Dark Thane

Mog battled valiantly to keep them away from his injured thane. There seemed no end to the draconians. They swept around the surviving dwarves, cutting off their retreat. At last there were only four dwarves, drawn together shoulder to shoulder, Mog, Tarn, and two young Klar warriors barely into their beards. Their swords and axes wove a deadly net of steel that piled stony baaz corpses about their feet. Tarn thrust his blade through the chest of one and failed to withdraw it quickly enough. As the draconian fell, its body turned to stone, trapping Tarn's sword and yanking it from his grasp. He quickly picked up a curved draconian blade.

After the initial onslaught, the baaz draconians fell back a pace from the four dwarves. Then several kapaks came forward, armed with crossbows. Neither Tarn nor Mog had a shield, and of their two young companions, one's life was quickly escaping through a spear wound in his thigh. Yet this young one grimly stood his ground and raised his shield to protect his king with the last of his strength. Tarn gripped the unfamiliar sword, all the dark rage of his mother's Daergar blood rising in him. His chest wound forgotten, his neck muscles standing out like cords, he prepared himself for his last moments on Krynn. Unbidden, the memory of his wife, Crystal Heathstone, came to his mind. Her face seemed to float before him, smiling in that particular way of hers. He laughed suddenly, emboldened.

Mog joined him, a sudden bellow of unbridled mirth erupting from his lips, as though somehow he had shared Tarn's vision. Tarn looked at him as though the Klar warrior had lost his mind. Then he heard what Mog had heard, and now the king's laughter changed to a cry of challenge. The draconians paused and with furrowed brows, looked north.

11

Ferro's face drained of blood, leaving his pale skin an even more sickly shade than before. He watched in utter horror, unable to tear his gaze away. The slaughter was terrible to behold.

The draconians had slain all but four of the dwarves- unfortunately not Tarn, nor his captain, and two Klar guards wearing the livery of Pax Tharkas. They had the four surrounded, and kapaks were just about to end the king's life in a hail of heavy crossbow bolts. But then… !

Disaster was too small a word to describe it. Ferro turned to the Theiwar scout who had just brought the bad news and, drawing his dagger, plunged it furiously into the scout's throat. The other Theiwar warriors shifted uncomfortably as one of their own was murdered before their eyes.

Ferro turned to the others, hissing, "Why didn't anyone warn me that Otaxx Shortbeard was following with half the warriors in Pax Tharkas? What do I pay you people for?"

There was no time for any reply.

The roar of the charging dwarves shook droplets of water from the surrounding trees. As quickly as Tarn's small band of dwarves had been decimated by the larger draconian force, now the draconians were falling back in disarray. Leaderless, baaz joined with baaz and kapak with kapak, fighting as two separate forces against the united might of Otaxx’s Hylar and Daewar force. A wedge of dwarf fighters drove between the two groups of draconians. The baaz were forced into the swamp, where they were quickly slaughtered or drowned, dragged down by their armor. The kapaks managed to hold together and retreat along the road, directly toward Ferro and his Theiwar mercenaries.

"We're in a tight place!" the Daergar exclaimed in frustration. He removed his helm and ran his fingers through his oily black hair, pushing the dank locks back from his face before settling the helm securely on his pate. "If Tarn and the others catch us here, they're sure to suspect we were involved."

"We could run," one of the Theiwar said, voicing the opinion of his fellows.

Ferro looked at him as though he were a stone that had suddenly found its voice and spoken. The fellow shrugged nervously and glanced toward the fighting. "Or we could hunker down and try to hide here."

"Great god below, can you be any more stupid?" Ferro almost shrieked. "Be my guest, run for it. If you aren't seen, our campsite certainly will be found, whether we run for it or hide. They'll wonder who was camped there, and as soon as they reach Thorbardin, they'll know. The plan was for us to arrive too late to save Tarn and then to barely escape with our lives." He looked back up the road toward the fighting, which was drawing ever closer. "We're in a tight spot for sure," he muttered.

The kapaks were holding together, and they fought valiantly. Wherever one fell beneath a dwarven weapon, its body quickly dissolved into a large pool of acid, which slowed the dwarves' assault somewhat, since the road was extremely narrow here. Ferro and his band of Theiwar crouched in the underbrush at the road's margin, watching hopelessly.