Richard Knaak - The Fire Rose

The frantic gargoyle began clawing and scratching at his hand as never before. Tyranos, already weary, could not fend off every scratch.

His grip faltered.

He slipped and plunged.

The ground was not so far away as he had feared, but far enough that when he struck it, every bone in his body seemed to vibrate. Pain coursed through every nerve. None of his limbs would obey his commands, and Tyranos did not know which direction was up. He bounced once and rolled helplessly for several yards before colliding with a rocky outcropping.

He was fair game for even a savage rodent at that point, and Tyranos prepared himself to be the dragon’s meal. Yet several tense moments passed, and only silence filled the vicinity.

At last, the wizard heard movement behind him. For a dragon, the newcomer was soft of foot. Tyranos struggled to rise, or at least push himself onto his back so that he could face his death as his people preferred, but his body continued to betray him. He waited, steeling himself for the first awful bite.

“Not the one for whom I’m waiting,” murmured a cultured voice. “But at least it is one I’ve been expecting.”

A pair of strong hands carefully turned the injured wizard over. Through bleary eyes, Tyranos beheld a shadowed, very human face half-hidden by a dense, dark beard.

“Healing is the special skill of those of Mishakal,” the man went on, reaching for something dangling over his chest. His armored chest. “But my patron might help nonetheless.”

The thing that dangled over the breastplate suddenly glinted with light despite there being no earthly source for it. The wizard beheld what he recognized as a variation of a familiar symbol.

“I know you! You are”-his usually booming voice came out as a croak-“a cleric of Emperor… of Kiri-Jolith!”

“My name is Stefan,” the other replied, nodding. “And I know you too, outcast.”

Golgren had no doubt as to the reason for the elf’s sudden appearance far from Garantha, and that reason was Tyranos.

Idaria’s expression radiated momentary surprise, followed by a return of the calm expression she generally wore. Golgren was certain she had not intended the magical journey. It smelled of the sort of trick of which the wizard was fond. Golgren had purposely left Idaria behind, there being no place for her where he was going. A slave would only get in the way and impede him, at least that had been what he had told Khleeg.

Idaria stared at the signet, seeming to be almost mesmerized by its light. Golgren passed his hand over the artifact, and the light vanished. Aware that she could see better in the dark than he could, he pointed to where he knew an oil lamp was hanging by the door. Idaria went over to the lamp wordlessly and lit it with some tools nearby.

The elf approached him. “Grand Khan,” she murmured, falling to her knees. “Forgive me. I am not-”

“Responsible. Yes. Tyranos is. We both know that, my Idaria.”

“Tyranos.” The elf repeated the name with torn emotions that matched those Golgren experienced each time the wizard intruded in his life. Not all were good; not all were bad.

One could never trust the leonine spellcaster’s motives.

“I will return to Garantha,” the slave offered. “The Grand Khan ordered me to remain there, and I will oblige-”

“No. You are in Ben-ihm. You will remain with me.”

“My lord?”

He grinned without humor. “The wizard, he likes to play games. But his games are never for play.”

She nodded at his wisdom. “As you command.”

Reaching down, the Grand Khan cupped her chin in his hand and slowly raised her to a standing position. “My Idaria, do you believe me when I say your people will still be free?”

There was no hesitation. “Yes.”

Golgren cocked his head. “That is one reason Tyranos sends you to me.” He considered for a moment longer, before saying, “The discussion is ended. It is time to sleep. Tomorrow, we ride with the hand of Barech to the vale.”

“Yes, my lord.” Idaria started to turn back to the lamp with the intention of dousing it.

“No. Leave it lit.”

“My lord?”

His gaze shifted to the shadowed corners. “Leave it.”

Khleeg gaped at the sight of Idaria, but held his questions. His Grand Khan would tell him whatever he needed to be told.

However, there was another whom Golgren needed to tell of the elf’s presence. Ignoring Khleeg and Idaria, he pulled forth the stone.

“Wargroch,” he called, staring into the crystal. “Wargroch, your Grand Khan summons you.”

There was a hesitation, and the muddiness transformed into a tiny vision of the younger officer’s toadlike countenance. Wargroch wore a startled look, as that was the first time he had experienced the stone in action. The one contacted first heard the voice of the summoner in their head. At the same time, the stone in their possession grew noticeably warm. Khleeg and Wargroch had been ordered to keep the crystals on their persons day and night, just as their ruler did.

“My lord,” the tiny face finally blurted. “The slave, Idaria … She is gone!”

“Idaria is with her master.”

Wargroch again started. “Great lord, she is … She is-”

“I have sent for her. She has come.” Unseen by Wargroch, Khleeg grinned at his counterpart’s astonishment. The Grand Khan’s second in command was no less surprised of course, as Golgren had told him only that Idaria had been brought by means familiar to the ogre leader. But that was all the explanation the loyal Khleeg needed.

“The Grand Khan is wise in all things,” Wargroch finally responded.

“Garantha is secure?” Golgren asked, changing the subject.

“Wargroch stands against any enemies of his Grand Khan!” the officer declared. “My life is yours-”

“Yes, Wargroch is very loyal. We ride from Ben-ihm with the coming of the Burning.” The Burning was an ogre phrase which meant the daytime. “We will speak when night falls.”

As Wargroch nodded, Golgren cut off any further conversation by simply putting the crystal away. To the other officer, he said, “Tell Barech. One hour, his hand marches.”

“My lord.”

Barech did not fail Golgren. His column was standing ready an hour later as the Grand Khan and Idaria mounted. Idaria’s horse was a gift to the ogre ruler from the local leader. That it was to carry a slave didn’t matter, not when that slave was clearly a favorite of the Grand Khan, and somewhat of a miraculous sight herself, no one having witnessed her arrival.

Khleeg, his misgivings evident in his expression, saluted his lord. “It is not right. I should ride with.”

“Khleeg must defend Golthuu. That is what is right.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The horn sounded. Barech signaled his warriors forward. As they marched, their comrades in Khleeg’s hand barked their support for the other column’s mission. Barech’s warriors returned the cheers and salutes, aware that Khleeg’s force would be heading to meet a hated foe. Humans were spindly creatures to look at, but their fighters were often skilled adversaries.

Golgren and Idaria rode close to Barech. With the reins bound around his maimed limb, the Grand Khan waved imperiously to his warriors and other followers. Even among the denizens of Ben-ihm, the ogres appeared different since Golgren had taken over. Yes, Golgren thought, looking around at the crowd cheering, ogres had always been muscular giants, but now they were muscular giants who were well fed and better dressed. The Uruv Suurt would learn to fear a healthy, mighty ogre race.

As they headed out of the settlement, the rounded buildings gave way to the pens where amaloks and goats were kept. It had taken some effort for Golgren to convince his warriors that herding animals was not children’s work. The sturdy state of the pens and the healthy appearance of its occupants showed that even outside Garantha, Golgren’s dictates had taken hold.