scab.
“You risked your life to save me,” Thurl returned. “You didn’t have to, but you did.” He took a bite of mushroom and shrugged. “I would have fought the Disir anyway,” Thurl added with his mouth full. “You were in trouble, so I helped. I am still in your debt.”
Bradok wanted to argue, but he just didn’t have the energy. Corin had told him that assassins like Thurl had to be attached to a wealthy house or government body to ensure their skills were used wisely. While Bradok had no use for an assassin, he wondered if maybe having Thurl around close to him wasn’t such a bad idea. At least that way, Bradok could keep an eye on the Daergar.
He finished chewing his mushroom and slumped back on the stone floor of the passage. He wanted to ask about the others, about the dead, the wounded, about Rose, but before he could even form those desires into coherent thoughts, sleep overcame him.
Weeks earlier, Bradok had finally gotten used to sleeping on the hard ground. He could bear it with ease. Unfortunately, his wounds made it nearly impossible for him to be comfortable. He slept fitfully, wanting to toss and turn and regretting the impulse when searing pain accompanied any attempt to roll off his back. Worse, his dreams kept his mind busy with terrifying images of black, chitinous heads with glowing blue bands shining through their eyeless faces. The killer insects seemed to burst out of the darkness, to fall upon the dwarves in their sleep, yet every time Bradok started awake, fully expecting to see the living nightmares swarming over him, it was only a dream.
When Much announced that the time had come to get moving again, Bradok felt as if he had barely slept at all. Rose helped him to his feet, and they started walking again.
“Nobody died last night,” she said after a mile or so. “Everyone seems to be on the mend. That’s good news at least.”
Bradok had been dreading that report, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “I never asked,” Bradok said, thinking out loud. “How many of us are left?”
“Twenty-four,” Rose said.
Bradok’s heart sank. They’d started with fifty or so, and they’d lost more than half. His face fell.
“None of it’s your fault,” Rose said softly with a sweet look.
A sickly smell suddenly washed over Bradok, strong and pungent. Rose noticed the smell too.
“The Rhizomorphs,” she said, her nose wrinkling up.
“Go spread the word,” Bradok told her. “Send every available fighting man to the rear, and tell the others to double their pace.”
He took out the compass and pressed it into her hands. “Take this just in case,” he said.
“In case of what?” Rose demanded. “You’re too sick to fight. You have to go to the front with the other sick and wounded.”
“Go,” Bradok said in a voice that made it plain there was to be no argument or debate.
Rose gave him a dark stare but turned and went.
Bradok reached for his sword then wished he hadn’t. The mere motion of reaching across his body ripped at the wound in his side. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the hilt with the tips of his fingers and gingerly slid his blade free of the scabbard.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Kellik asked, coming up quickly from the rear guard.
“Don’t turn down any help cheerfully offered,” Chisul’s friend Vulnar said. Maybe Bradok imagined it, but he thought he saw Vulnar wink; whether the wink was intended for him or Kellik, he wasn’t sure.
“What’s the situation?” Bradok asked determinedly.
“The situation is you are in no shape to fight,” Corin said, materializing close by.
“They definitely know we’re here,” Kellik added. “But I think we’re still pretty far ahead of the main group.”
“Then where is this stench coming from?” Thurl said, tying a handkerchief around his face. “It feels awful close.”
A wet, squishing noise answered. Down the path where they had come, a dozen forms shambled into the light. They moved faster than Bradok remembered, pressing up the path toward their quarry.
“I was afraid of that,” Corin said, gesturing. “They sent some of the less affected ones ahead to try to slow us down.”
Bradok raised his sword, a bit more slowly than he would have liked. Thurl and Much stepped in front of him with their swords.
“You take any that get through,” Much said.
“Aim for their legs,” Chisul said.
The Rhizomorphs shambled closer, heedless of the wall of dwarf flesh and steel that blocked their path. They slammed into the defenders without even slowing down, attempting to bowl them over.
One tall dwarf with mushrooms growing where his eyebrows should have been leered at Bradok over Much’s head. His skin was pale and gelatinous with glowing fungi sprouting out at odd angles. He opened his mouth, as if about to yell. Instead an enormous red tongue lashed out, striking Bradok on his arm over the heads of the others. The blow didn’t strike hard, but where it touched his skin, it burned. With a cry of surprise and disgust, Bradok chopped the tongue in half and shook it from his arm. It landed on the tunnel floor, still twisting and thrashing.
Much ran the tall Rhizomorph through, but it had no apparent effect on the creature. The Rhizomorph slashed Much across the chest, knocking him backward. The monstrosity attempted to step over him, then, and go after Bradok. As it moved, however, Thurl chopped one of its legs off at mid thigh. With a cry of anger, it toppled sideways. Turning to Thurl, the thing bit his left arm and hung on. Thurl reversed his stroke and decapitated the Rhizomorph, sending its head rolling back down the tunnel.
Kellik was busy meanwhile. Never one to be subtle, he raised his warhammer and brought it down on the head of the nearest Rhizomorph. The thing’s head exploded like an overripe melon, sending bits of gray goo flying in all directions.
Chisul and Vulnar had cut two of them down and were trying to prevent the ones in the rear from rushing them all at once. Just as it seemed they would be overwhelmed, Perin and Tal arrived, rushing into the creatures with flailing swords.
Bradok watched as his friends began to push the Rhizomorphs back, slowly but surely. Bits of gray flesh spattered the walls and ceiling as the dwarves hacked the mushroom men to pieces.
A flicker of movement down the tunnel beyond the fight caught Bradok’s eye, and he looked up in time to see three more Rhizomorphs advancing on them. Two of the creatures carried a third between them. The one in the middle seemed to be having some kind of fit, thrashing and convulsing. As Bradok watched, it began to swell and grow.
“They’re trying to release a spore cloud,” he yelled.
Bradok recalled how quickly and how far the previous spore cloud had spread. They were already within the radius of the impending explosion.
“Run for it,” Corin shouted, grabbing the fallen Vulnar and yanking him to his feet.
As everyone turned and fled, Thurl swept his hand out from beneath his cloak in a long, fluid movement.
“Everyone, hold your breath!” he shouted as he loosed his dagger, which sped from his hand.
It struck the writhing Rhizomorph right in the gut, and the hapless creature erupted.
CHAPTER 22
A golden cloud of spores rushed up the tunnel and surrounded the fleeing dwarves. Bradok could feel the spores burning his arm where the Rhizomorph’s tongue had touched him. His eyes teared up, making it hard for him to see as he ran, holding his breath.
