“I fear, Sire, that I must bear some blame for that,” Barq said, hanging his head in shame. “Some of the thanes … led by myself … well, we were all set to accuse the lady of treachery when you failed to return from Dracoheim. Of course, we realized that she was a true friend to you when she declared for this quest. There was not a man from all the Highlands who would not have gone along with her.”
Strongwind Whalebone slumped back against the wall, his eyes closed. When he spoke to Barq it was not in anger but in a tone of disappointment that Bruni suspected might cut even deeper than rage.
“Mad Randall and I … we gave ourselves willingly on Dracoheim to allow Moreen a chance to succeed in destroying the Golden Orb. Randall perished, and I was taken by the ogres. Even now that I know that the lady lives, I have to judge that day a success. What a blow … to learn that my own capture has led to her undoing! This is too heavy a burden to bear. It were better I died that day than to have drawn her into this ice-walled trap.”
“Sire, don’t say that!” Barq pleaded miserably. “She still lives, and we’ll find a way out of here, you watch. That elf is a brave one, and he has a million tricks, too. There is still the party of brave warriors who came with us, and they’re not done yet!”
“More madness,” said the slave king, with a dejected groan. “I cannot be the cause of so many deaths. I am not that important!”
Bruni looked around at the other prisoners, who were watching with expressions of amazement. The swarthy captive who had first spoken so accusingly of the Highlander spoke up again.
“Is it true, then-you really are Strongwind Whalebone, the king of Guilderglow? When we were captured, I thought that was a ruse to win our trust, but the heir to the Whalebone kings is here, rotting here in an ogre dungeon?”
“It’s true,” Bruni replied testily. “He is as brave and true a man as you will find in all the Icereach.”
The man cried out as though in physical pain. “Forgive me, Majesty. I accused you of the basest form of treachery. I am a fool!”
“You’re a brave man,” Strongwind said kindly, “and a suspicious one, as you were forced to be. Had our positions been reversed, I no doubt would have been wary of you as well.”
“Is there any way out of here? Can we try to fight our way past the guards?” asked Barq One-Tooth hopefully.
Strongwind shook his head. “There are steel doors holding us here and plenty of guards on the outside.”
“It is up to Kerrick and Moreen, then,” Bruni said. When all the men looked at the floor, she added, “There are no better allies to have at a time like this.”
“Pray to Chislev and to Kradok and to all the gods, then,” said Strongwind solemnly. “May our friends be stricken with true inspiration and no shortage of good luck.”
“Aye, and amen,” said Bruni, bowing her head and adding her own hopes to that prayer.
“Sire!” The ogre courier was panting, his face slicked with sweat. He burst into the throne room without so much as a bow or word of permission from the guards at the door. Staggering forward wearily, he threw himself on the floor at Grimwar Bane’s feet.
“What is it? Speak, man!” demanded the ogre monarch.
He loomed over the fellow, stifling the urge to deliver a swift kick to get the man’s tongue going. Stariz made a move to step forward, as if she would deliver the blow herself, but a glare from her husband bade her hold in place a dozen paces away. Her eyes were bright as she stared at the courier, and Grimwar was irked at the thought that she, with her powers, might already have intuited the ogre’s news while he himself lacked even a clue.
With great effort the messenger pushed himself to his hands and knees and drew several deep, rasping breaths. Finally he lifted his head to meet the king’s eyes.
“Your Majesty, the Axe of Gonnas is reclaimed!” he gasped.
“I knew it!” crowed the queen. “Behold the will of Gonnas! His talisman is returned to his rightful house! Where is it?” she demanded, stalking forward to stand over the messenger.
“Karyl Drago himself brings it here, Highness!” explained the panting ogre. “I came from there now, from the Moongarden Road. There he discovered two humans bringing the axe into the city. They are prisoners now, and he captured the axe for you.” The fellow blinked suddenly and looked back at the king. “That is, for you, Your Majesty.”
“Do not forget who your monarch is,” growled Grimwar Bane. He was looking at the courier but speaking to his wife.
“Certainly, my king. It was Karyl Drago who found the humans and took them with the aid of a party of grenadiers. He would let none other than himself hold the axe, which he clutched to himself most carefully. He bade me race ahead with news while he follows with the axe itself.”
“You mention two captives? I heard a report of a small army of intruders coming through the Icewall Gate. Is that all who were taken?”
“Aye, Majesty-just the two, for now. One was a Highlander warrior, the other a large woman, apparently Arktos. A third was spotted, and he attacked in an effort to free the two. I regret to report that he made his escape out of the Moongarden tunnel, losing himself in the warehouses above the harbor.”
“That is regretful,” agreed the king. “Did anyone get a look at this third rogue?”
“Indeed, Sire. One of the guards stabbed at him and ripped his robe away. From Drago’s description-this is hard to believe, I know-it is possible that one of these intruders may be an elf!”
Grimwar Bane’s world suddenly grew dark around him. He staggered over to the great throne, collapsing into the stone seat as though he had suddenly been drained of the strength to stand.
“Did you say … ‘an elf’?” he croaked.
“Er, yes, sire. Drago noted that he had only one full ear, an unusual ear, long and pointed; the other was stunted or scarred. Also, his hair was an unnatural gold color and his eyes large and green.”
“Just one ear?” Nightmares were swirling up from his subconscious, memories of a cursed threat that had been vanquished-certainly destroyed-in the disaster at Dracoheim. “Was there a woman with him, a small creature with dark hair?”
The messenger looked surprised. “Indeed, your Majesty. Drago reported that two of the attackers were women, and one matches the description you just gave me.”
Suddenly the king had to sit down. He was beginning to feel sick to his stomach. He shook off the feeling and looked around him with grim determination.
“Summon the prisoner to me,” he ordered, “the human woman. Also, have the guards bring up the slave king, Strongwind Whalebone. I would speak to both of them and try to learn what is going on.”
The conversations among the prisoners ceased abruptly as a key clanked in the door of the cell, and the metal barrier creaked open. Four heavily armed ogres came in, swords raised threateningly. A fifth, apparently an officer, entered and gestured to Bruni and Strongwind Whalebone.
“We are taking you to the throne room. The king and queen want to have some words with you.” He chuckled wickedly as Strongwind Whalebone pulled at his manacles, struggling in vain against the ogres who hauled upon his chains, pulling him roughly to his feet and dragging him toward the door. “The queen’ll probably want to thank you. Maybe she’ll even give you a reward,” he said mockingly.
“What do you mean?” the Highlander king demanded.
“Well, I think you did her quite a favor, when you killed the Lady Thraid Dimmarkull. Quite a slice that was, right through her throat. She must have bled for an hour!”
Bruni saw Strongwind’s face go pale with shock, then she was turned and roughly pushed out the door, the troop of ogres coming right behind.
Dinekki had spent much time beside the small, dark pool, muttering over incantations, casting her knucklebones, and otherwise seeking some sign via the pathways of Chislev Wilder. Occasionally Mouse saw flashes of light bursting between the stalks of the giant mushrooms or heard rumbles of noise that sounded very much like thunder. The rocks shivered under his feet.