Downfall

She shrugged and made sure he was watching her, choreographed a graceful display of slipping off her cloak and then squirming out of her tunic, dropping them and her small satchel on the bank to reveal her petite, pale form. She slowly waded into the stream and began bathing, making it a point to tend to her face first and remove the kohl that had run from her eyes. "Dwarves died in that town, Dhamon Grimwulf," she said, cupping her hands to catch the water and throwing it over her hair. "And maybe some Knights who aren't Solamnics. Doesn't really matter how many or by whose hand. Dead is dead. And you were there in the middle of it." She tucked her hair behind gently pointed ears that attested to her half-elf heritage, then she splashed water at him and wriggled her nose. "I tell you, you stink!"

"Aye," Dhamon said softly, as he arranged his boots and new sword on the bank, peeled off what was left of his trousers and joined her in the river. "I certainly do." The water swirled around his calves and then thighs. He waded in as deep as the stream bed allowed, until the water came up to his waist. There were scars on his body amid the scratches that Rikali had administered. They were older and thick, and most had faded so they were difficult to discern.

The half-elf traced some of the scratches. Her nails were long, clawlike, and they were covered with a thick black lacquer that stood out starkly against her parchment-hued skin.

"These will heal, lover," she said huskily, fingers fluttering over her handiwork. "And they were your idea." She kissed one of the longer scratches on his chest, her pale face and white hair contrasting markedly with his sun-bronzed skin.

"Everything heals, Riki," he said softly.

Maldred was inspecting the four horses, announcing that two of them were especially fine and would bring a good price if they decided to sell them. Fetch followed him, pretending to study the big man's ways with animals and apologizing profusely for accidentally setting the fire in the stable.

"You stink, too," Maldred said, looking down and wrinkling his hawkish nose.

Fetch furiously shook his hooded head, backing away from the stream. But Maldred scooped him up with one hand and plucked away his smoky robe with the other. The hoopak and a small belt pouch fell free. Beneath the scorched fabric was a creature.

It was less than three feet tall and had the form of a man, but more resembled a cross between a rat and a lizard, with a rusty brown hide that was a mix of scales and skin. His stunted, dog-shaped snout had a smattering of reddish whiskers growing haphazardly from the bottom jaw that nearly matched the color of his long, pointed, batlike ears that hinted at his goblin ancestry. A kobold, Fetch was a poor cousin to the ancient and more powerful goblin race that often employed his kind as footsoldiers and lackeys throughout Khur and other desolate parts of Krynn. He had beady eyes set beneath a pair of short, curved white horns, and they glowed red like hot embers. "Please, Maldred," Fetch implored in his thin, scratchy voice. His ratlike tail whipped about nervously. "You know I don't like water. I can't swim and I…"

Maldred laughed loud and deep and pitched the kobold into the stream. "See that he washes behind his ears, will you Rikali?" With that, the big man settled himself beneath a tree, his hands resting on the sack and backpack Dhamon had stuffed. Within moments he was asleep.

"That Knight," Rikali persisted after she had finished washing Dhamon's back. Her voice was soft so she wouldn't wake Maldred and Fetch who, like a dog, now was curled in a ball between the big man's feet. "Do you think she'll follow us? She looked so… angry."

"Jealous?"

The half-elf shook her head, water flying in an arc from her waist-length hair. "Me, jealous? Hardly, lover."

"You're always jealous, Riki. Besides, Fiona is with Rig-has been for about as long as I've known her. Last I heard, they were to be married this fall, on her birthday."

"You know her first name…"

"I said we were friends. Rig was the dark man with her." Dhamon had turned his back to the elf, was studying something in the water. He spread his legs and bent over slightly, letting his hands sink quietly beneath the surface.

"Is he a Solamnic Knight, too?"

"Hardly! Shhh."

"Hardly," she tittered. She watched him carefully with an appraising eye, then she grinned as he tried futilely to catch a fish that dove between his legs. Droplets arced away from him as he smacked the water and quietly cursed.

Quick as lightning, she drove her slender arm into the stream, then pulled it up to reveal a trout speared on her fingernails. She flicked the fish high onto the bank. "You used to be a Knight, Dhamon Grimwulf. Or so you claim."

"Not a Solamnic," he said, as he watched the fish flop about.

"And I'm not jealous," Rikali cooed as she moved closer to him, spinning him around to face her. The half-elf's finger snaked out to rub a spot of dirt off his nose. "Have I a reason to be?"