offer you our swords, and our blood.”
“Aye. Lemish long way. You a bold ogre.”
“In truth, lord, Lemish is a poor country now. We were driven there in ages past by the armies of the knights. For years we have waited for a chance at vengeance. We ask only a fair position in your army, lord Ankhar. For that, we will gladly give you our trust, our lives.”
“Est Sudanus oth Nikkas,” the half giant said. “My power is my Truth.”
“I pledge my tribe to the Truth that is Ankhar,” the ogre said, bowing his head.
“You serve me? Only me?” asked the half-giant.
“To the death, lord!”
“Very good,” said the war chief, pleased by the surprise reinforcements. “Make camp with ours. Welcome. Bloodgutter valued sub-captain. Rest and eat. We attack humans soon.”
The duke gazed at the Cleft Spires, which rose higher than the loftiest castle tower and broader even than the great gatehouses that stood astride the three highways leading from the city.
Solanthus was a plains city, though it stood in the shadow of the mountains. Now the plains were lost, taken by the horde-the army-of Ankhar. Who knew how long the city itself would last?
The duke felt a stranglehold of fear, like a fist clamped on his throat. He had to get away from here-he had to flee!
“What is it?” The Duchess of Solanthus, her face pale, confronted her husband as he paced back and forth in his private offices. She was a beautiful woman, much younger than her husband, but now her face was drawn, almost haggard with worry. Duke Rathskell’s obvious fear only made her more terrified.
The Duke of Solanthus was wringing his hands, as he had been doing throughout the night. Couriers had been bringing him a steady stream of reports, and he knew that his city was nearly surrounded. The last news-that a great brigade of ogres had joined the foe-had driven him to an uncharacteristic burst of profanity. That outburst, emerging from beyond the closed door of his chamber, had brought his wife running in concern. He glared at her, then back at the message. Abruptly the duke crumpled the sheet and cast it aside with a furious gesture.
“I must get the Stones of Garnet away from here!” he declared. “The Lord Regent commands it-he needs them to bolster the knighthood across Solamnia!”
“But… Rathsky? You always said those stones were yours, to be used as you see fit! Not for Bakkard du Chagne or the other dukes. Isn’t that right?” she asked, as sweetly as she dared.
“I see fit now to take them away from here!” he snapped.
“But the goblins!” gasped the duchess, waving in the general direction of the city walls. “They have ogres and draconians with them too! There must be ten thousand of them out there! They could attack at any moment! Should we really be worrying about the stones”
“No… I mean yes, my dear,” said the rail-thin duke, as he glowered at the walls, the floor, at everything in sight, including his wife. Still, he forced himself to speak calmly. “I must save the stones, and of course that means I must leave the city with them.”
“What are you going to do?” the woman asked breathlessly.
“Well, I have no choice,” snapped Rathskell, decisively. “I will place the most portable of my treasury-the gems and jewelry-into strongboxes and have them loaded onto a wagon and personally drive that wagon up the mountain road. I will head for Caergoth. That way, at least I will be able to exert my influence on Duke Crawford-he will bring his troops to the city’s aid!”
“How will you-I mean, we-get out? The road to Thelgaard and Caergoth is blocked by that terrible army of savages!”
“I told you-the mountain road, my dear. And not we-just me. It is rough, but with a good team and driver, I should be able to get up into the foothills before the wretches know what I am about. With luck, I can reach Caergoth in three days and be back with a relief force within a week in plenty of time to rescue you.”
“But-what about the city? Your castle?” The duchess sniffled. “What about me?”
“Captain Rankin will be in charge. As long as he keeps the gates closed and the walls manned, you will be safe here. I can’t ask you to take the risks of the road, my dear. If we can keep those wretches focused on Solanthus, it may be that Caergoth will be able to fall upon them from behind. Yes, that is my plan, and if I so say so myself, a brilliant plan, with bright hopes for success!”
“Do you really think so?”
The duke fixed his wife with a withering glare.
CHAPTER TWENTY — SEVEN
H orribly seared by the black dragon’s acid, Carbo writhed in pain as Jaymes bore him along, the bluff above the broad Vingaard. They made camp at the first shelter they reached in a grass-lined ravine, and Dram gave his small flask of dwarf spirits to their injured companion. The strong drink seemed to alleviate the little fellow’s pain, but it couldn’t do anything to heal his grievous wounds. The acid had burned his flesh away and blinded him. They stretched him on a blanket on the ground. He held his brother’s and sister’s hands, as, gradually, his labored breathing grew quieter, more relaxed.
Carbo died shortly after sunset, and the companions laid him to rest in a small grave, watered by the tears of his sister and his long-lost brother. Jaymes and Dram, having dug the grave, stood uncomfortably by as the bereaved pair sobbed out their farewells.
“You should never have come for me,” cried Salty Pete, his narrow shoulders quivering. “This wouldn’t have happened-he’d still be with us!”
“No,” Sulfie said, sniffling, wiping her large nose with a handkerchief. “He wanted to come and find you. He was so brave.”
Jaymes cleared his throat, touched his chin, his heart. “I think he’s proud that he helped to get you out. He was a hero.”
“But he’s dead! Sheedra killed him, called him a ‘nasty’! I hate her!” Pete proclaimed.
“Well, she’s dead too. Jaymes and his sword took care of her,” Dram said.
“I’m sorry it was too late for your brother,” the swordsman said.
Jaymes turned and stalked to the edge of the ravine. He looked at the murky waters of the Upper Vingaard, his fists clenched into white-knuckled knots in the gathering darkness.
“Jaymes-wake up.”
The warrior was awake in an instant, sitting up, reaching for his sword, until he recognized the white-robed enchantress who had suddenly appeared, as she so often did, without warning.
“What is it?” he asked, throwing off his blanket and rising to his feet. “You have news?”
He and his three companions were camped on the open plains, several days march south of the Brackens and the grave where they had buried Carbo. Sulfie, Pete, and the dwarf still slept. Nearby, two casks stood with their gear, containing the rest of the explosive compound they had been able to ferret away from Sheedra’s lair.
“The Duke of Solanthus is moving the contents of his vault to Caergoth or Palanthas. He will take it on the road himself. If our suspicions are correct-if he is the one who ordered the murder of Lord Lorimar-the green diamonds will be among that treasure.”
“Do you really think it was him?”
Coryn shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know what to think. Remember what you told me: The house was attacked by six knights, none wearing the sign of an order.”
“But they were Solamnics, I’m sure of that,” the warrior asserted. “One of them was standing over Dara’s body and muttering, reciting that foul pledge- Est Sularus oth Mithas.”
“And she was already dead?”
“Yes, I told you. I was in another part of the house, I heard the commotion and came running. Dara had been stabbed through the heart. The lord was bleeding, his leg nearly sliced off.”
“And the attackers?”
