The way was tight. Often, only two riders could pass through a juncture, or three to four warriors grouped on foot. The lone mastark with the hand actually had an easier time than expected, the great beast stepping on top or over most obstacles. Still, Barech voiced some concern that perhaps he had been wrong to bring the massive lumbering creature with them.
There was no choice when it came to settling down for the night. Night in the mountains fell with a great abruptness, the tall peaks casting pitch black shadows. But the one mastark had another value on the journey. The spoor of the beast was plentiful and fueled the column’s fires. There was not much else to scavenge.
The fires were kept small and, for the first hours, watched from a wary distance by most. However, as the cool night air took over and the flames remained subdued, the ogres gathered in large numbers around each campfire, beginning to relax.
The wind continued to howl. Idaria stayed close to Golgren, her own gaze surreptitiously studying the vicinity as she saw to her duties.
“One could easily find freedom by fleeing into the mountains,” the Grand Khan remarked as she brought him a bowl of hot broth from one of the fires. “Is that not so, my Idaria?”
She looked down as she handed the bowl to him. “One could find many things, but freedom is doubtful, my lord. Not in those mountains.”
“But in Neraka, yes?”
Idaria met his gaze with one just as veiled. “Or in Golthuu as well.”
Golgren nodded vaguely at her evasive reply, and began to eat. The elf knelt nearby, nibbling on some dried fruit she had brought with her. Unless she had no other choice, she didn’t eat meat. Golgren’s mother had learned to suffer meat; life among the ogre tribes was too difficult to survive otherwise.
They bedded down after their meals. The long trek enabled the Grand Khan to drift off fairly quickly. But once asleep, Golgren heard whispers. At first, his dreams could make no sense of the whispers, save that they sounded like a beautiful song whose words he could not understand. The whispers were neither in Common or Ogre, yet he felt that he should understand the words. Not understanding so greatly disturbed him that he suddenly awoke, finding himself covered in sweat.
Even awake, he still heard the whispers. Glancing at Idaria’s still form, the half-breed rose to investigate. The whispering seemed louder the more he moved to his right, yet at the same time, it also felt as if the whispering surrounded him.
Golgren took a few more steps to the right. He was certain the whispering grew louder, more coherent. It was a song, although like none that he had ever heard. Gripping his sword, he advanced a few more paces, and a few more-
A hand suddenly seized the wrist of his maimed limb. Idaria’s excited voice murmured, “My lord! Why are you going so far from the camp?”
He was about to chastise her for her ridiculous statement when, staring past the elf, Golgren looked around and saw that there was no sign of the encampment. Indeed, in the dark there was hardly anything to see at all. He was in the middle of nowhere.
“Where are we?” he demanded. “How far?”
“Several minutes along the trail, my lord. I only barely saw you vanish in the distance and followed as swiftly as I could.”
Golgren hissed, puzzled by how he had come so far. Yet still, he heard the whispering voices as they continued to sing the strange, unsettling song. Loud enough for him to hear plainly, the words remained as riddlesome as the message the flames had left. Did they emanate from the same source?
He glanced at Idaria. She did not appear to have heard anything.
A sudden thought sent his hand into the pouch where the crystal lay. As Golgren tore it free, the voices in his head reached a crescendo.
“No!” the Grand Khan roared. He stumbled a few steps before shouting to the slave, “Lead me!”
She did not hesitate, grabbing his maimed limb and tugging at it to guide him through the deep darkness quicker than he could have done by himself. The pair ran as fast as they could.
A rumble like thunder echoed from ahead.
The ground shook with a sudden extreme violence that brought back to Golgren memories of the confrontation with the army off’hanos. He struggled to maintain his balance, but fell to one knee. As ever, the elf managed to not only keep her own graceful footing, but helped him rise and run again.
The rumble magnified, becoming deafening.
“Hurry!” Golgren commanded.
Fire flickered far ahead. The ogre leader spotted the encampment.
But getting there was an impossibility. The path ahead was blocked by stone and dirt that had fallen from the mountainsides. There was enough of a gap to see ahead, yet he couldn’t attempt to climb over or around, without risking his life.
Still, Golgren did not hesitate. There was only way to stop what was happening. And that was for him to hurl himself in the midst of it all.
The avalanche was assailing the column from all sides. Great masses of mountain debris rained down upon the terrified ogre warriors. Their screams vied with the horrific rumbling.
As he fought to reach the column, the fires enabled Golgren to observe the monstrous spectacle. He saw three ogres crushed by a single rock as large as the mastark. Where much of the right flank had bedded down for the night was already a rushing mass of earth that swept over several more warriors as if it were an ocean wave. Horses darted about, but they had nowhere to go.
Of Barech, there was no sign. However, where Golgren recalled the commander had slept he saw that spot was covered by a huge chunk of earth that had dropped from high above.
Amid the chaos, the mastark recklessly charged toward Golgren. The Grand Khan leapt away from a pile of rocks and earth just as the beast reached where he’d been standing.
His decision proved life-saving. The spot where Golgren had stood suddenly collapsed, the earth there tumbling away so rapidly, while fresh rocks and debris rained from above, that Idaria also had to jump aside or die. Unfortunately for the mastark-and Golgren-the path was even more blocked than before. The battered animal trumpeted and backed up to try again.
As it did, a fresh rockslide dropped upon the leviathan, burying the struggling beast as if it were no more than an insect. The mastark let out one last desperate call before being submerged and disappearing.
Golgren pulled farther back as loose scree pelted him from all directions. Compared to the disaster that had overwhelmed Barech and his force, the danger was over for him.
The rumble gradually faded, leaving only the settling dust to echo in Golgren’s ears. There was not a single sound of life within the area of the encampment, which was all but covered by the great collapse. Surely the warriors of Barech’s hand were all dead. Over a thousand lives had been wiped out in perhaps no more than a few moments.
As the Grand Khan let that dread thought sink in, he realized that the warriors had perished because of him.
“Is that it?” sang Ulgrod, one of the newest of the Titans and among the most vocal of those who had called repeatedly for the half-breed’s death. “He’s to remain untouched?”
The Titans had all gathered for the magical event. Safrag had insisted that a pooling of all their power would save any individual from being too taxed with the job. Reserves of elixir were extremely low and had to be rationed.
No one in the inner circle, not even the usually outspoken Ulgrod, had dared point out that the Black Talon appeared to be far more refreshed and powerful than the rest of them.
“Of course, he is to remain untouched,” Safrag responded like a soothing teacher. “The mongrel is our key to the Fire Rose. That was explained to all of you sufficiently.”
The rest eagerly nodded; no one wished to annoy Safrag. The Black Talon and the other Titans had committed themselves to his plan. The artifact was the key to their independence and utter domination-it was the key to everything they desired. If Ulgrod wished to take chances with his life by questioning Safrag’s decision, the rest were willing to let him.