“Quiet, both of you!” ChuKang growled.
Drakis grimaced. Chimera approached battle with a lot more finesse than the manticores. They weren’t particularly strong, but they were fast and difficult to damage; their skeletons were telescoping plates and cartilage instead of the more rigid and brittle bones of the manticores or humans. They could change their skin color to blend into their surroundings and alter their skeletal frame at will so that they might be nearly as compact as a dwarf to nearly twice as tall as Drakis. Chimera made fine warriors but tended to be clannish and exclude others. He didn’t have anything against the chimera and always remembered them as maybe a little playful but never cruel to him. But now Ethis was making racial jokes?
“We’re coming to the end and the beginning all at once,” Braun huffed next to Drakis. “The whole pointless bloodletting and death dealing-all for the amusement of the elven children! We should stop. . savor the moment. .”
“We’re almost there,” Drakis snapped. “We can’t stop now.”
“You cannot run from yourself, Drakis,” Braun shook while he ran. His craggy face was sweating profusely. “The ghosts are lurking, waiting to pounce on you given any opportunity. They’ll leap from their little box and bite old Timuran right in his skinny ass!”
“Shut up, Braun! The Tribune will get the wrong idea. .”
“Do you think so? I thought I was speaking very clearly!”
“Just keep your mouth shut and we may salvage a way out of this yet. If we get hold of that last Dwarven Crown, the glory to House Timuran will be. .”
“I don’t give a damn about the House glory!” Braun spat back. “It’s not my glory-it’s not your glory-so why should we care. . let alone die?”
“You know why as well as anyone!” Drakis shook his head. They had fought their way so far, lost more than forty brothers from their own Centurai in the last hour, and now their Proxi wanted to just walk away from the reward? What in the name of the gods was wrong with everyone today?
Nine notes. . Seven notes. .
The last dwarven king. . My death-knell did bring. .
Five notes. . Five notes. .
“Well, it looks like none of us are going to have to worry about the spoils today,” Ethis grumbled. “Look up ahead.”
They were rounding a towering stalagmite when they saw it. More than a hundred yards beyond TsuRag and GriChag, three full Cohorts had erupted from folds appearing on the causeway in front of them. More than a thousand Impress Warriors were now dashing madly toward the Last Gate ahead of them.
“Where did they come from?” Drakis asked sourly.
“What difference does it make,” Braun sighed, “so long as they’re the ones doing the bleeding?”
“Damn you, Braun!” KriChan’s golden eyes flashed in the darkness. “If you weren’t our Proxi, I’d tear out your heart right here and now!”
Drakis turned toward ChuKang. “Come on! We’ve come this far-we can still beat them to the throne!”
“Wait! Something’s not right,” ChuKang snarled.
The human stepped in front of their manticorian captain and angrily turned. “ChuKang! The lead Cohorts will break against the gate tower. Let them do the dying and then we. .”
ChuKang was not looking at Drakis; the manticore’s gold-hued eyes were fixed on something at the top of the causeway.