Legends of the Dragonrealm Volume 2

I

Kalena’s nose twitched. Perhaps it had only to do with the constant smell of decay around them, but the tawny cat woman somehow felt otherwise. She pulled her cloak tight. This place disturbed her, set the very fur on her neck standing on end.

“There’s an old keep up on that hill,” the bearded human Brom pointed out. “Be as good a place as any to stay.”

The third of their party, the hulking, beaked Gnor, simply grunted. Like all Gnor, this seeming cross between an avian and a bear spoke little. Gnor were hired for their brute strength. They had no individual names and did not accept any nicknames from their associates. A Gnor was a Gnor and that was it.

But even the presence of the mountainous creature did nothing to assuage the slim feline. She tugged at her short, black mane, then cursed herself for such a childish action. She, Brom, and the Gnor had spent three years together as successful smugglers and had faced adversity in many shapes and sizes. They had slept in far less appealing locations than an old, abandoned keep.

“We’ll have to walk the animals the rest of the way, though,” Brom continued, already dismounting. The old breastplate he wore over his shirt rattled. On the front could still be seen the scratched-out shape of a wolf’s head. When Brom had relieved the Aramite’s corpse of it, the first thing he had done was to remove the hated symbol. No one, not even a smuggler, wanted to be mistaken for something as foul as a wolf raider.

Once they had ruled the continent, but now only a handful of lands still suffered under their command. Centuries of tyranny had been broken by a visitor from beyond the western sea-a magical, shapechanging warrior called the Gryphon. Under his leadership, the stricken realms had risen up and swarmed over the black-armored Aramites, sending most fleeing to their ships.

Neither Kalena nor her companions had played any role in the war, but they felt great gratitude to this Gryphon. After all, the downfall of the empire made business much easier and more profitable for those like herself. The Aramite had only had one simple rule for dealing with smugglers-if they were not sanctioned, they were hanged on the spot.

The Gnor dismounted from his own beast, a six-legged, broad-muzzled creature that passed for a horse among his kind. Kalena grudgingly followed suit, still wary. The overcast sky had already darkened the dank landscape and now the night promised to be completely black. Even her own exceptional vision would only be able to make out objects a short distance away. She wanted to suggest they move on, but knew that Brom and the Gnor would simply look at her as if she had turned coward.

What life remained in this region looked as sinister as the ruined keep. The trees resembled grasping fingers and the weeds teeth. The only sounds of animal life were the calls of the carrion crows. As they neared the stone edifice, Kalena again had the desire to turn around and ride off as quickly as she could. The animals, too, seemed anxious to go elsewhere, for they struggled against their masters.

Swearing, Brom finally tied his own mount to a hideous tree just beyond the wall. The Gnor did the same, then removed a huge ax from his animal’s saddle. The sight of the seven-foot-plus behemoth wielding the sturdy weapon erased some of the cat woman’s concerns. What in its right mind would face up to a Gnor?

“Light some torches,” Brom ordered her.

Happy to be busy, Kalena obeyed. She had the fire going quickly and soon handed the others their torches. Seizing the last, the cat woman gazed around at the entrance. A somber-looking gargoyle, one wing broken off, stared down at the intruders. Moss filled most of the cracks between the stones. The wooden door had fallen off long ago and what had not been eaten by termites and worms lay off to one side.

“Looks to be pretty empty,” the bearded smuggler commented. He eyed the interior. “A stairway and some back rooms. We should check those out. Gnor, you take the downstairs”-Brom did not mention that the Gnor’s weight might make the stairway collapse-“we’ll go up.”

With a grunt, the hirsute giant headed to the back. Kalena and the human cautiously walked up the stairs. The wooden-frame structure protested, but did not give way.

At the top, Brom indicated that he would take the left, she the right. Each had two rooms to check. Kalena took some comfort in knowing that Brom would be within easy earshot, but she still drew her short sword. Unlike him, she wore only a thin, cloth hunting outfit under her voluminous travel cloak. Among her own kind, Kalena would have been barely clothed, but humans insisted on cumbersome garments, so she had made the best compromise. Even still, the low-cut top and slitted pant legs garnered the attention of many males.

The darkness seemed to close in around her as she stepped away from Brom. Forcing herself to focus ahead, Kalena reluctantly entered the first room.

A rueful smile spread across her full mouth. The torch immediately revealed nothing more than a dust-filled, cobweb-covered room bare of even a stick of furniture. No ghosts, no goblins. Holding the torch before her, she peered at the corners, but found absolutely nothing.

Feeling more and more foolish about her earlier misgivings, Kalena stepped out of the first room. Just one more to check and then she could rejoin Brom.

But whereas the previous chamber had been full of webs, the second was oddly clear, almost as if it had been constantly swept. It also contained the first furniture that the cat woman had seen in the entire keep. A tall, antique dress cabinet stood at the far end of the room. Scrollwork framed the polished images of rearing horses and handles made of what looked like gold.

The gold enticed her forward, as did the prospect that something of greater value might wait inside. Brom had regaled her with tales of smugglers and treasure hunters who had found valuables in the oddest of places. Why not here? At the very least, perhaps some antique object worth selling remained.

The gold handle moved readily when she turned it. The condition of the cabinet almost made her pause, but anticipation of what she might find inside made Kalena forge ahead.

But when she eyed the contents, her hand shook so much that she dropped the torch on the stone floor.

Kalena could not scream. All she could do was step back, her eyes unable at first to tear away from the monstrous sight dangling before her.

The faces…

Born of a race of hunters, Kalena nonetheless turned and fled. She raced down the broken staircase without thinking. At the bottom, some of her sense returned and she looked around for the Gnor. Even more than Brom, the Gnor would keep her safe now.

Only one of the two downstairs doors was open and from within came a flicker of torchlight. With a relieved gasp, Kalena rushed inside. Guilt that she had chosen the Gnor before Brom washed over her, but the cat woman knew that in this case Brom would understand.

But barely within the chamber, Kalena screamed.

The Gnor-or what remained of him-lay sprawled in the middle of the chamber. She knew it to be the Gnor only because of the general shape and the ax that lay nearby. The blood-soaked body itself was almost unrecognizable, for something had, with utter precision, completely skinned the giant.

“Not possible…” she muttered. “Not possible…”

She backed out of the chamber… and into a pair of arms.

Before Kalena could speak, she heard a voice whisper, “Don’t scream. It’s only me.”

Although neither held a torch, her superior vision enabled her to make out Brom’s welcome face. The bearded human gazed solemnly at his companion.

“Brom! Brom… the Gnor! He’s… he’s…”

“It’s all right. I’m here.”

She felt some comfort in his arms, but still the image of the goliath’s corpse remained burnt in her memory. “Brom, let’s get away from here! Whatever killed the Gnor must still be here! We can’t stay!”

Despite his cool demeanor, he must have been almost as worried as her, for his body was covered in sweat, so much so that Kalena’s hands came away wet and sticky where she had touched him near the throat and shoulders.

A sound from the direction of the room where the Gnor had perished made them both pause. Kalena could not be certain, but she thought it a faint moan. Could it be possible that after suffering such horror their companion might still be alive? Gnor were said to be hard to kill, but still…

Disengaging himself from her, Brom headed toward the other room. “Stay here,” he ordered, drawing his sword. “I’ll see to it.”

As he vanished inside, the cat woman wiped her brow. As she did, for the first time Kalena noted a lingering scent. It smelled of Brom, but of something else. She sniffed her hands where she had touched him, then anxiously touched her tongue to one palm.

Blood. She knew the taste well. Her kind practically ate their meals raw.

Staring at her open hands, Kalena shook. What she had taken for sweat was instead blood… so much of it that her hands were covered. Her panic had made her not notice it earlier.

Brom’s had been covered in blood… but with such a wound, he could hardly have stood, much less be so calm.

Then Kalena thought of the Gnor and what she had discovered upstairs.

“By the Dream Lands!” she gasped.

Whirling, she fled out of the keep and into the starless night. The branches of the trees nearby seemed to clutch at her, hold her. From her fingers erupted sharp claws, which she used to slash her way through. The region was silent save her own frantic breathing. Kalena did not look back, fearful that what had taken the Gnor was right behind her.

Fearful that it would still wear the face of Brom.