The War Of The Lance by Michael Williams, Richard A. Knaak, Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman Page A

down to gully dwarf meat. You may be a dead
     boy, but after that sivak, nothin' much ever gets to me.”
    The dwarf clapped his hands together, then went to get his axe. “'Sides, like I said, you
     probably leadin' me right to Garith. Gonna be like a family reunion.” He lifted the axe to
     gaze down the blade. “I been dyin' to see the boy. Like as not, he'll be dyin' too - after
     he sees me.”
    ***** Evening came at last. We stopped once more for Orun
    to rest, then moved on as the sun went down. I told Orun about my "cousins, my uncle, my
     life, and my death. He walked silently as he listened, asking few questions. I talked
     until I knew of nothing more to say.
    At dusk, my awareness of my murderer's location arose in my consciousness as comfortably
     as if it had never left. He was still heading for Twisting Creek, but we were much closer
     to him now. He'd make it to town before morning, but we'd not be far behind him. His speed
     picked up as the evening deepened, and so did mine - and I was faster, even with Orun.
    By noon the next day, we were just two hours outside of Twisting Creek. There we stopped
     at an abandoned farmhouse, one I knew had belonged to a couple who had moved away during
     the war. The log-and-stone home was overgrown with vines and had been boarded up, but it
     still appeared to be in good shape. It took only moments to break inside. There Orun slept
     until early evening. I knew we could afford the break. I wanted Orun in good shape when we
     found the Theiwar. Orun awoke “ready to do business.”
    “Wish I knew what spells he's been collectin',” Orun said for the third time later that
     evening. The whetstone in his hand made a soft grinding sound as he touched up the blade
     of his axe. “Garith could turn invisible, hypnotize folks with colors, and make light
     shine. And make poison gas, which he probably used on them hobs. But he knew lots more
     than that.” He held up his axe and examined it in the dim light coming through the cracks
     in the shuttered windows. “Damn, I'm lookin' forward to seein' him.”
    Orun ransacked the house while I waited for my supernatural senses to focus. He found a
     moth-eaten gray cloak and dropped it on my lap, as well as a stained pair of trousers and
     a shirt. I needed something besides my old clothes to wear in town. It wouldn't do to have
     everyone know who I was - including the Theiwar, right at first. By the way his big nose
     wrinkled up, I knew the clothes had to stink of mold and mildew. I probably stank worse,
     but I couldn't tell, since I never breathed.
    It grew darker outside. Energy poured into me like a cold river. When I faced in the
     direction of town, I could tell that my murderer was just a short walk away.
    “I see him,” I said.
    Orun nodded, wrapping up his feet with a dry cloth strip. “Like I said,” he replied,
     tugging on his boots next, “Theiwar hate sunlight. Probably stayed at an inn or in a
     cellar, hidin' from that sun and heavin' 'is guts out, waitin' for the night. Reorx
     Almighty, they hate that sun.”
    We left at nightfall. Orun had wrapped an extra layer of moldy cloth under his armor to
     add a little protection from the daggers he said Garith was fond of using. He knew it
     wouldn't stop a crossbow bolt, though, and I'd earlier told him about the poison I'd seen.
     Black wax was difficult to use, so it wasn't likely that Garith would have his bolts
     already poisoned. Still, we couldn't count on anything. He'd slain a dozen hobgoblins in
     one evening, probably without breaking into a sweat.
    It was a clear night. The stars were out early. A warm wind rolled through town ahead of
     us. I remembered the last night I had known like that, how peaceful it had been, how
     everything had gone along fine right up to the end.
    “Gonna miss you in a way,” said Orun. His axe was tied to his belt. He walked with a
     broad, quick stride, matching my pace.
    The