Jean Rabe - Downfall

Rig placed his hands on her shoulders. "Fiona, please. Let's stop this. Forget Takar. If you want to honor your brother, forget his plight. Forget all of this. Let's go to Shrentak instead, try to rescue the prisoners there who are still alive. Maybe where a garrison of Knights failed, two people could succeed. Unnoticed. Slipping in and out. That would be an honorable thing to do."

Her face softened for a moment, her eyes watering, her posture relaxing. It looked as if she might agree with him, but then Maldred strolled over, reached out and thumped her shoulder, drawing her attention. Fiona's eyes met his and instantly brightened.

"Fiona," Maldred began. He was holding a torch, which sharply revealed the planes of his face and the injuries he had suffered, his wide, dark eyes that held hers despite her fury. "We mean to free the ogres that the Black works as slaves in the Trueheart Mines. They're Donnag's people, good men all of them, and the dragon's killing them with the work. Dhamon and I want your help."

"We don't intend to help!" Rig said, glaring venomously at Dhamon and Maldred. "We don't intend to go another step with the likes of you!"

"We had our own agenda," Maldred admitted. "It just happened to be convenient that you wanted to travel through the Black's swamp. We thought we could use your fighting skills along the way. You're good in a brawl, the both of you. We certainly would have lost more ogres to the snakes if you'd not been with us."

Maldred made a gesture with his hand and turned. Fiona followed him. Rig watched dumbstruck as the two of them walked toward the assembled ogres. Maldred addressed them now.

"Fiona? What are you doing?"

She kept pace with Maldred and did not acknowledge the mariner.

"Wish I could understand you, Fiona," Rig grumbled. "Can't. Can't trust them either. Can't understand anything of what they're saying." His expression softened a little when he looked at Fiona. Her face was calm, which troubled him.

"Lady Knight," Maldred began. He talked softly, so Rig would not hear. "Dearest Fiona, it is true that we have our own agenda, one I was obviously wrong to keep from you." His voice was deep and even, so pleasant to listen to, almost like a melodic chant. "But I honestly want to rescue your brother in the process. We'll free these ogres, then go directly to Takar. You have my word. You can trust me, my love."

She continued to stare into his eyes. "Rig believes my brother is dead. He said he saw a vision…"

"I heard him. And Dhamon told me that as well. But you cannot trust a vision, Fiona. You cannot trust Rig. Remember, he does not deserve you. Above all, you must have hope that your brother is alive. I would very much like to meet him, you know. Continue to the mines with us and then we'll go to Takar and find this old draconian you spoke of."

"The scarred one," she said softly. "The one with the heavy gold collar."

"Yes, we'll find him. Stay with me. And we'll gain your brother's release."

"But I've got no ransom."

"We'll think of something. The mines themselves are filled with silver."

She shook her head, her red braids lashing behind her like a whip. Still, her eyes did not leave his, and her fingers remained clenched around the pommel of her sword. Fiona blinked furiously, as if trying to clear her head. For a moment she felt faint, and bent her knees to steady herself. When she regained her composure, her eyes were bright and filled with ire.

Fiona met Maldred's surprised stare. "No. I don't know what I am thinking. Talking to you. A thief. And a liar. You'll get no help from me in these mines you're going to, Maldred. This deception you've contrived, leading me away from Takar. I'm leaving your little band. I believe Rig. I believe my brother is dead. And I believe I could have prevented this tragedy if I had found another way to raise this ransom. If only I would have acted sooner."

Rig was silent, watching the two, his glance occasionally resting on Dhamon, who was only a few feet away. All around them the ogres were gathering into a column and inspecting their weapons, chattering softly in a tongue that sounded primitive and coarse. Finally, Rig crept closer to Fiona, intent on hearing the conversation between her and Maldred.

"Fair Lady Knight." Maldred's words grew softer, more musical, his expression relaxing, too. A hand hidden in the folds of his cloak began gesturing to aid in his incantation. Her anger had lessened his hold on her, and he had to correct that. "Lady Knight, from high above when I was held captive in the trees I watched you battle the snakes. You are worth any four of these men, more formidable than I originally believed. I need your help. Please."

Her expression calmed a little, and her fingers eased from the pommel of her sword.

Maldred's lyrical voice continued. "Dozens of ogres are being forced to work the mine. They are beaten, fed barely enough to live. It is slavery, Lady Knight, of the worst kind. And it needs to be stopped. It is a problem I had intended to rectify before you came along. You merely make the task less onerous." The fingers of his hidden hand fluttered even faster. "I should have been honest with you, I realize that now. But I feared you would not accompany us. I promise you, Lady Knight, if you help us free the ogres, then we will discover the truth about your brother. If he lives, he will be freed. You have my word. Stay with me."

"All right. I will stay with you."

"No!" Rig roared. He had inched close enough to hear some of what the big man had said. "Fiona, you can't trust him. Can't trust Dhamon. Can't believe any of this." He interposed himself between the Solamnic and Maldred. "You can't be serious."

Her expression was odd, her eyes unblinking. "Slavery is wrong, Rig, and freeing the ogres from the mines is just and honorable. I will help Maldred. And then we'll all go to Takar." She turned and took a position at the beginning of the column. Dhamon moved to stand at her side.

Maldred appraised the mariner for a moment. "She has fire," he said finally. "And a rare sword arm."

"This isn't like her," Rig stated. "Agreeing to help the likes of you. Thieves. Liars. Freeing ogres. I don't understand it."

Maldred shrugged and headed to the front of the column.

"Not like her," Rig repeated. "By the blessed memory of Habbakuk, what is going on with her? And with me?" I should leave, he told himself. But I can't leave her. Not alone with the likes of these people. And I want my damn glaive back.

The column was moving. Rig took a last look at the ogre bodies encircling the massive cypress tree. Already lizards were scampering over the corpses, biting at the exposed flesh. A raven was perched on a stout ogre's stomach, plucking at the skin through a rent in the armor. Shuddering, the mariner followed the last of the ogres, fingers still squeezing the pommel of his sword, eyes darting all around looking for movement in the vines. For a moment he wished more serpent-vines would appear and whisk away Dhamon and Maldred and all the ogres. Then it would be just he and the Solamnic Knight again.

The mercenaries were forced to make their way single-file, the swamp so overgrown that at times they were practically squeezing between cypress trunks. Rig lost sight of Fiona, Maldred, and Dhamon shortly after they'd left the clearing. He was worried about the Solamnic, furious over the loss of his glaive. In the back of his mind he kept visualizing the small footprints and telling himself he should talk to Fiona again, make her listen, cut their losses, and get out of here. Around him all he could see were the dark shapes of trees, barely discernible in the light of the few torches the ogres carried.

"I'm going to die here," he thought, not meaning to say the words out loud. "To snakes or treachery."