The Grand Khan glanced around again. No, there was no sign of Idaria. He did find his weapon, though, which he quickly retrieved. Whatever had conspired to cast him to the cave had evidently wanted him armed … unless that was just accidental.
Golgren eyed the signet. It was all innocence, a purely decorative piece of jewelry. He pointed it in every direction, but it stayed silent.
His choices seemed few. Golgren headed to the gap at the far end. Perhaps it led to a way out … or, better yet, to the artifact he hunted.
The dream returned to his thoughts, for the Grand Khan had no doubt it depicted events that had truly played out in his life. Golgren would have liked to question Sarth about the dream. Indeed, he would have liked to question Sarth about other matters, as well. How old the shaman was, for instance. Older than any ogre of whom Golgren knew. Only High Ogres and Titans lived as long, or so Golgren’s assumption had always been.
A slight sound-a hint of breathing-caught his attention. Instantly the Grand Khan thought of Idaria.
His pace quickened. Golgren reached the dark gap and, without pause, entered a tunnel. It suddenly illuminated, and Golgren caught the signet doing its work. There had been a very brief glowing of the symbols just before the tunnel brightened.
But something tore his attention from the signet and the tunnel, a movement just at the end of the illuminated area. Again Golgren hurried forward, fairly certain that it must be Idaria. If it wasn’t the slave, surely it was wise for him to catch up with the person nonetheless.
As he reached the next darkened area, it lit up too. Golgren came to an abrupt halt as a long, rocky corridor met his wary view. There was no physical means by which anyone could have fled so fast as to escape being seen, yet the corridor was empty.
No, not entirely empty. There was something etched into the wall to the right.
It was not, however, another one of the fiery symbols from the encampment, but rather a fresh marking which he did not recognize. Two lines came together at the bottom of a symbol, with what looked like a down-turned dagger hovering over both. Golgren was certain of one thing: it was a mark of the High Ogres. The style of it was akin to what he had already seen.
The half-breed briefly bared his teeth at the mark. From behind him arose a slight, moist sound, as if a tiny pool of water had suddenly rippled.
But there had been no hint of water anywhere. Golgren turned, his sword ready.
Too late did he sense something peel off the ceiling above him.
It dropped upon the Grand Khan as if both liquid and solid, and astoundingly alive. As it covered Golgren, he felt it seize his wrist and envelop his lone hand.
He thrust the end of his maimed limb into the central portion of the mass and felt some substance. The dripping fiend twisted, giving Golgren just enough space to breathe.
Whether it was better to fight the thing in the light or the dark was debatable. Golgren grimaced as he beheld a constantly shifting mockery of a face that might have been that of an ogre, an elf, or something entirely unknown to him. Worse, the features kept melting away, growing anew. It was impossible to imagine such transformations were not painful. Surely the monster used that pain to fuel its awful strength.
Perhaps its terrible stench was useful as a weapon too, for it was all the half-breed-who had suffered many terrible odors in his time, including the decay of battlefield dead-could do to breathe. Golgren struggled to push the monster away from him, but the creature had an insatiable grip, largely on his hand. In fact, Golgren realized it took exceptional interest in his remaining hand. Or perhaps what really interested the monster was what the Grand Khan wore on one finger.
He had no intention of surrendering the signet even to that powerful, macabre creature. Golgren forced one knee under the dripping mass and did not falter even when that knee sank halfway into the deathly pale torso.
Halfway, but not all the way. With great satisfaction, Golgren shoved hard.
His leverage-which he, a shorter, slighter warrior among so many ungainly giants, always took into account-served him well. The slobbering menace went falling back, losing its hold on his hand.
Golgren pushed himself up and slashed deep with his sword into the attacker’s chest. The sharp blade cut into the pale mass without hindrance.
But the blow appeared entirely ineffective as the cut sealed immediately. Golgren nearly lost the sword as the creature’s body sealed around the tip. Only a last-second tug freed it, the point coming out with a disturbing, moist whoosh.
The thing sloshed toward him. Moving on what passed for two legs, it was much slower than Golgren, so much so that the Grand Khan felt a surge of confidence. What did he have to fear of such a shambling creature, even if his sword was apparently impotent against it? With a savage grin, he backed away from its outstretched paws.
Straight into another pair of horrific limbs that seized him from behind.
Golgren quickly gasped for air as he all but sank into the second fiend’s soft, smothering body. The foul-smelling flesh enveloped his head; he had to shut his mouth tight and try to keep his nose free. He felt the insidious creature’s oddly laborious breathing. Through half-obscured eyes, the Grand Khan beheld the first monster closing on him.
Mustering his will, the half-breed turned the sword toward himself. He let out a quick, savage roar and drove it upward.
The blade sank into the head of his second assailant. The monstrosity let out a sickening squealing sound. It released him and stumbled back, unfortunately taking his sword with it.
Golgren had no time to concern himself with having lost his weapon. At least it appeared he had finally found something vulnerable about the monster. However, all he had left was his fist.
That left only retreat, a tactic that Golgren never favored but understood all too well. He pressed himself against the tunnel wall, narrowly avoiding the grasping appendages. Quickly peering at the second of his attackers, the half-breed watched with some frustration as it became evident that, even though the thing was clearly in agonizing pain, the sword stuck deep in its head could not kill the monster. It simply stumbled around heavily as its ever-shifting fingers sought for the hilt.
Moving past the creature, Golgren growled as the shadows ahead suddenly vanished, the ring once more causing the path beyond to illuminate. It was too bad. Golgren desired darkness, but he suspected that the only way he could make that happen was to dispose of the signet.
As he registered the scene ahead, Golgren stopped short. The tunnel ended before a huge relief carved into the stone. Golgren caught glimpses of at least six robed High Ogres-more likely eight, if the vision were to make any sense.
The exact number and what the figures were doing remained a mystery, however, because two more of the horrific creatures stood there, blocking the rest of the relief from view. Yet unlike the first pair, those two were intently studying the ancient carving.
He had made too much noise, and the pair turned. One of them pointed a melting finger at Golgren, and a disquieting voice bubbled in his head, The mongrel!
As they started toward him, the Grand Khan raised the signet. Nothing happened. Silently cursing the inconsistency of the artifact, Golgren looked around desperately.
To his astonishment, Idaria suddenly materialized, leaping past Golgren and moving like the wind, as though the heavy bracelets of her severed shackles did not exist. In one hand she held a dagger that the half-breed recognized as his.
As Idaria closed on the nearest monster, she plunged the blade Golgren feared was insignificant into the ever-shifting form.
The fiend let out a mournful wail. It twisted and turned, its body so fluid that surely there could be no bones within. Bits of its awful form spilled on the ground and dissipated as the creature rapidly shriveled in size. Not only did it appear to be melting, but a noxious cloud arose over its ebbing form, as though its very essence was escaping into the air.