Jean Rabe - Downfall

And they might have gotten to the old bozak draconian in Takar in time. Fiona's brother might have lived.

"If the dragon was to be trusted about accepting a ransom," Rig grumbled. "If the draconian was in Takar. If. If. If." He growled from deep in his throat. He wanted desperately to go after his glaive. But if the person-or creature-who took it was responsible for all the snakes, he suspected he'd be throwing his life away. And he wanted to go to Shrentak, a notion he'd allowed himself to become obsessed with, and rescue all the people held there. "Shrentak," he hissed.

The mariner spotted Dhamon and Maldred conferring by one of the torches. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he made his way toward them. Fiona was nearby. Good, he thought, she'd get an earful of what he had to say.

"The chest." Fiona was pacing in a tight circle as she talked. Her hands were shaking, her shoulders uncharacteristically rounded. "Something took the chest. With the gems and coins. The ransom for my brother!"

"For your brother's body," Rig corrected her.

Her eyes were fire when she stopped inches from the mariner. Her lips were moving wordlessly. The mariner knew what she was thinking. If they hadn't wasted time trying to collect a ransom with Dhamon and his overlarge friend-if the Solamnic Council had simply given her the coins she neededj — her brother might still be alive. Maybe.

"It wouldn't have mattered," the mariner told her, though he didn't completely believe that. "Ransom or no, that dragon wasn't going to let him or any of those other Knights free. It was probably all a sick game. So we're walking through this damned swamp for nothing. This whole expedition is pointless, Fiona. How many times do I have to tell you that I saw your brother die?"

She started to say something, but he cut her off.

"So you want his body for a proper burial. That's admirable. But so far this has cost the lives of ten ogres. And my glaive. And now the chest with all the loot is gone, too. No ransom. No body. We're not where we're supposed to be. Let's just go home. We can honor your brother by…"

"You can't say that," Fiona countered desperately. "You can't say this is all pointless. Maldred had sent scouts ahead-before the snakes came. They'll find the ruins of Takar and…"

Dhamon nodded. He had silently padded up on the two, listening intently to their conversation. "Maldred sent two good scouts." He gestured to the south. "They should be back soon, if we're as close to the place as Mai thinks."

"I think we're practically right on top of it." This from Maldred, who was still looking about to make sure no more snakes were descending.

"On top of what?" Rig boomed. "Certainly not Takar. We're too far south from the ruins of Takar. So where'n the layers of the Abyss are you taking us, Maldred?"

The big man offered Rig a look of puzzlement.

"You heard me. Where're you and this Mulok fellow leading us?"

"To Takar, as we agreed."

"Like hell." The mariner took a few steps back, so he could regard Dhamon, Maldred, and Fiona. He set his clenched hands against his waist, shoulders defiantly thrown back, lip curled up in a sneer. "We're nowhere near Takar. Not at all where we're supposed to be. And you know it, Dhamon."

"Rig?" Fiona moved closer, though she positioned herself so she was between Maldred and Dhamon.

Three against one, the mariner thought. "I got a good look at the stars when I was snake bait. I can read the stars, you know, steer by them. I used to make a living by them. We're south and east of Bloten. And, yes, the ruins are in that direction. But we're too far to the south, and we're not east enough."

"Is that true?" A look of suspicion crossed the Solam-nic's face. She glanced up at Maldred.

"Impressive," the big man stated. He thoughtfully rubbed his chin and met the mariner's glare.

"So tell me, Maldred, Dhamon," Rig persisted, "just where are we going, and why?"

A noise in the brush caused Maldred to jerk away, his hands reaching for the pommel of the sword strapped to his back, stopping when he recognized the two ogre scouts he'd sent out a while back. The creatures looked shocked by the aftermath of the battle, and Maldred gave them a curtailed version of the events.

The scouts reported quickly, Maldred and Dhamon listening attentively, while Fiona gave Rig an inquisitive look.

"Are you certain we're not near Takar?" she asked.

Rig nodded. "But I don't know where we are."

"1 do. We're less than a mile from the Trueheart Mines," Dhamon said, squarely facing the mariner, his eyes dancing in the torchlight. "If you want to rescue somebody, there are plenty of prisoners there in need of it."

Fiona looked incredulously between Dhamon and Rig, then let out a deep breath from between her teeth and angrily took a step toward Maldred. Dhamon's hand slammed against her breastplate, stopping her. Maldred was talking to the scouts in the ogre tongue, gesturing at the force of the mercenaries, and then to the south.

"He's getting them ready," Dhamon explained. "Issuing a few orders. You know how that is, Fiona. Soldiers need instructions before a fight."

Rig batted Dhamon's arm down. "You and Maldred lied to her. You promised her a small army of mercenaries."

"I didn't promise her anything."

"Maldred, Donnag…"

"Well, Rig, there're thirty mercenaries left-after the snakes."

"For Takar," Rig stated flatly. "They were to be for Takar."

"We didn't want to go to Takar," Dhamon returned. "I certainly had no intentions of going there-or anywhere else in this blessed swamp, for that matter. You should have realized that days ago, Rig." His voice was icy, his stare hard and unwavering. "Maldred had his own agenda, and he thought he could use your sword arms. You're good in a fight, the both of you. And he seems quite fond of Fiona."

"Fiona," Rig stated softly. "This is all about her. Maldred is more than fond of her. He lied to her just to keep her around."

Dhamon didn't reply to that. "I suspect you two would've gone along with us from the beginning if you weren't so bent on going to Takar to ransom a Solamnic Knight. Sorry, a Knight's body. Maldred's plan is equally as noble as yours. Just not quite as dangerous-or futile."

"We're not going any farther." Fiona stepped back, wrapping her fingers around the pommel of her sword. "With any of you." Her tone was as venomous as Dhamon's, her posture rigid. "Rig was right all along, and I was a fool not to listen to him. What was I thinking? Are my senses so muddled that…"

Rig took her arm and pulled her a few feet away from Dhamon. "We can't afford too much of a confrontation here," he whispered, his eyes darting back and forth between Dhamon and Maldred, who was still occupied with issuing orders. Several ogres had joined the big man.

"Wish I could understand them," he grumbled. "Can't trust them. Don't know what they're saying." His expression softened when he looked at her heart-shaped face. "Listen, there're way too many of them, and I know for certain now that there's not a single one of them that can be believed."

"1 agree. Can we find the way to Takar alone? If my brother is truly dead…" She let that thought trail off, inhaled deep and adopted her military posture again. "It is my fault for not finding another avenue to raise the coins and gems. And now the ransom I had managed to extract from Chieftain Donnag is gone." She eased her fingers away from the pommel of her sword and steepled them in her nervous gesture.

"Fiona…"

"Oh, Rig. Maybe I don't need the coins. If we go to Takar I can find that old draconian. I'd recognize him in a heartbeat. Perhaps I can persuade him to tell me for certain if my brother is truly dead. I must have something more than your vision. Maybe, just maybe, the black dragon might release him…" She paused. "My sword has value, my armor. Perhaps everything isn't lost."