Jean Rabe - Downfall

"But Dhamon, I'm so tired," Rikali pleaded. "We been walkin' and swimmin' the whole night. It's so early in the mornin', probably not much past dawn. Can't we sleep for just an hour or two? Ain't slept in more than a day. And find us somethin' to eat. Please. I'm so hungry."

He paused for a moment, considering the idea. Then he shook his head and started off. The half-elf glanced over her shoulder. Rig was still working on the grave. Without a second thought, she hurried to catch up to Dhamon.

Dhamon and Rikali had difficulty climbing the slippery trail. They held onto the signpost and rocks to help them keep their footing. It was slow going, and occasionally the half-elf peered down at Rig, who was still busy.

"First I want to have a little chat with Donnag about this fool's errand he sent us on. Then I want to tell him about the little girl in the vision, the one that perhaps is causing all of this rain. He might know what it's about," Dhamon explained to the half-elf. "Of course, that information is going to cost him."

"Cost him a lot," Rikali said.

"I think it's raining ‘cause his last patrol killed some of the Black's spawn. A lot of them, according to that tale he told us at dinner. The rain is some kind of retaliation. I just don't know what precisely the little girl has to do with it."

"Lover, you can't be serious. It was a vision, a magical dream Fetch called up out of that pool. You don't even know if it's real."

"Real? The first vision showed us the way out, didn't it? I'd say that makes it real. Shrentak seemed real enough."

"A girl making it rain? Hah! I bet Fetch was asking it a different question, nothing about rain. That's what brought up the girl. I bet he was thinking about some place nice and warm and dry where he could find some sweet company and…"

Dhamon vehemently shook his head. "No. The girl is the cause. She's drowned out villages, one at the base of these falls. Knollsbank could well wash away, too. This rain is far from natural."

Rikali cocked her head and furrowed her brows. "Why'd anybody want to make it rain that much? Why'd anyone want to flood out villages of goatherders and farmers? Doesn't make sense."

"It does if you're a black dragon wanting to make your swamp bigger and seeking revenge."

They continued to pick their way up the trail, which in fact had become a widening stream now. They had to periodically grab onto rocks to keep their feet from slipping out from underneath them. Rikali glanced over her shoulder again. Rig was nowhere in sight.

"Besides, it was a little girl, not a black dragon," Rikali continued.

"Dragons are powerful, Riki. The dragon could take the form of a girl, or the girl could be the agent of a dragon."

"A little dragon girl? How do you know so much about dragons, lover? Must come from all that readin' you can do. You should teach me readin'. I thought you were through with dragons, anyway."

Dhamon let out a curt laugh. "I am through with them, Riki dear."

The half-elf beamed and worked to keep up with Dhamon.

"I don't want to have anything more to do with them.

But the information about the girl is valuable. I suspect the ogre will pay me a good bit of coin for it-in addition to the sword I want."

Rikali tittered and reached out to grab Dhamon's elbow. But her hands went flying as she stepped on a moss-slick rock and her feet shot out from under her. She landed with a smack in the center of the stream, sending water showering around her. Dhamon whirled to reach for her, but too late. She started to slide with the stream down the mountainside.

Rig had finally finished his task and was coming up from the base of the trail. He rushed and made a grab for Rikali, but only managed to tear her sleeve as she passed by pell-mell. Rig dropped his glaive and dove in after her. A moment later he surfaced and waved to Dhamon.

"Dhamon, you better get down here!" He was wiping blood away from a gash on her cheek. "She's hurt." There was blood on her forehead, too, and running from her nose. She moaned softly, her fingers and lips twitching. The mariner gently opened her lips to look inside her mouth. Two teeth were broken, the remnants of one buried inside her cheek. He tugged it out.

Rig gingerly prodded her ribs. "Nothing broken here. Dhamon!"

Dhamon hadn't moved. He stood a few dozen feet away, up on the mountain, watching them.

Rig continued to shout. "Heard you say something once about treating Knights on a battlefield! How about a little help? She's your girlfriend, after all."

"She only thinks she is," Dhamon said so softly Rig couldn't hear. He waited a moment before sliding down the trail to join Rig. "We don't have time for this… delay," he said, his voice heavy with irritation. He knelt over the half-elf and smoothed the hair away from her face. He thought she looked pretty, with her expression serene and her face devoid of the usual heavy makeup. He felt around her neck, turned her head this way and that, his ministrations as gentle as possible.

"She's okay," he told Rig. "Her head hit a rock, see?" He tilted her head slightly, showing the blood that stood out amidst her silver-white locks. "Nothing too serious. She's breathing regularly." He felt around the head wound. "She'll have a good-sized bump when she comes to." Then Dhamon stood up and held his hands to the rain, letting it wash away the blood. "And she will come ‘round soon enough. This rain will help." He turned and started back up the mountainside.

"Wait a minute." The words flew angrily from the mariner's mouth. "She's your woman. You're not going to leave her here."

"Riki'd understand," Dhamon replied. "I've got to pick up an important package from Chieftain Donnag and sell some valuable news to him. The sooner he learns about the rain, the more it'll be worth. And I've got to find Mal-dred. He'll want to know about the rain, too. Riki'll catch up with us. She's more resourceful than you think."

Rig stared incredulously. "First Fetch, now Riki…"

Dhamon's face was impassive. His hands hung loosely at his sides, his lips were a thin line. And his eyes were cold.

That image of Dhamon would remain etched in the mariner's mind for the rest of his days, showing him how callous a person was capable of being. Might as well be stone beads-they held no hint of compassion. There was only calculating purpose. Rig saw that. Dhamon's eyes showed cunning and selfishness. There was no trace of the man he'd known in the past, they were not the eyes of the former Dark Knight who'd answered Goldmoon's cry for a champion and who'd intrepidly led them to the Window to the Stars; no shadow of the hero who dared to stand up to the dragon overlords and who, though not gaining Rig's friendship, had most certainly gained his respect.

"Get used to it Rig," said Dhamon, reading his thoughts. "I'm not the man you knew."

Had Dhamon just said those words? the mariner wondered, or was he remembering what Dhamon had said one night in the Kalkhist Mountains? It didn't matter. They were true. Rig was staring at a stranger. The mariner had known thieves in his younger days, and had proudly kept company with pirates-whom he considered a few notches above common thieves. None of them had been like this Dhamon, a Dhamon he really didn't know.

"You're not human," Rig said softly.

Dhamon laughed. Then, without a further word or a gesture, he turned and started climbing the trail again, going a little slower and holding onto rocks so he wouldn't take a spill like the half-elf.

The mariner reached up to his shoulder with one hand and yanked until one of his sleeves came loose. He wrapped it around the half-elf's head, trying to stop the bleeding. The mariner gazed up at the watery trail, then at the half-elf, scooped his arms under her knees and shoulders and picked her up. "Awww… by the blessed memory of Habbakuk!" He saw her left arm hung crookedly, and there was an ugly knob where a bone was trying to break through her skin. "It's broken, I'd guess." He laid her back down, started looking around. "I'll need some wood," he said to himself. "Never set any broken bones before, and I'm not going to start now. Might cause more harm than good. But at least I can keep it from flopping around."