nearest one. The grimlock still snarled, caught in its death throes. The Dalesman seized its throat and pushed the dying thing away as it sank to the floor. Its claws beat at him limply. Liet gasped and shuddered when it was dead.
The warlock snarled and threw out another blast, burning a fleeing grimlock. He scanned the room, searching for other breathing targets, but only two stood: the hulking Gargan, and the blood-spattered Liet. Noxious green smoke obscured half the room, but it was beginning to fade. As the cloud dissipated, Liet saw no grimlocks for Davoren to slaughter.
Davoren saw it too. 'By the Nine,' said the warlock. 'What a disappointment.'
'Everyone well?' Liet's head ached where an axe handle had struck it. 'Asson?'
The mage coughed and shimmered into visibility where he sat on the floor. 'This old heart's still beating.'
'Gargan and Davoren, you're both well?'
'In a sense,' said Davoren. 'I believe my hair was mussed.' He cracked his knuckles and smoothed the gray spikes back against his scalp. He didn't look injured. The goliath nodded silently.
Liet didn't see anyone else, so he called their names. 'Taslin?'
No response.
'Slip?'
There came a groan. 'By the Mother,' the halfling's soft voice cracked.
Gargan bent down and prodded at a small body half hidden under a grimlock. He murmured something. The halfling shook her head and sat up. She looked up at the giant man, smiled weakly, and threw her arms around his leg. Gargan blinked at her.
' 'Light?' asked Liet.
No reply.
His voice shook. 'Twilight?'
Tracing a semicircle over the room with his hand, Gargan growled something in his rough tongue, and while Liet did not understand, the meaning seemed clear.
'No bodies,' Asson said, reflecting his thoughts. 'Taken?'
Liet helped him up, and the old man leaned on his shoulder. Liet propped him against a wall and broke away to search the room. He saw nothing.
'Five or six escaped,' Liet said. 'The elves are light.'
'My, my,' said Davoren, 'how unfortunate for them.' He smiled at the halfling, who was still shaking her head. 'Now, child-point us toward this upward tunnel.'
Slip rubbed her brow, where a little blood trickled down. 'What?'
'No.' Asson turned to confront the warlock. Davoren's red eyes went to the mage's face, and he faltered but spoke up. 'We can't just aban-'
'Abandon them?' Davoren proposed. 'What an excellent idea. I think such a course is the optimal one. If Tymora smiles, they will keep the creatures occupied while we make good our escape. Wenches tend to be adept at such things. If they aren't dead already, that is.' He cracked his knuckles. 'Now. Where is the tunnel?'
The wide-eyed halfling pressed her face into Gargan's knee.
Ashen-faced, mouth open, Asson put one hand up as though to cast a spell. Davoren pointed two fingers at him. Red fire danced around his gauntlet. 'Oh yes, whitebeard,' he said. 'Try me now, when your little love-slave isn't here to protect you.' He looked down. 'Or hold you up, even.'
'I-I object,' Liet said before he realized his mouth was open. When the warlock turned smug eyes on him, he stammered. 'W-we have to save them. I think-'
'Truly?' Davoren shrugged. 'Well, you're wrong. Now then.'
'In the absence of our leader, we should put this to a vote,' Asson said, drawing Davoren's gaze. Davoren kept one hand aimed at Asson and moved the other toward Liet. Fire arced between his arms. Liet could feel his body shaking.
As soon as those red eyes left him, Liet felt his tongue freed. 'Aye. A vote.'
With death pointed at Asson and Liet, the warlock burst out laughing. 'A vote? Oh, please. We've gone over this before. We'll do what I say, because I am the strongest. Oh, but do object. By all means. I shan't need the two of you, anyway.'
'No.' Liet's eyes widened as Gargan put his hand on the back of Davoren's neck. How had he moved so stealthily, with such a huge body? 'Vote.'
The warlock glared up at the goliath for several long breaths, but it was unclear what he was thinking. Perhaps he realized the fragility of his position-a twist of Gargan's wrist would snap his neck-or perhaps he was considering whether he could press on without support.
The warlock finally shrugged. 'Very well. I shall indulge your foolishness.' He crossed his arms and Gargan released him. Davoren strode over to lean against the wall across the cavern from Asson. 'This time.'
'Good,' Liet breathed. He wasn't quite up to words. He was glad of the goliath's support, though the emeralds in his gray face remained unreadable.
'I argue that we go back to save Taslin and Twilight,' Asson said. 'They have served us well, and it would be foolish not to rescue them.'
'Of course you would,' snapped Davoren. 'One of the wenches shares your bed, so your judgment is clouded. Thus, your voice holds no sway here.'
Asson's face went bright red. 'But-' The word became coughing.
'If we must vote, at least let our discussion be rational,' said Davoren. 'I do not think you appreciate the dangers inherent, old man, in the proposal that we chase the grimlocks. I rather think you are considering with your-'
In the face of this intimidation, Liet felt angry rather than afraid. 'Despite your lack of respect, Davoren- something I have come to expect from you…' That was Twilight talking, he realized, and it made his heart leap. 'His vote must stand.'
'No. He is highly emotional, incapable of real decisions. Look at his face.'
Asson looked away.
'W-well then,' Liet said. 'His vote counts as an abstention. I vote aye. Even you cannot twist me into conceding an emotional state.'
Davoren sneered. 'Even your obvious affection for our erstwhile mistress, eh?'
Liet fought to keep his face from blushing. He hadn't been thinking anything of the sort, but somehow the words stung. Nevertheless, Liet spoke, his voice a little choppy. 'She has struck me more often than any sane man needs as a deterrent,' he said. Again, that was Twilight. 'That should tell you of her affections.'
Davoren considered, then shrugged. 'Some day, you should ask her about her former lovers-and the fates to which she led them,' he said. Liet shivered, and Davoren looked at the trembling Slip. 'The halfling, then.'
Asson smiled at Liet. 'Perhaps you truly are the age you seem.'
Liet blinked. 'What?'
'I'd thought you but a child in a man's body,' Asson said softly, 'but you do have your moments of wisdom, do you not?'
'Uh.'
Something happened at that moment-something that made Liet blink. The room grew colder, or perhaps hotter. Davoren-dark and frightening of appearance as he was, suddenly darkened, as though a devil had climbed into his skin. Or, more accurately, as though his soul had blackened and became even more intense. His eyes gleamed and his voice flowed like silk.
Liet knew he had invoked some fiendish abilities, but damned if he could recognize a word or gesture of casting. Even Asson looked at Davoren, stunned.
'Child,' the warlock said. 'You want to get out of this dark hole, do you not?'
Slip looked at Liet pointedly, as though awaiting some signal. She shivered, but her eyes were calm. What did she want? Why did she look to him, out of all of them?
Unanswered, she looked back at Davoren. 'Uh… aye.'
'And you do not want to waste precious time, or risk more attacks before you can escape, eh?' His smooth voice seemed infinitely persuasive.
