Spellfire - Ed Greenwood [181]
"So," the innkeeper said, "so… first you molest my little one… and now you would slay my bride-to-be!
You threaten me with steel here in the yard, and you serve the Cult of the Dragon-in my own kitchen."
His voice was low and soft, but Korvan twisted in his grasp like a frantic, hooked fish, face white to the very tips.
"This has been coming for a long time," said Gorstag slowly. "But at least I've learned something about cooking." The hand that held Korvan's wrist let go and darted to his throat, whip-fast, and the two old hands twisted mercilessly. There was a dull crack, and Korvan of the cult was no more.
Gorstag let the body fall into the mud grimly and turned to Lureene. "Are you all right, my lady?" he asked. "Is there fire or ruin behind you in The Moon?"
Lureene shook her head, wide-eyed. "No, Lord," she said, close to tears. "I am fine… thanks to you. We are safe."
"Aye, then," Gorstag said, and he looked down the road. "But will Narm and Shandril be? Find me the fastest horse, while I get my axe."
Lureene stared at him in horror. "No!" she said.
"You'll be slain!"
"Leave my friends to die because I did nothing?"
Gorstag's face was tike iron. "Find me the fastest horse!"
Lureene rushed toward the stables, tears blurring her sight as she ran. "No," she whispered. "Oh, gods, no." But the gods did not hear before she reached the stables.
There was a slow thudding of hooves, then, as Gorstag came back out of the inn with axe in hand.
Frightened faces were gathering about the yard.
A dwarf on a mud-spattered mule rode heavily in at the gate, and came to a sliding halt before Gorstag.
The dwarf heaved himself sideways and rolled down out of the saddle with practiced ease, using the axe he bore naked on his shoulder tike a walking-stick.
Crippled, he leaned heavily on his axe as he limped over to Gorstag. The innkeeper was looking grimly toward the stables, where a worried Lureene was leading out a horse.
"Well met," the dwarf said to Gorstag. "You are Gorstag?" The innkeeper, who was intent upon Lureene and the approaching mount, looked down in surprise. "Aye, I am."
"Have you seen a companion of mine, the adventuress Shandril? She waited on tables here, once," the dwarf rumbled. I hear she rides with a young mage, now, and hurls spellfire."
"Aye. I have," Gorstag said, axe coming up. "Who then are you, and what is your business with Shandril Shessair?"
"I am come from Shadowdale," the dwarf said gruffly, looking up at him with a gaze as harshly steady as his own. "From Sharantyr and Rathan and Torm of the knights I have heard where Shandril headed and followed on. I am sent by Storm Silverhand of the Harpers and Elminster the sage, and bear a note to ye, to tell you to trust me in this.
Here; read it. Now tell me where Shandril is, for time draws on and my hones grow no younger."
Gorstag grinned at that as he unrolled the parchment.
"Not so sour, Sir Dwarf. Life is less a trial to the patient."
"Aye," the dwarf replied, "most of them lie dead.
Tell me where Shandril is!"
"A moment." Gorstag read the parchment. Lureene brought the horse to his shoulder, and he moved so that she could read what was written, too:
To Gorstag, of Highmoon, By these words, well met!
The bearer of this note is the dwarf Delg, once a swordmate of Shandril in the Company of the Bright Spear, just after she left your house. He serves no evil master and bears Shandril no ill will; trust us in this-he has submitted to all our tests of art in this regard, and it is true. The Cult of the Dragon destroyed the company, and it was thought only Shandril survived. This Delg, left for dead in Oversember Vale, made his way to the shores of the Sember, where he was found by elves and taken to priests of Jempus. While they were healing his wounds and praying