“Dhamon?” Rig stepped forward and pulled Goldmoon and the kender back. He heard footsteps echoing in the stairwell. “I hope that’s Palin,” he said to the pair, feeling suddenly very uneasy.
Dhamon’s eyes glazed red and he let the trouser leg fall back over the scale. He felt his hands grip the glaive, felt the dragon power his limbs. He was a marionette, and Malys was pulling his strings. Flames licked about the Red’s mouth and formed a wreath around her massive head.
The glaive—use it now!
He stepped forward, feeling a strength in his muscles that wasn’t there before, feeling a fresh force guide his arms and legs.
“What are you doing?” Rig shouted, as Dhamon charged forward. The mariner tried to grab the former knight. But Dhamon was already past him, lunging toward Goldmoon who was backing away.
“Stop!” Blister screamed. “Dhamon! Leave her alone!”
“My faith will protect me,” Goldmoon breathed as she backed toward the window. “Mishakal will save me.”
Dhamon raised the glaive and rushed toward her.
Feril reached the room just as Rig sped toward Dhamon, barreling into him and sending him sprawling on the marble floor, the glaive clattering away. She was obviously startled and unsure of what was going on. Then she caught sight of Blister loading her sling. Who was the kender aiming at, Rig or Dhamon? Feril wondered. And what had started the ruckus? Below came the footfalls of the dwarf and the Solamnic Knight. What was happening?
“Are you mad?” Rig bellowed. Dhamon had regained the glaive, only to have Rig kick it away.
Dhamon shook his head, trying once again from the small faraway place in his mind to take control of himself “Mad?” he heard himself say. It was his voice, but not his words. “I’m for from mad. I’ve finally come to my senses!”
The former Knight of Takhisis leaped up and slammed both fists into the mariner’s stomach. The blow was strong, enhanced by his link with the Red, and it caused the mariner to double over and drop to his knees.
A volley of rocks shot toward Dhamon, expertly hurled from Blister’s sling. But the former knight’s reactions were heightened, and he dodged them, stepping toward the glaive.
“Dhamon!” Feril dashed toward him. “What’s happening?”
His fingers closed about the haft, and he felt a burning sensation on his palms. The weapon was scalding him.
A weapon of good, Malys hissed to him. And your acts, dear pawn, are far from good now.
Dhamon concentrated, trying to force his fingers to release their grip on the haft, praying that Rig would get up, that Feril would stop him.
No, you don’t, Malys communicated. Your skin will heal, and you’ll hold onto this weapon, I’ll make you master the pain. You, and the glaive, are mine. Use it! Slay the elf!
“No!” Dhamon screamed as his arms swept in an arc, angling the glaive at the charging Kagonesti, A look of horror crossed Feril’s face as she dropped to her stomach to avoid the blow. And from the small place in his mind, he watched in terror as he brought the butt-end of the haft down on the back of her head.
Feril crumpled.
“Guards! Guards!” Blister screamed, looking towards the stairway. “Dhamon, please stop!”
But Dhamon didn’t stop. He was moving toward Rig, who was rising and drawing his cutlass.
“Never cared much for you,” the mariner said between clenched teeth. “Put up with you because of Feril and Palin. Former Knight of Takhisis? You had us all fooled.” He danced to his right as Dhamon swept the glaive toward him. The blade passed through the mariner’s voluminous sleeve and sliced his arm. Pain jolted the mariner’s shoulder and spread to his chest. He fought to keep hold of his cutlass. “Better not have killed her,” he said as he dodged a second blow and risked a glance at Feril.
Dhamon was forced to sidestep this time, as Rig jabbed forward with his cutlass. As the mariner retreated, he balanced his blade in his right hand, and thrust his left into the V neck of his shirt He retrieved two daggers, hefted them, then threw them as Dhamon closed. •
The first blade flew over Dhamon’s shoulder, clattering impotently on the floor near Goldmoon, who seemed to be in the midst of a prayer or spell. The second lodged in the former knight’s left shoulder. Dhamon felt the pain, still felt the intense burning sensation in his hands from the glaive, but Malys allowed him no further hesitation. She forced his body forward, and he swung the weapon again.
This time the glaive grazed the mariner’s stomach, drawing a glistening line of blood. The mariner’s left hand flew to the wound, and he backed up several steps.
“By Reorx’s beard! What’s going on here!” Jasper cried.
“It’s Dhamon! Go get some guards!” Blister squealed, as she let loose with another volley of stones. Her aim was true, and they pelted Dhamon’s chest. “We’ve got to stop him!”
More pain. Dhamon wanted to double over from the pain, crawl away and heal and get Malys out of his head. He wanted Feril to be all right. And he didn’t want to hurt anyone else.
The former knight turned toward Goldmoon. “The healer!” Malys hissed with Dhamon’s voice.
With her back against the window, Goldmoon stood and stared defiantly. “Fight this,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “Whatever’s taken hold of you. I’ve looked into your spirit You’re strong and good. You can fight this!”
Not strong enough, Malys communicated to Dhamon. I want her dead.
Stiffly Dhamon took a step toward her, and another. Behind him he heard Rig moving again. With incredibly sensitive hearing, he followed the mariner’s soft footfalls over the marble. Without warning, the former knight drove the butt-end of the glaive backward—straight into the already wounded stomach of the dark man.
The sensitive ears heard the mariner groan, the cutlass clatter to the floor, and the big man drop. Dhamon now heard the pounding of the dwarf’s feet, and of another’s—someone he couldn’t place. He heard the shush of more rocks being hurled at him, felt them rake the side of his fece.
His body ached terribly, he shouldn’t even be standing. But Malys gave him superhuman strength. The healer! Slay her!
“Dhamon! That’s Goldmoon! Are you out of your mind?” Jasper was running now, sliding across the marble and interposing himself between Dhamon and Goldmoon.
Blister was running too. It was no great feat for him to thrust out his leg, connect the heel of his boot with her face, and send her flying backward. At the same moment, his arms were moving up and forward, swinging the burning, magical glaive.
Then the blade was arcing down, reflecting the light of the stars that shone through the window, dancing toward the dwarf’s chest.
Jasper raised his hammer, trying to ward off the blow, but it was useless. Jasper hadn’t been in the dealing to see Dhamon’s weapon slice through the swords of the Knights of Takhisis and their armor like cloth.
The dwarf saw the weapon arc down, saw his hammer rise up to defend himself and Goldmoon, saw the glaive slice through the thick metal and continue on its deadly path. Jasper felt the blade pierce his chest, then felt excruciating pain, and his own blood splattered everywhere. The dwarf sobbed involuntarily and clutched his chest, warm and wet. Then he suddenly felt very cold, and all he saw was darkness.
“My faith will protect me,” Goldmoon, her eyes closed, whispered as Dhamon took a step closer.
Malys was moving her pawn’s legs very slowly now, savoring this moment. From behind him, Dhamon heard the sharp hiss of a sword being drawn, heard the frantic breathing of a woman. Who?