by T. H. Lain
"Here," said Kargle, handing him a small weapon. "We might not need them, but you never know."
Malthooz looked at the instrument in his hand. It consisted of a stout handle that was affixed to a hard ball of leather. A thin cord, about as long as the span of a hand, separated the two. The cable was flexible, but only slightly so.
"It's a blackjack," Kargle said. "Hit someone on the back of the head and you're almost guaranteed to knock him cold. It's not usually fatal, but you don't want to put all of your strength into it."
Kargle emphasized the last line by striking the small leather weapon against his open hand.
Malthooz palmed the thing and asked, "So what do we do?"
Kargle ran them briefly through the plan. It sounded easy enough to the half-orc, providing that Flint's contacts came through on their end. Something about the way that Kargle spoke still bothered Malthooz, but he was not able to place his finger on it, and at this point he was in a poor position to do anything but follow the man's lead anyway. They started moving.
The night air was cold and crisp as the three made their way through the town. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the stars were visible seemingly by the thousands. Malthooz wished fervently that none of this had ever happened and that he was at home, lying on his back in a field, enjoying the view of the firmament. His friends would be safe and he'd never have laid eyes on the damned staff. He stepped past Lidda and under the light of the street lamp, following Kargle as they started for the jailhouse. Lidda fell in behind him.
The jail was one of a cluster of official buildings near the center of the city. It was an impressive structure. It wasn't nearly as tall as the city hall, but it looked like it was built to withstand a siege. Malthooz read the inscriptions on the marble buildings as they moved past them, wondering exactly what a Temple of Justice was.
"There is no one around," he said, glancing down the wide street.
"Most city business is done during daylight hours," Kargle explained. "And Eva has seen to it that the city guard is not going to bother us."
They came to the broad staircase that ran up to the twin doors at the front of the building.
"Remember," Kargle said over his shoulder as they approached the steps, "only three guards will be on duty inside, and the jailer is not to be harmed."
Malthooz felt a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. It was not just nerves again. If Flint could keep the guards from the streets, she could just as easily have been the one who sent the guards after their group in the first place. His head started swimming as the puzzle that he had constructed in his mind shattered and all of the pieces he'd carefully laid in place flew apart. Suddenly he knew where he had seen the doorman before.
Things were moving much too fast for Malthooz's liking. He felt a desperate need to sit quietly somewhere and think.
Was Lidda in on this, too? Or was she as clueless about the guild's connection to the murder as he had been? He wondered if Kargle had seen the look of recognition cross his face. He cursed the man, wishing that he could get just a moment alone with Lidda. It mattered little if Kargle was aware of what he knew. If they were heading into a trap, the doorman could care less either way. Malthooz had to find a chance to speak with Lidda, to try and discover if she was in on the plot. He had to know whether she had sold them out for a greater share of the gold or a position within the guild. He felt sick. Not more than a few hours ago, he trusted the woman with his life.
"We are going to have to work fast," Kargle said as they neared the door. "By the time we enter the building, the door to the cell should already be open."
He looked at both of them to make sure they were listening before going on.
"The guards are generally in a room just to the right of the entry hall. Farther down that hallway and beyond the main room are the stairs that lead down to the cells."
Kargle rapped the blackjack on his hand.
"If one of the guards escapes and alerts others, we're sunk. I will lead you all to the stables on the south edge of the city when we're done. You will be given mounts and seen past the city wall. At that point you are on your own."
"It'll be just like at the gnoll camp, only easier," Lidda said, elbowing Malthooz in the ribs.
He grabbed her arm as Kargle stepped through the outer doorway.
"Trap," he mouthed to her as he turned to follow the doorman in.
He didn't want to risk turning around to see if the rogue saw his warning. He wasn't sure whether he was more afraid of what lay ahead or the look that he might see on her face.
If Malthooz had turned to look, he would have seen the rogue struggling to contain her emotions. Had she understood him correctly? If it had been Krusk, she would have expected the warning as a matter of course. Even though Malthooz shared the barbarian's skepticism, he'd always been one for measured judgement. Certainly he tended to err on the side of timidity as far as danger went, but this was a serious charge. Lidda wasn't eager to lose what remained of her grasp on the guild, but was as that all it was? Could she really have been so foolish? It didn't matter now if it was. Her chances of working for the thieves guild again were getting slimmer by the minute, at least in Newcoast.
She tried to reason her way through it. What interest would Flint have in getting them out of the way? Wotherwill's murder could be blamed on them whether they were alive or dead, present or absent. So why have them killed?
If Kargle read the concern on her face, he didn't show it.
"The guards will be in a room to the right not far past this door," he said, looking back at Malthooz as they approached a second set of doors. "The rogue and I will knock them out and you can cover the door to make sure no one else comes in or leaves."
He reached into a pocket in the chest of his armor and pulled out a lock pick. Even in her agitated state, Lidda had to marvel at the man's skill. With years of practice and experience, she still did not posses the easy flair with which Kargle undid the lock. He inserted the tool and with a quick flick of his wrist, the mechanism snapped open.
For that matter, Lidda thought, watching Kargle drop the pick into his armor and reach for the handle, why didn't Flint just go right for the staff herself? And where did the gnolls fit into it all?
Kargle moved down the short hallway. He stopped outside the door of the guardroom. Lidda crept up to his side, fingering the blackjack. She glanced back at Malthooz standing near the door and saw the worry in his eyes. If he was right, then getting Kargle out of the way now might be the best thing she could do.
It certainly wasn't beyond the guild master to double-cross anyone. If the price was right, it was probably Flint's preferred method. She could profit triple-fold. There would be the wizard's money when he paid for the artifact's passage, more of it when she brokered the wizard's hiring of the adventurers, and the final payoff of keeping the staff for herself.
Lidda felt Kargle's eyes on her. A grin slid across his lips as he tapped the end of the blackjack against the side of his leg and started toward the guardroom.
If the Deepwood didn't do them in, Flint's gnoll should have, but that was where Flint made her error. She didn't count on the group's success. Lidda shrugged. It was now or never, as she saw it.
She swung the blackjack hard across the back of Kargle's head. The knot on the top of the weapon struck the man's skull with a thud, and his body crumpled to the floor. She looked at him for a few moments, then back at the startled Malthooz.
"So much for the help," she quipped. "Let's go get our friends."
Krusk was bored. He'd paced the cell all afternoon, stopping occasionally only to shake the bars and curse at the guards upstairs. The women took the barbarian's impatience in stride. They'd long since realized the futility of trying to calm him down and figured that he'd tire sooner or later.
They just didn't know how much later.
"That damned rogue better do something soon," he fumed. "If she leaves town, I'll—"
"Whoa, Krusk," V
adania said, jumping up and moving to the barbarian's side. "You know she'd never even think of leaving us here."
She steered him over to Mialee and forced him to sit down.
The wizard patted his shoulder and said, "Easy, boy."
Krusk was ablaze with anger. Most of the day had been spent composing a mental list of all the people he intended to throttle when he got out of the dungeon. Eva Flint was at the top, but Lidda was right behind in second place.
Krusk knew what friendship was. He certainly knew what loyalty was. What he didn't appreciate was patience.
"I don't care if Flint had nothing to do with any of it," he growled. "I want to kick her head into a basket."
The spot of light that shone through the cell's shaft to the outside world crawled across the floor and halfway up the opposite wall as the day wore on. As evening fell, the frustration of imprisonment was wearing at them all.
It was a welcome respite from boredom when a guard made his way to their cell with the evening meal. Tin platters clattered across stones as the man set them on the ground and slid them through a gap in the bars.
"It's not much," he said, "but probably more than you deserve."
Krusk no longer had the energy to curse the man. His anger was focused elsewhere.
Vadania collected the plates and gave one to each of her companions before grabbing her own and taking a seat on the straw next to Mialee. A thin stew sloshed across the bottom of the plates. Krusk pushed the liquid around with a hard chunk of stale bread before managing a bite. It was awful. He'd have thrown it back at the guard if not for his gnawing hunger.
The jailer returned a while later with two guards in tow. They moved slowly down the row of cells, collecting plates and replacing chamber pots. The guards stood outside the cells with crossbows drawn as the jailer went in after the used urns.
"Don't try it," Vadania said, squeezing Krusk's arm as the jailer opened the door to their cell.
The guard kept a wary eye and a crossbow pointed at the barbarian as the jailer dropped an urn in the rear of their cell and grabbed the old one. Krusk growled as the man passed him by and exited the cell. The jailer shut the door and turned the key with an odd grin before moving on to the next cell.
Krusk saw Mialee's ears perk and watched her and Vadania exchange looks. The druid held her hand up to her mouth. A few minutes later, they heard the heavy door at the top of the staircase slam shut.
Mialee jumped up and moved to the door of the cell. She looked up and down the hallway, then gave the door a kick. It swung open. The barbarian was on his feet at once.
"It's our chance," he said through clenched teeth, "and we'll take it now."
"Is it broken?" Vadania asked. "Did he use the wrong key?"
"I don't know, and I don't care," Mialee said. "Maybe it's pure luck. I'm not asking questions or waiting for answers."
"Nor I," said Krusk. "I can handle those guards if I have a little room to maneuver."
"What if there are others?" the druid asked.
"So much the worse for them," Krusk replied. "You can stay and worry about their welfare if you want to, but I'm getting out of here.
"Coming?" he asked.
Krusk glared menacingly at the other prisoners as he passed down the row of cells.
"Make so much as a peep and I'll snap all of your necks," he growled.
Lidda hugged the wall as she moved around the door frame. She crouched low to the ground, circling the table to get herself directly behind the closest of the men seated at the large, round table that filled the room. A rack of weapons hung from the wall opposite the rogue. She found herself wishing that she'd taken more time to study the place before going in. Moving silently and unobserved, she crept along the shadows. "I'm just glad he's down there and we're up—" The maris words dropped away when Lidda struck the base of his skull with her blackjack. His face landed in stacks of silver and copper pieces, scattering them. The other two men jumped back as the nimble halfling sprang from behind the fallen maris chair and launched herself directly across the table. She grabbed the nearest guard by the collar of his leather armor and smashed the blackjack across his face. His head snapped to the side with the impact of the blow, spittle and pieces of his teeth flying from his bloody mouth.
The last one lunged for a short sword that hung on the wall just beyond his reach. His hand closed short of the hilt of the weapon as Lidda's arms closed around his neck. The man spun around to place the rogue between himself and the wall and threw his body backward, crushing the rogue with his weight. The blow pushed the wind from Lidda's lungs. Her arms loosened slightly as she struggled to get a breath. Black spots danced in her vision. She groped for the maris eyes as she felt her ribcage being crushed.
"Malthooz, you fool," she managed to gasp as the guard reached around and grabbed a handful of her hair.
Where is that idiot?
Malthooz ran through the door. He came around the table with his blackjack raised. Desperately, the guard slammed Lidda against the wall again, and she fell to the floor gasping for breath. The man grabbed a weapon from the rack and moved to intercept Malthooz.
"I won't hold it against you if you give up now," the guard said, laughing. "I'm sure we have room for you and your friend downstairs."
He swung the sword. Malthooz leaped back, narrowly avoiding the blade.
"Then again," the guard said, "I could just kill you now and keep the paperwork to a minimum."
Lidda rolled herself over, the handle of the blackjack in her hand. The guard caught her movement in the corner of his eye and spun around. His boot shot out, catching the rogue in the side, but his foot was too slow. The leather weapon flew from Lidda's outstretched arm. It sailed at the maris face, end over end, to strike him in the forehead.
Malthooz jumped forward as the man reacted to the clout. The half-orc grabbed the guard's neck, intending to steady him for a knockout blow. A jolt of energy flowed from his hand and traveled into the maris body. Malthooz yanked his hand away. The man convulsed once and went down.
Lidda got up slowly from the floor, clutching her side, and said, "I may have broken a rib or two."
"Let me," Malthooz said moving to her side.
"Save it. I'm not sure your newfound powers would be enough to deal with this anyway."
They heard the clatter of footsteps coming up the stairs. Lidda grabbed two swords from the rack on the wall and tossed one of the unfamiliar weapons to the half-orc.
"Just swing it like a club," she advised. "We can't be choosy right now. Sounds like a crowd coming up the steps. How much more of that magic do you have in you?"
Malthooz shrugged.
"It just seems to happen," he whispered. "I can't really control it."
"Well, keep it happening," Lidda said.
Malthooz smiled. It was good to have his companion back and to shelve his doubts about her loyalty. Even if they didn't make it out of this place alive, at least he wouldn't die alone. Lidda raised her sword and moved behind the table as the footsteps sounded just outside the door.
Malthooz tensed as the door burst open. He saw Krusk's large form charge through the open portal, followed quickly by Mialee. A moment later, Vadania entered the room. She stopped short and looked over the unexpected scene.
"I thought this escape was too easy to be true," she said.
Krusk seemed to be struggling with whether he should hug Malthooz or strangle Lidda. Instead, he stood dumbfounded, unable to speak.
"We're happy to see you too, Krusk," Lidda said, letting her sword arm fall. She nodded at the unconscious guards lying about the room. "I thought I'd have to put a few more to rest when I heard you coming up the stairs."
"Is this Flint's doing?" Mialee asked.
Lidda nodded. "Yeah, but I think we have more trouble on the way."
"The body in the hallway?" Vadania asked.
"His name is Kargle," Lidda replied. "Doorman from the guild. Apparently he was Flint's right hand man. I wa
sn't sure if he was a help or a hindrance, but when Malthooz decided we were walking into a trap, I figured it was best to get him out of the way for safety's sake. It just seemed prudent."
"I knew it," Krusk said.
"Yeah," Lidda said with a sigh, "and I should have guessed it. I let myself get too caught up in the idea of joining the guild to see clearly."
"So where's the ambush?" Krusk asked. "Don't try to tell me that Flint expected these three to keep us here."
"No, I think that's what Kargle was for," Lidda said, "but let's not wait around to find out."
"Are you all right to move, Lidda?" Mialee asked.
"I can move," she replied, though the pain in her side grew more acute with each passing minute.
Krusk took a sword from the rack on the wall. He grabbed the hair of the guard who was slumped over the table and pressed the blade against the unconscious maris neck. Lidda grabbed his arm.
"Don't do it Krusk. They're just doing their jobs."
"Was part of that job to harass and insult me?" The barbarian glared momentarily, but withdrew the blade and satisfied himself with slamming the maris face down onto the table. A few coins clattered to the floor. Krusk hit the back of the guard's skull with the pommel of his sword and added, "That's for the gag."
When everyone was armed, they started toward the front doors. At the sound of someone moving behind them, Krusk spun around and saw a door slam shut at the far end of the hallway. The barbarian bolted in pursuit, breaking the door down as he went. The old jailer was huddled in the corner at the far end of the chamber. His whole frame shivered in fear as the barbarian approached him.
"Anything you want," the man pleaded, throwing up his hands.
The others filed in. The place was filled with row upon row of cabinets, each of them clasped and locked.
"Looks like we found our stuff," Lidda said, tossing aside the cheap blade she held.