Part 49 (2/2)

His dubious allies, the Theiwar, proved to be even more inept fighters than Grag had expected, and he hadn't expected much. First, because of Theiwar carelessness, the Klar had discovered the secret pa.s.sages and sealed up many of them with their accursed stone-chewing worms, trapping some of Grag's best men inside. During the battle, the Theiwar did more looting than fighting, leaving the fighting to swarm over the bodies of the fallen, yanking off gold rings and silver chains. The moment the Theiwar were loaded up with booty, they deserted the field, fled the temple, and ran off to skulk in their rat holes.

As Grag fought dwarves, he waited impatiently for Dray-yan to seize the blasted hammer and force the dwarves to surrender. At one point, Dray-yan had the hammer, or so Grag thought. He took his eyes away for a moment to stab his opponent in the throat. When he looked back, Dray-yan was on the platform, struggling with a single dwarf wielding a hammer that blazed with a fierce red light. Seeing the aurak was in trouble, Grag tried to make his way to him, but he found himself surrounded on all sides, fighting for his life. The next thing he knew, the dwarf with the accursed hammer had shoved Dray-yan into the pit!

As Grag listened to the aurak's terrified howls, the thought came to him that he was now the commander of the fortress of Pax Tharkas. Dragon Highlord Verminaard was, finally, dead. Dray-yan was also dead. Grag was the survivor, and he saw immediately how he could lay the blame for this unfortunate debacle in Thorbardin on both his superiors.

Unlike Dray-yan, Grag had no aspirations to be a Dragon Highlord. He wanted nothing to do with politics. His one ambition was to be a good commander and win battles for the glory of his Dark Queen. He knew when he was beaten. There was no shame in giving up the field, no sense in wasting the lives of good men in a futile cause. Grag let out a piercing call that rose above the din of battle. His draconians heard it and knew what it meant, and they slowly began an orderly retreat.

Marshalling his forces, keeping them in good order, Grag led his draconians back the way they had entered, through the south door.

A few courageous dwarves, led by two human warriors, chased after them but didn't catch them. Draconians could cover ground far more rapidly than either dwarves or humans. Grag took his forces to one of the few secret tunnels the Klar had not discovered. He left them there, while he made a small detour to take care of some unfinished business having to do with Realgar. This done, he led those troops who had survived the battle into the deep tunnels that led to Pax Tharkas. Once all were inside, Grag ordered the tunnels sealed up behind them. After praying to Takhisis and mending their hurts, the draconians began the long trek back to Pax Tharkas.

Someday Grag would return to Thorbardin.

Someday, when his queen was triumphant.

The battle in the temple ended almost as quickly as it had begun. Seeing the draconians retreating, the Theiwar, who'd had little stomach for the fighting anyway, either fled or surrendered. Realgar, as it turned out, was not among them. He had been leading from the rear, and when it looked as though he was losing, the Thane had disappeared.

When the Temple was secure, the fighting ended and the prisoners had been hauled away, Hornfel sent soldiers with orders to search every crack, crevice, and cranny in Thorbardin, until they found Realgar. Hornfel wanted the Thane alive, intending to bring him before the Council to answer for his crimes. All the while, as he was issuing commands, Hornfel asked everyone he encountered about his son. No one had seen Arman or knew what had become of him. All anyone knew was that the hammer's light had shone undimmed throughout the fight, bolstering hearts and lending strength to dwarven hands.

Hornfel was thinking with pleasure of a celebratory victory dinner with his son, when he turned to find the Neidar, Flint Fireforge, standing silently and respectfully at his side. One look at the aged dwarf's sorrowful expression, and Hornfel's heart constricted with pain.

He covered his eyes with his hands for a moment, then, lifting his head, he said quietly, ”Take me to my son.”

Flint led the Thane to the altar of Reorx. Arman lay on the platform, his hands clasped over the hammer, his eyes closed.

The companions were grouped nearby. Tanis had a jagged cut on his arm. Sturm had a cut over one eye and was still suffering from the effects of the magical blast. Caramon had a broken hand from having punched a draconian in the jaw. Raistlin was apparently unhurt, though no one could really tell, for he refused to answer questions and kept his cowl pulled low over his face. Ta.s.slehoff had a torn s.h.i.+rt and a b.l.o.o.d.y nose. The blood mixed with the kender's tears as he looked down at the body of the dwarf.

”What happened?” Hornfel asked, grieving. ”I could not see in all the turmoil.”

”Your son lived as a hero and he died as a hero,” said Flint simply. ”A draconian who had been hiding in the pit attacked your son and tried to take the sacred hammer from him. The draconian stabbed him with a poisoned knife. Even though he knew he was dying, your son continued to fight, and he killed the draconian and flung the body into the pit.”

Ta.s.slehoff gaped at Flint in wonder at the lie. Tas opened his mouth to tell the truth about what had really hapened, but Flint fixed the kender with a look so very stern and piercing that Tas's mouth shut all by itself.

The body of Arman Kharas lay in state in the Life Tree for three days. On the fourth day, Hornfel and the Thanes of the dwarven kingdom of Thorbardin, and Flint Fireforge, their Neidar cousin, carried Arman Kharas to his final rest. His body was placed next to that of the sarcophagus that held the body of his hero, Kharas, and both were placed in the tomb of King Duncan inside the Valley of the Thanes. The plaque on the tomb of the young dwarf was chiseled out of stone by Flint Fireforge. It read: Hero of the Battle of the Temple, he recovered the Hammer of Kharas and slew the evil Dragon Highlord Verminaard.

All honor to his name Pike, son of Hornfel Another body was disposed of at about the same time, though with much less ceremony. Realgar had been found murdered, his throat slit from ear to ear. Clawed footprints, discovered near the body, were the only clue to the ident.i.ty of his killer.

Hornfel agreed to honor the wager made by Realgar, though Hornfel added that he would have welcomed the refugees into the safety of Thorbardin even if no wager been made. Tanis and the others were free to leave Thorbardin, to take the glad news to the refugees, and guide them to the Southgate, which would be open to receive them.

”Open to them and to the world,” Hornfel promised.

The night after the battle, Flint was unusually grim and dour. He kept apart form the others, refused to answer any questions, stating that he was worn out and telling everybody to leave him alone. He would not eat any dinner but went straight to his bed.

Raistlin was also in a bad temper. He shoved the plate from him, claiming that food turned his stomach. Sturm tried to eat but eventually dropped his spoon and sat with his head in his hands, his face hidden. Only Caramon was in a good mood. After a.s.suring himself there were no mushrooms in the stew, he not only ate his meal, but he finished off his brother's and Sturm's.

Ta.s.slehoff was also subdued. Though he was reunited with his pouches, he didn't even bother to sort through them. He sat on a chair, kicking at the legs, and fiddling with something in his pocket.

Tanis tapped the kender on the shoulder. ”I'd like to have a talk with you.”

Tas sighed. ”I thought you might.”

”Come outside, so we don't disturb Flint,” said Tanis.

Feet dragging, Tas followed the half-elf out of the inn. As Tanis shut the door behind them, he saw Sturm and Raistlin rise from the table and walk over to Flint's bed.

Tanis turned to the kender.

”Tell me what happened in the Tomb of Duncan. What really really happened,” Tanis emphasized. happened,” Tanis emphasized.

Tas shuffled uncomfortably. ”If I tell you, Flint will be mad.”

”I won't say a word to him,” Tanis promised. ”He'll never know.”

”Well, all right.” Tas gave another sigh, but this was one of relief. ”It will be a burden off my mind. You can't think how hard it is to keep secrets! I found this golden woolly mammoth-”

”Not the mammoth!” said Tanis.

”But that's a very important part,” Tas argued.

”The Hammer,” Tanis insisted. ”Flint was the one who found the Hammer of Kharas, wasn't he?”

”We both found the Hammer,” Tas tried to explain, ”and the body of the real Kharas and a scorpion, then Flint took my hoopak and told me to go away. That was when I met the golden woolly mammoth named Evenstar, but I won't say another word about him. I promised, you see...”

Sturm and Raistlin stood by the side of Flint's bed. The dwarf lay with his face to the wall, his back to them.

”Flint,” said Sturm, ”are you asleep?”

”Yes,” Flint growled. ”Go away!”

”You had the true Hammer of Kharas, didn't you?” said Raistlin. ”You had it in your possession when you entered the Temple of the Stars.

Flint lay still a moment, then he reared up in bed. He faced them, his face red. ”I did,” he said through clenched teeth, ”to my everlasting shame!”

Raistlin's mouth twisted. ”And you left it in the hands of a corpse! You sentimental old fool!”

”Stop it, Raistlin” ordered Sturm angrily. ”Leave Flint alone. You and I were wrong. What Flint did was honorable and n.o.ble.”

”How many thousands will pay for that n.o.ble gesture with their lives?” Raistlin thrust his hands into the sleeves of his robes. He cast the knight a grim glance. ”n.o.bility and honor do not slay dragons, Sturm Brightblade.”

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