Hand of Fire (The Master of the Tane) by Thomas Rath Page A

away quite easily, but something held her in place. She held her breath and watched with nervous fascination as the dark outline of the stocky dwarf moved a bit closer and then turned about moving quickly away. Her heart beat fast and loud reaching into her head as she contemplated her next move. Should she look up? What if he was waiting for her just out of sight, trying to draw her out? She looked at her blowgun and quickly loaded a dart. She could still protect herself.
                  “Gotcha!”
                  Rani jumped at the dwarf’s rough sounding voice as it rang in her ears directly behind her. She attempted to turn about but the distinct prick of a steel blade resting against her neck froze her movements instantly.
                  “Don’t be making any foolish moves now laddie, or I may be forced to be stickin’ ya with me blade.”
                  Rani flushed at finding herself at the mercy of the dwarf; especially one whose hide she had just saved from being peeled off his back. “I’m no laddie ,” she spat. “And I think this an awful way to treat someone who just saved your life.”
                  “Is that so now... missy ? And where might’ve yer next dart been aimed?”
                  Rani felt her temper flare at the insult and turned around abruptly while pushing the blade away from her neck. “How dare you, you pompous little man! If I had wanted you dead, I would have left you to fend for yourself against those...those things, whatever they are. Now if you’ll excuse me, someone should look after your friend. And from the looks of you , he’d die for sure if I wasn’t here to help.” With that, Rani turned her back to the flabbergasted dwarf and marched up the bank passing out of sight through the thick fog.
                  The dwarf just stared in disbelief, his dagger held limply before him, threatening nothing but the shadowy mist. After a long, dazed moment, he finally sheathed his weapon and followed her up the grassy embankment out of the cloudy shroud.
                  Rani had made a point to unload her blowgun and place it far enough away from her as a sign of good faith, hoping to reassure the dwarf that her intentions had never been against him or his friend. The gash to his companion’s head was bleeding quite badly and had already soaked the ground around him. At first glance she had thought him dead.
                  “Is he all right?” a somewhat timid voice asked behind her. “I meant no disrespect, lassie. Ye see, ye cannot be too careful in these parts if ye know what I mean. After all, I almost lost me head. I still had the battle rage coursin’ through me blood. I had no idea, missy, that none of them little needles o’ yers were not headed for me next. Ye must be understandin’ me caution.”
                  Rani turned and glared at the fumbling dwarf. “Are you quite finished?”
                  The dwarf looked down at his boots while wringing his hands. “Well, yes. That is, I guess I be.”
                  “You know what Spindle root looks like?”
                  The dwarf nodded.
                  “Good. Go find me some. I think I remember seeing a patch under the bridge. I need the flowers mind you not the root. Make sure you don’t bruise the pedals. It’s no good to me if you bruise the pedals, got that?”
                  The dwarf nodded quickly and then disappeared back into the thick mass of fog hovering below the bridge. It would have been a beautiful sight to behold, Rani thought quickly, like a patch of earth in the sky, if not for the stinky corpses littering the bridge. She was not really angry with the dwarf anymore. In fact she was still a bit frightened by him, but her façade of rage seemed to be working to her benefit and it kept him from getting