Downfall

"She only thinks she is," Dhamon said so softly Rig couldn't hear. He waited a moment before sliding down the trail to join Rig. "We don't have time for this… delay," he said, his voice heavy with irritation. He knelt over the half-elf and smoothed the hair away from her face. He thought she looked pretty, with her expression serene and her face devoid of the usual heavy makeup. He felt around her neck, turned her head this way and that, his ministrations as gentle as possible.

"She's okay," he told Rig. "Her head hit a rock, see?" He tilted her head slightly, showing the blood that stood out amidst her silver-white locks. "Nothing too serious. She's breathing regularly." He felt around the head wound. "She'll have a good-sized bump when she comes to." Then Dhamon stood up and held his hands to the rain, letting it wash away the blood. "And she will come ‘round soon enough. This rain will help." He turned and started back up the mountainside.

"Wait a minute." The words flew angrily from the mariner's mouth. "She's your woman. You're not going to leave her here."

"Riki'd understand," Dhamon replied. "I've got to pick up an important package from Chieftain Donnag and sell some valuable news to him. The sooner he learns about the rain, the more it'll be worth. And I've got to find Mal-dred. He'll want to know about the rain, too. Riki'll catch up with us. She's more resourceful than you think."

Rig stared incredulously. "First Fetch, now Riki…"

Dhamon's face was impassive. His hands hung loosely at his sides, his lips were a thin line. And his eyes were cold.

That image of Dhamon would remain etched in the mariner's mind for the rest of his days, showing him how callous a person was capable of being. Might as well be stone beads-they held no hint of compassion. There was only calculating purpose. Rig saw that. Dhamon's eyes showed cunning and selfishness. There was no trace of the man he'd known in the past, they were not the eyes of the former Dark Knight who'd answered Goldmoon's cry for a champion and who'd intrepidly led them to the Window to the Stars; no shadow of the hero who dared to stand up to the dragon overlords and who, though not gaining Rig's friendship, had most certainly gained his respect.

"Get used to it Rig," said Dhamon, reading his thoughts. "I'm not the man you knew."

Had Dhamon just said those words? the mariner wondered, or was he remembering what Dhamon had said one night in the Kalkhist Mountains? It didn't matter. They were true. Rig was staring at a stranger. The mariner had known thieves in his younger days, and had proudly kept company with pirates-whom he considered a few notches above common thieves. None of them had been like this Dhamon, a Dhamon he really didn't know.

"You're not human," Rig said softly.

Dhamon laughed. Then, without a further word or a gesture, he turned and started climbing the trail again, going a little slower and holding onto rocks so he wouldn't take a spill like the half-elf.

The mariner reached up to his shoulder with one hand and yanked until one of his sleeves came loose. He wrapped it around the half-elf's head, trying to stop the bleeding. The mariner gazed up at the watery trail, then at the half-elf, scooped his arms under her knees and shoulders and picked her up. "Awww… by the blessed memory of Habbakuk!" He saw her left arm hung crookedly, and there was an ugly knob where a bone was trying to break through her skin. "It's broken, I'd guess." He laid her back down, started looking around. "I'll need some wood," he said to himself. "Never set any broken bones before, and I'm not going to start now. Might cause more harm than good. But at least I can keep it from flopping around."

He sloshed over to the partially submerged remains of what appeared to be a house and pulled a board free. "Yeah, something like this will do." Then he took off his shirt and started ripping it into strips to fashion a crude splint. "Damn Dhamon Grimwulf to the bottom layer of the Abyss," he growled.

Rikali moaned softly. Her face contorted in obvious discomfort as she fought her way back to consciousness. The fingers of her good hand fluttered down to touch her stomach. "The babe," she whispered. "Please let my baby be all right."

Rig stared in shock. "You're with child? Does Dhamon know?"

She shook her head. "And you won't tell him." Then she drifted away into unconsciousness again.

The mariner worked to juggle all of his possessions. All his daggers were strapped across his chest, the long sword dangled at his side, the glaive he strapped to his back again. He had to move things around a bit to get comfortable. It was difficult for him to carry everything, and the half-elf too, but somehow he would manage.

Rikali groaned as he shifted her weight in his arms. Rig looked up the mountain. "Guess we'll have to try this trail," he decided. "But we'll take it slow."

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