“Magic, yes,” Straum said. “But power was another matter. No matter how stubborn he might be, Ryslind’s power was limited. Every time he overexerted himself, he drew on my strength to help him. I’m afraid it was too much for his poor mind. Like a weak branch beneath winter snow, it snapped. What could I do but replace it with my own? I locked him away in his own mind so he wouldn’t cause any more harm. Otherwise he could have injured himself in his greed.”

“You used him, you bloody oversized snake.” Darnak kicked the corpse out of the way as he stormed toward Straum. “You killed him. Where’s my club? Earthmaker help me, I’ll crack you open like a walnut, you damned dragon.”

“I warned him,” Straum shrugged. His tongue flicked out and slapped Darnak in the face, knocking him to the sand. “But he accepted both the terms of my agreement and the risk it would involve.”

Barius grabbed Darnak’s arm before the dwarf could resume his charge. Darnak actually dragged him several yards before coming to a grudging halt.

“What were the terms?” Barius asked.

“I can’t send anyone in search of the rod. Most are too stupid, and my own children might attempt to betray me. I’ve attempted to create mindless creatures I could use as puppets, but they lack the wit to find the rod. That was why I created the Necromancer’s fountain. A simple warlock used to control those tunnels. I thought I could animate his corpse and use that in my search. I failed. The upper levels are too alien to me, and I could not find what I needed.

“I required someone who would give me control, but who retained a spark of intelligence. Someone who might discover where Ellnorein hid the rod. I found Ryslind. In exchange for my power, he offered to bring me a group of adventurers who could retrieve the Rod of Creation and set me free.”

CHAPTER 15 - Stirring Up Trouble

CHAPTER 15

Stirring Up Trouble

Jig had never noticed the smell of home before. Like the smell of his own sweat, it was simply there. But as he crouched low against a wall, listening to the growls and curses up the tunnel, he found himself smiling at the familiar odors. The earthiness of the carrion-worm trails, the distant smoke of cooking meat, the moist, fishy smell of the lake . . . it all blended together to create home.

“Watch yourself, lads!” Darnak’s shout was followed by the crack of wood against flesh. A tunnel cat yowled in pain.

“That’s another one down,” Riana commented. She sat opposite Jig, her back against the wall in an almost identical position of boredom.

“How long do you think it will take?” Jig asked.

She peeked around the bend. “Looks like at least five or six more cats. How many do the hobgoblins have?”