- Chapter 14 -

 

The sacred power of the prayer-hole seemed to be working. The gods seemed to have smiled, and now Brossganth had to pray some more - pray, and hope that Broxka could decipher the workings of the Reclamationist device.

Broxka had been trying to get more comfortable, no easy feat in a chamber intended only for one and not exactly furnished for comfort, when she suddenly sat up, cursing, as something in a pocket dug painfully into her injured ribs. The offending object turned out to be the flat, rectangular box Bresquet had used to activate his war-machine, which one of the leading Hu'Man soldiers had dropped in the panic of battle and Broxka had fortunately picked up.

"I didn't see the machine fighting beside us", recalled Brossganth, "but that doesn't mean it's been destroyed. It may just be standing idle somewhere, waiting for someone to give it instructions with that."

Broxka poked the buttons with a broad stumpy finger. The device bleeped once, and a yellow light flashed near the top of the four-by-four square arrangement of soft, squashy buttons. "Dunno what that means", she grunted, and frowned, doubling the number of deep wrinkles on her broad forehead.

"Our fingers are too big for it - it was made for Hu'Men", said the Young Lord. "We need to find one of them."

"The...the girl", suggested Broxka. "If anyone could hide from those monsters, it's that skinny little wisp o'nothing. It's what she was brought on the trip for. I hope she's all right - I liked her..."

Elsewhere on Jaglundar's Rock, hope was also blooming afresh, in what was possibly more fertile soil. Strides-Tall was always glad to have Bjalser for company, but she was overjoyed when he said just three words to her - ***Raven is here.***

***Raven?***, she called out.

***Yes, it's me***, the black-haired dancer replied. ***I hear you're a little the worse for wear.***

The elf could not prevent her pain from feeding back along the psychic link as the venom again tried to overwhelm her. ***Yeah - I guess***, she moaned, her discomfort not helped by Raven's reaction, the psychic equivalent of an alarmed flinch. ***You're close; too close. Get out of here. Don't try anything silly, like coming in to rescue me. It's too dangerous.***

***Nonsense***, said Raven firmly. ***We can get you out of there - but we need to know where the Dravwyrn is. If we kill it, the Curse will be broken.***

***D-Dravwyrn?***, murmured Strides-Tall.

***Creatures of legend***, interceded Bjalser. ***They're clearly not as legendary as people thought. Raven's ship apparently has an expert on board, and he thinks we can release you, and maybe many of the others that have been bitten, if the one that bit you dies.***

***The...others?***, Strides-Tall said weakly as another wave of pain came over her. ***About ten of them. Can't see how you can help them...almost completely changed now...***

***Mararen says there should be Dravwaeri - the smaller ones - looking after you***, said Raven anxiously. ***He says to get them to take you to their master. Now that I know you're there, I can track you by your emotions. You find him, we'll find you - and we'll end this.***

***Make it quick***, whispered the elf. ***So tired. C...can't hold it back much longer...***

Back on the Succubus, Raven came out of her trance. "I lost her", she told her assembled companions, "but I can still feel her emotions. She's so completely focussed on doing what we asked that she's shining through the rock as though it was thin air."

"So, we'll be able to find her when she meets with the monster?", asked Marishanna, and Raven responded with a confident nod.

"That won't give us much time to get to her", said Mararen warily. "The Dark Breed don't like to be disturbed when they're sleeping off big meals."

It was Marishanna who chipped in with a solution. "Don't worry about that", she said with a wicked smile, resting a gloved hand over her heart. "If this does what I've been told it will, then we're just one step away from facing your precious Dravwyrn..."

The pain was almost constant now, but it made Strides-Tall smile inside to see the monsters - Dravwaeri, Raven had called them - falling completely for her ruse.

"Why does this one want to see Lord Heslangithmanir?", demanded the guard on the other side of the bridge across Deepscar Rift. "He does not take lightly to being disturbed, as you well know!"

"The creature says she is afraid she is dying", replied the elf's guard. "She fears that the Lord's Blessing may be poison to her - she tells me she is not of this world."

"She's not Shaelin, though you could easily mistake her for one", commented the guard. "The master would very much like to keep this one, for she nearly escaped. Take her in - maybe the Lord can ease her pain, and help her accept her new role as one of his Chosen Servants."

On the deck of the Succubus, Raven signalled to her friends to get ready.

"So, just what do you have in mind?", Sshraada asked Marishanna.

"In my native reality, I could command considerable magical powers", the Salvandireen explained. "Here, magic seems to work differently, and my powers do not seem to function. I am hoping that this will bridge the gap..."

The diminutive adventuress undid the top two eyelets at the neck of her suit, and fished out a chain, at the end of which was a golden oval, with a clear yellow stone set in the centre. The stone seemed to sparkle with an inner light than flickered and danced like a flame.

"A Shaelin Eye-Stone!", gasped Mararen. "A very rare and powerful magic-focus."

"My experiments have been most promising", she assured them both. "I have used magic to translocate myself and others in the past, and I fully expect to be able to do so again - with this."

She paused, then added "I've also gone dragon-stalking in the past. That was quite a while ago, however, so I'm looking forward to this..."

"I am not", declared the disgusted Naagian. "I will watch the rear, and fight the changed ones, but I will have no part in the kill."

As Sshraada strode away to prepare herself in a quiet corner, a thought struck Raven, quite out of the blue. "There's just one thing I don't understand about this", she said, thoughtfully. "Why is it that I had such trouble finding Strides-Tall through all that rock, yet her mind could touch mine all the way back at Freeport?"

The serpent-woman had stopped in her tracks when the dancer started to speak, and her eyes turned upwards when she heard what Raven said. She exhaled an exasperated hiss, and exclaimed "Now she tells us!"

"A trap?", queried Marishanna, looking to both her fellow warriors.

Mararen paused in the midst of checking his gear, and subjected his companions to a moment of uncomfortable silence. "The Curse will be affecting her mind, her very self, eating away at the very essence of the person she was", he then said. "If we do not act now, when we have this excellent chance to destroy the Dark Breed monster, that self will be lost forever."

Sshraada and Marishanna seemed to find the explanation acceptable, but Raven was not quite so sure. The revelation about the magical rings of the Waeribane had explained why Raven could not track down the warrior after he encountered Ashyra, but the ring he wore was clearly not functioning at present, as the emotions she had felt from him earlier had revealed - as did the vague trace of uncertainty she felt from him now. I think he's lying, she thought. He may be just a bit too keen to go into battle.

Raven went over to Mararen, and gripped his arm firmly. "I'm not sure I believe you", she whispered. "Is this some kind of trap, or do you just see an opportunity to end your misery - at our expense?"

"Dark Dravwyrn will set traps, to catch fresh prey and new prospective slaves", the wingless Dyal admitted, quite readily, "but this...this doesn't feel right. Usually, their traps are more public, so that more ships come to the rescue, giving them a wider choice of prey - no, I don't believe this is a trap."

"You've only half-answered me", Raven responded. "Do you see a chance to end your life here?"

"I find life a bit more valuable now, after talking with you", said the hunter of Dravwaeri. "I may just give it another try, to see if it will let me shake off my pain."

This time Raven believed him. She sensed he was hiding nothing.

Strides-Tall's first reaction to the sight of the giant monster, which the lesser horrors had called Lord Heslangithmanir, was to rein in her feelings, and show no fear, but those emotions were what Raven needed to keep track of the elf. They were also her only means of telling her would-be rescuers when to strike.

Heslangithmanir was half again as tall as the Dravwaeri he had brought into existence, but other than that they looked very much the same. The Dravwyrn was a bipedal creature, his limbs and body quite human in appearance, barring the scales, with a long powerful tail, huge wings and a long neck, supporting a flattened head with long, tapering jaws. A crest of saw-tooth-like spikes ran all the way down his back, and two slightly curved horns extended from the rear of his head, just above the hinge of his jaw.

The Dravwaeri were less grand, their wings smaller, their tails shorter and their spikes and horns less pronounced, but they were still around ten feet tall, and their fangs and claws were no less lethal.

"Aaaah - here she is. The little rabbit who tried to run", chuckled the "Lord" of the Dravwaeri. "I'm sure you know now that there is nowhere left for you to run to. You are bound to me now. Soon you will become part of my little...family."

Heslangithmanir's laughter, albeit muted, was still horrible to hear, a sinister hollow mockery of the sound made by happy children, playing in the sun, or their parents, amused by their offspring's lively antics. Such thoughts helped Strides-Tall to maintain a hold on her self, but they were having less and less effect. Soon, the elf would forget such things...and surely forget who and what she was.

"M...maybe not, my Lord", she stuttered, the pain so widespread and intense that it even hurt to breathe. "I am n...not of this Realm. The...the gift you gave me may be killing me..."

"Curious", pondered the Dravwyrn, lumbering closer. As he moved away from the shadowy recess he had carved for himself out of the cavern wall, Strides-Tall caught sight of the great heap of bones he had been resting upon. The heavy, almost square skulls, the short thick limb-bones...here was the final resting place of the brave defenders of Jaglundar's Rock, those who stood against that very monster, and gave their lives so that their kinfolk could escape.

Strides-Tall gave her signal - an unspoken cry for rescue, imbued with every ounce of her remaining psychic strength. She almost lost consciousness, and nearly slipped out of her guard's grip, causing Heslangithmanir to move even closer, and bend even further down to see what was wrong with her...

The elf felt a strong pulse of magic, somewhere behind the reptilian monster. The warriors the magic deposited there were hidden from her view by the massive body and enormous wings of Heslangithmanir, but she did not need to see them to know who was leading the way.

"Get away from my friend!", snarled Raven. It was a fearful sound, her usually gentle, comforting voice twisted into something other than human, more than human. Red-tinged flame washed across Heslangithmanir's back, and the monster arched its back in pain.

The sudden blast of hot air was too much for an already weakened Strides-Tall. Consciousness left her, and she saw nothing more of the battle.

Suddenly, Bjalser found himself awake, lying on the floor of the Brilliant Future's main cargo hold. Something had stirred him earlier, nearly breaking his link with Strides-Tall, but now that she was no longer conscious, the waking world had managed to call him back.

He tried to sit up, but his body was still clearly in need of further healing, and just about everything ached. Once his eyes focussed again, he could see he was not alone in his condition, for most of the other men in the hold with him were either blood-stained or more visibly wounded. One body lay nearby, covered in a weather-proof sheet, and the way it ended above the shoulders gave the Shaelin a chilling idea of what had taken place.

Bresquet, too, was hurt, a bandage hastily wound around his head, a rather more fresh trickle of blood running down the side of his face. Fresh blood was also present on one corner of the transmitting device that lay next the Reclamationist, a device whose lack of external lights indicated that its batteries had been completely exhausted.

"What...what time is it?", mumbled Bresquet, with some urgency. He was flirting around the edges of consciousness, but something was keeping him from falling into its abyss. Something important...

"The third quarter of the second watch", replied Lemmesk, consulting his pocket watch. "They should be coming for dinner soon. Actually, I'd say they're late."

Bresquet sat up abruptly, eyes so wide the white orbs were nearly fully exposed. "What?", he exclaimed, terror-stricken. "What time did you say?"

"Third quarter of the second watch", Lemmesk repeated.

The Reclamationist, already rather pale, turned almost dead white. "The Great Mother", he whimpered. "Scan for it - it should almost be here now..."

"No...", murmured Bjalser, "You... you have to stop it. There are people on Jaglundar's Rock right now, trying to help us..."

"To the scrap-dump with them", spat Bresquet, panic plain in his voice. "Captain, get your men to the bridge, and give us best speed. Get us as far away from the Rock as you can."

"What's the point?", drawled Captain Lemmesk. "Better blown to bits than eaten alive..."

Bjalser slid back into unconsciousness for a moment, his system unable to cope with the sudden rush of blood as he tried to sit up. When he next awoke, Bresquet was standing over Lemmesk, the transmitter device in his hands. There was more blood on the pre-Rage artifact, and the Captain's face - or what was left of it - was obscured by a fresh outpouring of liquid crimson.

The Reclamationist, now wild-eyed, dropped the machine, and pointed at the next highest-ranking man left alive. "You", snapped Bresquet. "You're Captain now. You have your orders..."

The Reclamationist had just committed murder, but Bjalser did not give it more than a moment's thought. He listened to a few seconds more of Bresquet's ravings, which told the Shaelin that the deadliest weapon in the Reclamationists' arsenal was less than half an hour from arrival, and detonation, at Jaglundar's Rock, then let himself slip into a coma again so that he could devote all his psychic energy to warning the brave souls from the Succubus.

If he did not succeed, everything living on the Rock would be vapourised by a power almost as great as the heart of a star...

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