“We’ve got to keep going,” Drakis insisted. “The portals are the fastest path for us to get as far as possible.”
“But for how long?” RuuKag asked through a sigh. “The Emperor will not tolerate such rebellion. He will bring the weight of his Imperial Will down with a vengeance to regain control of the folds for the Myrdin-dai. It isn’t a question of if but when.”
“He’s right,” Jugar nodded. “The Armies of the Emperor will return order and soon. Face it, lad; we have to get off this path at some point.”
“Not yet!” Drakis shook his head. He knew the dwarf was right-that they were all right-but he could not yet face leaving the confusion and horror of the portals. The thought of turning from the roads previously so familiar to him and striking out into lands unknown terrified him worse than the carnage and battle of the portal road. Drakis, warrior of House Timuran, was afraid of getting lost.
More than that, he realized, he was afraid of being alone with his thoughts. Being driven from terror to terror had the advantage that there was no time to reflect on the raging animal of his own memories still kept at bay in the back of his mind.
But they were right. He could not run forever.
“Two. . maybe three. . more portals,” Drakis said. “Then we’ll abandon the portals and strike out on foot.”
“Two,” the dwarf said. “Two. . if we can make it.”
“Why two?” Ethis asked through the inscrutable mask of his face.
“I know that place well,” Jugar said. “There are friendly caverns not far from the gallant-if ultimately tragic-marshaling fields through which we have been touring. It should provide us respite and, might I add, comparative safety for a time. I might even be persuaded to perform one of my more cheery and delightsome tales, if it would help.”
“It might,” Drakis said as he once again surveyed the gore-laden field of fallen warriors, searching for a path through the piles of dead. He reached back for Mala’s hand. She clasped his quickly. “Listen, there are field packs everywhere. . and no one here is going to ever need them again. Everyone keep an eye out for a pack-the more provisions the better-and follow my steps. Let’s go.”
They alone moved. Globe-torches lay scattered on the ground illuminating ghastly tableaus of carnage, death, blood, and gore.
Drakis trod carefully among the dead, dreading what his tentative next footfall would find. He could see the fold portal on the far side of the field around the edge of a small knoll. If they could somehow manage to keep their sanity until then. .
“DRAKIS!”
He froze. The sound had come from the top of the knoll.
A single figure struggled to its feet at the crest of the small mound. A globe-torch at its feet threw the ghastly, blood-coated figure into stark relief. As the hideous form stood shaking, it raised its hand above its head, clutching a circular band in its hand. It was human in form and size, but it was otherwise difficult to distinguish its features. The figure’s face was swollen and its hair torn away from one side, but the voice could not be mistaken.
“Vashkar,” Drakis murmured, barely believing the name that fell from his lips. He let go of Mala’s hand, gesturing for her to stay at the base of the knoll, uncertain about his former comrade.
The former Cohort leader swayed slightly as he arched his back and howled at the stars overhead. “We’re free, now, aren’t we? Free!”
“Yes,” Drakis responded, as he moved cautiously up the slope. His footing was slick and squishy. He dared not look down, keeping his eyes on his former brother in arms. “We’re free after all, Vashkar.”
Vashkar’s eyes shone white all around the wide-open irises of his eyes. “We’ve showed them, Drakis! They weren’t expecting us to do it, but we did!”
“That’s right,” Drakis said calmly as he took another step up the slope. “Come with us, and everything will be all right.”
“I have it!” Vashkar giggled through the foam at his mouth. “The dwarven crown! I took it! Now Master will be so pleased. We’ll be able to buy anything, Drakis! Imagine it. . anything we want!”