Richard Knaak - The Fire Rose

The mummified hand came free. It was the same hand he had lost to the current emperor of the Uruv Suurt, when the latter had been an escaped slave. All knew that Golgren wore his own mummified hand to remind himself of his one failure; and the simple fact that he carried it put superstitious ideas into the heads of many of his rivals-just as the Grand Khan intended.

But there was more to the macabre prize. Golgren caught sight of the faint, fading glow. He twisted the yellowed appendage around to better view that which was worn on one of its sharply curled fingers.

It was a signet, a ring of magic created by the High Ogres. The circular signet bore at its center a rune that resembled a double-bladed sword turned upside down. Over the odd weapon arced a half circle, while below the sword had been set a symbol that resembled a wavy line. The last might have represented water, but Golgren suspected it symbolized the opposite: fire .

He had been given the signet by Idaria just as he had launched the assault against the army of undead, but she had admitted that it had been given to her by Tyranos. The wizard had never said where he had gotten the valuable signet from, but he had been eager to take it back after the struggle.

But Golgren had refused to part with the treasure that had helped him survive the f’hanos , as well as Dauroth. Tyranos did not try to force the ogre leader to give it to him, and thereafter, the Titans had avoided trying to strike at Golgren again.

But it was possible that returning the ring might have been the better choice. It was not the first such dream Golgren had experienced, although it was the first that was so vivid.

More to the point, Golgren had only begun to see the golden figure after possessing the ring. First among the ruins of Dauroth’s mad quake, and afterward within Garantha.

Golgren had lived through the dark magic that had surrounded the Lady Nephera, his shadowy ally among the Uruv Suurt after the fall of Chot the Terrible. Emperor Hotak’s mate had been the high priestess of a cult that had spread across the empire. Golgren had shed no tears when death finally claimed her.

It was with some effort that he removed the signet from the finger. His lost hand seemed to cling to the artifact as though it were alive. Golgren returned the mummified appendage to its hiding place and considered just what he might need to do with the signet. The temptation to hurl it away grew strong, and he rose with the intention of doing just that-

But as he clutched the artifact tightly, there suddenly appeared before him a vision.

Eight tall and glorious figures clad in rich, blue and green robes stood with their hands raised high. Their golden skin and perfect faces identified them as High Ogres. They seemed to be situated in a place that was both built of stone and carved from rock. High, fluted columns rose behind each figure. The eight were evenly divided between male and female, with the sexes alternating positions. They were also obviously spellcasters, spellcasters who appeared to be busy summoning something.

And what they were summoning materialized in their midst. Curious despite himself, Golgren leaned closer to see what it was-

But the figures in the vision suddenly turned as one to their left. Their faces grew horrified at whatever they spied there.

A black shadow crossed over them-and the vision ended.

Golgren eyed the signet, but he was no longer tempted to toss it away. Something about the signet had warned him that he had better continue to hold onto it, at least for the moment.

Movement in the darkest corner of the room caught his eye. Although for the moment he wasn’t certain whether it might just be another dream or vision, the half-breed was taking no chances. He reached for his sword while at the same time instinctively stretching forth the hand that held the signet.

And from the object in his hand emerged a crimson glow that filled the room with just enough illumination to reveal what awaited him in the corner. A slight widening of his almond-shaped eyes was the only sign of Golgren’s reaction to what he had just done. But that was his same reaction to the one who stood there.

Idaria .

Tyranos materialized in the vale in the dark of night, the glow of his staff muted. He would have chosen another time to enter the region, but matters were getting more and more out of hand-his hand, at least. Some of that-much of that, he corrected himself-could be laid at the feet of the Titans, whose new leader had taken an avid interest in the item the wizards most coveted.

The Fire Rose.

Too late, the lion-maned spellcaster had discovered that the signet would have been a perfect method by which to track the location of the artifact. It had only been after he had passed it on to Golgren-in most part to frustrate and confuse the Titans-that Tyranos had managed to find a translation for the symbols on the signet.

And only at that point had he realized that he had utterly outwitted himself.

But there were clues enough arising of late that had made him determined to come to that place. The Vale of Vipers was a forlorn place, a valley without green or any redeeming quality. All tales of it that Tyranos had heard spoke only of it as somewhere that creatures of all races tended to avoid, although nowhere could he find a pressing reason other than a lack of natural resources. Yet, minotaurs, humans, dwarves, and even ogres mined in far more desolate places, and the wizard was of the opinion that a knowledgeable prospector would find something of value.

The name alone likely kept some away. Vale of Vipers was a properly ominous title for the place. But Tyranos feared no serpent, and certainly that alone should not have been enough to keep some ordinary souls from journeying there.

The lack of other intruders worked for him and, indeed, encouraged the wizard in some ways. He was of the opinion that what kept the vale so desolate had to do with the High Ogres and the Fire Rose. Tyranos was annoyed with himself, for he ought to have considered that fact much, much sooner. He would not have needed Golgren, not needed anyone .

The burly spellcaster mulled over that last thought as he slowly wended his way along the darkened valley. When he had first sought the Fire Rose-the key to erasing the foul mistake he had made back home-the Titans had more or less commanded both Kern and Blode with impunity. As stealthy as Tyranos could be for one of his size, constantly dodging the fifteen-feet-tall sorcerers had been a very tricky situation.

And Golgren had come-the bane of their existence. He had stepped into the role of Grand Lord just after Tyranos had initially discovered the legend. The wizard had thought nothing of the half-breed, certain that sooner or later Golgren would overstep his bounds and be either executed by his master or turned into a puddle of something grotesque by the powerful Titan leader.

And, not for the first time of late, Tyranos had realized how wrong he could be. Somewhere along the way, Golgren had made a very decisive pact with the powers that had swept over the empire. He had developed a special relationship with Nephera, the high priestess and empress of the minotaurs. She had given him power over Dauroth, enough power to keep all the Titans at bay, at least for the time being. And the wizard had accidentally granted Golgren the means to continue to keep the sorcerers from destroying him. Good luck seemed to smile on Golgren-

Tyranos frowned. If it was luck and not something more.

The wizard shook away such disturbing thoughts. Concentrating on the hunt, he pointed his staff ahead. The crystal flared slightly, a sign of arcane energies swirling somewhere deeper in the vale. With a grin, the hooded figure pushed on. Perhaps, just perhaps, he would not need to concern himself about Golgren for very much longer.