Downfall

"Fiona, that Donnag is far from a good man," the mariner said, keeping his voice low. He told her about the milk and meat tax here, the heavy taxes the humans bore in Bloten, the fear all the people had for the ogre chieftain, how oppressed everyone was in his realm. How wolves had become giants.

"I know," she said finally, her face soft and a little sad. "And it is good that it bothers you. It bothers me, too. But we can't right all the wrongs in this world, Rig. We have to choose our battles. And bad as Donnag is, the Black in the swamp is far worse. The ogre protects these people from her, and his forces work to keep the swamp from swallowing up these mountains. So by helping Donnag, in one respect we are fighting her. And if you get rid of Donnag, being overtaxed would be the least of these people's worries."

The mariner sat silently, digesting her words. "I still don't have to like it, and I don't have to agree with it," he said, sighing as raindrops trickled down the end of his nose. "I don't have to like the fact we're going to accept coins and gems for the ransom of your brother from that evil… creature. Provided he comes through, which I still doubt. And I don't have to like all this rain. This isn't right. These mountains should be dry as a desert."

"A while ago you were complaining it hadn't rained in weeks."

"Didn't mean I wanted it to rain for weeks."

He tried to slip his arm around her, but she was on her feet and heading toward their borrowed lean-to, from where they watched the rain pound the rocky plateau for the rest of the evening.

Morning was no different, the rain continuing, slapping against the rocks and drenching everything and everyone. Only the goats seemed not to mind. Lightning arced through the sky, and the thunder that chased it sounded loud and eerie in the mountains.

"Up there," Maldred said, pointing toward a series of black holes. "Maybe the giants are in all of them if they're spread out, maybe all bunched together in one-but I hope not. I'd rather deal with them one at a time. In any event, we'll have to search a little until we find them. The dwarves I spoke with last night are certain there are only three because of the tracks they spotted."

"Only three," Rikali murmured. "They're giants. I would think three are plenty more than enough."

"Well, at least we know what we're up against," Dhamon said.

"Have you ever fought giants?" Rikali asked mockingly as he started up the ridge.

"Once. When I was with the Knights of Takhisis. There were two of them, and each had two heads. Ettins, my commander called them."

"Well, you obviously came out on top. You're here. Were they very tough? How big do giants run?"

He shook his head, not caring to answer her stream of questions until they reached level ground again. After a few dozen feet of climbing he motioned to her, pointing to evidence of the giants-the gutted carcass of a goat wedged tightly between two rocks, the bones of another goat some fifty feet above.

Rikali covered her mouth and gagged.

"Messy eaters," Fetch observed as he yanked a twisting horn off the carcass and held it up to his ear as if he might hear the ocean. Picking off a few pieces of rotten flesh, he stuck the horn in his belt. "Parents never taught them to clean up when they were done eating. Bad giants."

* * * * * * *

"Three caves, and nothing. Nothing but rain and goat bones. They've been here, but they're not here now. Doesn't look like they've been here for a couple of weeks." Rig leaned against the cliff and looked up at Dhamon who was climbing higher, his clothes looking dark as charcoal against the glowering sky. The mariner patted his stomach as it grumbled. "Sky and my gut tell me it's about sunset. An' there isn't much left of the mountain." He tugged a piece of boiled root from his pocket, snapped it in two, and popped a piece in his mouth.

Fetch scampered up after Dhamon, Rikali following him and scolding the kobold about something.

"Perhaps they've moved on," Maldred suggested.

Fiona's shoulders sagged. "I need the reward Donnag promised. I need those forty men."

"Ogres," Rig cut in. "He promised you ogres, Fiona." Softer, he muttered that the chieftain's promise was worth about as much as the goat carcasses they found.

"Ogres are men, Rig," she returned. "And I would welcome their help."

Maldred stepped between the two of them, eyes twinkling at the Solamnic. "You'll get the men, Lady Knight. We will search in one or two more caves and then leave. I will explain to the chieftain that we did our best, and that maybe they've moved on and will pose no more threat to Knollsbank. As long as the menace is gone, Donnag will keep his word about the men."

Will he? the mariner's arched eyebrows asked.

"Up here!" Dhamon called. He was standing on a ledge before a high, narrow slash in the rocks. The cave mouth looked jagged and irregular, as if the talon of some great creature had torn the mountain open.

"Find a trace of them?" Maldred called from below.