Would you rather they had led you into their little ploy, human? came the voice in his head. The drop would not have been at all pleasant for one who cannot fly. . . .
“I’m not that much of a fool! I’d no intention of climbing over the rail, not on a goblin’s word! You wouldn’t have bothered saving me in the first place if you thought me that addled!”
True . . .
“And I’m not without power of my own.” Rhonin raised his other hand, which Deathwing had not deemed necessary to use. Muttering a few words, the wizard produced a flame above his index finger, a flame which he then directed toward the already panicked face of Nullyn. “There are other ways to teach a goblin lessons in trust.”
Barely able to breathe and unable to flee, Nullyn’s eyes widened and the spindly creature tried to shake his head. “B-be good! Only meant to t-tease! Never meant h-harm!”
“But you’ll drop me off on a proper place, right? One of which both Deathwing and I would approve?”
Nullyn could only manage a squeak.
“This flame I can make larger.” The magical fire sprouted to twice its previous length. “Enough to burn a hull even from below, maybe set off flammable oil . . .”
“N-no tricks! N-no tricks! Promise!”
“You see?” the crimson-tressed mage asked his unseen companion. “No need to drop him over the side. Besides, you might want to make use of him again.”
In reply, Rhonin’s possessed hand abruptly released its hold on Nullyn, who dropped to the deck with a thud. The goblin lay there for several seconds, trying desperately to gain his breath back.
Your choice . . . wizard.
The human exhaled, then, glancing at Voyd—who still cowered by the engine—called out, “Well? Get us to the mountain!”
Voyd immediately obeyed, frantically turning levers and checking gauges. Nullyn finally recovered enough to join his partner, the beaten goblin not once glancing back.
Extinguishing the magical flame, Rhonin peered over the rail again. Now at last he could make out some sort of formation, hopefully the crags of Grim Batol. He assumed from Deathwing’s earlier words and images that the dragon still wanted him set down directly on the peak, preferably somewhere near a gap leading inside. Surely the goblins knew this. Any other choice they made at this point would mean that they had still not learned the folly of crossing either their distant master or the wizard. Rhonin prayed that it would not be so. He doubted that Deathwing would allow the goblins to escape punishment twice.
They began to draw near to one peak in particular, one that Rhonin had vague memories of, even though he had never been to Grim Batol before. With growing eagerness he leaned forward for a better look. Surely this had to be the mountain from the vision that Deathwing had forced upon him. He searched for telltale signs—a recognizable outcropping or a familiar crevice.
There! The very same narrow cave mouth from his dizzying journey of the mind. Barely large enough for a man to stand in, provided he managed the terrifying climb up several hundred feet of sheer rock. Yet, still it would serve. Rhonin could scarcely wait, more than happy to be rid of the mischievous goblins and their outrageous flying machine.
The rope ladder still dangled free, ready for his use. The wary mage waited while Voyd and his partner maneuvered their ship nearer and nearer. Whatever his previous thoughts about the zeppelin, Rhonin had to admit that now the goblins controlled it with a measure of accuracy he found admirable.
The ladder clattered slightly against the rock wall just to the left of the cave.
“Can you keep it steady here?” he called to Nullyn.
A nod was all he received from the still fearful pilot, but it satisfied Rhonin. No more tricks. Even if they did not fear him, they certainly feared the long reach of Deathwing.
Taking a deep breath, Rhonin crawled over the side. The ladder wobbled dangerously, slapping him more than once against the side of the mountain. Ignoring the shock of each strike, the wizard hurried as best he could to the bottom rung.
The slim ledge of the cave stood just a little under him, but although the goblins had the zeppelin positioned as precisely as they could, the high mountain winds kept twisting Rhonin away from safety. Three times he tried to get his footing, and three times the wind dragged him away, leaving his foot dangling hundreds of feet in the air.
Worse, as the current grew stronger, the airship, too, began to shift, sometimes drawing away a few critical inches. The voices of the two goblins rose in frantic argument, although the actual words were lost to the struggling mage.
He would have to risk jumping. With conditions as they were, casting a spell would be too chancy. Rhonin would have to rely on physical skill alone—not his first choice.
The airship veered without warning, slapping him hard against the rock. Rhonin let out a gasp, barely managing to hang on. If he did not abandon the ladder soon, the next collision might just be enough to stun him and cause a fatal loss of grip.
Taking a deep breath, the battered wizard studied the distance between himself and the ledge. The ladder rocked to and fro, threatening again to toss him hard against the rock.
Rhonin waited until it brought him near the ledge—then threw himself toward the cave.
With a painful grunt, he came down on the slim ledge. His feet momentarily slipped, one finding no purchase whatsoever. The wizard scrambled to pull himself forward, finally making progress.
When at last he felt secure enough, Rhonin dropped to the ground, panting. It took him a few seconds to regain his breath, at which point he rolled onto his back.
Beyond, Voyd and Nullyn had apparently just realized that they had finally rid themselves of their unwanted passenger. The goblin airship began to pull away, the rope ladder still dangling from the side.
Rhonin’s hand suddenly shot up, his index finger pointing toward the fleeing vessel.
He opened his mouth to scream, knowing what would happen next.“Nooo!”
The same words he had spoken earlier to create the flickering flame over his hand now erupted from his mouth, but this time they were not spoken by the wizard himself.
A stream of pure fire greater than any the horrified spellcaster had ever summoned shot forth—directly toward the airship and the unsuspecting goblins.
The flames engulfed the zeppelin. Rhonin heard screams.
The airship exploded as its stockpile of oil ignited.
As the few remaining fragments plunged from the sky, Rhonin’s arm dropped to his side.
Drawing in what breath he had, the mage snapped, “You shouldn’t have done that!”
The winds will keep the explosion from being heard, replied the cold voice. And the pieces will fall to a deep valley little used. Besides, the orcs are used to the goblins destroying themselves in the midst of their experiments. You need not fear discovery . . . my friend.
Rhonin had not been concerned about his own safety at that moment, only the lives of the two goblins. Death in combat was one thing; punishment such as the black dragon had meted out to his two rebellious servants was another.
You would do yourself better to continue on into the cave, Deathwing continued. The elements outside are hardly fit for you.
Not at all mollified by the leviathan’s attempt at concern, Rhonin yet obeyed. He had no desire to be swept off the ledge by the ever-increasing winds. For better or worse, the dragon had brought him this close to his goal—one that he could now admit to himself he had suspected he might never reach on his own. Deep down, the wizard had believed all along he would perish—hopefully, at least, after he had made amends. Now, perhaps he had a chance. . . .
At that moment a monstrous sound greeted Rhonin, a sound he recognized instantly. A dragon, of course, and one young and fit. Dragons and orcs. They awaited him in the depths of the mountain, awaited the lone mage.