over.”
“You may be right,” he grunted, no doubt surprising her with his candor. The grizzled orc turned back to his gargantuan captive. “But we’ll fight to the end, lizard.”
“Then you shall do so without us. My last consort is dying, you know that. Without him, there will be no more eggs.” Her voice, already low, became barely audible. The Dragonqueen exhaled with effort, as if the conversation had taxed her already weakening strength too much.
He squinted at her, studying those reptilian orbs. Nekros knew that Alexstrasza’s last consort was indeed dying. They’d started out with three, but one had perished trying to escape over the sea and another had died of injuries when the rogue dragon Deathwing had caught him by surprise. The third, the eldest of the lot, had remained by his queen’s side, but he had been centuries older than even Alexstrasza, and now those centuries, coupled with past near-mortal injuries, had taken their toll.
“We’ll find another, then.”
She managed to snort. Her words barely came out as a whisper. “And how . . . would you go about doing that?”
“We’ll find one . . .” He had no other answer for her, but Nekros would be damned if he would give the lizard that satisfaction. Frustration and anger long held in began to boil over. He hobbled toward her. “And as for you, lizard—”
Nekros had dared come within a few yards of the Dragonqueen’s head, aware that, thanks to the enchanted bonds, she would be unable to flame or eat him. Thus it was to his tremendous dismay that suddenly Alexstrasza’s head, brace and all, suddenly twisted toward him, filling his gaze. The dragon’s maw opened wide, and the orc had the distinctive displeasure of gazing deep into the gullet of the creature who was about to make a snack of him.
Or would have, if not for Nekros’s quick reaction. Clutching the pouch in which he carried the Demon Soul, the warlock muttered a single word, thought a single command.
A pained roar shook the chamber, sending chunks of rock falling from the ceiling. The crimson behemoth pulled back her head as best she could. The brace around her throat glowed with such power that the orc had to shield his eyes.
Near him, the fiery servant of the disk materialized in a flash, dark eye sockets looking to Nekros for command. The warlock, however, had no need for the creature, the artifact itself having dealt with the nearly disastrous situation.
“Leave,” he commanded the fire golem. As the creature departed in an explosive display, the crippled orc dared walk before the dragon. A scowl spread across his ugly features, and the frustration of knowing that he served a cause lost urged Nekros to greater anger at the leviathan’s latest attempt on his life.
“Still full of tricks, eh, lizard?” He glared at the brace, which Alexstrasza had clearly worked long to loosen from the wall. The enchantment affecting her bonds did not extend to the stone upon which they were fastened, Nekros realized. That mistake had nearly cost him.
But failing to achieve his death would now cost her. Nekros fixed his heavily browed gaze on the now truly injured dragon.
“A daring trick . . .” he snarled. “A daring trick, but a foolish one.” He held up the golden disk for her widening eyes to see. “Zuluhed commanded I keep you as healthy as possible, but my chieftain also commanded me to punish whenever I thought necessary.” Nekros tightened his grip on the artifact, which now glowed bright. “Now is—”
“Excuse this pitiful one’s interruption, o gracious master,” came a jarring voice from within the cavern. “but word’s come you must hear, oh, you must!”
Nekros nearly dropped the artifact. Whirling about as best he could with one good leg, the huge orc stared down at a pitifully tiny figure with batlike ears and a vast set of sharp teeth set in a mad grin. Nekros did not know what bothered him more, the creature himself or the fact that the goblin had somehow managed to infiltrate the dragon’s cavern without being stopped by the golem.
“You! How’d you get in here?” Reaching down, he grasped the tiny form by the throat and lifted him upward. All thought of punishing the dragon vanished. “How?”
Even though he spoke words half-choked, the foul little creature still smiled. “J-just walked in, o gracious m-master! Just w-walked in!”
Nekros considered. The goblin must have entered when the fire golem had come to its master’s aid. Goblins were tricky and often found their way into places thought secure, but even this clever rogue could not have worked his way inside otherwise.
He let the beast drop to the ground. “All right! Why come? What news do you bring?”
The goblin rubbed his throat. “Only the most important, only the most important, I assure you!” The toothy smile broadened. “Have I ever let you down, wondrous master?”
Despite the fact that, deep down, Nekros felt that goblins had less of a sense of honor than a ground slug, the orc had to admit that this one had never steered him wrong. Questionable allies at best, the goblins played many games of their own, but always fulfilled the missions set upon them by Doomhammer and, before him, the great Blackhand. “Speak, then, and be quick about it!”
The devilish imp nodded several times. “Yes, Nekros, yes! I come to tell you that there is a plan under way, more than one, actually, to free—” He hesitated, then cocked his head toward weary Alexstrasza, “—that is, to cause great disaster to Dragonmaw clan’s dreams!”
An uncomfortable sensation coursed down the orc’s spine. “What do you mean?”
Again the goblin cocked his head toward the dragon. “Perhaps elsewhere, gracious master?”
The creature had the right of it. Nekros glanced at his captive, who appeared to be unconscious from pain and exhaustion. Still, better to be wary around her for now. If his spy brought him the news he suspected, the orc warlock hardly wanted the Dragonqueen to hear the details.
“Very well,” he grunted. Nekros hobbled toward the cavern entrance, already mulling over the likely news. The goblin hopped beside him, grinning from ear to ear. Nekros felt tempted to wipe that annoying smile off the other’s face, but needed the creature for now. Still, for the slightest excuse . . . “This’d better be good, Kryll! You understand?”
Kryll nodded as he hurried to keep up, his head bobbing up and down like a broken toy. “Trust me, Master Nekros! Just trust me. . . .”
5
He had nothing to do with the explosion,” Vereesa insisted. “Why would he do something like that?”
“He is a wizard,” Duncan returned flatly, as if that answered any and all questions. “They care nothing about the lives and livelihoods of others.”
Well aware of the prejudices of the holy order toward magic, Vereesa did not try to argue that point. As an elf, she had grown up around magic, even could perform some slight bit herself, and so did not see Rhonin in the terrible light that the paladin did. While Rhonin struck her as reckless, he did not seem to her so monstrous as to not care about the lives of others. Had he not helped her during their flight from the dragon? Why bother to risk himself ? He could still have gotten to Hasic on his own.
“And if he is not to blame,” Lord Senturus continued, “then where has he gone? Why is there no trace of him in the rubble? If he is innocent of this, his body should be there along with the two of our brothers who perished during his spell. . . .” The man stroked his beard slightly. “No, this foul work is the fault of his, mark me.”