Jean Rabe - Redemption

“Hobgoblins and such that been keepin’ us from goin’ anywhere.” She twisted a bandage around his shoulder, one that looked suspiciously like a baby diaper, and stepped back to admire her handiwork.

“That should do you, Ragh.”

The Solamnic had picked up the baby and was cradling it maternally. A baby boy with flashing dark eyes and wheat-blond hair. On the baby’s leg was an odd-shaped birthmark. Fiona traced it with her finger. It looked vaguely like a scale and was hard to the touch. Her finger caressed the baby’s face. The child’s ears were gently rounded, giving no hint as to his mother’s heritage. As far as Fiona could see there was no resemblance to Varek, only to Dhamon. She wondered if Varek had guessed the truth.

“I have to admit I’m surprised you’re alive,” Riki chattered away to the sivak. “You and Dhamon… and Maldred, too, I heard you say.” She wagged a finger at him. “I figured you would all have been hanged months ago. I didn’t mean to just leave you in that jail, but I had the babe to think about. And me and Varek.”

Ragh recalled with a grunt. Riki had denounced them to some Legion of Steel Knights months ago in a gods-forsaken jail on the Plains of Dust. She’d done it to guarantee the safety of Varek and herself, and she’d done it apparently with no remorse.

“Don’t get me wrong, beastie,” Riki added, as she adjusted the bandages one last time. “I’m glad you didn’t die. You’re not a bad sort for a beastie. But I don’t understand how you and your friends avoided that noose.”

“The tale is a long one and for another time, Rikali,” Ragh said wearily.

“I’ll have quite a few such tales to tell my babe when he gets older,” Riki returned merrily. “Tales about this village, too. Them horrid hobgoblins kept us all from goin’ anywhere for quite a few months, and all because Varek and some of the others were workin’ to help the Legion o’ Steel. Doesn’t pay to act good in this sad world.”

The draconian nodded. She was right. It didn’t pay to act good.

“What about the Solamnics?” Fiona cut in. She didn’t look at Riki, she didn’t raise her eyes from the baby’s. “I understand there are Solamnic sympathizers in this village, too.”

“Pigs, but there are!” Riki continued, slapping Ragh on the back to show that the job was done. “All manner of too-good-to-stomach folks here. I’m surprised I was gettin’ along so well with them all—me and Varek and the babe.” She paused and glanced around the one-room home. “Where’s Dhamon? You don’t know where he is?”

Fiona shook her head. “No, but I will find him. I will track him down, I promise you.”

“Good,” Riki said, not completely understanding. She balled her thin hands and planted them on her hips. “You can tell him Varek and me have left here—we’re not wasting time, waitin’ for hobgoblins to come back. We’re goin’ right today. Going to…” The half-elf turned to her husband. “Where did you say we was goin’, Varek?”

“Evansburgh, I think.” He glanced around nervously. It didn’t look as if they had gotten very far with their packing. “Maybe not today, but we should leave soon, Riki. If… when… word gets to the Knights of Takhisis that their little monsters have been—”

“Slain,” Fiona interjected.

“Slain, yes, they’ll send Knights instead of hobgoblins. Evansburgh’s a larger place. Or maybe we’ll go to Haltigoth and lose ourselves there.” He rubbed his palms on his tunic. “I want my family to be safe.

I’m loyal to the Legion, but this is no time for me to risk my life. I’ll not make the same mistake and put Riki and our child in danger.”

Riki glided over to Fiona and took the baby. “Tell Dhamon where we’re probably goin’. Mal, too, OK? You’ll tell them? I wouldn’t mind seeing them again.”

Fiona said nothing.

She turned back to Ragh. “You tell them, and tell them I’m real sorry I turned them over to those Legion o’ Steel Knights a few months back. Did what I had to do, you understand.” She cooed over the baby and gently blew at his forehead. “You tell them.”

“I will tell them,” Ragh said. It was, perhaps, another lie. Then he was at the door, looking out and grimacing to note a knot of curious villagers waiting outside.

Fiona brushed past him out into the bright sunshine. “Yes, you tell Dhamon, sivak, but you’ll have to speak quickly, for when I find him, he won’t have long to live.”

Riki raised an eyebrow, but Ragh had already raced past her, catching up with Fiona, whose sword was drawn, her knuckles white against the pommel, the blade clean and shining.

His senses reeled. The smell of the mountains overwhelmed him—the very stone, the dirt and dust squeezed into the cracks, rotting pine needles from dead trees, the molted feathers of hawks that lined unseen nests. Goats had passed this way not too long ago, he could tell, and at least one wolf that was no doubt tracking them. There was the scent of some kind of carcass inside a crevice.

“A dead rabbit, maybe, hauled up high by an owl,” Dhamon said. He thought he could smell the owl, too, amazed at the intensity of the musky scent. “It’s eating the rabbit.” Dhamon now could hear the owl and the scratching of its claws as it ripped the meat, the tugging sound of its beak as the flesh was pulled away.

He heard the breeze stir the pine needles, those clinging to stubborn little trees wedged in earth-filled cracks, and those that had fallen and were whirling across the rock face. He heard faint taps and after a moment realized they must be the hooves of the goats striking the rocks. How far away were they? He suspected they were a good distance. Just how far can I hear? A bird cried, a jay from the distinctive sound, and there was a sharp intake of breath that was louder than anything. This was accompanied by the repugnant odor of sweat and oil.

“Maldred. I wondered how long it would take you to catch up with me.”

The ogre-mage’s breath was irregular and deep. Maldred didn’t say anything right away. He bent over, hands clamped on his knees, face a darker blue than normal from the exertion. Finally he stood and looked up to meet Dhamon’s eyes.

With wide eyes the ogre studied Dhamon, then finally looked away, finding something on the mountainside in which to be interested.

“Aye, Mal, the dragon’s magic is still changing me.” Dhamon reached a hand up to the left side of his face. There was no human skin there now, only scales. There was no human skin left anywhere on him.

“I’ve got a fire in my chest that’s raging, and it’s taking too much effort to keep the beast out of my head.” He glanced up at the mountains. “I’ve never been afraid of dying, Mal. No man escapes that fate, so why fear it? But I wanted to see my child first. I wanted to say some things to Riki, apologize to her, and to Fiona too….”

Maldred opened his mouth to say something, and then thought better of it.

Dhamon took off running again. He suspected there was an entrance to the dragon’s lair nearby. He could feel the truth of that instinct as he increased his speed and as Maldred’s scent fell behind.

The cave mouth was small as far as dragons were concerned, but effectively cloaked. It was difficult to spot at first. He doubted that it was easily noticed by those men or creatures traveling north from Throt to Gaardlund or Nightlund. Merchants and mercenaries would pass by, none the wiser. The climb was steep and treacherous—even for someone like himself. Further masking the entrance was an irregular overhang that cast a long shadow across a wide swath of broken, jagged rocks. Deep inside that shadow was the opening.