Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [147]
Peering into cells, stumbling around corners, Caramon almost missed a big hobgoblin guard, who lunged out at him. Swinging his sword irritably, annoyed at the interruption, Caramon swept the creature’s head off and was on his way before the body hit the stone floor.
Then he heaved a sigh of relief. Hurrying down a staircase, he had nearly stepped on the body of another dead hobgoblin. Its neck had been twisted by strong hands. Plainly, Berem had been here, and not long ago. The body was not yet cold.
Certain now he was on the man’s trail, Caramon began to run. The prisoners in the cells he passed were nothing but blurs to the big warrior as he ran by. Their voices shrilled in his ears, begging for freedom.
Let them loose, and I’d have an army, Caramon thought suddenly. He toyed with the idea of stopping a moment and unlocking the cell doors, when suddenly he heard a terrible howling sound and shouting coming from somewhere ahead of him.
Recognizing Berem’s roar, Caramon plunged ahead. The cells came to an end, the corridor narrowed to a tunnel that cut a deep spiral well into the ground. Torches glimmered on the walls, but they were few and spaced far between. Caramon ran down the tunnel, the roar growing louder as he drew closer. The big warrior tried to hurry, but the floor was slick and slimy, the air became danker and heavy with moisture the farther down he went. Afraid he might slip and fall, he was forced to slow his pace. The shouts were closer, just ahead of him. The tunnel grew lighter, he must be coming near the end.
And then he saw Berem. Two draconians were slashing at him, their swords gleaming in the torchlight. Berem fought them off with his bare hands as light from the green gemstone lit the small enclosed chamber with an eerie brilliance.
It was a mark of Berem’s insane strength that he had held them off this long. Blood ran freely from a cut across his face and flowed from a deep gash in his side. Even as Caramon dashed to his aid, slipping in the muck, Berem grasped a draconian’s sword blade in his hand just as its point touched his chest. The cruel steel bit into his flesh, but he was oblivious to pain. Blood poured down his arm as he turned the blade and—with a heave—shoved the draconian backward. Then he staggered, gasping for breath. The other draconian guard closed in for the kill.
Intent upon their prey, the guards never saw Caramon. Leaping out of the tunnel, Caramon remembered just in time not to stab the creatures or he risked losing his sword. Grabbing one of the guards in his huge hands, he twisted its head, neatly snapping its neck. Dropping the body, he met the other draconian’s savage lunge with a quick chopping motion of his hand to the creature’s throat. It pitched backward.
“Berem, are you all right?” Caramon turned and was starting to help Berem when he suddenly felt a searing pain rip through his side.
Gasping in agony, he staggered around to see a draconian behind him. Apparently it had been hiding in the shadows, perhaps at hearing Caramon’s coming. Its sword thrust should have killed, but it was aimed in haste and slanted off Caramon’s mail armor. Scrabbling for his own sword, Caramon stumbled backward to gain time.
The draconian didn’t intend giving him any. Raising its blade, it lunged at Caramon.
There was a blur of movement, a flash of green light, and the draconian fell dead at Caramon’s feet.
“Berem!” Caramon gasped, pressing his hand over his side. “Thanks! How—”
But the Everman stared at Caramon without recognition. Then, nodding slowly, he turned and started to walk away.
“Wait!” Caramon called. Gritting his teeth against the pain, the big man