clutch-guardian. Sistree stared up at the dragon with wide eyes.
“You will serve,” said Vestapalk. His mouth opened and Tiktag watched the silver-red stuff drip like venom from the dragon’s mighty jaws as he drew breath.…
CHAPTER SEVEN
I don’t like this,” murmured Gerar.
Nu Alin prodded his host to reply. “The pack of Gerar is strong,” Rooga whined. “There is nothing to fear.” His host eased a paw over the top of the low wall that they—and half of the pack of gnolls, silent for once—crouched behind, and pointed a gnarled finger across the broken plaza before them. “See the treasure chest.”
“There are still three minotaurs,” Gerar growled. “There was only supposed to be one.”
One or three, soon I will be rid of this stinking body, Nu Alin thought—and Rooga snarled in reaction. Gerar looked at him with narrow eyes. Rooga ducked his head in submission. Nu Alin could feel his host’s surprise at the sound that had come out of his own throat. That brought a brief flush of pleasure. He was almost strong enough to control his host directly again. He fed off the fear of those whose bodies he stole, and the prospect of the looming battle had stirred more than a little fear in Rooga, even with Nu Alin’s will bolstering him.
The unexpected presence of additional minotaurs had agitated all of the gnolls. Across the plaza, their intended prey crouched around a small fire. Two watched chunks of meat smoke in the flames while the other watched the shadows, bull-head turning back and forth, a massive axe in his hands. Two minotaurs would have been acceptable. Three was perfect. One of the minotaurs crouching over the fire was a brute, a head taller than either of the other two. Nu Alin had already selected him as his new host.
If Gerar didn’t back down. Nu Alin exerted his control over Rooga a little more directly than he had before. “Look at that chest,” he said through the gnoll’s mouth. “Imagine what’s inside.”
Rooga’s alarm grew, feeding Nu Alin’s strength. He thrust Rooga back. His time was at hand. If Gerar noticed that Rooga’s voice was suddenly rougher and more stilted than normal—Nu Alin could force his host’s body to respond, but the nuances of voice were more difficult—he didn’t show it. The chest in question, a rough box slung by straps from long poles for easy carrying, didn’t actually look like much. Nu Alin could imagine it empty as easily as he could full, or filled with rocks instead of treasure. What he imagined inside it wasn’t important, though. He watched Gerar’s eyes drift from the minotaurs to the chest, before returning to the minotaurs.
“There are three of them,” he said again.
Behind them, ordered to keep their heads down and thus unable to see what lay ahead, gnolls shifted impatiently. If they were heard, the element of surprise would be lost. Nu Alin thrust Rooga’s muzzle even closer to Gerar’s ear. “The rest of the pack waits for our attack. They’ll unleash the hyenas from the other side. The minotaurs will be caught between us.”
There was no response from Gerar. Nu Alin bared his teeth and added, “If we turn back now, the pack will believe you’re a coward.”
Gerar jerked his head around and glared into Nu Alin’s eyes.
Rooga wanted to roll over and bare his throat to the pack leader. Nu Alin held his body still and glared back, daring Gerar to deny what he said.
Gerar’s muzzle twisted into a silent snarl. His breath blew into Nu Alin’s face in short, sharp bursts—then he turned and gestured for the other gnolls. Faces looked toward him. Hands tightened on weapons. Muscles tensed. Gerar glared disdainfully at Rooga, then turned back to study the minotaurs. Below the level of the wall, he lifted his spear and held it steady, waiting for the perfect moment to signal the charge. The gnolls pressed close.
“Yeenoghu!”
bellowed Gerar, thrusting his spear high. He vaulted the wall and the gnolls
“You will serve,” said Vestapalk. His mouth opened and Tiktag watched the silver-red stuff drip like venom from the dragon’s mighty jaws as he drew breath.…
CHAPTER SEVEN
I don’t like this,” murmured Gerar.
Nu Alin prodded his host to reply. “The pack of Gerar is strong,” Rooga whined. “There is nothing to fear.” His host eased a paw over the top of the low wall that they—and half of the pack of gnolls, silent for once—crouched behind, and pointed a gnarled finger across the broken plaza before them. “See the treasure chest.”
“There are still three minotaurs,” Gerar growled. “There was only supposed to be one.”
One or three, soon I will be rid of this stinking body, Nu Alin thought—and Rooga snarled in reaction. Gerar looked at him with narrow eyes. Rooga ducked his head in submission. Nu Alin could feel his host’s surprise at the sound that had come out of his own throat. That brought a brief flush of pleasure. He was almost strong enough to control his host directly again. He fed off the fear of those whose bodies he stole, and the prospect of the looming battle had stirred more than a little fear in Rooga, even with Nu Alin’s will bolstering him.
The unexpected presence of additional minotaurs had agitated all of the gnolls. Across the plaza, their intended prey crouched around a small fire. Two watched chunks of meat smoke in the flames while the other watched the shadows, bull-head turning back and forth, a massive axe in his hands. Two minotaurs would have been acceptable. Three was perfect. One of the minotaurs crouching over the fire was a brute, a head taller than either of the other two. Nu Alin had already selected him as his new host.
If Gerar didn’t back down. Nu Alin exerted his control over Rooga a little more directly than he had before. “Look at that chest,” he said through the gnoll’s mouth. “Imagine what’s inside.”
Rooga’s alarm grew, feeding Nu Alin’s strength. He thrust Rooga back. His time was at hand. If Gerar noticed that Rooga’s voice was suddenly rougher and more stilted than normal—Nu Alin could force his host’s body to respond, but the nuances of voice were more difficult—he didn’t show it. The chest in question, a rough box slung by straps from long poles for easy carrying, didn’t actually look like much. Nu Alin could imagine it empty as easily as he could full, or filled with rocks instead of treasure. What he imagined inside it wasn’t important, though. He watched Gerar’s eyes drift from the minotaurs to the chest, before returning to the minotaurs.
“There are three of them,” he said again.
Behind them, ordered to keep their heads down and thus unable to see what lay ahead, gnolls shifted impatiently. If they were heard, the element of surprise would be lost. Nu Alin thrust Rooga’s muzzle even closer to Gerar’s ear. “The rest of the pack waits for our attack. They’ll unleash the hyenas from the other side. The minotaurs will be caught between us.”
There was no response from Gerar. Nu Alin bared his teeth and added, “If we turn back now, the pack will believe you’re a coward.”
Gerar jerked his head around and glared into Nu Alin’s eyes.
Rooga wanted to roll over and bare his throat to the pack leader. Nu Alin held his body still and glared back, daring Gerar to deny what he said.
Gerar’s muzzle twisted into a silent snarl. His breath blew into Nu Alin’s face in short, sharp bursts—then he turned and gestured for the other gnolls. Faces looked toward him. Hands tightened on weapons. Muscles tensed. Gerar glared disdainfully at Rooga, then turned back to study the minotaurs. Below the level of the wall, he lifted his spear and held it steady, waiting for the perfect moment to signal the charge. The gnolls pressed close.
“Yeenoghu!”
bellowed Gerar, thrusting his spear high. He vaulted the wall and the gnolls
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