quest.
What they discovered first was the dead body of Lorman, sprawled face down in the corridor, killed by a single sword-thrust from behind. Forty or fifty feet nearer the entrance they discovered Ash, his throat cut. Grover likewise had been murdered where he had stood between Ash and the doorway. Of Blonk and Jokotai there was no sign.
'There!' called Incosee, as they emerged from the ruin and swept the surrounding area with their gaze. 'In the bush… to the right… see the foot?' No question, a booted foot protruded from a small clump of brush down the sloping hillside.
Hurrying there, they discovered the motionless, mutilated body of the Chakyik nomad. There were wounds on both his back and front, and nearby were signs of a melee. Jokotai apparently had been attacked from behind, survived the initial assault, and fought with his assailant for several minutes before being slain.
'He was a tough one, Jokotai,' observed Gord. 'The one who slew him had already half-killed him with a stroke in the back.'
'Only Blonk remains unaccounted for — and I think we all know why,' said Deirdre, pale-faced but with iron in her voice.
The bard and the druid conferred for a moment, then began a rapid search of the surrounding area. Soon Gellor came up with a tattered roll of parchment, and showed it to Curley Greenleaf and the others in turn.
'Here is what I surmise happened,' Gellor said. 'Jokotai was tricked into coming outside, and then he was attacked by the vile chameleon, Blonk, who had used this scroll to cast a spell of silence upon himself. The blow wasn't sufficient to kill so doughty a barbarian as the Chakyik, but he was sorely wounded before he had a chance to fight. Still, he got in his strokes — see the stains upon his tulwar? Blonk, still dweomered to be able to move with no sound, then picked off the three unsuspecting sentinels. What was his purpose for all this? Now my reasoning becomes nearly pure conjecture, but see if this does not follow,' Gellor said.
'If we had discovered the next piece of the tripartite artifact, Blonk planned to somehow wrest it from us. The means had to be magical, not based on strength and weapon play, for one against eight is impossible odds, especially given our arts and skills. Blonk's masters, certainly the Scarlet Brotherhood, must have supplied him with the wherewithal — a scroll containing a time-cessation spell, perhaps, to be followed up with some means of sealing us into the treasure chamber, permanently or at least long enough for that foul bastard to make good his escape.
'I suppose that Blonk crept soundlessly after us once he had killed the druids. But involved as we all were with our examination of the place, none noticed him. It is likely, after all, that the swine was cloaked by invisibility as well. Once he was with us, he must have overheard all we discussed, stolen back, and even now rides with all of our steeds to inform his associates of what has happened!'
As the grizzled bard spoke the last words, the rest suddenly thought of the horses. As Gellor had guessed, all of the animals were gone. Neither man nor mount was in sight, so the assassin had a solid head start, and with the party afoot, Blonk was not likely to be caught.
'What now?' asked Gord and Deirdre in near unison.
'What else than that which we were planning anyway,' Greenleaf stated flatly. 'Oscar, now you must employ your arts to determine the direction taken by those who preceded us and gained the object of our quest — though I'll stake my life it wasn't toward the Pomarj… or any other rendezvous with minions of the Scarlet Sign!'
Oscar nodded and withdrew, Deirdre accompanying him, for the dangerous business of casting a divination that involved beings not of this plane. All the others save the druid and Gellor were given sectors to watch, so that while the dweomercrafting was taking place no enemy could approach undetected. Curley Greenleaf and his old friend, likewise schooled in the arts of nature and its associated powers, would seek to become one with the surrounding land, to learn who had passed, who approached, what lurked hidden from normal view. Before an hour had passed, Gellor's low whistle alerted the four sentries to return to the cleared area where the others had been at work.
'We learned, Curley and I,' said Gellor, 'that a group of bipeds were here some days back and went many miles to the northwest. The murderous Blonk and our horses crossed the Jewel to the south of us, reached the other bank safely, and are now some five miles distant, with many, many others there. Even now, this multitude comes toward us, although the river stands between. There is a deep cavern north of here, a place carved by nature, and within it lairs an ancient green dragon of monstrous size and greatest evil. As Greenleaf discovered this, we both sensed it stir and rouse itself. We fear that it has been contacted and urged into action somehow, probably by those who come against us.' Here the one-eyed adventurer paused and looked at Curley. 'Is there more, old friend? Or did I relate it all?'
'You said all truly and exactly — as a bard should!' the druid answered. Then he turned to Oscar, inquiring, 'And you, spell-caster of Hardby?'
'Our quarry speeds northward,' the mage began, 'after leaving the Suss for open lands in Celene. There seems to be some dissension in their midst, for they make first northwest, as if heading for Enstad — incredible as that may seem — then north and northeast for the Kron Hills or Welkwood. They do indeed have the portion of the artifact, though it is heavily protected and hidden. More about them — their master, or their ultimate destination — I could not learn.'
'Well done!' said Curley. 'We know that they have the prize, are not yet at the boundary of Celene, and the general direction of their flight. It is heartening indeed, and all we could expect. Thanks, boon companion and artful mage.'
Oscar, always somewhat shy, simply lowered his gaze a bit and shrugged as the others smiled and congratulated him. Gellor interrupted the scene after a few seconds.
'Save this for another time, comrades,' he said. 'We are in dire jeopardy — a dragon comes, and unknown foes seek our lives! Let us set our minds on the perils of our mission and save the accolades for the time of final success.'
'Correct as usual,' noted Curley Greenleaf. 'Here, stand round me a moment. I must needs touch each of you ' He began an almost inaudible chant, gesturing and occasionally bringing forth some bit of leaf or berry, then bits of wood. About halfway through the incantation, the druid began touching each of his associates in turn, on the forehead, the hand, and the stomach.
Gord had never been so included in dweomercrafting, and he was slightly uneasy, perhaps a bit frightened, but he determined not to allow the others to see this, just as he always carefully masked all of his emotions. Whatever was to come, he knew it was meant to help, not harm, him and the others. It had better be something powerful, Gord thought, for otherwise there might be no future for any of them, not just Jokotai, Ash, Grover, and poor little Lorman.
The half-elven priest of nature had completed his touching and was walking away from them. His chant rose to a shout, and as he uttered the cry, Greenleaf threw his hands wide, sweeping them above his head in a near- magnificent gesture. The area darkened for a split second, then grew terribly bright, just as a resounding clap of thunder nearly broke Gord's eardrums and left him reeling. Blinking and trying to shake the ringing from his ears, the young thief saw something totally unexpected.
The clearing was now occupied by a pair of huge, fiery horses. These tawny, flame-coated steeds, with molten hooves and nostrils that showered burning sparks, were hitched to a large, clumsy-looking chariot likewise fashioned of living fire! With a bound, the druid was upon the vehicle, gesturing and calling to the others.
'Don't stand there gawking, friends! Enemies abound, and this will draw them faster than before. Hurry! Jump aboard, and let us be away with all haste!'
Gellor, Oscar, and even Deirdre complied instantly. The rest, including Gord, hung back. All could feel the heat, see the licking tongues of flame eating the surrounding vegetation, even though it was green and moist. How those on the flaming chariot survived was unknown to them, but surely the fire would consume them if they were so stupid as to climb into that inferno. Then Deirdre stepped down, grabbed Gord by his hand, and led the reluctant thief aboard the vehicle. Widi that, the other three followed — Incosee first, then Moon followed by Patrick. Even before that last worthy's feet were firmly aboard the chariot, Curley Greenleaf shouted words in some strange language. In response, the blazing horses pawed the ground, shot forth blasts of fire, and leaped ahead and upward. In seconds the whole group was borne into the air, the chariot trailing smoke and flames in its wake.
The druid somehow managed to guide the horses without benefit of reins or whip. They pulled the incandescent chariot ever upward and toward the northwest. Gord found he could grasp the red-glowing, flame-
