"Stop!" He had to yell to make himself heard above the thundering hailstones, further abusing his scorched throat. "Wait there until I call. Do you understand?"
The reply came in the form of a barely discernible croak that the Amnesian Hero took to mean yes. He retreated five steps into the intersection and stopped to await his foe. The hail beat a brisk, broken cadence against what remained of his armor, but he doubted the monster would hear it over the roar of the storm. He pushed his sword into its scabbard and caught a few hailstones in his palm, then slipped them into his mouth to quench his thirst. The icy balls tasted like fish, but he let them melt and forced himself to swallow the foul water. If the fight happened to last more than a few moments, he did not want his breathing troubled by a dry throat
The thread continued to tug at his left arm. The monster was winding the line up, suggesting it was a creature of foresight Would the brute pause at the comer to check for an ambush? The Amnesian Hero caught another handful of hail and slipped it into his mouth, then drew his sword again. If he felt a sudden change in the tugging of the line, he would rush-or, rather, hobble-forward to attack. The Thrasson reminded himself to be careful; now that his torso armor had been crushed, his most vulnerable area would be open to a counterstrike. His first priority would be to destroy whatever weapon his foe would be carrying. The next attack would be a crippling blow to a leg, both to put the monster on an even footing with himself and to prevent it from carrying off one of his companions. The third strike would be the killing one.
The Amnesian Hero's planning came to an abrupt end as a tall, manlike silhouette appeared in the fog. Cowering against the battering hail, the figure looked distinctly unmonsterlike. It had a bulky head with a rather squarish crown, a slender hunch-shouldered build, and a pair of skinny, goatlike legs. The creature kept its gaze fixed firmly on the ground as it twined the golden thread around the shaft of a long lance, apparently oblivious to the possibility of ambush.
A monster of ploys and deception, the Amnesian Hero decided; they were the most dangerous kind. He leapt forward, landing brick-foot forward to present his armored flank to the beast, then struck the lance off midway down the shaft. The creature croaked out a hoarse cry of astonishment and suddenly rose into the air, safely lifting its knobby legs over the Thrasson's slashing sword.
A pair of stone-hard hooves slammed one after the other into the Amnesian Hero's shoulder pauldron, driving him back before he could reverse his blade for an upstroke. Unable to bring his brick foot around quickly enough to catch his balance, the Thrasson stumbled and fell on the scorching bricks.
He found himself looking at the underside of what appeared to be a rearing goat. "A bariaur?" he gasped.
The "monster" dropped its forehooves to the bricks, and the Thrasson saw that it was, indeed, a bariaur – and an ancient one at that. Chipped and colorless as they were, the fellow's horns had two full curls. His eyes were rheumy, and a gray, mossy beard covered everything from his cheeks to his chest. His woolly pelt had grown into such a bushy mat of snarls and tangles that the shabby saddlebags laid across his back were barely visible.
The Amnesian Hero brought his sword into a guarding position, but made no move to rise off the hot bricks. "I beg your forgiveness. In this fog, I mistook you for the monster of the labyrinth."
The bariaur's gaze went to the golden spool wound around the Thrasson's arm, then he sighed in disappointment. "It can't be." His voice was brittle with age. "I won't allow it."
"I apologize for my mistake." The Thrasson gathered himself up, moving slowly to avoid alarming the old bariaur. "But you have heard the roars? When I felt the tugging on my line-"
"Nol Be strong, you fool!"
The Amnesian Hero froze in a half-crouch. "Please. I mean you no harm…"
"No harm!" The words were something between a snort and a laugh. "He must go away!"
The bariaur lifted the butt of his broken lance. The Amnesian Hero raised his guard and started to pivot away, but there was no need. The old fellow closed his baggy eyelids and brought the shaft down between his horns, striking himself soundly on his own pate.
"He must go away!"
Confused, the Amnesian Hero thought it best to do nothing. The bariaur remained motionless a moment, then opened his rheumy eyes.
"Still there." The bariaur dosed his eyes and hit himself.
"What are you doing?"
The bariaur struck another blow against his brow, this time without opening his eyes.
"Stop! You'll hurt yourself."
The bariaur brought the shaft down once for each word, at the same time muttering, "He must go away. Must go away."
Realizing that speaking would only make matters worse, the Amnesian Hero shoved his sword into its scabbard and clumped forward to restrain the mad bariaur. After suffering an inadvertent blow as the club hit him on a backstroke, the Thrasson caught hold of the shaft and wrenched it from the old fellow's grasp.
"I'll hold this for you." The last thing the Amnesian Hero wanted was for the bariaur to knock himself senseless – at least until the old fellow led the way to where he had found his end of the golden thread. "Beating yourself will not make me vanish."
The bariaur slapped his hands over his ears and, without opening his eyes, spun toward the side corridor, where Jayk and Tessali were just emerging from the fog. Both had their daggers in hand.
"Don't harm him!" the Amnesian Hero warned.
The pair stopped two paces short of the bariaur, who continued to cover his ears and keep his eyes closed.
"What are you doing here?" asked the Thrasson. "I didn't call for you."
"We hear yelling." Jayk flicked a hand skyward. "With all this noise, we think it is you, yes?"
"It wasn't me; it was our monster." The Amnesian Hero gestured at the bariaur. "I think he's what you call barmy. The old fellow keeps beating himself and saying that I must go away."
Tessali raised an eyebrow, then turned his gaze upon the cowering bariaur. After a moment, the elf pursed his lips and nodded grimly.
The Thrasson retrieved the severed lance and displayed the golden thread wrapped around its shaft. "If you convince him to show us where he started collecting this, we can find the exit."
The elf held his finger to his lips, then sheathed his dagger. The three companions waited silently in the battering hail. At last the bariaur took his hands from his ears and looked up. When he saw Tessali and Jayk standing before him, the old fellow wailed in despair and dropped to his foreknees.
"Silverwind, you old fool!" he cried.
Silverwind began to slap himself between the horns again. The Amnesian Hero moved to restrain him, but Tessali motioned the Thrasson back.
"You were almost out, and now you've lost control again," Silverwind complained.
He ran his rheumy gaze over the unexpected company, then he pitched forward into the fog. There was a sharp crack, then the bariaur's head rose briefly into view and disappeared again. Another crack followed, then another, and the Thrasson realized Silverwind was butting his horns against the ground. So powerful were the blows that pieces of brick began to fly whenever the old fellow raised his head. Still, Tessali refused to let the Amnesian Hero intervene. Finally, after the flying brick shards had given way to powder, the old fellow stopped. He left his head beneath the fog and, despite the smell of singed fur beginning to fill the air around his forequarters, made no move to return to his feet.
Tessali squatted on his haunches and waited patiently. When Silverwind finally looked up, the elf touched his fingertips to his own chest. "I am Tessali." He gestured at Jayk, then the Thrasson. "My friends-"
"Do not presume!" hissed Jayk. "I am no friend of yours."
The elf accepted the interruption without changing expressions, then continued, "My… companions are Jayk the Snake, and the Amnesian Hero." He extended a hand to the bariaur. "Why don't you stand? Your fur is beginning to scorch."