Jean Rabe - Downfall

He headed toward the smaller mine, where a mal-shaped spawn was emerging.

"An abomination," Dhamon whispered.

As grotesque as the spawn were, this creature was far worse. Its head sat on a thick neck on which ropelike veins stood out. Its wings were stunted, one being scalloped like a bat, the other rounded and a little longer. The beast had three arms, the third growing out of its right side, several inches below the more normal-looking arm. And the hand that extended from the third limb looked small and smooth, the size of a kender's or a gnome's. The abomination's eyes were overlarge and bugged away from its head, perched on either side of a wide, pug nose. It had a tail, longer than the spawns', and at the end of it was the snapping maw of a snake.

"Monster," Dhamon spat. Abominations were created through the same process as spawn, he had learned. But rather than humans, the dragon substituted elves, kender, dwarves, and gnomes. No two abominations looked the same, and the other dragon overlords were not known to purposefully create them. Save the Black. The corrupt overlord of the swamp favored her corrupted "children."

"You're next," Dhamon said to it.

But Fiona was nearby and beat him to the creature. Her sword arced above her head and cut through its third arm. It clawed furiously at her with its two remaining limbs, the nails raking uselessly against her plate.

As Dhamon looked about for another target, he saw her raise the sword high and bring it down on the beast's collarbone. There was a sickening crunch, then she turned away as the thing burst into a stinging cloud of acid. Their eyes met for a moment, hers filled with a mix of anger and eagerness for the fight, Dhamon's with an equal and fierce determination.

Without a word Dhamon raced toward Maldred. While the ogre mercenaries were dealing with the remaining spawn, the big man was questioning one of the slaves.

"How many in the mines?" The words were in the ogre tongue, but they were simple, and Dhamon knew enough of them to understand. "Spawn. The black creatures. How many?" The slave didn't answer. "The masters," Maldred tried. "Your masters. And tell me about the mines below."

A response came, but the ogre slave's voice was indistinct, and Dhamon wasn't close enough yet to hear the words.

"Ten spawn." Maldred called to Dhamon, pointing to the smaller mine and using the common speech. "Another dozen in the larger one. A few draconians." He nodded toward the gaping maw in the ground. "Fiona and I will take the large mine."

Dhamon scowled. His sword made him the better man to deal with the spawn and draconians, and any abominations that might be around. And for an instant he considered arguing that point. But the smaller mine presented the lesser threat. "All right," he answered. "Then Rig and I will take the other mine."

Maldred nodded. The mariner was already in the clearing, threading his way through the ogre mercenaries and weaving around dumbstruck slaves and crates of ore. He had a long sword in one hand, three daggers clasped in the other. He was heading toward Fiona, who'd just dispatched another abomination.

"Lady Knight!" Maldred boomed across the clearing. "I need your help!"

She glanced up and saw Maldred, hurried in his direction, either not seeing Rig or ignoring him. The mariner stared as she rushed by. He intended to follow, but saw two dark shapes emerging from the smaller mine. A spawn and an abomination. He shook his head and ran toward them, feet churning up the marshy loam. Drawing back, he hurled his daggers, all three landing in the chest of the abomination and turning it into a cloud of acidic vapor. The spawn advanced to meet him.

The Solamnic could barely hear Maldred above the sounds of battle and the cries of the ogre mercenaries. He was gesturing, eyes locked onto hers. "Lady Knight. You and I will venture into the main mine." Even as he was explaining his plan, a spawn emerged from the gaping hole. Dhamon charged it, bringing his sword down on its spiky crown and cleaving its head in two before it could clear the entrance.

"There are many ogres toiling below. And some humans." This last Maldred told Fiona as almost an afterthought. "We must kill the spawn and free the miners. Dhamon and Rig will deal with the other mine while the mercenaries stand watch up here and handle any spawn we might chase out."

She nodded, her eyes fixed on his. "As you desire," she said.

"This is so unlike you, your spirit dampened. You give in to me far too easily," he said, perhaps regretting the spell he had cast over the Solamnic. He took her by the arm and led her to the main shaft. Soon they were lowering themselves down the ropes.

Dhamon was running toward the smaller mine. He waved his sword to get Rig's attention. The mariner had just vanquished a spawn, his skin was a mass of boils from the acid, his shirt shredded from the creature's claws. Coupled with the snake bites on his face and hands, he looked like he shouldn't be standing. But his shoulders were square, his eyes clear, and he was watching Fiona and Maldred climb down the ropes. "Fiona!" he called. "Don't go with him!"

Dhamon shook his head and pointed to the smaller mine entrance behind Rig. "There are ten spawn inside there. Maybe more," he told him as he entered the shaft.

"We've got to take them before we can get the rest of the slaves out."

Rig stood indecisively for a moment, then, shaking his head, he followed Dhamon, thrusting his aches and pains to the back of his mind and telling himself when they were done here, he and Fiona would be on their way and all of this would be a bad memory. They would never have to look at Dhamon Grimwulf again.

The smaller mine had narrow tunnels that were barely six feet tall. It was being worked by human and dwarf slaves, diligently mining the thick veins of silver. Rig and Dhamon found their way through the winding shafts, guided by guttering torchlight and the sound of whips and snarls.

They came upon two spawn who were unaware of what was transpiring above. The sounds of picks against the rock was loud enough to drown out the battle overhead. Dhamon killed one before it could react, slamming his eyes shut when the cloud of acid came. Then he bowled into the second, ramming the sword into its chest. It clawed him deeply as it went down, then melted into acid and a stringent cloud.

"So the spawns' dragon-acid cannot harm me," Dhamon muttered. "Thanks entirely to you." He glanced at Wyrmsbane. "But the creatures' claws are another matter." He wiped at a line of blood running from a slice across his chest.

Rig didn't pause to see how Dhamon was faring. "I don't want to be here," he hissed, admitting to himself, however, that freeing these people was far from a bad idea. He bolted down the tunnel, shouting to the humans and dwarves to drop their picks. Then he was pulling on their chains, which were weak and rusting from the moisture of the Black's swamp. His muscles bunched, and he tugged free link after link, shutting out the grateful voices.

"If I had nay glaive, I'd be cutting through this metal like it was parchment."

Hands touched him in thanks. "Shrentak," he mumbled as he picked up other chains and tugged them apart and told those freed to head for the surface. "I should be doing this in Shrentak."

After they freed more than a dozen slaves, Dhamon and Rig worked their way down another corridor, crouching and readying their weapons when they spotted the dull yellow gleam of spawn eyes.

In the main tunnel, Maldred and Fiona were busy freeing ogres. They'd found one too weak to move, starving and beaten. Maldred killed him quickly, speaking softly in the ogre tongue and closing the dead slave's eyes. "A righteous enough cause for you, Lady Knight? Even though these are ogres?" he asked. He frowned when he saw Fiona's blank expression. Had he spent too much effort on his last charming spell, and was she too far under his influence? "Have I put out all of your fire, Lady Knight?" he asked. "I must see later about giving at least some of it back."