Dhamon dispatched one dwarf by shoving his blade through a gap in the armor beneath the dwarf’s arm. Releasing his sword, which he couldn’t easily tug free, he scooped up the dead dwarf’s axe and swung it around hard, chopping into the neck of another dwarf and sending an arc of blood flying. His immediate opponents dead, he worked quickly to retrieve the broadsword and buried the axe in the chest of a corpse as more dwarves moved in.
Although the odds were turning against them, the dwarves who remained showed no signs of retreating, save the one who found his beard on fire-courtesy of Fetch, who had just arrived on the scene. The kobold grinned maliciously and shouted to Rikali that his fire spell was indeed a great boon. The half-elf ignored him and threw her efforts into parrying the attack of a particularly thickset dwarf who had a scattering of medals affixed to his armor.
Maldred felled one dwarf and was preparing to strike another as the ground started shaking beneath their feet. It was a gentle tremor at first, but it quickly gained energy, and within a heartbeat even the nimble Rikali was struggling to stay on her feet.
Dhamon slammed his blade into the thigh of one of his opponents, then felt the haft of the weapon start to slip from his sweaty fingers. He put all his effort into keeping the blade, rugging it free and sheathing it just as he felt his feet lose purchase against the jarring ground. An instant later his legs were pitched out from under him, and he was rolling down the mountainside, unable to cushion himself from the spires he was thrown against along the way. Fetch dropped to the ground and wrapped one of his spindly arms around a rock that didn’t seem to be going anywhere, the other arm snaked out to latch onto one of his bags of crystals. The dwarves and Maldred fared worst, not able to keep their balance and joining Dhamon on a pell-mell descent toward the bottom of the valley.
“Dhamon!” Rikali screamed. She half-slid after him, doing her best to avoid the rocks careening down the mountainside, and crying out when sharp ones seemingly jumped up from nowhere to slam against her arms and legs.
The mountainside thundered. Cracks appeared along the rocky slopes—small at first, like spider veins beneath pale skin, then widening until they resembled the jagged maws of monsters. Two of the dwarves screamed as they were swallowed by one of the growing fractures.
Rikali felt the ground give way beneath her feet as she slipped into one of the widening chasms. Her slender hands thrashed about until her fingers found a spiny tooth of rock. She held on tight as her body was hurled against the rockface, the breath rushing from her lungs. She coughed and blinked furiously as a cloud of dust settled in the chasm, threatening to smother her, then she gasped in terror as the ground began to seal itself. She instinctively propelled herself up the trembling rockface, finding nooks to slip into that an ordinary man would overlook. She hauled herself over the lip and rolled away just as the fissure rumbled one last time and closed.
“Dhamon!” she hollered, though she couldn’t hear her own voice. All she heard was the echo of the quake, so loud it was painful to her keen ears. Again she scrambled down the mountainside, kicking up gravel and chunks of crystal. Her heart leapt when she spotted Dhamon’s body wedged between a pair of granite columns. Maldred was hanging onto one of the columns with his good arm, his eyes shut in the face of flying rocks.
The other dwarves who had tumbled down the mountainside were nowhere to be seen. Only one helmet was comically perched atop a gypsum spire. Fetch was high above Rikali, still clinging to his half-buried rock with one hand, the other somehow still holding fast to a sack of gemstones. Rikali had dashed to the columns and was holding on tight, suffering the fist-sized stones that battered her and riding out the quake until it mercifully stopped.
She sagged next to Dhamon, gasping for clean air. “Lover?” She barely heard the word, perhaps only imagined it. Tears rolled down her face as she felt for him and her hands came away smeared with blood. “Lover? Please, oh please.” Sobbing, she put her head to his chest and cupped a hand across his mouth, hoping to find some trace of breath. “He’s alive!” she called a heartbeat later to Maldred, who slowly pushed himself off the pillar and dropped to his knees. The big man was mangled, his one arm hung limp, his sleeve covered with blood. But just how badly he was injured didn’t sink in, as her concern for Dhamon took precedence. “Help me, Mal! Dhamon’s hurt bad.”
Rikali was struggling with the quarrel again, which had broken off and was protruding only a few inches above the scale in Dhamon’s thigh. Her clawlike nails were broken, and her fingers were bleeding. “I can’t pull it out, Mal!”
He pushed her hands away, and with his good hand ripped Dhamon’s pants to fully expose the scale. Then he grunted, and with considerable effort he pulled the broken quarrel free.
“What do we do, Mal? I’m afraid he’s dyin’.” Her hands fluttered over his face and chest. “Help him. I love him, Mal. I really love this one. Don’t let him die.”
“He’s not dying, Riki.” Maldred shook his head, fighting a wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him and send him rolling to the valley floor. The side of his shirt was growing darkly crimson. He’d lost quite a bit of blood, and his wounded arm was so numb he couldn’t move it. “Indeed, he doesn’t look like he’s hurt bad at all. Just unconscious.” He pointed to a gash on Dhamon’s forehead. “Hit a rock, knocked himself out. He’ll be fine. Me, on the other hand…”
“You’ve got magic. I’ve seen you mend things. You can heal yourself, I know you can. Make sure Dhamon’s all right. Please.”
“Oh, I can mend things, Riki. But nothing living.” His hand touched the scale, his thumb centering on the small wound. “I’d wager the bolt was enchanted,” he said, “else it wouldn’t have pierced this. Good thing more of us didn’t get skewered.”
“I don’t care what the damn thing was,” Rikali cursed. “Enchanted. Lucky shot. Let’s get out of here. Please. Let’s leave and everythin’ will be all right. Won’t it?”
“I care about him, too, Riki,” Maldred said, his voice too soft for her to hear. He cast a glance up the mountainside to make sure Fetch was still there and that no more dwarves had arrived. Then he looked down at Dhamon, noticed blood gushing out of the hole in the scale. “All right. Maybe I can mend this. But maybe I should just rip the damn scale off.”
“No! You do that and he will surely die. I’ll help you carry him.”
“Wait.” The big man concentrated on the hole in the scale, started humming and directing his magical energy. Several minutes later Maldred sagged against the rocky column, and where the hole once was could be seen a flat black circle near the center of the otherwise glossy scale. The ground had flowered red around Maldred’s limp arm. “I sealed it, and he’s not bleeding anymore.”
“Damn the dwarves,” she said, bending over Dhamon and running her fingers across his damp forehead. “And damn the dragons. A dragon did this to him, you know.” She touched his scale.
“I guess so.” Maldred’s voice had lost its sonorous power. He felt dizzy and terribly weak. “I don’t know how or why, but the red overlord did it.”
Rikali cast a glance at Maldred. “By my breath, you’re more than just hurt. I’m sorry. I’m so selfish. All the blood you’ve lost, Mal…”
Ignoring her, he pushed himself to his feet, then bent to shoulder Dhamon with his good arm. Another wave of dizziness struck, threatening to pitch him to the ground.