If not Idaria’s blood, what?
He gazed again upon the magically illuminated relief. And recognized there was something wrong with it.
It was not the symbols and markings and the Ogres that he had glimpsed during the struggle with the monstrosities. Instead it was one vast scene with eight robed High Ogres casting a spell on what appeared to be a burning flower turned upside down. The casters themselves appeared to be surrounded by bright coronas.
Framing all that was a specific setting: mountains, great buildings with sharp, jutting towers, a river, and odd animals that looked like crosses between various, more familiar species.
“Well?” asked a voice that made Golgren bare his teeth. “You wanted to enter, and so you can.”
The Grand Khan calmly turned to face Safrag.
“Dauroth did not understand that he entertained a viper in his midst,” Golgren remarked.
“How droll,” returned the Titan, striding like a god toward the two shorter figures. Safrag’s head barely missed scraping the passage’s ceiling. “We are in the vale, and thus I must be one of the legendary serpents.”
“We are in the dread valley?” murmured Idaria. “But that was still days away.”
“She is a curious slave.” Safrag kept his hands behind his back as he looked from her to Golgren. “Just as you are a curious master. Is it love? Lust? Common goals? Common betrayals?”
Sneering, Golgren returned, “And is the Titan leader so interested in the souls of others? In emotions? How caring is Safrag of others!”
“Merely curious about the workings of your confused mind, oh Grand Khan. Are you ogre or are you elf?” Before Golgren could reply again, Safrag cut him off with a wave of one hand.
A hand that flaunted the signet.
Golgren’s sneer became a veiled stare. Drawing the dagger, he took a step toward the sorcerer.
Flames surrounded him. The dagger became hot. He was forced to drop it and step back to the glowing panorama.
The dagger melted, becoming a puddle of metal and other bits.
“I shall make it clear in the very best Common, mongrel. There’s only one reason why you still live: I have not decided if you are still of need to me given that I am on the threshold of rediscovering the most powerful artifact since the Graygem!”
“I know nothing of the Graygem,” Golgren replied coldly and without fear. “And the Fire Rose will never bloom for you.”
“How poetic and pathetic.” Safrag gestured with the hand bearing the signet.
The rock behind Golgren rumbled. He looked at the wall and saw the relief had split in two, revealing a passage behind it.
“So close,” murmured Safrag. “After so many years of biding my time, serving the ignorant and the fearful.”
“Not to mention slaying your master.”
The Titan looked mildly offended. “Dauroth refused to hunt for the Fire Rose, even though all we sought could have been so easily gained from it! And, besides, another betrayed Dauroth. The rest know that.”
“And who betrayed the other?”
Safrag chuckled. “You still try to amuse.” He gestured, and the flames died away. “But you are not amusing enough. Enter, mongrel.”
Golgren stayed his ground.
The Titan was unimpressed. He extended his other hand toward Idaria.
The elf gasped. Vapors rose from her body, and her flesh started to desiccate.
The half-breed started not for her, but rather toward the new passage.
With another smile, Safrag ceased his assault on Idaria. She slipped to one knee, but the Titan immediately forced the silver-haired slave to a standing position and made her follow Golgren. He trailed after the two smaller beings.
A slight breeze caressed the Grand Khan’s face as he stepped through the cracked relief. The passage did not light up as it had when he had worn the signet. Safrag created a floating sphere of low, blue light that drifted a few feet before them, remaining constantly ahead as the trio walked.
There was also a faint golden aura around Idaria, Golgren noted, though that must have been the handiwork of the sorcerer. Curiously, no such spell covered the Grand Khan.
There was nothing inscribed on the tunnel walls, but all could sense it was no ordinary mountain passage. Safrag’s breathing grew more rapid and eager as they proceeded.
But barely had they gone more than a hundred yards when the trio came to another tunnel that branched off. Safrag ordered a pause.
Holding his fist forward so that the signet faced the two choices, the blue-skinned sorcerer commanded, “Show me the proper way!”
A plume of fire burst to life before them. A figure began to coalesce within, and faded away. The flames extinguished.
Safrag looked furious.
“Something is amiss?” Golgren innocently inquired.
“It was too quick,” the Titan murmured to himself. “I had no time to gather Ulgrod’s blood.” He focused on Idaria. “But perhaps …”
The elf tried to pull away, but she could not free herself of his control. Like a puppet on strings, she moved inexorably toward Safrag.
A curved dagger made of obsidian materialized in his other hand. There were stains upon it whose origins Golgren did not have to guess.
“There is a better way. A less … messy way,” he quietly declared.
The Titan glanced at him. “And that is?”
The Grand Khan stretched out his hand. “Return the signet to me.”
The towering figure roared with laughter. “You are amusing after all, mongrel! Return that powerful signet to you? And you have a reason why I should act so madly?”
“The signet will work for me. You and I both know that. There will be no need for blood, spells, questions …”
“And no risk to me?” Safrag bared his double rows of sharp teeth. “Wearing the signet made you safe from most Titan magic; you and I know that, oh Great Khan! Return it to you? I think not.”
“I wish to find the Fire Rose. You wish the same. The signet for some reason wishes it of me also.”
“Yes, it does seem to be bound to you.” Dismissing the insidious dagger, the spellcaster suddenly grinned like a hungry ji-baraki about to pounce on its victim from behind. “Perhaps you can lend me a hand after all.”
He gestured.
Golgren grabbed at his throat. He struggled to breathe as the chain around his neck twisted and turned.
A mound rose from his chest. It strained to be free, almost pulling the Grand Khan with it.
A grotesque missile burst away from him, slipping up over his throat and pulling with such force that it tore free of the chain, which went scattering across the passage floor.
Safrag seized the object as it came to him. He held it up, admiring the awful sight of Golgren’s mummified hand.
“Exquisite work. Almost as fresh as if it had been cut off yesterday, rather than-what is it, at least three years?”
“Give me that.” Golgren coldly whispered.
The Titan cocked his head. “It may be that I no longer need you, Grand Khan. You would do best not to test that supposition. Remain compliant and you live, at least for the moment. Oh, and I might let her live too, of course.”
Golgren did not glance at Idaria. He eyed the Titan for a moment more, before retreating a step.
“That’s better.” Safrag turned the mummified hand toward himself, and placed the ring on one of its curled fingers with deliberation. The sorcerer summoned the obsidian blade once more, which caused the elf to start. “Rest easy, slave. Your blood is not needed yet. There looks to be enough remaining on the blade for what I need. If not, I have the signet itself.”
He touched the dagger’s tip to the hand. As he did, Golgren’s gaze narrowed.
The hand clenched.
“Excellent.” Safrag released it. The hand did not drop to the ground, but rather it floated as if weighing nothing. It opened and clenched again, repeating the dread sight over and over until the Titan waved his palm over it.