Landing hard on his back, Regdar tried to inhale. He couldn't. It was as if the air around him had been sucked away. Time slowed down, and everything he did, even blinking his eyes, felt labored and difficult. He stared up into the dark sky. The moon seemed so big among the tiny stars. His head felt like a watermelon, and the skin on his face felt hot and red.
Then something moved into his field of view, something larger even than the moon. Clutching his sword in his right hand, the big fighter looked up into the gaping maw of the vampire lizard. Its red eyes burned as they looked down on him. It growled, a sound that filled the surrounding space, drowning out all other noise-the wind, the crickets, even the rushing river.
The monster leaned forward to glare down at him, and a gob of thick, black liquid splashed across Regdar's face. The lizard creature flew out of his view, and a huge forearm emblazoned with the image of a longsword came in, followed immediately by Clemf's tightly gritted face. Then it too disappeared.
Regdar gasped again, this time with limited success. Sound returned to his ears. He heard the burbling river and the sucking noise of Clemf's sword plunging into monster's flesh. Rolling to his side, the fighter struggled to his feet.
Tasca and Clemf battled the monster from either side. The elf teased scales from its body with his dancing blade. The enormous human bashed large chunks of flesh from its hide. Somehow the creature had lost or discarded its club and shield. Spinning first one way, then back, the vampire swiped with its claws. It hissed at both men but was unable to focus on one without opening itself to a deadly assault from the other.
The standoff was broken when a hurtling, twisting mass of dwarf and hammer flew over the riverbank and plunged on top of the vampiric lizard.
Whitman's hammer crashed into the monster's reptilian head, making a hollow sound like a mallet on a coconut. The creature's skull ruptured. Chunks of yellow curd shot out in a wave. The resulting splash covered the head of the dwarf's weapon with dripping ooze.
The vampire collapsed to the ground.
"Agh!" shouted Whitman as he landed. "Brain juice! Vampire lizardman brain juice on my hammer."
Regdar opened his mouth, then shut it again. He was sure there was something worse in this world to get on your hammer, but he couldn't think of it at the moment.
Tasca and Clemf stepped back from the slumped monster, looking quickly in all directions to be sure the area was clear. Regdar checked to the riverbank.
"Anybody see Krunk?" he asked.
"No," said Whitman, now on his knees feverishly rubbing dirt on his hammer.
"No," replied Clemf.
"Over there!" Tasca broke into a run, pointing at something with his sword.
Regdar and Clemf followed.
Just at the edge of the embankment, where the plain sloped down toward the River Delnir, lay Krunk. He was facedown and spread-eagle atop a pile of branches.
Regdar crouched beside him. Blood covered most of the back of his head, neck, and shoulders, brimming from a savage wound where the monster had bitten nearly through his neck. His arms and most of his face were scratched and cut.
"He put up a fight," said Regdar.
"Wouldn't you?" asked Tasca.
Regdar shrugged, feeling a bit stupid.
Clemf kicked the dirt. "It had to be the cleric," he said.
Tasca looked up, shaking his head. "What are you talking about? It could have been any of us."
Clemf stowed his sword and raised his hands in the air. "Yeah, it could have, but it was the cleric."
Tasca slumped as he realized what Clemf meant.
"There's only one thing we can do," Regdar said.
He stood. Lifting his sword over his head, he brought it down with a heavy grunt. The blade sliced through the bloody remains of Krunk's neck, and the dwarf's head rolled free.
Tasca jumped back. "Are you mad?" he screamed. "He was our friend."
Clemf, too, looked uneasy.
Regdar grabbed the dismembered head by the beard. "He was, but he wouldn't be when he rose from the dead. Help me with his body," he said.
The others looked on, horrified.
Regdar stood up and looked at the elf and the human, Krunk's head still dangling from his hand.
"He was bitten by a vampire," he explained. "If we simply bury him, he'll come back as a vampire." He looked the other two men in the eyes. "Something tells me a holy man such as Krunk here-" he lifted the upside-down head, its eyes peering out lifelessly at the others-"would rather not return to the world as an undead monster." He turned and headed down the embankment. "Now, if you really were Krunk's friends, you'll help me bury him in the river, so he can ascend in the afterlife, or whatever it is dwarves do when they die."
6
The next two days were silent and uneventful If not for the family of rabbits Tasca shot for dinner the second night, the rest of the journey to the base of Mt. Fear would have been completely forgettable. As it turned out, the elf knew a thing or two about finding wild herbs and roasting fresh game. Dinner that night was delicious.
Late morning of the third day brought the party to the wooded area marked on Jozan's map. The looming, jagged top of Mt. Fear towered above the plain. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the circle of clouds lingering around its peak slowly dissipated, showing off the deep chasm between the two wicked points that distinguished this mountain from all others in the land.
At its base, a dense growth of trees formed a ring around the mountain. Unlike other forests, this one grew up out of a fetid, rotting swamp. Tangled brambles intermingled with algae and pools of rotting vegetation. The tree roots didn't plunge into rich, fertile soil to pucker the ground in long, oval mounds. Instead, they reached out like hungry fingers, groping into the graying filth of the swamp, looking like thick, chaotic spiderwebs as they crisscrossed each other in search of food.
Regdar stopped the men at the edge of this sloppy ring.
"Jozan said we'd find the slavers inside this, the Marsh of Haelor." He put his hands on his hips and looked at the dense growth. "If I were evil, I'd definitely find this place homey."
Tasca stepped up beside the fighter. "Listen, Regdar, I know what you say your cleric pal told you, but something doesn't make sense here."
Regdar turned to the elf. "Yeah, Naull's in there-" He pointed to the swamp-"and we're out here."
Tasca nodded while biting his lower hp. "That too." The edges of his lips curled up into an amused smile. "But I meant that if the guys we're looking for are slavers, why would they set up camp in a swamp?" The elf wrinkled his brow. "Not exactly a prime location to do business."
"He's right." Whitman ran his fingers through his long beard. "I've seen slaver caravans. They travel the same routes as the carnivals, and they're not the type to set up camp anywhere for more than a night, maybe two at the most. They're constantly on the go-not real popular in areas where they capture their slaves. But they need people to kidnap and people to sell to. Why would they hole up in forsaken spot like this?"
Regdar nodded. "Remote as it is, this region is still under the protection of Duke Ramas. He's not a man who tolerates slavers. Maybe they're just taking a rest in a place they consider secure."
"Could the cleric have made a mistake?" asked Tasca.
Regdar remained grim. "It wouldn't be the first time. Still, he said he'd been given signs from Pelor." He shrugged. "The god of the sun works in strange ways. It's possible Jozan misunderstood the details but not the intent. Where Pelor's concerned, Jozan knows what he's talking about." The big fighter turned away from his friends and continued walking. "Whatever the case, I'm not going back until I find Naull or I'm convinced she's not here."
The others fell in behind him, skirting the edge of the wooded area, looking for a passable entrance into the tangled swamp.