The Last Thane

Chapter Twenty-four
An Army Unleashed

"Get into that tunnel, you gully dwarf-spawned bastards!" shouted Darkend, waving his mace over his head and menacing the file of Daergar warriors. Most were already advancing into the confined assault route, but their thane still cursed and lashed, uncaring of complaints as his spiked weapon gouged into the back of his warriors.

Still fuming, he whirled upon his sister who had just emerged with him from the tunnel that led up to Hybardin's Level Four. All around him was a ruin of molten rock, rubble-strewn streets, and pulverized landscape. A whole sector of valuable smithies had been smashed into unrecognizable garbage and soot beneath the power of fiery wing and crushing talon.

"Why didn't he wait here? Isn't that what you told him to do?" the thane demanded.

"Yes, that is what I told him!" insisted the female dark dwarf. "But he clearly had ideas of his own!"

Even as she spoke, Darkend noticed that his sister looked fretful. The strain of the long climb and the frustration at finding events reaching beyond their control had tightened the nerves of both Bellowsmokes. For several moments the brother and sister glared at each other. Darkend's gaze shifted, and as he fixed his stare at the bronze helm that gave Garimeth the ability to understand beings even as strange as the daemon warrior, he finally understood.

He was tempted to swing his mace against Garimeth right now, but some deep vestige of self control prevented him from taking the dire action. And he still could not be sure. Besides, Garimeth still had uses-or she would, if they could ever catch up to the rampaging daemon warrior.

Herein was the crux of his problem. Zarak Thuul had apparently taken to the thane's orders with passion, using his great serpent to bore a wide hole through the bedrock of the Life-Tree. Already thousands of Daergar and Theiwar had advanced along that route. But these attacking dwarves had found the city already reduced to waste. There were no conquered Hylar to show him honor. All of them were either dead or had fled into the highest levels of the city Even the vast silver smithies with their great vaults of precious metal had been burned so thoroughly that the stockpiles of the argent metal had melted like water and vanished into the porous rock. This had been one of the great treasures of Hybardin, and Darkend had planned to turn the minting process to his own uses. But now, like so much of this accursed city, it was nothing but ugly wreckage.

And, from the look of things, there was still no sign that the Chaos lord was planning to slow down his onslaught or that he had any intentions of cooperating with the dark dwarf assault. Instead, the daemon warrior continued to take matters into his own hands, forging upward and onward on his own. Though advancing companies of dark dwarves hastened in his wake, the stocky, short-legged warriors were climbing much more slowly than the fiery harbinger of Chaos. Now Darkend's greatest fear was that he would conquer this city of wonders, only to find that the entire place had been destroyed beyond salvage by the depredations of his unpredictable, uncontrollable ally.

Worst of all, Darkend could think of no way to counter the daemon warrior's power or his implacable will. He dared not take his frustrations out on Garimeth-at least not now, for he saw that his sister might be his only chance to somehow still rein in that capricious power.

"My lord thane! My lord!" cried a Daergar warrior in great excitement.

"What is it, man?"

"A royal armory, lord! And it's still intact!" The dwarf pointed along the street. "We've set a guard on it, but it hasn't been burned yet! And it looks like the Hylar cleared out too quickly to take any of their treasure."

"This is more like it," growled the thane, allowing himself to feel the first hint of conqueror's pleasure. Darkend followed the other dwarf down a wide avenue toward a vast structure with a colonnaded portico and doors of reinforced steel.

"There's a trove of coin in here!" shouted a captain of heavy infantry, clapping his fist in salute as Darkend strode up the steps. The thane stalked down a wide, marbled hall, past more saluting Daergar, all of whom grinned with anticipation.

"In here, my lord-feast your eyes!" declared the messenger, standing aside to allow his thane to proceed.

The great vault was encased in thick plates of solid steel, but the doors had been forced open; one of the great slabs lay on the floor while the other tilted awkwardly on its single remaining hinge. As Darkend reached the end of the hall and saw the great room opening beyond, he knew that here at last was one prize worthy of his conquering army.

The vault was as large as his own throne room and was crowded with neat rows of crates and boxes. Darkend beheld a wealth of riches, coin of steel, platinum, and gold. Several Daergar were already moving amongst the packages, prying off lids and shifting some of the heavier crates onto the floor. They snapped to attention as the thane arrived.

"See here, my lord," cried one, who wielded a small axe. "They're all like this!"

The dwarf smashed his blade into the side of a crate, breaking the boards and releasing a cascade of silvery coins.

"These are steel, lord-but there's all kinds of coinage, imprints from across the face of Krynn!" The speaker smiled crookedly. "We've even found a set minted in Palanthas, bearing the image of Gunthar Uth Wistan himself!"

"The Knights of Solamnia are making a contribution to my treasury," Darkend declared, chuckling at the irony. "Do you have a count of the worth yet?"

"No, lord. But look over here! These bins are full of gems-diamonds and rubies of incalculable worth! And over there, emeralds-some of them bigger than your eye!"

"Indeed!" The thane, very pleased, was about to step into the vault when he heard cries of alarm. A blow shook the floor under his feet, and the air reverberated.

"What's that?" he demanded, staring about.

There was another great smash, and this time the vault rang like the inside of a drum, a deafening resonance thrumming in the air. Darkend stared in disbelief as the steel wall at the far side of the great chamber bulged inward, then began to glow a dull red. The thane recoiled, feeling a blast of heat against his face. He watched in dumbstruck horror as the metallic barrier brightened to yellow, then to pure, hot white.

And then fire was everywhere, exploding into the vault, roaring in Darkend's ears. He threw himself flat on the floor, crawled toward the doorway, and finally hurtled into the comparative coolness of the outer hall.

A tail of crackling oily flame lashed across the treasures-his treasures! Walls of steel and stone dissolved, and Dark-end groaned in abject misery as he saw piles of coins turn to ash. A fire dragon surged past in an ecstasy of destruction, crushing a king's ransom in gems to dust as its inferno of heat melted coins of steel and gold.

"Fight, you worms!" cried Darkend, sending more of his warriors into the path of that killing blaze. "Save my treasure!"

A few obeyed and died, burned to powder by the touch of wing or claw. Others threw themselves flat on the floor, cowering and miserable, risking the wrath of their thane rather than facing certain death from the infernal wyrm.

And then the monster was gone, leaving an eerie, smoking silence. A great cavern yawned in the wall, marking the passage of flaming Chaos.

"My thane, we must hurry!" hissed Garimeth. "Our only chance is to keep climbing, to find Zarak Thuul."

"But, my baubles, my coins, my gems!" moaned Darkend.

"She's right." Slickblade was suddenly back at his side, oddly speaking in agreement with Garimeth. "We must go!" he urged.

"Why? What's the point?" Darkend looked at the singed and soot-covered survivors of his troops. He wanted nothing more than to have them executed slowly, while he sat and watched.

"There will be other treasures, I promise you. And your life means everything, does it not?" asked the assassin.

Darkend looked back once to see the vault shrouded in the same red smoke that permeated so much of this city. "What of Tarn Bellowgranite?" he demanded. "Tell me: is he dead?"

"No!" spat the assassin. "He is lost in the maze of this dying city. I have not been able to find him."

"Then come with me as we climb," snarled the thane. "We must catch the daemon warrior and stop him!"

"How can you hope to do that?" Slickblade asked.

"How should I know?" demanded Darkend. He pointed at Garimeth. "You may as well ask her!"

"I don't know!" she screamed wildly, irrationally. "But he's right. We have to try. Can't you see that?"

"What does it matter? What does anything matter? We're conquering a mess here! By the time we do anything, all that will be left of Hybardin is rubble, dust, and smoke!"

"We will catch him, but not until we can get to a higher level in the city," Garimeth said, her tone growing calm and surprisingly soothing to the agitated thane. "If necessary we will climb to the top of this miserable Life-Tree and find him there. We must stop him before it is too late!"

Darkend cursed but knew he had no choice but to follow her.

"Let's go, then," Garimeth said, fixing him with a steady glare. "But my lord, first I have a demand."

"How dare you!" Darkend's temper flared again, but he forced himself to listen. "What is it?"

"I need your promise-a bonded word-that you will not kill me when this is over."

"Very well, as Reorx is my witness, you have my word." Darkend gave the oath reluctantly, knowing the strength of the god's name. He might still choose to renege upon his word, but if he did so his treachery would surely cost him. It galled him to admit that he still needed Garimeth, needed the power she possessed with her artifact, the power that gave them their only hope of arresting the insane havoc of Zarak Thuul.