'Perhaps an advance scout might be an advantage,” he suggested. “Brother Thribble, would you be willing to fulfil this role?'
The tiny demon, clinging to Erik's webbing, nodded. “I, too, prefer action to inaction, friend Shakkar. Yes, I will do the deed.'
'Where is nearest of these ‘check-points', worm?” The Seneschal added just a touch of emphasis with his steely talons.
'Ah!” The solid dream-entity, winced. “T-turn left ahead, and you'll see it-” Shakkar slapped his plate-sized palm over the Revenant's mouth, lest he cry out to his fellows.
Thribble scurried down Erik's body to the ground. “I will return in a few moments, when I have assessed the tactical situation,” he squeaked, with just a trace of self-important pomp. The demon scurried away like a frightened, grey mouse.
Several anxious minutes passed before he returned. “There is but a single Revenant at the station,” he shrilled, “but he is in direct sight of at least two others. There seems to be an unbroken line of communication around the entire inner area. Questor Grimm's prison is in the very centre of this. A stealthy approach appears impossible, and there must be fifty or more of these so-called Revenants. If they attacked in unison, even you, Brother Shakkar, might be at a considerable disadvantage.'
Shakkar thought back to his encounter with just one of these creatures. A single Revenant had managed to bring him to his knees, and he recognised the truth in Thribble's tactful words.
'I could act as a decoy,” Erik suggested. “Maybe, if I made enough noise, I'd distract their attention, so you could sneak in.'
Shakkar pondered the Sergeant's proposal; it seemed plausible, but the soldier might well pay for his boldness with his life. Despite the demon's former contempt for the human species, he found himself unwilling to countenance this.
'Your brave offer does you much credit,” he rumbled, “but I would prefer to examine alternatives before we commit ourselves to any one course of action. Brother Thribble, do you have any suggestions as to how we might proceed?'
'Perhaps I do, friend Shakkar,” Thribble piped. “This entire city appears to be no more than Gruon's dream. If we woke the sleeping entity, the Revenants and most of the buildings might cease to exist.'
At these words, the captive Revenant began to struggle, thrashing in Shakkar's grasp as if possessed. The demon, acting on the purest reflex, drew the man's head to his chest in an attempt to subdue him. The human's strength was phenomenal, and Shakkar squeezed rather more tightly than he intended.
After a crunching, clicking sound, the man's struggles came to an abrupt end, and Shakkar realised he had broken the Revenant's neck. He could not bring himself to grieve as he let the corpse fall to the ground in an untidy heap, its head twisted at an unnatural angle.
'Well, I guess that's one less problem to worry about,” Erik said. Kneeling down, he asked Thribble, “Do you know where this Gruon character is, demon friend?'
'When I first searched the town, Sergeant, I saw the appearance of a strange apparition, some kind of mud golem. A bizarre creature it was, and the Brianstonians began to panic as it moved through them. However, they soon seemed to forget the mud-being; I imagine that such fantastic creations are commonplace in this peculiar place.'
'What of this mud-thing, Thribble?” Shakkar growled, beginning to find his fellow demon's loquacity wearing. “What does this phantasm have to do with Sergeant Erik's question?'
Thribble gave a whistling snort. “Why, Brother Shakkar, I saw it disappear into a large, stone temple with Gruon's name on it. I know where the mausoleum lies from here.'
'Then that is what we shall do,” Shakkar declared. “It is time for this dream to end.'
Erik raised his hand. “Just a moment, friends; do you know what sort of creature this Gruon is?'
'Some sort of dragon, I hear,” the imp said, with a shrug.
'A dragon?” Erik said, raising his eyebrows. “Is there such a creature?'
'There is,” Shakkar said, feeling the inexorable descent onto his heart of the cold hand of uncertainty. “Dragons come from a dimension much akin to mine. Their skin is like stone, and their breath is blue flame. My nest-brother, Akkin, had the misfortune to meet one in single combat. He was scorched to a crisp before he could land a blow on the being.
'It shames me to admit it, but I am almost the runt of my litter. Akkin was twice the demon I am. If he could not defeat a dragon, I would surely stand little chance against one. Perhaps direct assault against an angry dragon is not our best option.'
Erik rose to his full height and stretched. “What else do we have? It doesn't sound like easy duty in paradise, sure, but we're running out of choices here.'
Thribble screamed, “The roof! The domed roof of the prisoners’ compound! The walls seem to be thick stone, but the roof must be made of weaker, lighter material. If you could fly onto that, you might be able to batter your way through.'
'That sounds like a better plan,” Erik said, “unless they have bows or guns.'
'I have seen no evidence of such weapons,” the imp replied.
Shakkar nodded. “That does seem a more harmonious option,” he said. “Let us fly now.'
Thribble scurried onto Erik's shoulders, and the soldier bent his back so that Shakkar might catch hold of his webbing. The titanic demon grunted, launching himself into the sky on whispering wings.
Grimm scanned the domed roof with wondering eyes, assessing the possibilities. He thought back to his confrontation in the Pit at Yoren, and his clumsy, but successful, attempts at flight.
'Putting off the moment, eh, Questor Grimm?'
The mage started at the voice of General Quelgrum, close behind him.
'What do you mean, General?'
Quelgrum shrugged. “Let's face it, Lord Baron; you lost a lot of respect after you had your little breakdown. We're into a damage limitation exercise, now. You've got to try to convince these people that it was just a momentary blip, and that it won't happen again. You really can't put it off any longer. Staring at the ceiling won't help you.'
Grimm did not take his eyes off the dome high above him.
'That wasn't what I was thinking about, General,” he said. “I just thought that ceiling looks pretty thin-relatively thin, anyway. I can fly, after a fashion, and I reckon I might be able to break through. It might take a lot of my energy, but, once outside, I should be able to summon my staff, Redeemer, assuming they haven't put it in some iron vault.'
The old soldier sighed. “And then? The Revenants can flood this place with gas; I've used it myself, on occasion, and I can promise you it works pretty fast. And what if they have put Redeemer in an iron vault?'
'They'd have to get here first, General,” Grimm said. “Up on the dome, with the aid of the strength I've stored in Redeemer-or even without it-I should be able to do something before they arrive. If I fall, Guy can take over.'
'And then?'
Quelgrum sighed. “Look, Lord Baron, I'm pleased you're trying to think of ways out of this hole, but I do think we ought to be aware of the whole situation before we act. By the sound of things, Uncle Gruon can last a time before he needs another dose of blood from us. It might be better to bide our time and wait; at least we know they'll feed us well in the meantime.'
'A woman is going to die tomorrow, General Quelgrum!” Grimm snapped. “Don't you care? And then there'll be another, and another, until we admit defeat and become happy little slaves, measuring out our lives in generous meals designed to enrich our blood for dear Uncle Gruon's delectation! I say we try something-anything-while we still can!'
'If you're determined,” Quelgrum said with a shrug, “then I suppose I can't stop you. But it sounds like a hare-brained plan to me. None of us, except perhaps you and Questor Guy, has any weapons.'
'I've spent a lot of my life thinking, General. The essence of being a Mage Questor is to act! Are you with me
