Jean Rabe - Downfall

Rikali dug about in her satchel for a vial of perfumed oil and liberally applied it, adding a drop beneath her nose. "Better," she pronounced.

"I'm Kulp," an older human said, extending his hand to Dhamon. The two were near the fire pit, where several goatherders had gathered. "I lead this village, called Knollsbank, and I'm the one who sent word to his exalted Lordship Donnag that our herd is dwindling. Our gratitude to the lord for any help you can provide. Truth, though, I am most surprised he sent us aid. His lordship is not known for caring about these villages' well-being."

His lordship? Rig mouthed.

Maldred walked around the village, Fiona at his side, looking for some sign of the dread wolves. They made pleasant small talk with the people as they went, answering questions about the town far below, the styles of dress for the women, the music that was popular, the threat from the Black called Sable, what was going on in the world to the east of the Kalkhists. When Maldred revealed that Fiona was a Solamnic Knight who had stood up to the Dragon Overlords, all attention turned to her and the questions focused on the great dragons. The villagers had all heard of the overlords and knew what they'd done to Krynn. Yet none of them had seen a dragon, save a rare silhouette high overhead, and all of them were in disbelief that Lord Donnag would send someone as important as Fiona to help them.

On the opposite side of the village, Rikali locked her arm with Dhamon's as he introduced himself and the half-elf. "These wolves that are slaughtering your goats, Kulp…"

"Wolves?" The goatherder scrunched his face in a question. "Wolves don't live in these mountains. It's giants. Giants are stealing our goats." There was instantly a great sadness on Kulp's face, as if he had lost a child. "Our herd is half of what it was in the spring. If it continues, by winter we'll be finished. They took four kids last night who were being mothered on that ridge."

Dhamon's mind was working, his fingers drumming against his belt in irritation. "Giants?"

Kulp nodded. "So our messengers told Donnag."

Dhamon drummed faster. Trust Donnag? he said to himself. Maldred said to trust him. Anger flared in his eyes, and Kulp stepped back, startled.

"So they haven't actually hurt you, these giants?" Dhamon finally asked.

Kulp looked shocked. "Hurt? They hurt us most horribly! Taking our goats is hurting us, our livelihood. The goats are all we have. We won't have the goods to pay Donnag's taxes if this continues. We will have nothing to barter with and we will lose our home."

"Pay Donnag?" Rig interrupted. The mariner had been edging over during the conversation.

"We pay the chieftain in milk and meat for the right to live on his mountain. Certainly that is why he sent you-to stop the giants so we can continue to meet his fees and taxes."

"Giants?" The mariner growled and looked about for Fiona. Where was she-she ought to hear this evidence of the ogre chieftain's fiendishness. He spotted her and Maldred leaning over a small pen where a mother goat and three newborns rested.

Dhamon cleared his throat. "And where are these so-called giants…"

"We believe the giants live in those caves, Mister Grimwulf." Kulp was pointing toward a peak that rose up high away from the village. "Some of our young herders fought one and thought they'd killed it. Said it was a massive creature with long arms and wicked claws. It must have only been stunned and then came to, escaping as they tried to drag it here. A few of them tracked it, heading toward that peak." He dropped his gaze and shook his head. "But those young men did not return."

"Tracking the giants now-tracking anything-is not possible," Dhamon said, looking at the ground. What earth there was consisted of broad patches of mud from which sprouted tall grass. There were small gardens, reasonably protected from all the rain by a network of skins and lean-tos. But mostly there was shale and granite and goat droppings.

Dhamon looked toward the lofty peak, squinting through the rain to spot caves where the goat-raiding giants might live. "Kulp, that's another several hours climb, at the very least. We'd like to stay here the rest of the day, get an early start."

The village leader clapped his hands loudly. "We will make accommodations for Donnag's men," Kulp said. "And we will feed them well." Then he was off to evict a family to make room for the companions for the evening.

The rain had stopped for a few hours during the night, and beneath the scant stars that poked through the wispy clouds they were fed a meal of boiled roots, spicy broth, and hard bread. The broth was what had been simmering throughout the day and tasted surprisingly good despite its strong smell. The bread was among the foodstuffs the herders received regularly in barter from Bloten. There was a strong liquor, which the herders made themselves and Dhamon pronounced acceptable.

Maldred instructed the half-elf not to let the kobold out of her sight while they were in the village, not wanting him to stir up any trouble. He spoke in whispers to Dhamon, vowing that when they returned to Bloten he would make sure Donnag kept his part of the bargain. The sword would be his-along with plenty of baubles for dealing with giants rather than wolves. When the big man left their company, Fiona followed him until they were alone beside a spindly rock. That is when Maldred drew her into his arms.

Dhamon spied them, casting a glance at Rig who was engrossed in a conversation with one of the villagers. He looked back at Maldred and Fiona, who were kissing. Mal-dred's fingers were wound tightly in the Knight's hair.

Dhamon shrugged and sat facing Rig, engaging him in conversation to keep him distracted.

Dhamon asked the mariner about his wedding plans and about whether Fiona had managed to convince him to join the Knighthood.

Rig was quick to talk about the former and preferred to avoid the latter. "We are to be married on her birthday, a tradition among the women in Fiona's family," he happily explained. Yet there was an edge in his voice. "It's not so long from now. Two and a half months. In fact, we…" His words trailed off as he spotted the Knight walking toward them.

"Where've you been?" Rig was quick on his feet and took her hand. "You've been…"

"… visiting with some of the villagers," Fiona returned.

Dhamon was startled at the lie and strolled away, finding Rikali perched on a ledge overlooking Bloten. He looked over his shoulder to see Fiona and Rig engaged in conversation.

"Fiona, that Donnag is far from a good man," the mariner said, keeping his voice low. He told her about the milk and meat tax here, the heavy taxes the humans bore in Bloten, the fear all the people had for the ogre chieftain, how oppressed everyone was in his realm. How wolves had become giants.

"I know," she said finally, her face soft and a little sad. "And it is good that it bothers you. It bothers me, too. But we can't right all the wrongs in this world, Rig. We have to choose our battles. And bad as Donnag is, the Black in the swamp is far worse. The ogre protects these people from her, and his forces work to keep the swamp from swallowing up these mountains. So by helping Donnag, in one respect we are fighting her. And if you get rid of Donnag, being overtaxed would be the least of these people's worries."

The mariner sat silently, digesting her words. "I still don't have to like it, and I don't have to agree with it," he said, sighing as raindrops trickled down the end of his nose. "I don't have to like the fact we're going to accept coins and gems for the ransom of your brother from that evil… creature. Provided he comes through, which I still doubt. And I don't have to like all this rain. This isn't right. These mountains should be dry as a desert."