“Don’t kill him!” a cry rose above the din. It was Gauderic, who was forcing his way closer. “I want him to stand trial for his atrocities!”
Dhamon vaguely heard another shrill whistle, then another, heard the girl desperately pleading, heard an elf moaning. He felt fist after fist slam into his face, his chest, booted feet kick at him. He thrust forward with his sword just as Gauderic reached him. The blade—given to him by the Qualinesti of Barter—sank deep, crimson flowering on his tunic as the astonished elf dropped to his knees, then pitched forward eyes wide in disbelief. Dhamon’s sword was lodged in him.
As the elves turned their attention to the fallen Gauderic, Dhamon snatched the opportunity to shove past the last few patrons blocking the door. A heartbeat later he was out in the chill night.
The mariner swallowed. “Palin… what did he have to say about the green dragon and all the lost men?”
Dhamon shrugged. “I didn’t look for him.”
“But…”
“I’m done with Palin. I’m done with facing dragons and trying to make things right in this world. Nothing will ever be right again. I told you—we cannot win against the dragons.”
Rig shook his head. “You can’t mean that, Dhamon. After all we’ve been through and all we’ve seen! After all we’ve fought for!”
“I’ve seen enough. There’s no hope, Rig. I’m surprised you haven’t realized that by now. There’re no gods. They’ve abandoned Krynn’s children. There’re only dragons. Jasper was killed by a dragon. Shaon was killed by one I used to ride. All those men—and all the men and women I never knew. We’ve no chance against the dragons. Are you so blind that you don’t see that? Everyone will eventually fall to them. Everyone! So I’m making full use of whatever life I have left. I come first now. I do what I want. Take what I want. Work for whoever I please.”
“That’s wrong,” the mariner started.
“Wrong?” Dhamon laughed.
“Aren’t you ashamed of what you’ve done? The thefts and…”
“No.”
“Ordering your men to fight the dragon?”
“Fight or flee, the outcome would have been the same. The dragon would have hunted them down and slain them anyway.”
“Surely you regret killing Gauderic…”
“I have no regrets,” Dhamon snorted. His eyes were so dark, no pupils were discernible. “Regrets are for fools and for heroes. And I’m neither.”
“Feril would be shocked,” Rig muttered, trying to find some way to reach him.
Dhamon’s face was cold and dispassionate. “Feril is lost to me.”
“No.” The mariner shook his head, dismissing the notion. “I don’t believe that. I saw the way she was always looking at you. Why, you and her were…”
“Last I heard, she was keeping company with another Kagonesti elf on the isle of Cristyne. They’re probably married by now.”
“And so that’s how I met Dhamon,” Maldred was telling Fiona. “In a rundown tavern in Sanction. He was drunk and gambling, arguing with a half-ogre over a few pieces of steel. As bad of shape as Dhamon was in, he took out the half-ogre. Didn’t even have to draw a weapon.”
“And that impressed you?”
Maldred shook his head and let out a clipped laugh. “Not especially.”
“Then what?” Fiona seemed genuinely curious.
“It was his eyes. Like yours, they were filled with fire, and there was a mystery burning behind them, just waiting to be unraveled. Decided I wanted to get to know him, so I waited around until he sobered up. He and I have drifted in and out of each other’s company ever since. Dhamon saved my life twice—once about a month ago when we were far south in these mountains and accidentally came upon a pair of red spawn.”
“Dhamon’s fought them before.”
“That was evident.” Maldred turned his arm so Fiona could see the back of it, where just above his elbow a thick pink scar stretched toward his shoulder. “My souvenir of the day. Dhamon didn’t even get a scratch. Of course, if I hadn’t’ve set my sword down before they pounced on us—I was gathering some herbs for dinner— it would have been another matter. No one can beat me when I’ve a weapon. Anyway, I owe him. And I don’t mind the owing. I think we’re kindred spirits.”
Fiona heard a clap of thunder, tipped her face to the sky, and felt the first few drops of rain splash against her.
Fetch began to hoot.
“Blessed rain,” Maldred pronounced. “Been far too long since it rained in these mountains.” He looked skyward, stood, and stretched his good arm out to the side to catch more of the rain, opened his mouth wide to drink it in.
Fiona started toward Rig, but a second clap of thunder stopped her. It was followed by another, this once coming from beneath her feet. It was the mountain rumbling again, and she nearly lost her balance. The horses neighed nervously and the wagon creaked as the tremor intensified. Overhead, the lightning danced between the clouds, and the rain fell harder.
“It’s the lightning one has to fear, not the thunder,” Maldred said, lowering his head and catching Fiona’s gaze again. He bent his knees to help keep his balance as the mountain continued to shake. Concern was etched on the big man’s brow. “The earthquakes are different, Lady Knight. Another matter entirely. There’ve always been quakes in these mountains. Was a big one a few days ago. There’s been quite a bit more rumbling lately than I’m used to. Bothers even me.”
The ground stilled for just a moment, then it rumbled again, faintly at first, then growing stronger. Fiona lost her balance and fell against Maldred, who was quick to wrap his arm around her. The tremor lasted a few more minutes, then dissipated. She continued to stare into Maldred’s enigmatic eyes, then berated herself for being so slow to extricate herself from his arms.
Across the camp, Rig gaped at her. Dhamon brushed by the mariner, Rikali and Fetch on his heels. Dhamon opened an empty waterskin and held it out to catch the rain as he headed toward the wagon, intending to camp underneath it. “Fiona, I told Rig you’re welcome to share our camp tonight.”
She stepped in front of him, eyes bright, blocking his path.
“You’re not taking me back to Ironspike.” His head was still a little muddied by the alcohol, but his words were coming clearer and quicker.
“Not my plan.”
“You’re not taking me anywhere else to ‘atone’ for my crimes. I won’t let you.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.”
Dhamon tipped back his head and chuckled. “And you’re not going to change my ways, dearest Fiona. I’ve been through this with Rig. No redemption. I rather enjoy the way I’ve turned out.”
She took a step closer until the stink of his sweat and the alcohol on his breath stung her eyes. “I don’t want to redeem you, Dhamon Grimwulf. I want to join you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Grim Kedar’s
“You’re crazy! Join him?” The mariner’s eyes were wide, mouth working soundlessly as he tried to figure out what else to say to Fiona.
“Join me?” Dhamon, too, was momentarily stunned. Then his face quickly slipped into its stoic mask and his eyes grew hard. His teeth clicked lightly together and he alternately clenched and relaxed his fingers as he waited for Fiona to explain herself.
“Join a band of brigands? I’d say that’s hardly the Solamnic thing to do. Might tarnish your shinin’ plate mail.” Rikali sidled up close to the Knight. “Besides, Fee-ohn-a, we don’t want you to join us. The four of us do just fine by ourselves. The two of you wouldn’t fit in. And wouldn’t be welcome.”