Jean Rabe - Downfall

He felt himself growing lightheaded, found himself thinking of Feril and the dragons and of the night at the Window to the Stars. His leg was tingling, had been since they'd started exploring the old chamber of the Black Robe sorcerers. It began to radiate its waves of intense heat and bone-numbing cold just as he'd asked Fetch to discover the source of rain. And it became worse just before he left the chamber-which was the real reason he left Rig and Fetch behind. When the pain took hold of him, he could think of nothing else.

The corridor angled sharply and threw him against a jagged rock. For a brief moment, he thought that drowning here might be a blessing-no more pain. Someone would find a corpse with a souvenir from a dragon overlord affixed to its rotting leg. Then he felt a surge, felt rocks brush his stomach, felt himself sinking, being propelled through a curtain of pummeling water that drove the last of the air from his lungs and pushed him under. His eyes' were still open, but all he could see was dark, murky gray. Then the water turned paler, the color of dense fog, and he was borne down deeper. He made out shapes. Odd-a stone home? A covered well? A wagon? All underwater.

Dhamon was forced all the way to the bottom by the powerful water of the falls. He felt his feet touch something solid, and he was able to push himself up, and then he thrashed when he broke the surface. It was all he could do to tread water, the pain was so intense from the scale, threatening to overwhelm him and send him under again. The violent tremors started in his muscles, and he mindlessly drove himself toward the shore, concentrating on a patch of muddy ground, gulping in air, and trying to blot out the possibility of death. He managed to reach the bank and pull himself halfway out of the water when he finally surrendered to exhaustion and the icy-hot pain, and slipped into merciful unconsciousness.

Rikali's head broke the surface just behind him. She greedily swallowed the fresh air. "Pigs, but I thought we were gonna die, lover! Never thought I'd be so grateful to see all of this rain. It's beautiful!" She tread water and breathed deeply, listened to the roaring of the falls behind her and the near-silent patter of the rain. "Dhamon? Where are you, Dhamon?"

Panic gripped her heart when he didn't answer. She furtively glanced about, spotting him on the bank, half in the water. Then she hurriedly swam toward him, pulled herself out, and turned Dhamon over onto his back. She let out a deep breath when she saw his chest rising and falling, and then she busied herself with cleaning the mud off his face. His limbs were quivering.

"It's that damnable scale," she hissed. "Together we'll find a cure for it, lover. Should've asked that pool, made Fetch wiggle his tiny fingers and ask about healing you. About how it could be done. Finding you help is more important than Shrentak and this rain. Why hadn't I thought of that? Am I so selfish I didn't think of that?" Then she was smoothing his hair away from his face, which was tight with pain. She tugged him out of the water, glancing up at the falls and idly wondering about the kobold. "He's worthless, Fetch is. If he had been thinkin', he would've asked the pool about your scale. It's his fault, it is. Not mine. All his fault. He thinks he's so smart. Well, he isn't smart at all. Worthless. But don't you worry, lover. After it stops rainin' and all of this water dries up, we'll go back there to that cave and have another look at the pool. We'll find a cure for that scale. I promise."

She did her best to cradle Dhamon, rocking him and brushing the mud from his tunic. "And when you're all healed we'll find a spot for our grand house. We'll have a dinin' room bigger than the one in Donnag's palace and rooms for little ones that'll grow up handsome and look just like you. And we'll have a garden that goes on forever filled with strawberries and raspberries, and I'll plant grapes, too. Maybe we'll learn how to make wine. The sweet kind. You'll see, lover, it'll be…"

Just then Rig's head broke the surface, the mariner sputtering and gasping, his glaive held firmly in his hand. He took a deep breath, then dove again, surprising Rikali and bringing her to her feet.

"What're you doin'?" The half-elf glanced at Dhamon to make sure he was still breathing, and then padded to the edge of the basin. She stared through the mist and saw the mariner surface again, the kobold cradled against his chest. She waved to get the mariner's attention, then returned to Dhamon. His eyes fluttered open, and she grinned.

"Feelin' all right?" she asked.

Dhamon nodded as he struggled to his feet. He was still sore, but focused on the mariner and the kobold. Rig's face was cut in several places, likely from colliding with sharp rocks underwater, and the kobold's cloak was in tatters. The mariner wiped at the blood as he dragged himself out of the basin, dropped the glaive onto the shore, and gently laid Fetch's body down.

"What's wrong with Fetch?" Rikali took a tentative step toward them.

Rig plopped down next to the kobold's body and stared at the falls.

"Fetch?" she repeated hesitantly, then adopted a scolding tone. "I was wonderin' if you two were gonna make it. All of that playin' with the magical pool. You might have hurried up a little…"

"Ilbreth's dead," Rig said simply.

The half-elf sucked in a breath and stumbled toward the bank, dropping to her knees and gently shaking the kobold's body. "Die on me?" She glanced at Rig, looking for an explanation. "Fetch wouldn't die on me. He just wouldn't."

He continued to watch the falls.

"Poor Fetch," she cooed. She fussed over the body, fighting back tears, then her thin fingers searched, tugging free the gold nose ring she coveted and thrusting it in her pocket. She found a few pearls and an uncut amethyst in a small pouch, the latter no doubt a souvenir from the valley of crystal. These, too, she claimed. Then she jerked free the pouch containing the old man pipe. Rig's hand shot out, surprising her, and his fingers closed around the pouch. The mariner took it from her and solemnly placed the pouch on the kobold's chest.

Dhamon moved to a section of bank several yards away. He waded into the water and began washing the rest of the mud from his clothes and hair, keeping his back to the dead kobold and keeping his shoulders square. His head was thrown back as he looked up into the mountains, the tops of which were obscured by the clouds. He rubbed his arms, trying to work some of the soreness out of them, and turned his neck this way and that.

"Gonna save these pretty baubles to remember poor Fetch by," Rikali said as she joined him and began washing the mud from her clothes and hair. "We'll keep them in the library on a shelf where all of our company can see them when they come to visit."

"You can't read," he said tersely. "What would you possibly want with a library?" He cupped his hand over his eyes to help keep the rain out as he continued to study the nearest cliff face.

"I'm very smart, Dhamon Grimwulf. I could learn to read," she said, tucking the amethyst and pearls into a pouch at her waist, retrieving the nose ring and pushing it on her little finger. She thrust her chin out defiantly. "You could teach me to read."

Dhamon pointed to a narrow trail. Water was running down the trail, and at first he mistook it for a stream. But there was a signpost next to it, and he decided that marked it as a road. "We can follow that back to Bloten. Rig?"

Rig was hunched over beneath a tree, using the blade of his glaive to scoop at the mud and dig a grave for the kobold.

"Now ain't that touchin'?" Rikali noted, glancing at the kobold's body, then at the mariner. "Thought they couldn't stand each other."

Dhamon was studying the trail. "Probably the shortest route, but it doesn't look like the easiest. We could take the long way around, but Maldred's probably well ahead of us, and I want to get back to Donnag's as quickly as possible."