Treachery's wake dad-6 Page 5

  The stench from the creature's body wrinkled Krusk's nose with disgust. The scent was unmistakable-kobold. He spat, hoping to rid his mouth of the odor. A pack of the tiny things might be a challenge, he thought as he watched two more of the beasts round a corner farther down the passage. Only a handful of the wretches, however, would be a shame to kill. Krusk glanced at the scaly body lying at his feet and reminded himself of the races' penchant for cruelty, their tendency to pick on those weaker than themselves, and their frequent raids on human villages. He bolted after the kobolds, amending his last thought as he went. Not killing them would be a shame.

  By the time the kobolds realized their mistake it was too late. A pile of overturned crates blocked the corridor they’d run down. The rope that previously held the crates to the walls dangled loosely from iron rings in the wall. As Krusk came around the corner, the kobolds growled and barked, backing themselves into the heap of broken wood. Krusk swatted away the miniature spear that was thrust at him and brought his axe down, leveling both kobolds with a single blow.

  "Damn, Krusk," Mialee said as she came around the corner, "couldn't you have saved one for me?"

  Malthooz was just behind the wizard.

  "They smell awful," he said, his words muffled by the hand he held over his nose. "I've heard stories, but have never seen one up close. They look harmless enough."

  He rolled one of the child-sized bodies over with his boot. The creature looked something like a cross between a lizard and a dog. He knelt beside the body for a closer look.

  "Don't let their size fool you," Mialee said, "a pack of them can level a small community in minutes. A whole tribe, a few hundred of them, can take a town. Let's be careful, there's probably more."

  "It'll take more than that to slow us down," Krusk said as he wiped his axe blade on a plank of wood. "Let's find that magic stick. There's another passage on the other side of that storeroom."

  As he started back toward the cargo hold, Krusk felt the flooring jolt as though something had struck the ship.

  "The tide couldn't have come in that fast," Mialee said as she moved to join the barbarian at the junction of hallways.

  The side of the craft exploded behind Malthooz. Fragments of hull sailed past Krusk as he fought to keep his footing.

  Malthooz, caught by the full force of the blast, was flung into the far wall. His head slammed against a low beam and he fell to the floor. A hail of broken wood showered his unmoving form as a massive claw burst through the hull.

  Lidda was nearly to her hook and line when she heard the crash and felt the impact. The deck trembled as reverberations from the blow traveled through the sun-bleached wood.

  Her grappling hook forgotten, Lidda leaped over the side of the ship in one fluid motion and prepared herself for a soft landing on the beach. By the time her feet made contact, the crossbow was held tightly in her grip. Her finger twitched on the trigger as she moved around the side of Treachery.

  As she rounded the starboard edge of the ship, she heard an unmistakable sound. It was the deep howl that would make anyone who knew him painfully aware that Krusk was mad.

  8

  Malthooz felt himself slipping away from consciousness. He was aware of pain from something hitting his shoulder and he felt his neck whip as his upper body impacted the wall. His head collided sharply with a large beam. The pain was intense at first, taking the breath from his lungs, but it quickly dulled as he faded toward unconsciousness. The pain in his skull subsided to an ache. The world stopped spinning around him and he felt himself being laid gently to rest.

  When he awoke, Malthooz found himself inside an immense and intensely white chamber. The marble floor and walls where polished to a high shine, matching the luminescent, alabaster columns that ran in rows the length of the room. The pillars held aloft a vaulted, half-globe ceiling.

  The interior curve of the ceiling was inlayed with multicolored stones, shorn flat and laid into an amazing mosaic of images. At the four cardinal directions were shield-sized orange spheres with tendrils of yellow and red radiating from them. These suns were laid into an obsidian background and almost glowed in contrast to the midnight hues of the burnished, ebony stone.

  Set in the center of the picture was the image of an enormous dragon. The outline of the dragon's scales was done with emeralds and lapis, and the whole of the thing was covered in gold leaf. In its talons, the creature clutched a silver mace topped with yet another orange-red sun.

  Spaced evenly around the image of the dragon were several smaller figures, knights in full plate armor holding aloft long swords in homage to the beast. On each of the knights' breastplates was an inlay of the same solar motif repeated elsewhere.

  Malthooz was lying flat on his back on the floor of the temple, staring up at the image above him. He shook his head. He remembered something striking him. He reached up and rubbed his skull. There were no lumps or bruises as far as he could tell.

  He sat up, pushing himself into a sitting position with his elbows. The makeshift club lay at his side along with the symbol of Pelor. He didn't remember taking the talisman into the ship with him. What became of the ship, and why had he been there in the first place? That seemed so long ago. He remembered traveling with Krusk and some others. Perhaps the journey had been nothing but a dream. On the other hand, he didn't recognize this place at all, so maybe this was the dream.

  Despite his confusion over where he was and how he got there, Malthooz felt clear-headed and alert. He considered for a moment that he might be dead, but discarded the notion. This place did not look like the paradise of wilderness and plenty the shamans promised.

  Without thinking, he grabbed the wooden symbol. His whole body convulsed as his fingers wrapped around the trinket. A surge of energy ran from the symbol through his hand and along his arm. His head snapped back as the wave traveled up his spine. Malthooz shut his eyes against a flood of tears, but they could not be halted.

  A moment later the energy stopped, and the symbol of Pelor clattered to the ground. A flood of emotions and memories hit Malthooz all at once. Feelings long pent up suddenly rushed forth: wounds of humiliation at the hands of his childhood peers; having to watching his village suffer failed crops and the raids of bandits; the pain he'd felt when Krusk moved on, and his anger at himself for not being brave enough to leave himself. All of those feelings came and passed.

  Malthooz stared at the wooden symbol. The words of the acolyte of Pelor echoed in his mind. "You lack faith in yourself." Then more of the things he had been told came back. Some were things he had tried to forget: that a deity's call was not one of choice and that it was useless to resist. Malthooz had resisted from the start, and continued to fight it. He ran from his village, having convinced himself that he wanted only to find Krusk, thinking that if he could convince Krusk to return, everything would be all right and his heart would be at peace. He was beginning to understand how wrong he was.

  Mialee reacted reflexively. Her hand shot toward the claw as the familiar words of a spell came to her lips. Three bolts of light and energy flew from her outstretched fingers and raced at the appendage, slamming into its armored side. The yellow glow of the missiles dissipated against the claw, sending arcs of electricity racing along its rough surface, but doing it no visible damage.

  She cursed under her breath as the tendrils of magic faded into the surface of the armor. Realizing that she had only a few seconds before the rest of the creature came bursting into the hold, she grabbed Malthooz by the collar and pulled his body down the hall with all her strength. Mialee was thankful that the passage of many years and feet had worn the floor to a smooth polish. Nevertheless, strength was not one of the elf's primary virtues, and the strain of dragging the half-orc's bulk taxed her muscles to the limit of her endurance.

  Krusk was already moving forward by the time Mialee loosed her ineffective magic. He was upon the beast before she pulled Malthooz safely from the claw's reach. Heat burned in his chest and a hum fi
lled his ears. The rage of battle infused him and he welcomed the feeling, hungering for the rush that a good fight brought. His axe felt like an extension of his arm as he moved in on the monster.

  A second claw reached into the hallway, grabbing the jagged edge of the hole and wrenching away more timber. A pair of legs came through the hole, followed by another. Soon the entire bulk of a giant crab filled the narrow passageway. Its mouth was a dark complex of tiny mandibles and jaw plates that popped and clicked as they opened and closed. It must have been lurking in the shallow water, Krusk thought as he swung his axe at a leg that speared toward his throat. Krusk could guess why there were no bodies in the wreck.

  "You'll not take this meal so easily as the corpse of a dead, bloated sailor," Krusk howled as he brought his axe back around on the crab.

  He was deep in the throes of his rage and cared little for the fact that the monster couldn't understand him. His weapon smashed into one of the crab's armored claws with a crunch, shattering the plating near the tip, sending small bits of shell flying back into the barbarian's face.

  The monster moved toward Krusk, responding to the immediate threat. It lashed out at the barbarian with both claws, the wound from Krusk's axe barely slowing it. Krusk knew little of sea creatures but he suspected that the beast could not feel pain.

  The crab snapped at Krusk as he tried to land a second strike. The inner surface of its claws looked like a rough landscape of calcified matter. They didn't look sharp but the barbarian knew that what they lacked in edge, they made up for in sheer strength. He was more than aware that either of them could easily sever his arm once it locked on. To be caught by both was unthinkable. Krusk bided his time, looking for the opportunity to hit, knowing that the monster would neither rest nor be frightened away.

  Mialee dropped Malthooz a few yards from the crab's back. She tossed her short bow aside, realizing the futility of using the weapon against the creature's tough exoskeleton. She thought her staff would be equally useless, except perhaps as a distraction to the crab so she abandoned it as well and prepared to cast another spell.

  Against such a mindless beast, magical charms and enchantments would be of no use. Her magic missiles already demonstrated their futility. She realized that Krusk was their best hope of surviving the attack and she set about to bolster the half-orc's offensive power. If the barbarian was going to stand a chance against the monster's multiple weapons, he was going to need more than just his axe and a little luck.

  She concentrated on Krusk's movements, watching his every move and getting herself in tune with his every step and shift. Grabbing a piece of licorice root from a pouch at her side, she shifted part of her awareness to the twig. Her mouth worked the words of the spell, her delivery becoming louder and more sure as the magic took effect. Speaking the final word, Mialee shifted her attention back to Krusk and sent forth a conjuration of energy.

  Krusk felt the potency of the magic coursing through his veins. Even in his enraged state, the warmth of the magic infused his movements and brought an extra quickness to his attacks. He redoubled his efforts. One of the creature's legs let go with a snap as Krusk's axe severed it near the joint. The remaining stub twitched and jerked, rendered all but useless with the loss of its pointed tip. Krusk concentrated his attacks on the smaller appendages between warding off the lunging claws.

  Beast and barbarian danced back and forth down the tiny hallway. The sound of Krusk's booted footsteps was lost amidst the clacking of the monster's legs on the wooden floor. Krusk was lost in a passionate rage of survival, his actions marked by instinct that rivaled that of the crab. Time and again he landed blows on the creature. The salty smell of sea water oozed from cracks and fissures in the crab's outer skeleton. Bits of soft, pink meat hung from the holes. Still the beast came like a relentless automaton.

  Mialee struck at the creature's hind legs. She had little hope of causing any real injury, but her rapid assault forced the crab to skitter to keep its balance.

  Finally, Krusk took off one of the claws with a mighty swing. That created an opening in the monster's defense and allowed Krusk to shift his attacks toward the crab's belly and the softer shell beneath its mouth, where another strike deep into the underside of the creature gave Krusk his victory.

  The monster convulsed and crashed to the floor, its remaining legs crumpled and knotted beneath its bulk.

  Krusk and Mialee both rushed to Malthooz's side. Mialee grabbed his wrist and felt the weak beat of his heart through the artery there.

  "He's alive," she said, dropping Malthooz's limp arm, "and pretty damn lucky, I'd say."

  "His luck will run out at some point," Krusk spat, "and I don't want his death on my head."

  "Any one of us would have been caught off guard and felled by that blow. If you're going to be so damn glib about his lack of skill, why don't you check that ego of yours and teach him to fight?"

  "He'll never learn."

  "He won't if you don't give him the chance, you oaf!" someone else said.

  They both turned and saw Lidda standing at the intersection of the hallway.

  Krusk looked away, avoiding the rogue's gaze. He knew that what the women said was true. He really did yearn to tell Malthooz more about himself and his life, but his own stubbornness always seemed to get in the way. He grabbed his unconscious companion under the arms and lifted him from the floor.

  "I tried to help," Lidda explained, "but by the time I made my way around the ship, the excitement was done and there was no way I was getting in behind that thing. I don't know that I could have done much against that armor anyway."

  Krusk felt the heat of the battle flowing from his body, replaced by weariness. He was spent and would have to rest again before he did anything strenuous.

  "Come on," he said, "let's get out of here before something else tries to eat us."

  9

  A hawk soared high above the bluff that rose from the eastern edge of the coast, wheeling on a warm blast of heated air radiating from the rocks below, using the thermal current to gain altitude. Wind rustled through the feathers of the creature's broad wings, whispering slightly as it made its way over the tiny hairs at their tips.

  The bird circled, taking in the general lay of the land. Its eyes pierced a shroud of fog, darting over the expanse of beach below. Figures moved across the sand. The creatures posed no threat to the hawk as far as she could tell. Nothing in the area did. Even the huge birds of prey that sometimes hunted there would leave her alone. She was too small to be of much interest to them.

  As she wheeled higher into the air, the hawk watched a few of the humans pass into a dark mass they had been scurrying around, and another of them scaled its side. There was something about them that registered in her mind, triggering vague memories and a feeling of kinship and familiarity.

  Vadania welcomed any excuse to take to wing. She lost herself in the thrill of flight and reveled in the pull of instinct, giving up a part of her rational mind for a more ancient kind of knowing. She did not entirely lose touch with who or what she was, but everything came to her through a different lens of understanding. She passed over the ship once and pulled up into a steep climb.

  While she was probably the most suited of the party to pick up on any trails that were left behind, Vadania knew tracking was not her greatest skill. She could use her shapechanging abilities, heightened senses of sight or smell, or in this case flight, to great advantage. They did the druid little good, however, if she didn't know what to look for aside from the most obvious indication of someone's passing.

  The beach yielded little information. Vadania expected this, given the play of the tides and the shifting nature of its fine sands. Waves would erase any evidence of passage within hours of their being left. The trail grew more promising, however, when she ascended the bluff.

  Near its top, she spotted unmistakable signs that a group had recently been camped there. Evidence of multiple fire pits and charred chunks of deer or elk were st
rewn across the ground. Vadania felt her anger rising at the lack of respect shown the animals' remains, even if they were just a meal. An equal lack of concern marked the trail of prints that ran from the site and into the scrub forest to the east. A blind gnome could have followed the trail. A sickly stench lingered on the breeze. She followed the trail for a little while, then turned back when it was apparent that whatever left it was at least a few days gone.

  As she flew back out over the beach, Vadania saw that her companions were returning from the ship. She watched them setting a camp near the foot of the bluff, looking like insects from her height. Smoke drifted lazily from a small fire ring while she watched their tiny forms move about the scene. As the druid descended, she could make out each of her friends in clearer and clearer detail.

  Krusk hunkered over the fire, tossing pieces of driftwood onto the sputtering flames. Lidda dug through her pack, probably looking for food. Mialee sat on the beach next to Malthooz's prone form, her hand upon the half-orc's brow. He looked dead. Were it not for the attention Mialee paid him, Vadania would have concluded he was.

  Her descent grew more rapid. She approached the party in a steep dive, flaring her tail feathers at the last second to slow her approach. She landed on the sand with a double hop. No one seemed very surprised by her appearance. The only one of them who hadn't witnessed her shapechanging was out cold. She let out a shrill shriek.

  A transformation started in the depths of her chest. Her heart pulsed more slowly and the talons at the tips of her clawed feet began to expand and flatten. Her body grew rapidly to its full height as the feathers composing the hawk's wings withdrew into the pores on her arms. The beak pulled back into her face and her eyes grew into the long, almond shape that marked those of her race.

  Within moments, an elf woman stood where the bird had been. Vadania reached down to reassure herself by touching the hilt of her scimitar. The weapon was strapped to her hip, as it should be. The antlers in her hair and the beads that covered her clothing were all as they had been an hour before.