They stood atop the mountains just west of where the column had met its doom, all but untouched by the wind rushing among the dire peaks. Even had it been bright daytime, neither Golgren nor any one else, not even the sharp-eyed Idaria, could have seen them. Yet the Titans could see far and with deadly accuracy, and watching their handiwork was part of the pleasure.
Destroying over a thousand lives had not been much more effort.
“But he’ll surely know it was us-that is all I mean, master! We’ve shown our hand.” Some of the other Titans cracked grins at his choice of words-considering Golgren’s own physical state-but Ulgrod scowled at them. “We have marked ourselves openly as his enemies. Why should he continue on a hunt for something that he knows we also desire?”
“Because he has little choice. And because he is Golgren. He will assume the key to his survival is finding the Fire Rose and wielding it first, against us.”
The others nodded, agreeing with the sense. Only Ulgrod dared speak again.
“And what if he does find the Fire Rose and wield it against us?”
The lead Titan only smiled more broadly. “He will not be able to do what he hopes. But we shall just let the mongrel find out that for himself, shall we not?” He raised his hands to the dark sky, a gesture immediately imitated by his gathered followers. “We shall thank him for preparing our people for our rule and finally, slowly, very painfully, put an end to him.”
As the others joined him in smiling at that particular happy thought, Safrag sang out the words of a new spell.
The Titans vanished.
Just as the Titans were unseen by Golgren and Idaria and the ill-fated warriors, so another figure had remained invisible to the sorcerers’ gathering.
More a shadow than substance, the figure stared for a moment at the spot upon which the sorcerers had stood. Although no taller than Golgren and perhaps just a shade smaller, the figure showed no trepidation at having been so near the full might of the towering spellcasters. Indeed, its long, oval eyes of white radiated only contempt for those who had just departed. From behind the lower half of the tightly bound golden cloth that obscured all its other features, there came a brief but throaty laugh.
The gray and black, hooded figure disappeared.
X
Tyranos awoke, momentarily uncertain as to where he was. Upon recalling, he tried to leap to his feet, only to fall back-fortunately onto a soft fur-as his head swam.
“Slowly,” warned his companion. “I’ve had my head struck often enough to have learned the proper manner by which to rise afterward.”
The wizard pushed himself up to his elbows and eyed the speaker. The Solamnian sat cross-legged to his left, as calm as if he were back among the highborn of his land and not stuck in a cave somewhere in the Vale of Vipers. Even his beard did not seem entirely out of place, for Stefan used his dagger to keep it fairly trim. There was nothing to suggest that the Knight of the Sword was concerned about anything.
“What happened? I remember you helping me and bringing me to the cave. But after that my mind draws a blank.”
“That was about the time you fainted.”
“I fainted? Never!”
Stefan put away his dagger. “I was warned you’d be full of pride. But I’ve had that failing too.”
“You were warned? By whom?”
The Solamnian cocked his head. “You know.”
The wizard sat straight up. His eyes darted back and forth as he better surveyed his surroundings. The cave entrance was several yards to his right, which meant that at a good sprint, he could reach it before the Solamnian could stop him.
But staring behind Stefan, Tyranos spotted something more valuable to him than a swift means of exit. Just beyond the Solamnian lay the wizard’s precious staff.
And next to Stefan side lay the knight’s sword. So unfortunately, the Solamnian could run him through before the wizard could shove him aside and grab the staff.
“Did you want it?” Stefan asked, reaching behind him and, without looking, taking up the very item his guest so coveted.
“You know I do.”
Stefan tossed it to him.
The wizard was so startled that he fumbled with the magical artifact before finally getting a good grip on it. He immediately pointed the crystal at the Solamnian.
“That really isn’t necessary,” Stefan assured him. “He would not have brought us together if either of us meant harm to one another.”
“Stop talking like that!” Tyranos managed to lurch to his feet. A calm Stefan also rose. The Solamnian did not try to reach for his sword. The spellcaster kept in mind that he still had a dagger close at hand which was good for tossing. “Mayhap he talks with you, but that’s no concern of mine.”
“He only wants to help you. You’re as much a follower of his as I am.”
“He, him, it! Call that one by the name he’s known best! Kiri-Jolith! My path diverged from his long ago, knight-or should I say cleric? That’s what you are claiming, isn’t it?”
Stefan shrugged. “I claim nothing. I’m only doing what he asks of me.”
Tyranos felt his legs buckling. Through sheer grit, he kept on his feet. “Well, he can ask all he wants of me. But I do what I desire, not what any god or cleric likes!”
“But you want to find the Fire Rose, don’t you?”
Tyranos hesitated. “What do you know of that? How much do you know … about me?”
“What I know is between my patron and me and no one else. Not even the Grand Khan Golgren.”
With a derisive snort, the wizard retorted, “That is a perfectly empty answer. Just like a cleric.”
“I’m also a knight. And besides, I always heard that spell-casters are just as secretive.”
Tyranos let slip a rueful smile. “Aye, that I’ll not deny.” Again his legs threatened to collapse. He quickly planted the end of the staff on the ground to help him balance on his feet. As Stefan moved to assist him, the wizard waved him off. “I will stand by myself, or not stand at all.”
His comment provoked the Solamnian. “That has been your way for many years, hasn’t it?”
“Will you kindly please stop trying to delve into my life?”
“As you like.” Stefan sat down again. “The important question is, do you still want to find the Fire Rose?”
Teetering, Tyranos growled. “And you’re going to just tell me where it is?”
“No, I can’t do that, regrettably. I have an idea, because he has an idea. But where it is actually hidden is known truly by only one other, and he only gives those clues he enjoys giving.”
“Bah, more empty talk. What does that mean?”
Stefan shrugged. “My patron didn’t make that clear.”
“A fine … A fine cleric”-the wizard leaned more and more on the staff-“you are …”
His legs gave. He fell face first to the floor.
But Stefan was somehow there before Tyranos struck the ground. The slighter man proved he was much stronger than the tall wizard, and lifted Tyranos up enough to get a better hold on him, before assisting the spellcaster to the soft fur again.
“You need some water.”
“I need a good ale or some rum! Can you manage that?”
Stefan chuckled. “You’ll have to make do with water.”
“A fine cleric, as I said.”
The Solamnian went to the innermost recesses of the shallow cave. The shadows hid exactly what he was doing, but Tyranos heard the scraping of rock. A few moments later, Stefan returned with a small sack of water.
“Did you conjure that up from the mountain?” scoffed the wizard.