02 Elven Star by Weis & Hickman

Author:Weis & Hickman [Weis & Hickman]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-04-10T22:57:38.507000+00:00

They paused only for short rests, and then only when they were near collapsing from exhaustion. Drugar often stayed awake, watching them sleep, fingering the blade of his knife. He could have murdered them at any time, for the fools trusted him now. But killing them would be a barren gesture. He might as well have let the tytans kill them. No, he hadn't risked his own life to save these wretches just to knife them in their sleep. They must first watch as Drugar had watched, they must first witness the slaughter of their loved ones. They must experience the horror, the helplessness. They must battle without, hope, knowing that their entire race was going to be wiped out. Then, and only then, would Drugar permit them to die. Then he could die himself.

But the body cannot live on obsession alone. The dwarf had to sleep himself, and when he could be heard loudly snoring, his victims talked.

"Do you know where we are?" Paithan edged his way painfully over to where Roland was sitting, nursing torn hands.

"No."

"What if he's leading us the wrong way? Up norinth?"

"Why should he? I wish we had some of that ointment stuff of Rega's."

"Maybe she had it with her-"

"Don't wake her. Poor kid, she's about done in." Roland wrung his hands, wincing. "Ouch, damn that stings."

Paithan shook his head. They couldn't see each other, the dwarf had insisted the torch be doused when they weren't moving. The wood used to make it burned long, but they had traveled far, and it was rapidly being consumed.

"I think we should risk going up," said Paithan, after a moment's pause. "I have my etherilite [23] with me. I can tell where we are."

Roland shrugged. "Suit yourself. I don't want to meet those bastards again. I'm considering staying down here permanently. I'm getting kind of used to it."

"What about your people?"

"What the hell can I do to help them?"

"You could warn them ..."

"As fast as those bastards travel, they're probably already there by now. Let the knights fight 'em. That's what they're trained for."

"You're a coward. You're not worthy of-" Paithan realized what he had been about to say, snapped his mouth shut on the words. Roland kindly finished his sentence for him. "Not worthy of who? My wife? Save-her-skin Rega?"

"Don't talk about her like that!"

"I can talk about her any damn way I feel like, elf. She's my wife, or have you forgotten that little fact? You know, by god, I think you have forgotten."

Roland was glib, talked tough. The words were a shell, meant to hold in his quivering guts. He liked to pretend he lived a danger-filled life, but it wasn't true. Once he'd nearly been knifed in a barroom scuffle and another time he'd been mauled by an enraged wildeboar. Then there was the time he and Rega had fought fellow smugglers during a dispute over free trade. Strong and powerful, quick and cunning, Roland had emerged from these adventures with a couple of bruises and a few scratches.

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