By Volk-Oboroten'
Holding a spear in front of him in defiance, a lutin boldly answered Tolvin's demand, "We'd rather die than become your slaves! We're cat-slayers now!"
The other lutins murmured their agreement, determined to resist their foes. The karuvati threatened from every direction, encircling the camp on all sides. Bertolf and Herman glanced toward Caralore's gate, desperately hoping for aid.
Then, just as the cat demons were about to charge, something whizzed through the air. An arrow perhaps? As it flew higher and higher, all could see it, marked by a thin cloud of smoke. As the flaming beacon descended, it left a track of flame, an arc stretching all the way back to the walls of Caralore.
The karuvati hesitated, unnerved by its eerie glow. As the Malachites wavered, the burning thing came to earth, hitting the center of the lutins' campfire. As if thunderstruck, the lutins' foes fell back, startled by a sudden burst of radiant light when the arrow landed.
"A foolish trick," grumbled Tolvin as the brilliant flame began to wane. "It's no weapon. Come back here!" Some of the karuvati obeyed the burgomaster, returning to his side. Others faded away into the woods, unaccustomed to battling lutins who might have magical powers.
Meanwhile, Lowenherz ran down the path from Caralore, eager to help Herman. Perun had told him to fire the flaming arrow, saying it would distract the Malachites long enough. Was he right? Perhaps . . . Lowenherz could now see a gap in the karuvati circle, allowing him to reach the trapped lutins if he ran carefully.
As Lowenherz darted around Tolvin's servants, something swooped down from above, barely missing his left shoulder. Herman smelled its sulfurous breath as the flying terror plummeted downward. Foul dragon's breath which reeked of caustic acid.
"A human coming to a fight with no weaponsss," jeered the draconian, as it folded its scaly wings. "It is so much fun to kill mammalsss . . . especially when they have no clawsss."
Recognizing Lowenherz, Tolvin cautioned, "He's popular around here, so we'll need to get him out into the woods, away from the city wall. Others may have followed."
"I care nothing for humansss," said the draconian. "Everything I do is for the Nameless One. For his Emissary, the mighty Black Claw. What I've been ordered to do by Fortinbrasss."
Nervously watching the gate, Tolvin concluded that Lowenherz was alone. He waved three karuvati forward, urging them to confront the newcomer. After all, unlike the lutins, he seemed unable to resist.
Herman and Bertolf left the edge of the lutins' campfire, determined to help Lowenherz. But there wasn't enough time, for the karuvati were almost upon him, cruel claws thrust forward. Just as they were about to pounce, Lowenherz opened a bag and threw something in their faces.
A dazzling flash filled the air. With a shout, Tolvin stumbled and fell on his knees, blinded by the light. The karuvati moaned, tearing at their charred muzzles.
Bertolf soon arrived, brandishing his sword in front of the whimpering Malachites. The once fearsome cat demons fled, still ripping out their whiskers. Seizing the opportunity, Herman leaped over the stunned burgomaster, holding his dagger to Tolvin's throat.
"Catbane," declared Lowenherz, scattering more of the contents of the bag on the ground. "Perun's been working on it ever since he heard the karuvati were here." He pointed to the woods, where the karuvati were bolting away in panic, as they could not bear to be anywhere near catbane.
"Valaric will be very interested in this catbane," said Bertolf, intrigued by the greenish powder. "But what should we do with this wretch? He's hardly fit to be burgomaster."
"I'll tell everything," pleaded Tolvin. "Just don't kill me. Fortinbras made me do it. He promised me that when Lilith was overthrown . . ."
"A bit slower," commanded Herman, still holding his knife near Tolvin's neck. "I don't want to miss a word of this."
Tolvin cringed as Bertolf's lupine muzzle faced him, "All right. It's like when I served Nasoj, but really wanted to help Lilith. You see, the Malachites just pretend . . . Aaarggh"
A draconian claw ripped through Tolvin's back, keen-edged talons tearing out great hunks of flesh and sinew. Tolvin howled with pain as his reptilian attacker spread its wings and hissed, "You thought you could betray usss? Feel the wrath of the Nameless One!"
Shocked by this intrusion, Herman fell backward, realizing a small dagger wasn't much of weapon against an enraged draconian. But the Malachite menace wasn't his only problem. Looking upward, he saw dark shapes dropping from the sky, gliding down rapidly toward the clearing. Air rushed by their outstretched wings, causing all to take notice.
Pryftan landed in front of Bertolf, immediately seeing that he was covered with gore. "What happened here?" demanded Lilith's draconian constable. "My detachment arrived when we saw the light near Caralore's walls. It was so bright, we thought the city was under attack."
As a dozen more draconians touched down near their leader, the lutins retreated toward the road to Politzen, eager to get away from Caralore. They held their spears up high, determined to fight if they encountered any karuvati. Herman followed them, hoping Artela would continue to protect them on their long journey toward an uncertain destination. Surely, only the intervention of the goddess could explain their narrow escape tonight.
Bertolf started to answer Pryftan, "The burgomaster is a Malachite! He . . ."
"Never mind," said Pryftan disdainfully, "He seems to be still alive, so I'll find out his version of eventsss."
Gargling blood from his mouth, Tolvin clutched his shoulder with his right arm. The Malachite draconian still hovered near him, ready to renew its work of slicing his body into shreds. Pryftan's eyes glittered as he saw a scaly claw descend toward Tolvin's neck, only to be stopped when grabbed from behind by another reptile.
"Let me kill the traitor!" insisted the draconian, angrily spitting out drops of acid.
"Which traitor?" asked Pryftan in response, pulling a golden ankh out from his cloak. "Why aren't you wearing the Queen's emblem? Whom do you serve, above all othersss?"
"I serve the Nameless One!" shrieked the Malachite lizard-man, attempting to break free from Pryftan's retainers. But it was no use, for they held him firmly, preventing any movement. Pryftan moved closer, pressing the ankh into the rebel draconian's chest.
As the Malachite squealed, the ankh sank into his scales, yellow metal melting into a gleaming, writhing mass. Pryftan and his soldiers moved away, bracing themselves for the inevitable explosion. The doomed draconian, free for a moment, clawed at its body, desperate to prevent its self-destruction. But nothing could be done to prevent the Queen's sentence of death from being executed.
Like the eruption of a volcano, the torso of the condemned draconian split open, ejecting blood and viscera. Scaly legs, arms, and wings were rapidly strewn about, mixing with debris from slaughtered karuvati and lutins. The Malachite's head bounced once on the ground and then rolled next to Tolvin's right knee.
"You're next," advised Pryftan, as the draconians regrouped, ready to interrogate Tolvin.
"Please, I'll tell you anything you want," implored the burgomaster.
"You betrayed Nasoj once and now you've betrayed usss."
"No! I only wanted to stop the lutins. You see, they aren't wearing the ankh either."
"Some might believe that," muttered Pryftan. "But I'll need a good story."
"Sure," pleaded Tolvin, watching one of Pryftan's draconian pick up a lutin spear. "I discovered the lutins were in league with the Malachites, plotting to attack Caralore . . ."
"That's not very good," observed Pryftan.
"You've got to believe me! They wanted to give this town back to Nasoj. The . . ."
"How about thisss," said Pryftan as two draconians held Tolvin down, "The burgomaster of Caralore was ambushed by lutins in the woods, fought valiantly, but sadly fell upon a lutin spear."
"Noooo!" screamed Tolvin. "Not after all the Malachites said I'd get . . ."
A draconian plunged a lutin spear through Tolvin's back, impaling him on its end. Then, as Pryftan looked at its metal tip, oozing bits of liver, he declared, "We never should have trusted one of Nasoj's goonsss. Once a traitor, always a traitor. All hail Queen Lilith!"
Bertolf and Lowenherz watched this ghastly event with a mixture of sadness and relief. Tolvin had gotten what he deserved, but they felt very uneasy about Pryftan's methods. The draconians cheered for Lilith as Pryftan tore Tolvin's head off, mounting it on a long pike.
A few minutes later, Pryftan faced Bertolf, saying, "There's nothing else to see here, Deputy. I'm certain you'll give a correct report of these unfortunate events to Valaric. Tell him that we will triple the guard here, against any threat."
"What do you mean by correct?"
"Two traitors were executed. Any who dare to defy Queen Lilith will die."
"What about the Malachites? Don't you remember what I requested?"
"They will be dealt with in the spring. In the meantime, I will allow the humansss . . . the villagers of Caralore to elect a new burgomaster. I'll first pick the candidatesss . . . only those with unswerving loyalty to Lilith will be eligible."
"Isn't Lowenherz a hero here? He helped free Caralore from Nasoj."
Glaring at Lowenherz, Pryftan observed that he did not wear the ankh. The sadistic draconian then stared back at Bertolf, grimly declaring, "If he wasn't a hero to the humansss . . . I'd have him executed. As for you, Bertolf, you better wear an ankh if you plan to stay another day."
"I must report to Valaric in the Dark Keep. It's probably best for me to hit the road to Politzen tonight."
"Not probably," warned Pryftan, as several other draconians gathered by his side. "Certainly! Leave at once!"
"I've also got business in Starven," commented Lowenherz. "I'm taking the same road."
"Leave now!" ordered Pryftan. "Tell the rebel lutins to get moving too, before I decide to hunt them down."
Lowenherz and Bertolf hurried down the path, eager to get away from Caralore.