But the body cannot live on obsession alone. The dwarf had to sleep himself, and when he could be heard loudly snoring, his victims talked.
“Do you know where we are?” Paithan edged his way painfully over to where Roland was sitting, nursing torn hands.
“No.”
“What if he’s leading us the wrong way? Up norinth?”
“Why should he? I wish we had some of that ointment stuff of Rega’s.”
“Maybe she had it with her-”
“Don’t wake her. Poor kid, she’s about done in.” Roland wrung his hands, wincing. “Ouch, damn that stings.”
Paithan shook his head. They couldn’t see each other, the dwarf had insisted the torch be doused when they weren’t moving. The wood used to make it burned long, but they had traveled far, and it was rapidly being consumed.
“I think we should risk going up,” said Paithan, after a moment’s pause. “I have my etherilite [23] with me. I can tell where we are.”
Roland shrugged. “Suit yourself. I don’t want to meet those bastards again. I’m considering staying down here permanently. I’m getting kind of used to it.”
“What about your people?”
“What the hell can I do to help them?”
“You could warn them …”
“As fast as those bastards travel, they’re probably already there by now. Let the knights fight ’em. That’s what they’re trained for.”
“You’re a coward. You’re not worthy of-” Paithan realized what he had been about to say, snapped his mouth shut on the words.
Roland kindly finished his sentence for him. “Not worthy of who? My wife? Save-her-skin Rega?”
“Don’t talk about her like that!”
“I can talk about her any damn way I feel like, elf. She’s my wife, or have you forgotten that little fact? You know, by god, I think you have forgotten.”
Roland was glib, talked tough. The words were a shell, meant to hold in his quivering guts. He liked to pretend he lived a danger-filled life, but it wasn’t true. Once he’d nearly been knifed in a barroom scuffle and another time he’d been mauled by an enraged wildeboar. Then there was the time he and Rega had fought fellow smugglers during a dispute over free trade. Strong and powerful, quick and cunning, Roland had emerged from these adventures with a couple of bruises and a few scratches.
Courage comes easy to a person in a fight. Adrenaline pumps, bloodlust burns. Courage is hard to find, however, when you’re tied to a tree and you’ve been splattered with the blood and brains of the man tied next to you.
Roland was shaken, unnerved. Every time he fell asleep he saw that horrible scene again, played out before his closed eyes. He grew to bless the darkness, it hid his shivering. Time and again he’d caught himself waking with a scream on his lips.
The thought of leaving the security of the tunnels, of facing those monsters was almost more than he could bear. Like a wounded animal who fears to betray its own weakness lest others come and tear it apart, Roland went into hiding behind the one thing that seemed to him to offer shelter, the one thing that promised to help him forget-money.
It’d be a different world up there once the tytans passed through. People dead, cities destroyed. Those who survived would have it all, especially if they had money-elven money.
He’d lost all he’d planned to make on the weapons sale. But there was always the elf. Roland was fairly certain, now, of Paithan’s true feelings for Rega. He planned to use the elf’s love to squeeze him, wring him dry.
“I’ve got my eye on you, Quin. You better keep clear of my wife or I’ll make you wish the tytans had battered in your head like they did poor Andor.” Roland’s voice caught, he hadn’t meant to bring that up. It was dark, the elf couldn’t see. Maybe he’d chalk the quiver up to righteous anger.
“You’re a coward and a bully,” said Paithan, teeth clenched, his entire body clenched to keep from throttling the human. “Rega is worth ten of you! I-” But he was too furious, he couldn’t go on, perhaps he wasn’t certain what he’d say. Roland heard the elf move over to the opposite side of the tunnel, heard him throw himself down onto the floor.