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with wooden practice swords, but they carried steel. If the raid ever turned ugly, they would have to
escape fighting.
Kang returned the whetstone to the locker and put on his harness. He strapped the sword's sheath to
the harness and inserted the sword into the sheath. Weapons ready, he removed a felt bag from the
locker and carefully poured out its contents on the floor. These included a candle, a small pot of a gray
powder, and a holy symbol of the Dark Queen.
Except the holy symbol wasn't there.
Kang scratched his head. He turned the bag inside out. No symbol. Lifting the bag to his nose, he
sniffed. His snout wrinkled.
Dwarf. Some dwarf had been inside his footlocker, had stolen his holy symbol!
Kang growled. He might have known. His friendly feelings toward them vanished. Confound those
hairy little bastards anyway! His sole comfort was the thought of what Takhisis would do to the wretched
thief who had dared lay hands on her icon.
Kang stomped about, fuming and kicking things for a bit. He needed that holy symbol. How could he
approach his Queen without it? His rampage carried him to the stand on which he kept his armor. He
paused.
There, on his breastplate, was a medallion with the Queen's symbol, the five-headed dragon. The
medallion wasn't holy. It marked his rank as commander. It hadn't been blessed by the dark clerics, as
had his other symbol. One might say, though, that it had been consecrated in another manner. It had, on
many occasions, been splashed by the blood of Her Dark Majesty's enemies.
Kang pried the symbol off the breastplate, spent a few moments polishing it, then carried it over to his
makeshift altar. He lit the candle and chanted a prayer to the Queen to gain her attention. Next, he
sprinkled a pinch of the gray powder over the fire. The flame flared. Blue sparkles burst in front of Kang,
dazzling his eyes. He continued to intone the holy prayers. Lifting the medallion in his hands, he imagined
the wings of the Many-Colored Dragon bearing him off into dark realms....
A bang at the door and Slith's voice yelling for him jolted Kang from his hypnotic state.
"What? Is it time already?" Kang yelled. The candle had burned down a good two inches.
Slith spoke through the door. He knew~better than to burst in on his commander's visits with their
Queen. "Sir, the regiment is ready for your inspection. At your leisure, sir!"
Kang grunted in satisfaction. The past eight days had been mind-numWngly dull, the routine the same
every day. See to the cracks in the wall, see to the sheep, see to the few plants struggling for life in their
garden -plants which Kang was more man half-convinced were weeds anyway. Maintain training,
maintain discipline, settle quarrels over the dwarf spirit rations. And then, at night, get good and drunk.
But today Kang felt alive again. He carefully snuffed out the candle, took a moment to thoughtfully
regard his new holy symbol. It appeared to have pleased Takhisis, to judge by the euphoric feeling that
now filled him. Gratified; he placed the medallion back on his breastplate. He started, by habit, to put the
bag with the powder back in the footiocker. He stopped, glowering, and searched his room for a better
hiding place. A loose floorboard provided the answer.
Kang lifted the board, scraped a hole in the dirt below, and dropped the pouch into the hole.
Replacing the board, he stood and rubbed his knee joints, stiff from crouching for so long. He took
mental stock of his magical spells. They were as he had requested, all ready for his use.
"AH right, Slith, let's go look over the troops!" Kang said, opening the door.
Slith grinned, saluted, added an enthusiastic, "Yes, sir!"
Kang wasn't the only draconian who enjoyed these raids.
The two officers marched out in front of the headquarters building to find the entire regiment formed
into ranks, awaiting inspection.
The three squadron commanders came to attention and brought their commands to attention. The
Headquarters Troop stood to the right of the line, indicating seniority. They, too, came to attention.
"Two hundred ready for inspection. Only sentries and three lame are not present, sir," Slith
announced.
Kang nodded. The same three had been in their makeshift hospital for over a year now, having been
injured when a beam fell from an unfinished roof. All suffered back injuries. The lame draconians did
leatherwork, repaired torn straps on the armor and tooled new belts, sword sheaths and such. The work
gave them something to do to make them feel useful, occupied their time. Kang visited them often to
keep up their spirits, but still the crippled draconians tended to be low and depressed.
In the old days, the three would have been dispatched, thrown off a cliff or slung into a river, where
theif bodies could do no damage to anyone. Draconians are blessed or cursed, depending on how one [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]