The dwarf and his adversary traded blows, the torch and sword evening matters against the hammer. The orc tried to drive Falstad back, no doubt hoping that his foe would trip on the highly uneven ground.
The elf took one more look at the dragon. He still had his head cocked to the side. The eyes were open, but they seemed to be staring off.
Steeling herself, Vereesa turned from the leviathan and headed to Falstad’s rescue. If the dragon attacked them, so be it. She could not risk letting her comrade die.
The orc sensed her coming, for as she thrust at him, he swung the torch around. Vereesa gasped as the flames came within scant inches of her face.
Yet her coming forced the guard to fight on two fronts, and because of this, his attempt to burn her had left him open. Falstad needed no urging to take advantage of it. The hammer came down.
A guttural cry from the orc nearly smothered the sound of bone cracking. The sword slipped from the tusked warrior’s quivering hand. The hammer had shattered the arm at the elbow, leaving the entire arm useless.
Fueled by both pain and fury, the crippled guard shoved the torch into Falstad’s chest. The dwarf stumbled back, trying to beat out the fires smoldering on both his beard and chest. His brutish foe tried to advance, but the elf cut him off.
“Little elf!” he snarled. “Burn you, too!”
Between the torch and his own lengthy arm, his reach far exceeded her own. Vereesa ducked twice as the fire came at her. She had to end this quickly, before the orc managed to catch her off guard.
When he swung at her next, she aimed not for him, but rather for the torch. That meant letting the flames come perilously near. The orc’s savage face twisted into an expression of anticipation as he thrust.
The tip of her sword dug into the wood, ripping it from the startled sentry’s fingers. Her success far better than expected, Vereesa fell forward, pushing the torch with her.
The fire caught the orc full in the face. He roared in pain, brushing the torch away. The damage had been done, though. His eyes, nose, and most of his upper countenance had been seared by the heat. He could no longer see.
Acting with some guilt, but knowing she had to silence him, Vereesa ran the blind orc through, cutting off his pained cries.
“By the Aerie!” snapped Falstad. “Thought I’d never put myself out!”
Still gasping, the elf managed, “Are—are you—all right?”
“Saddened at the loss of so many good years’ beard growth, but I’ll get over it! What’s the matter with our overgrown hound there?”
The dragon had dropped down on all fours now, as if preparing to sleep. The medallion still lay in his mouth, but, as they watched, he gently dropped it to the ground before him—then looked at the pair as if expecting one of them to retrieve it.
“Does he want us to do what I think he wants us to do, my elven lady?”
“I am afraid so . . . and I know by whose suggestion, too.” She started toward the expectant behemoth.
“You’re not seriously going to try to pick it up, are you?”
“I have no choice.”
As the ranger neared, the dragon peered down at her. Dragons were rumored to see very well in the dark, and had an even greater sense of smell. This close, Vereesa would surely not escape.
Using the edge of her cloak, she gingerly picked up the talisman. Left so long in the dragon’s mouth, it dripped with saliva. With some disgust, the elf wiped it off as best she could on the ground.
The gem suddenly glowed.
The way is clear, came Krasus’s monotone voice. Best you hurry before others come.
“What did you do to this monster?” she muttered.
I spoke with him. He understands now. Hurry. Others will eventually come.
The dragon understood? Vereesa wanted to ask the wizard more, but knew by now that he would give her no satisfactory answer. Still, he had somehow done the impossible, and for that she had to thank him.
She replaced the chain around her neck, letting the talisman once more dangle free. To Falstad, the ranger simply said, “We are to move on.”
Still shaking his head at the sight of the dragon, the dwarf followed after her.
Krasus remained true to his word. He guided them through the abandoned mine, leading them at last down a passage that Vereesa would have never thought led the way into the mountain fortress. It forced the pair to climb a tight and quite precarious side passage, but at last they entered the upper level of a fairly spacious underground cavern.
A cavern filled with scurrying orcs.
From the ledge on which they crouched, they could see the fearsome warriors packing away material and filling wagons. On one side, a handler put a young dragon through the paces, while a second handler looked to be preparing for imminent departure.
“Looks as if they’re all planning to leave!”
It seemed so to her as well. She leaned over for a better look.
It worked . . .
Krasus had spoken, but Vereesa knew immediately from his tone that his words had only been meant for himself. Likely he did not even know that he had said anything out loud. Had he planned somehow to make the orcs depart Grim Batol? Despite her surprise at the wizard’s handling of the dragon, the elf doubted that he could have this much influence.
The one dragon readied for flight suddenly moved toward the main mouth of the cavern. His handler finished strapping himself in and readied for flight. Unlike in combat, this dragon was laden with supplies.
She leaned back again, thinking. While in many ways the abandoning of Grim Batol meant great things to the Alliance, it left too many questions and more than a few worries. What need would the orcs have for Rhonin if they departed here? Surely they would not bother to bring an enemy wizard along.
And did they really intend to move all the dragons?
She had waited for Krasus to give them their next steps, but the wizard remained eerily silent. Vereesa looked around, trying to decide by which path they might quickest find where Rhonin was being held . . . assuming all along that he had not already been slain.
Falstad put a hand on her shoulder. “Down there! See him?”
She followed his gaze—and saw the goblin. He scurried along another cavern ledge, heading for an opening far to their left.
“’Tis Kryll! Can be no other!”
The elf, too, felt certain of it. “He knows his way around here well, it seems!”
“Aye! That’s why he led us to their allies, the trolls!”
But why had the goblin not let them be captured by the orcs? Why turn them over instead to the murderous trolls? Surely the orcs would have been interested in questioning the pair.
Enough wondering. She had an idea. “Krasus! Can you show us how to get down to where that goblin is heading?”
No voice echoed in her head.
“Krasus?”
“What’s wrong?”
“The wizard seems not to be responding.”
Falstad snorted. “So we’re on our own?”
“For now, it seems.” She straightened. “The ledge over there. It should take us where we want to go. The orcs would want the tunnels to be fairly consistent.”
“So we go on without the wizard. Good. I like that better.”
Vereesa nodded grimly. “Yes, we go on without the wizard—but not our little friend Kryll.”
18
Too slow. They were much too slow.
Nekros shoved a peon forward with an angry grunt, urging the worthless, lower-caste orc to quicker work. The other orc cringed, then scurried off with his burden.
The lower-caste orcs were useless for anything but menial labor, and right now Nekros found them wanting even in that one skill. As it was, he had been forced to make the warriors work alongside them in order to get everything accomplished by dawn. Nekros had actually considered leaving in the dead of night, but that had no longer been possible and he certainly had not wanted to wait another day. Each day no doubt brought invasion nearer, although his scouts, clearly blind to reality, insisted that they so far had found no more traces of an advance force, much less an army. Never mind that Alliance warriors on gryphons had already been sighted, a wizard had found his way into the mountain, and the most dire of all dragons now served the enemy. Simply because the scouts could not see them did not mean that the humans and their allies were not already nearing Grim Batol.