Downfall

They came upon two spawn who were unaware of what was transpiring above. The sounds of picks against the rock was loud enough to drown out the battle overhead. Dhamon killed one before it could react, slamming his eyes shut when the cloud of acid came. Then he bowled into the second, ramming the sword into its chest. It clawed him deeply as it went down, then melted into acid and a stringent cloud.

"So the spawns' dragon-acid ca

Rig didn't pause to see how Dhamon was faring. "I don't want to be here," he hissed, admitting to himself, however, that freeing these people was far from a bad idea. He bolted down the tu

"If I had nay glaive, I'd be cutting through this metal like it was parchment."

Hands touched him in thanks. "Shrentak," he mumbled as he picked up other chains and tugged them apart and told those freed to head for the surface. "I should be doing this in Shrentak."

After they freed more than a dozen slaves, Dhamon and Rig worked their way down another corridor, crouching and readying their weapons when they spotted the dull yellow gleam of spawn eyes.

In the main tu

She didn't seem to hear him. Instead, she headed toward a hissing sound coming from a shadowed alcove. A draconian stepped into the torchlight, and from a few yards away it cautiously regarded her.

The creature was a bozak, birthed from a corrupted bronze dragon egg a long time ago when Takhisis walked the face of Kry

The bozak was not much taller than Fiona, and was not as muscular as Maldred. But he looked powerful. Battle-tested and old. He wore a gold collar about his neck. It was studded with bronze spikes, and at irregular intervals chunks of onyx, sapphires, and garnets were scattered. It was a singular piece of jewelry, and some part of Fiona's mind recognized it. Recognized that and the deep crisscrossing scars across its chest.

It was the draconian who had appeared before Fiona and the Solamnic Council, the one that was supposed to be in Takar, and the one that had information about her brother. But only a small part of Fiona's mind registered this ironic fact.

The creature opened his mouth as if to speak, but Fiona cut it off.

"Foul beast!" she hollered as she raised her sword high above her head.

Momentarily puzzled, the bozak took a step back and began gesturing with his hands, instantly forming a shimmering gray web in the corridor to keep her and Maldred away from it.

"Foolsss," it spat. "Ssshining Knight, you'll not take thessse minesss. The missstresss holdsss them. As she holds others, and you might…"

Fiona stabbed her sword into the web and fought her way through the sticky mass. Then she pressed her attack, even while it was in the midst of another spell. She sliced into the creature's belly, not letting it finish its vile speech. Deep under Maldred's enchantment, she was oblivious that this was the creature she had pla

She drew her sword back again and struck out at its neck. The head lopped forward as the thing dissolved into bones, leaving the gold collar behind. Maldred tugged her back just in time-for the bones burst apart, sending deadly shards through the air while bouncing off her armor.

Then she and Maldred were rushing down the tu

It took nearly two hours for both silver mines to be cleansed of spawn and abominations, and of two enormous constrictor snakes that had been used to keep the slaves in line. Maldred and Fiona searched niches and cutbacks, she calling out in the common tongue and he in ogrish to find more slaves. The mines were immense, and it could have taken more than a day to fully explore them. Maldred wasn't willing to devote that much time, as he wanted to get the freed ogres back to Bloten before any more spawn or other swamp denizens came by. He told Fiona that perhaps Do

"After you, Lady Knight." Maldred bowed and extended a hand, and Fiona grabbed the rope and pulled herself up.

He followed. "She has served her purpose," he mused aloud. "A most fine sword arm."

Dhamon and Rig were already in the clearing above, marshaling the freed slaves into some semblance of order and placing those who could barely walk under the care of the ogre mercenaries. Three mercenaries had died to the spawn and abominations, including the white-ski

The mariner had a new concern. He didn't want to return to Bloten, and he didn't want the freed humans and dwarves going there either. He knew how badly nonogres had it in that city. His stomach knotted. Taking them farther away would mean that much more time lost from his plan of slipping into the Black's lair and freeing whoever was still alive in her dungeons. "Shrentak," he said. The word sounded like a curse.

"Shrentak? And what would you want with that most wondrous and hallowed place?" The voice was lilting and silenced the murmurs of the freed slaves and mercenaries.

Rig cocked his head and looked around for the speaker. All he could see were the wart-riddled bodies of the mercenaries and the beaten and frail forms of those they'd rescued. Fiona was just emerging from the larger mine. It wasn't her voice. Maldred crawled out behind her.

"Lose your tongue, o' man the color of night?" the voice persisted.

Dhamon was looking for the speaker, too, the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. He clutched his sword and motioned for Do

"Dhamon!" Maldred shouted. The big thief was gesturing at the canopy.

Dhamon glanced up, and his eyes widened in surprise. The leaves of the cypresses were falling, as if the tree were dying in a moment's time. But the leaves didn't flutter to the ground, they began hovering. A heartbeat later they were rising and swooping-heading straight toward Dhamon and Rig.

"What in the blessed memory of Habbakuk…" Rig began. He drew his sword to meet this new threat, which Dhamon was already attempting to engage.