She drew back for a thrust, just as the umberhulk turned with a speed unexpected for its size. A pincer-arm shot forward, clacking loudly. Fiona had fast reflexes and pulled away at the last instant, yet it snagged her clothes. She spun around behind the creature, pushed Ragh aside, and stepped up her frenzied attack.
“We’re actually hurting the foul creature!” This was shouted by Ragh, who also managed to cut the creature and draw some repulsive-smelling blood.
Dhamon stepped in for a hard chop, this time cutting even deeper into the umberhulk’s shoulder and wounding the creature so badly that one pincer-arm twitched, then hung limp. He drove his blade down again, this time with more force. The umberhulk screamed, a horrible sound, like stone scraping against stone. The ground rumbled, and cracks raced away from the umberhulk’s clawed feet. Its legs churned, and it began to retreat down its huge hole.
“It’s fleeing!” Ragh shouted in triumph. Still, he pressed his attack. “We’re winning!”
“We can’t let it escape!” Fiona cried angrily. “Don’t let it go!”
“She’s right!” Dhamon said, as he brought the glaive up again, swinging it down this time into the center of the creature’s back. He bunched his arm muscles and yanked the blade free. “If it gets away, it can pop up anywhere for another chance at us!”
The ground rumbled louder, as the sinking umberhulk roared its defiance.
“Wait, it’s not going anywhere.” As Maldred finished his spell, a soft yellow glow poured from his palms onto the ground. Like a line of molten lightning it streaked to the umberhulk. “Out of the way!
Move, Dhamon!”
Dhamon had to grab Fiona, for the Knight was continuing to lunge at the beast with rapid sword blows. Ragh jumped back just in time. The magical light struck its target, spiraled around the umberhulk, and took root in the ground.
“What’s going to happen now?” Ragh said. “What kind of magic…?” The rest of his words were swallowed by the furious upheaval of the earth.
As they watched, everywhere the light flowed the ground began to thicken, trapping the creature’s legs and its one good pincer-arm in solid stone.
It shrieked its rage. Whipping its head about, its four eyes fixed on Ragh and magically befuddled him. The draconian’s snout dropped open, and he started shuffling toward the screaming umberhulk and the still-hardening earth.
“Now, Dhamon!” Maldred shouted. “Finish it!”
Dhamon was in good position. Releasing Fiona, he swept the glaive at waist-level with all of his strength. The great blade parted the chitinous shell of the umberhulk. The creature howled, and the earth shook wildly. The stone earth in which he was embedded began to crack as the creature fought to break free.
Again Dhamon swung.
“It bleeds!” Fiona cried gleefully. “We can kill it! I can kill it!” She leaned in and landed a few more blows before the thing gave a tremendous shudder and stopped moving.
The earth quieted after a few moments. Dhamon stepped back and took a breath. It took several minutes for Ragh and the goblins to come to their senses and many minutes after that for the goblins who’d run away to straggle back.
Dhamon went over to the brook to clean the blood off himself and the glaive. Glancing up, he saw the draconian trying to take the sword away from Fiona.
“It talks to me!” she was shouting madly.
“Let her have it,” Dhamon said, as he walked over to join them.
The draconian raised an eyebrow. “She nearly killed you, Dhamon. Are you as mad as she is to let her keep this weapon?”
Maybe, he thought. Aloud he said, “We’ll rest here an hour, no more, then be on the move again.”
They pressed on until dawn, following the brook that widened into a stream as they proceeded north.
“Yagmurth says the village you want is just around that rise,” Ragh told Dhamon. “They want to know if you’re going to lead them into battle against their hobgoblin cousins. Because you slew the umberhulk, they think you can perform miracles.”
Dhamon didn’t answer at first. He was staring at his reflection in the water. I am a monster, he thought. The fire in his stomach had spread all over his body. For the past several miles it was all he could do to ignore the pain and plod onward.
“You’re getting taller,” Ragh said, glancing at Dhamon warily, then looking over at the Knight, who was still carrying her magic sword and talking to it. “You realize that, don’t you? I’d say by a few inches at least.”
The seams of Dhamon’s ragged garments were stretched over his growing limbs. “Aye, Ragh, I know.”
Dhamon continued to stare at his reflection. His face was different, too, and it took him a few moments to understand how different. His forehead was slightly higher, and a ridge was forming over his eyes. Like Ragh, Dhamon thought his neck was thicker, too, though he couldn’t be sure. His ears were smaller, slightly, as though they were melding against the sides of his head.
“Maldred, ask Sabar if there’s still enough time.”
“Taller,” Ragh commented quietly, “and more forgiving. You let Fiona keep the sword. You call the ogre-mage by name.”
“There’s time,” Maldred replied after several minutes of silence, during which he consulted the magic-woman in the crystal. “But not much. She says to hurry.”
I am hurrying. Dhamon ran his hand through his hair, a shiver racing down his spine when he saw his palms were dark gray like the bottoms of his feet. He stepped back from the stream and looked toward the village. “I need to make sure Riki and the child are safe.” A moment later, “And I can’t let them see me. Not until I’ve forced a cure from the damn shadow dragon. If I can find the dragon in time.”
The old yellow goblin shuffled over, careful to keep a polite distance, waiting until Dhamon was done speaking before it began chattering to Ragh. The other goblins huddled together, watching the exchange between the draconian and their leader.
“Yagmurth asks again if you will lead them in battle against their hobgoblin cousins. He wants very much to fight.” Ragh bent closer to the old goblin, waving a hand in front of his face to ward off the stink.
He growled and snapped in the guttural tongue until Yagmurth seemed happy.
The old goblin squared his shoulders, whipped about, and trundled back to his fellows. Fiona gave the whole bunch a look of loathing, then joined Dhamon and Ragh.
“What did you say to him?” Dhamon watched the goblins chatter happily among themselves, making whooping noises and raising their spears.
Ragh glanced over his shoulder, watching Maldred replace the crystal ball in the makeshift bag. The ogre-mage tied it to his waist. “I told them that I, the greatest of Takhisis’ creations, would lead them into battle against their hobgoblin cousins.” He lowered his voice. “If necessary. If we can’t get Riki and her family out of town any other way. If the crystal is true, and the hobgoblins aren’t there at the shadow dragon’s behest, there might be some problems with a rescue operation.”
“And what about me?”
“I told Yagmurth you had business elsewhere.”
Dhamon shook his head. “No. I—”
“…Have to get your cure before it’s too late. Your child doesn’t need a draconian—or spawn—for a father. Save yourself, Dhamon, and I’ll endeavor to save your woman and child.”
“Ragh, I…”
“I will go with you, sivak.” Fiona put her hand on the pommel of her sword. “I will go with you to help the half-elf Riki. That is an honorable cause.” The Solamnic Knight’s eyes were wide and staring, but the fiery madness seemed temporarily gone. “I will not help Dhamon find a cure, and I will not stay in the company of the ogre-liar, so I will go with you. That is what I should and will do.”