“They will have aid,” came a voice that he recognized as the wolf’s. The magnificent creature could listen to his thoughts… “You are the most worrisome minotaur I have ever observed.” This last was followed by a chuckle from Greymir.
Kaz concentrated on maintaining his grip.
The mountains swallowed them up. Entering those mountains was like entering a new and fearsome world. It was too reminiscent of the evil that had hung over Vingaard Keep so long. It was the renewed presence of the emerald sphere of Gal an Dracos.
“Not long now,” came Greymir’s voice.
A mocking howl suddenly echoed through the mountains. Kaz snarled, recognizing the sound. No living animal howled like that.
“Dreadwolves,” Greymir commented sadly. “My twisted young,” the wolf continued, his anger swelling. “And there is nothing I can do for them. They are only shells with vague, tortured memories.”
The howls echoed from everywhere. Argaen knew they were coming and was trying to slow their progress with his illusions. This time, however, no one would be fooled.
“The elf is ignorant of us-and they are not illusions,” Greymir growled, pulling to an abrupt stop, gazing at the horrid scene unfolding before them.
“Habbakuk and Branchala!” Sardal whispered.
Suddenly dreadwolves were everywhere, surrounding them. Kaz ceased counting after fifty or so. The sight was sickening, as if the burial ground of all wolves were suddenly upturned by evil Chemosh, lord of the undead. Countless red orbs stared sightlessly at them. Rotted tongues hung out of maws filled with yellowed teeth. Bones showed through.
“Hold tight. Prepare to defend yourselves!”
A dreadwolf atop a high ledge laughed. It was a very human, very maniacal laugh. Kaz had no time to think about it, however, for Greymir was already moving again.
The dreadwolves attacked as one.
Hampered in his movement, Kaz could only make a partial defense as dozens of bloodthirsty horrors swarmed about the swiftly striding wolf. Even his partial blows, however, were enough to dismember several dreadwolves, although the monstrosities immediately rose up again, as their body parts drew back together. It was difficult to kill something that was already dead and could pull its body parts back to one complete form. Still, time was bought.
Greymir never paused in his flight, but somehow managed always to have a dreadwolf in his jaws or trampled under his feet. Monster after monster was tossed aside. But Kaz and Sardal had cuts all over their legs and sides. Greymir had scores of minor wounds. Given time, the dreadwolves might have brought them down.
With a few amazing strides, the gigantic wolf broke free of his unliving counterparts, striking one last foe with his hind paws as he passed by. The dreadwolves gave chase, but they were soon left far behind.
“Thank the gods that is over,” Sardal muttered.
Kaz, happening to gaze skyward, saw something he had hoped never to see again. “We’re far from safe, though, Sardal. Look up there!”
Circling menacingly above a mountain a short distance to the north was the stone dragon.
Greymir began slowing. “I have brought you as far as I can. You will have to go by foot the rest of the way, but it is not far. Perhaps it is even too close.”
“Where will you go?”
“I asked one boon when my lord Habbakuk sent me forth, and he did grant it.” Greymir came to a halt. “Please dismount.”
The two did. The great wolf turned to face toward the direction they had just come from, back where the dreadwolves still roamed.
“We thank you sincerely for your aid, emissary of Habbakuk.”
“Your request gave me an opportunity of my own. I could not come to this land without a reason. If anyone should be thanked, it is you and the minotaur for enabling me to complete a task that has long been overdue, a curse upon my kind.”
In the distance, they could hear the howling of a dreadwolf or two.
Greymir’s burning eyes narrowed at the sound. “I could do nothing before, what with you two on my back. Now I shall deal with them properly. May you gain success in your own quest.”
With that, the huge wolf raced off.
“It has pained him for the past few years that such as the dreadwolves exist,” Sardal said. “He goes to destroy those twisted forms so that the souls of the pack members who once fostered them may rest in peace.”
“I thought they’d all died with their original master, Galan Dracos. Where did Argaen Ravenshadow learn such foul sorcery? I wouldn’t have thought him capable of it.”
Sardal looked at him grimly. “Argaen is not capable of it, although he may have come to believe that he is responsible. Argaen, you see, is only a tool. No, minotaur, the dreadwolves still obey their first and only master.”
“The emerald sphere! I felt it!”
“Yes, my friend. Galan Dracos lives!”
Chapter Nineteen
“Thos mountains in the midst of the, I think,” Bennett commented calmly to Sir Grissom. The other knight nodded obediently. Behind them, Darius, Tesela, and Delbin listened with various combinations of impatience, anxiety, and anger. Kaz was gone, swallowed up by some fiendish trap. It was not the column moving too slowly that bothered them, but that Bennett seemed to accept the disappearance of Kaz so easily.
“This is war” he had replied to Tesela’s angry questions. “As much a war as the one fought more than five years ago. Kaz knows, if he is indeed alive.”
There were traces of recent activity, men on horseback and on foot. The tracks went toward the mountains, away from them, parallel to their own path-essentially everywhere. A few times, men had thought they had seen the stone dragon.
“Ready arms,” Bennett ordered.
The men in front had lances, should the foe block the mountain paths. The men in the ranks were divided between those with bows ready for any enemy hiding in the rocks and mountainsides, and others who had swords in case they were set upon from low ground. It was the unspoken duty of Darius that he would watch over the cleric and the kender. He was more than willing to test his blade in their defense. Tesela, meanwhile, was composing herself. In defense of the column, she would utilize her powers as best as she could.
Even Delbin was ready. He had succeeded in finding a sling and ammunition. The sling was a lucky find; he had been looking for his book, in order to record the coming battle. The sling seemed as though it might be useful, so he kept it at the ready.
The column moved into the mountains.
Perched atop one peak, the stone dragon, momentarily unnoticed, continued to watch them. It had not been given orders to attack. Not yet.
That was quite fortunate, for soon it was apparent that the knights had other concerns-concerns wearing armor and sporting a nasty variety of weapons.
Their first mistake was in believing that the knights would even think of retreating. Their second was assuming that fifty men were just fifty men, when they were actually dealing with the best-trained fighters in all of Ansalon. The first wave of attackers, both on the ground and on the slopes of the mountain, died nearly to a man as each knight did his part. Only one knight died, an arrow through his neck, and only two others were injured. Some twenty or thirty of the enemy perished, however. The fierce battle lasted several minutes.
As the disorganized figures scurried back into the safety of the mountains, Bennett ordered those who would prefer to give chase to maintain their positions.
The column would move as a whole or not at all. The next clash came only five minutes later.
“How much longer can we afford to stay here, minotaur?”
Kaz gazed down to where another patrol was scouring the nearby area. It was all too obvious what-or rather, whom-the patrol was looking for.