Fiona none-too-gently nudged the half-elf away, causing Rikali to puff out her chest, thrust her chin up, and make a defiant fist. Maldred put a hand on the half-elf’s shoulder, keeping her from taking a swing at the Knight.
“I need coins, Dhamon. Gems, jewels, lots of them. I need them quickly. Immediately. And you seem to know how to get them.”
Rig slapped the heel of his hand against his forehead. Softly, he said, “It won’t work, Fiona. You can’t make a deal with evil. I can’t believe you’re considering this. By all the vanished gods, I had no idea this was going through your head.” The mariner watched the Knight, a myriad of emotions playing on his face—above all, annoyance.
The Solamnic had everyone’s attention. “My brother is one of several Solamnic Knights held captive in Shrentak,” Fiona began. “He’s been there for nearly two months. And I mean to see him free.”
“Shrentak, the heart of the swamp,” Rikali whispered. “Now that’s a right foul place to find yourself in.” The half-elf wrinkled her nose and leaned against Dhamon, who in turn leaned more heavily on his cane.
“Sable, the black dragon overlord, holds them—and others—in her lair. And I intend to free my brother and as many other Knights as I can. I’ll have to use plenty of coin to ransom them.”
Dhamon stood silent for several moments, the rain and her words sobering him. His dark hair was plastered against the sides of his head, the grime on his face and hands slowly vanishing under the constant torrent. The fire behind him was out, plunging the camp into darkness. Still, there was just enough light from the lightning that danced overhead to register his grim expression. A touch of anger burned in his eyes, the skin on his face was taut like a drum.
“You should listen to Rig,” Dhamon told her. “Ransoming them, making a deal with a dragon, that’s foolishness indeed. You should know better.”
“I’ve no choice.”
“Contact your mighty Solamnic Council. Doubtless they ordered the Knights into the swamp in the first place. They can send more Knights to rescue them.”
She shook her head. “Yes, the council sent my brother and the other men. For what purpose is a mystery. And yes, the council has tried to rescue them. Twice garrisons have gone in. And twice, no one has returned.”
“Send another.” His words sounded hard and brittle. “It would be an honorable cause.”
Rikali thrust out her bottom lip and nodded agreement.
“The council refuses,” Fiona practically hissed. “In all its infinite wisdom it has decreed that no more lives will be… ‘thrown away, were the words.”
“Then hire mercenaries.” This from Maldred.
“We’ve tried,” Rig added. “But no amount of coin, it seems, will lure people into Sable’s swamp.”
“Smart people,” the half-elf cut in.
“But coin will get my brother out,” Fiona continued. “One of the dragon’s minions recently contacted the council and said Sable would ransom the men for enough coin and gems. Dragons horde treasure.”
“But you can’t trust a dragon.” Dhamon’s words were ice.
So I’ve told her, Rig mouthed.
“I don’t have any choice,” she repeated firmly. “He’s my brother.”
Dhamon shook his head. “And he’s probably dead. Or for his sake you should hope he is.”
“I don’t believe that. I’d know if he were dead. Somehow I’d know.”
Dhamon let out a breath between his clenched teeth and cocked his head to catch a glimpse of a long fork of lightning. He squinted through the rain. “And the council, Fiona, what did they contribute for this ransom?”
Thunder rocked the camp and the lightning overhead intensified, jagged fingers bouncing from cloud to cloud.
The rain was drumming down even faster now.
“Nothing,” she finally said. “Not a single piece of steel. They said they would have no part of this, didn’t believe the minion’s offer to ransom the men. They’ve written off the Knights, the council has, considering all of them lost. Dead.”
“Then why…” Dhamon began.
“I’m doing this on my own. And I’m risking my standing as a Solamnic Knight.” She crossed her arms, looking more defiant than Dhamon ever recalled seeing her. “I don’t care how I get this treasure, Dhamon Grimwulf. I’ll rob hospitals with you. Merchant wagons. I’ll do whatever it takes short of killing. I’ll…”
“… be joining our fine, but humble company of thieves, it seems, Lady Knight,” Maldred finished. Rikali spat at the ground, and Fetch’s eyes glowed red. Dhamon’s expression was unreadable, though his unwavering eyes were on Maldred now, not Fiona. “Pity, however, that we have no wealth at present to contribute to your worthy endeavor, Lady Knight,” the big man continued. “Nothing. We squandered nearly everything Dhamon recovered from the hospital. But we are traveling to Blöten, to drop off some supplies. And there, I am certain we can arrange for a way to gain considerable wealth. Enough for your ransom.”
Fiona’s stiff posture relaxed just a little. “I am to meet Sable’s minion in Takar. He lives there, somewhere. It shouldn’t be hard to find him and…”
“And this man is…” Dhamon prompted.
“Not a man, Dhamon. A draconian. The dragon has assigned him there.”
“Lovely,” Rikali interjected. “And you’ll recognize him, I suppose.”
Fiona nodded. “He has a gold collar welded about his neck. And a deep scar on his chest. I’d recognize him.”
“A charmin’ fellow, I’m sure,” Rikali added.
Fiona ignored the half-elf, who was now grumbling about the swamp and the Knight, and about four thieves being more than enough for their small company. The Solamnic continued to watch Dhamon and Maldred. “Blöten is not very far out of the way,” she said finally. “I’ll go with you.”
Behind her, Rig cupped his face with his hands.
The rain turned soft, but maintained a steady downpour until dawn, a sheet of driving gray that kept them thoroughly soaked, and turned the trail that wound between the rocky ridges into mud.
“You should return to Khur,” Dhamon told Rig as the mariner was saddling his big mare. The horse was not as good as the one Dhamon had stolen from him. Its back swayed and there was a large lump on one rear leg. “The country’s more hospitable, safer for you and Fiona. Talk her out of this nonsense. Dragons… and draconians… are not to be trusted. She’s wasting her time.”
The mariner cinched the saddle and made a clucking sound in his throat. “Glad to see you’re so concerned about our safety.”
“I’m not.” Dhamon’s face was impassive, his voice steady. “I’d just rather not have your company.”
“All the more reason, then, for Fiona and me to come with you. I know once she gets her mind set on something I can’t change it. But I’m not going to help any of you swipe a single steel piece.”
“A waste of time,” Dhamon repeated.
“It’s our time to waste.”
The trail they followed had become a meandering brown snake that rippled with thick rivulets of water. At times it gently wound its way through the mountains, with steep rocks rising on both sides. But often it coiled around the edge of the western slope, as it was doing now, climbing a near-vertical cliff face, the top of which disappeared into dark gray clouds on one side, on the other a two-hundred-foot drop-off that yielded to Sable’s immense swamp. A thin strip of cloud hovered above a section of the swamp, a few of the giant cypresses stretched through it, their tops decorated with large parrots.
Rikali sloshed ahead, probing with Dhamon’s cane to make sure the way was safe for the horses and wagon. Though complaining about the task, she had suggested that it be done and that she be the one to handle it.