Thomas Reid - The Gossamer Plain

Vhok grimaced. "I hardly think dwarves, hair afire or no, are interested in helping us," he said. "I'd as soon eat them alive as speak with them, and the feeling is mutual, I'm sure."

"Not necessarily," Zasian said. "These beings dwell far away from Sundabar and the Silver Marches. There's no reason to assume that they are aware of your animosity toward their kin or your reputation back home."

The leader of the dwarves, apparently impatient over the travelers' refusal to respond, barked orders at his squads of soldiers. The dwarves on both sides closed in on Vhok and Zasian. From a back rank, one even lofted a short spear into the air. The weapon struck the ground near Vhok's feet and wobbled there for a moment.

"I'll kill them all," Vhok hissed, reaching for Burnblood. "Every last one of them."

"No," Zasian admonished, taking hold of the cambion's arm. "Restrain yourself."

Vhok was on the verge of yanking his arm free, but the tone of the priest's voice gave him pause. He turned to glare at the man instead, to warn him against ever laying an unwelcome hand upon himself again.

"I told you I would speak plainly when I thought your actions were folly," Zasian said as the dwarves closed in. "Well, this is one such time. You do nothing to further your own cause by fighting them. They are intelligent-we can reason with them. Give it a chance before you become berserk with bloodlust against them."

Vhok clenched his teeth in fury, unwilling to acknowledge that the priest had a point. He only wanted to wreak havoc among the flame-haired nemeses and be done with them. But he knew that Zasian was right. Both of them were exhausted from travel and battle, and what they really needed were allies rather than enemies. Once more, he was being forced to trust where trust did not come naturally.

"All right," he said, yanking his arm out of Zasian's grasp. "We'll try it your way first." He released his blade, letting it slide back into its sheath, and held up his hands in supplication. "We agree to your terms," he called to the dwarves. "We have no wish to fight you." Then he turned and whispered fiercely to the priest, "But if this doesn't work out well for us, I will flay you along with Myshik!"

Zasian's stare was cold and indignant, but he didn't say anything.

The dwarf leader insisted that the pair drop all their weapons. It took several moments for the two prisoners to explain that their goods would burn to a crisp should they let them go.

"You have our word that we shall not lift a finger against you," Zasian said, "but we cannot allow our belongings to leave our possession. However," he added, reaching into his tunic, "we can offer you this as a show of good faith."

The nearest dwarf drew up in alarm when the priest began pulling something out, and the others raised their weapons higher, ready for trouble.

Seeing their concern, Zasian paused and smiled. "It is nothing to harm you, I promise. It is merely a token of our trustworthiness." He withdrew his hand slowly, letting them see that he held only a simple pouch.

Vhok recognized it as one of the numerous packets of gems they had brought with them to aid in smoothing negotiations once they reached the City of Brass. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of Zasian revealing how wealthy they were, but it was too late to object. If those dwarves were as greedy for the bright, shiny things as the dwarves back home, they might be softened up by such a gift.

On the other hand, the cambion thought, they might try to tear us limb from limb to see if we have more.

Zasian carefully opened the pouch and sprinkled a few amethysts into his palm. He held the gemstones out for the leader to see. The dwarf's bright, pupil-less yellow eyes burned brighter and he reached toward the stones with one hand. Very quickly, Zasian slipped the gems back into the small pouch and set the entire bag into the dwarf's palm.

"I would find something else to put those in," he suggested. "That bag is likely to turn to ash in a matter of moments."

The dwarf stared at the priest for several breaths, as if appraising him, then nodded and produced a small copper urn from within his belongings. He dropped the gems, pouch and all, into the urn and put it away.

"Your gift is most generous," he said, "though as our prisoners, everything you own belongs to us anyway. Do you have more?"

Zasian drew himself up and gave the dwarf leader a commanding stare. "We would prefer to think of ourselves as your guests," he said imperiously. "And consider carefully that you managed to get your hands on those without any sort of struggle. To obtain more, against our wishes, would be much more difficult. The loss of life would be tremendous, hardly worth the effort."

The dwarf's eyes grew wide again, though for a very different reason. He drew himself more upright, too. He was on the verge of challenging Zasian's threat. Then he appeared to think better of it.

"You will come with us," he announced. "We must take you before Lord Cripakolus, the azer clan chief. He will decide what must be done with you."

Vhok frowned. "We have traveled far and battled strange winged lizards in the sky. We are quite weary and must rest soon. Can this not wait?" He didn't relish the idea of being taken to some dwarven stronghold for questioning.

"No," the dwarf said. "But our camp is not far. Lord Cripakolus will want to meet you. We azer do not see such exotic travelers in our mountains very often. He will receive you as guests, not prisoners, if you give him more gems. As gifts, of course."

Vhok snorted in derision, but Zasian gave the cambion a warning look before nodding to the dwarf. "If your clan lord is willing to provide us with a guide to our destination, then we might be able to come to an arrangement that pleases him." Then, more softly, so that only Vhok could hear, he added, "What can it hurt? At the very least, they might be able to offer us more comfortable surroundings in which to rest. It can't be much worse than here."

Vhok still held reservations, but again, the priest's arguments made sense. And he had already agreed that they would follow it to some conclusion. He didn't see the point of changing his mind too quickly. He looked at the azer leader and motioned for them to proceed.

"Lead on," he said, glaring. "And pray that your clan lord accommodates us well."

The dwarf stared back at Vhok briefly, then turned and issued more orders to his soldiers. The troops took up positions as escorts, surrounding the two visitors. The fiery humanoids then began to lead their two charges up the trail, climbing the slopes of the mountain.

The path meandered just as it had before Vhok and Zasian had run into the dwarves. The trail switched back on itself multiple times, ascending the steep slope at a gradual rate. The land was solid, though it still popped, crackled, and spit jets of flame into the air almost constantly.

The smoky haze that was so prevalent at the lower elevations grew even more pronounced up the mountainside. Unlike the highest reaches of mountains on Abeir-Toril, the trees did not become more stunted and then disappear completely. Instead, the crystal-trees grew larger, creating a glassy canopy that almost completely blocked out the ember glow of the sky above.

It reminded Vhok of walking through an immense cathedral, not a comfortable sensation for the half-fiend.

The group crossed several of the narrow black bridges. Each had been crafted from blocks of glassy black stone. Each block appeared perfectly formed, rather than hewn. Vhok was certain the rock had been liquid at one time and had been poured into molds.

As they walked, Vhok whispered to his counterpart. "How did you know they were there?" he asked, inclining his head to indicate the dwarves. "How did you see them when they were still invisible?"