“Then let’s not give him another chance,” Grimm
growled. Jastom nodded in hearty agreement. The two
slipped off in the other direction, deep into the night.
*****
The tall wagon clattered along the narrow mountain
road in the morning sunlight. Groves of graceful aspens
and soaring fir slipped by to either side as the dappled
ponies trotted briskly on.
Jastom and Grimm had ridden hard all night, making
their way up the treacherous passes deep into the Garnet
Mountains, guided only by the pale, gossamer light of
Solinari. But now dawn had broken over the distant, mist-
green peaks, and Jastom slowed the ponies to a walk. The
dragonarmy camp lay a good ten leagues behind them.
“Ah, it’s good to be alive and free, Grimm,” Jastom
said, taking a deep breath of the clean mountain air.
“Well, I wouldn’t get too used to it,” the dwarf said
with a scowl. “Look behind us.”
Jastom did as the dwarf instructed, and then his heart
nearly leapt from his chest. A cloud of dust rose from the
dirt road less than a mile behind them.
“Lieutenant Durm,” he murmured, his mouth dry. “I
KNEW this was too easy!”
Grimm nodded. Jastom let out a sharp whistle and
slapped the reins fiercely. The ponies leapt into a canter.
The narrow, rocky road began to wind its way down a
steep descent. The wind whipped Jastom’s cape wildly out
behind him. Grimm hung on for dear life. Jastom barely
managed to steer around a sharp turn in the road. They
were going too fast. He leaned hard on the wagon’s brake.
Sparks flew. Suddenly there was a sharp cracking sound –
the brake lever came off in Jastom’s hand.
“The wagon’s out of control!” Jastom shouted.
“I can see that for myself,” Grimm shouted back.
The wagon hit a deep rut and lurched wildly. The
ponies shouted in terror and lunged forward. With a
rending sound, their harnesses tore free, and the horses
scrambled wildly up the mountain slope to one side. The
wagon careened in the other direction, directly for the
edge of the precipice.
All Jastom had time to do was scream, “Jump!”
He and the dwarf dived wildly from the wagon as it
sailed over the edge. Jastom hit the dirt hard. He
scrambled to his feet just in time to see the wagon
disappear over the edge. After a long moment of pure and
perfect silence came a thunderous crashing sound, and
then silence again. The wagon – and everything Jastom
and Grimm owned – was gone. In despair, he turned away
from the cliff . . .
. . . and saw Durm, mounted on horseback, before
him. A half-dozen soldiers sat astride their mounts behind
the lieutenant, the sunlight glittering off the hilts of their
swords. Jastom shook his head in disbelief. He was too
stunned to do anything but stand there, motionless in
defeat. Grimm, unhurt, came to stand beside him.
“Commander Skaahzak is dead,” Durm said in his
chilling voice. “This morning there was nothing left of
him save a heap of ashes.” A strange light flickered in the
lieutenant’s pale eyes. “Unfortunately you, his personal
healers, were not by his side to give him any comfort in
his final moments. I had to ride hard in order to catch up
with you. I couldn’t let you go without giving you your
due for this failure, Mosswine.”
Jastom fell to his knees. When all else failed, he knew
there was but one option: grovel. He jerked the dwarf
down beside him. “Please, milord, have mercy on us,”
Jastom said pleadingly, making his expression as pitiful as
possible. Given their circumstances, this wasn’t a difficult
task. “There wasn’t anything we could have done. Please, I
beg you. Spare us. You see, milord, we aren’t heal – ”
“Shut up!” Durm ordered sharply. Jastom’s babbling
trailed off feebly. His heart froze in his chest. Durm’s
visage was as impassive as the mountain granite he stood
upon.
“The punishment for failure to heal Skaahzak is death,”
Durm continued. He paused for what seemed an
interminable moment. “But then, it is the commander’s
right to choose what punishments will be dealt out.” Durm