glass vial arced out of the vanishing smoke. It shattered, and bottled lightning crackled, snarling over
the soldiers and leaving them twitching. Chaplain came on behind it, undaunted, swinging her
hammer in a wide arc. It crushed leather and bone alike, doing its nasty work at a piston pace while
the cleric drove the men down like tent stakes.
“Bastards!” The leader of the Molthuni outriders cried out as he drew an arrow’s fletching to his cheek.
“You bastards, I’ll—”
Whatever else he would have said was cut off by the twang of Gunner’s infernal engine. He unleashed
a full load of bolts in the blink of an eye, and they flew like darts flung by a giant, slamming into the
trunk of the leader’s chest with nary a finger’s breadth between them. The man fell back, his arrow
streaking for the low scudding clouds.
“Regroup!” The Lieutenant snarled, waving away the last of the smoke. “Status!”
“One prisoner, sir,” Garm called. He marched Theron down the hill, one of the man’s arms twisted up
behind his back and Garm’s hand around his throat, making certain he couldn’t scream. Trilaina
retrieved her daggers from the dead men and drug a double trench along each side of the soldiers’
necks, just to be safe. Chaplain said a quick prayer, then rifled pouches and weapon belts looking for
anything useful. Denna whined and licked Gunner. The gnome coughed, shifting on his back.
“Easy, girl.” He grunted and tugged at the arrows stuck in his armor. The Lieutenant put a foot on the
gnome’s chest and pulled, the bent-tipped barbs grating on steel.
“Looks like the extra chain came in handy after all,” The Lieutenant said.
Gunner grinned. “It’s a heavy bastard, is all,” he said. “Help me up, I need to see to Denna before she makes herself worse.”
Chaplain gave him a hand and Gunner struggled back to his feet. He caught the she-wolf’s teeth on
his bracer and shushed her. He pulled, she bit, and the offending shaft slipped free with barely a
protest. Gunner whispered, speaking in the voice of wind and rain while he dragged his fingers
through Denna’s fur like he was raking out a bloody burr. The wound came free, its lips sealed as if it
had never been. Only a small bald patch gave testament.
“And here it was I thought she still didn’t like me,” Trilaina said.
Denna growled, a low rumble of thunder deep in her chest. Trilaina retreated a step, and Gunner
scratched the wolf under the muzzle.
“She doesn’t,” he said. “Bastard’s lucky he came from behind you. She started growling at Garm, I’d
have shot first and asked questions later.”
“Not my fault I’m prettier,” Garm said.
Theron’s eyes were wild, and he clawed at Garm’s hand. The boy—which is what he really was, now
that they saw him up close—may as well have tried to chop down a tree with his cheekbones.
“Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder,” Trilaina said, the words dry as hardroot cider. Garm dropped the
boy, coughing and gagging, in front of the little map they’d drawn only moments ago. It was scuffed,
but still legible.
“If you’re going to kill me, just do it and get it over with.” Theron had probably meant it to sound
defiant, but it came out a gallows whisper. The Lieutenant hunkered across the map, looking at
Theron as if he was an out-of-season fruit. Something to be picked when the opportunity presented.
“Whether you die here with no one but the gods to see is entirely up to you,” Hook said.
Theron waited. The Lieutenant waited. It didn’t take long for the tow-headed captive to crack.
“You’ll never get in that gate,” he said. “The mine is locked down and everyone’s watching.
Commander Hartwick has already sent word to the Cettigne garrison requesting reinforcements.
They’ll be here by midday tomorrow.”
“Fortunate we never intended on going in that gate,” the Lieutenant said, half his mouth curling in a
sly grin. “Show me where the Deserter’s Door is, and you get to live.”
“The Deserter’s Door?” Theron asked.
The Lieutenant snapped his teeth, and the boy jumped.
“Everyone’s determined to prove themselves a fool.” The Lieutenant leaned forward, nostrils flaring.
“The secret escape route discovered by a work crew ten years ago. It was closed up tight and
guarded. It’s been kept as a final option by the mine overseer since then in case of overwhelming
assault, since it comes out the back side of that little hill from the front gate. You strike me as a
curious boy, Theron. I’m sure you’ve seen it.”
“And if I have?” Theron asked.
“Then you tell us where it is, and you walk,” the Lieutenant said.
“Just like that?” Theron’s disbelief was obvious.
“Of course.” The Lieutenant leaned in close to the boy. “The brand on your right arm labels you a
conscript. You’re a slave trying to make good. If you tell us where this gate is and you go back, you’ll
be killed for cowardice and consorting with the enemy. But if you walk away from here right now—
well, there’s no one to say what really happened up here, is there?”
Without hesitation, Theron stretched out an arm and marked a spot northeast of the mine’s main
gate. Lost in the crags, it would take them until nightfall to get there if they didn’t want to be seen.
The Lieutenant smiled. “Good boy.”
“So what now?” Theron asked.
The Lieutenant nodded, and Garm’s fist crashed into the side of Theron’s face. Blood ran, and the
boy’s eyes didn’t quite know where to look as he tried to sit up. His teeth were still in place, and
nothing appeared broken.
“You walk away.” The Lieutenant stood. “That will swell up right pretty in half a turn or so. You walk out of the foothills toward the river. If someone stops you, you tell them you were sent running and
got turned around—the bump to the head addled your brains. That bruise will corroborate your story
and keep you from looking too much like a deserter. If you’re lucky, you’ll make it all the way out of
Molthune, and we’ll never see you again.”
Theron sat, the words sinking in slow. Finally he hauled himself to his feet and offered a shaky salute.
The Lieutenant returned it, and the boy walked away until he was out of sight.
“Conscripts,” Garm said, and shook his head.
The Lieutenant jerked his chin toward the mountain. “There’s more out there,” he said. “Irregulars,
keep your mouths shut, and your ears open. There are people counting on us in that mine, and I
would hate to disappoint them.”
Chapter Three: In the Black
“Are you sure it’s here?” Trilaina whispered.
Chaplain nodded, thick brown braid bobbing. “See there and there, the stress fracture lines they tried
to hide? And how the stone around it is worn smooth, but this one spot is chiseled? It’s been here a
while, but it still doesn’t fit here.”
“Dwarves know their rocks,” Gunner said as he watched their back trail. As far as his eyes were
concerned, it was still as bright as daylight, even with a sky empty of anything except stars.
“My father was a stonemason,” Chaplain said, putting a glare into her voice. Gunner made a small
gesture over his shoulder, a duelist conceding a point to an opponent. Trilaina shrugged and ran her
hands over the rock, eyes narrowed as if she could see
through the stone.
“Even if it is a door—and I’ll take your word that it is—there would have to be a knob, or a trigger or
something…” Trilaina trailed off and smiled. Her fingers disappeared into a hidden niche, and
something clicked softly. “Looks like I found our way in.”
“’Bout time,” the Lieutenant mumbled. “I’m tired of standing out here in the dark.”
“Details, details,” the half-elf murmured. “Everybody ready?”
Tendons creaked and knuckles popped. Cold steel whispered out of sheaths and glimmered beneath
the moonless sky as the team nodded their assent. Trilaina filled her free hand with a nasty little
hawkbill blade and opened the door. Counterweights turned, pulleys groaned, and the hundred-stone
weight swung wide.
The assault was precision-perfect, and quiet as a greased whisper. They charged into the blackness,
teeth bared, ready to bring permanent silence to the dark places beneath the mountain. Instead they
found an empty hallway, the door flanked by dark lanterns and lonely-looking chairs. A deck of cards
sat on a scarred tabletop, dog-eared and forlorn. The air tasted stagnant, and cold as second-day
stew. They lowered their weapons, and Chaplain pulled the door closed.
“Where is everyone?” Trilaina asked.
“They’re watching the woods for bogeymen,” Hook said. He popped a match and lit a lantern. “They’re
down a patrol, with one man still missing in action, and everyone up there is wondering where we are.
Just as I figured. The way out is a secret, and it’s one of about a hundred possible approaches. In the
dark, most people wouldn’t have a shot in hell of finding it.”
“Where do we go from here?” Garm asked.
“You and Chaplain reconnoiter,” the Lieutenant said, slinging a leather bag down off his back and
reaching in to the shoulder. “Eliminate threats if necessary, but bring your mental maps back here.
After that, we move on to stage two.”
The soldiers nodded, and the darkness swallowed them. Trilaina and Lieutenant Hook donned stolen
armor stained with blood and took seats at the table. Trilaina dealt a hand of a game called king is
dead. Gunner leaned on the wall and watched the shadows. Denna lay down with her nose on her
front paws. She took deep breaths and awaited the approach of strangers. Seconds turned to minutes
like slow-burn alchemy, but none of them moved. They knew their work, and waiting was part of it.
On the third hand, with Trilaina dealing bottom deck, footsteps approached. They heard the soft
whisper of bare flesh on the stony floor flanked by two sets of boots. Hands wrapped around hilts, and
eyes turned to the shadows. A girl with close-cropped hair, strong shoulders, and a shapeless shift
wrapped around her body walked out of the darkness, Garm and Chaplain on either side.
“Taking in strays now, are we?” Trilaina asked. Garm held up his right hand. The knuckles gleamed
with fresh, red blood.
“There were supposed to be two guards at this post,” he said. “They decided no one would come in
this door, so they went off to have a bit of fun.”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Chaplain’s frown pulled her entire face taut, and her dark
eyes simmered. Garm nodded grimly.
“I hope you didn’t show them your gentle side,” Trilaina said. Garm shook his head.
Chaplain is as good with people as she is with her hammer.
Chaplain gently touched the girl’s arm. “Go on, Rulla. Tell the Lieutenant what you told us.”
The girl stared at them, hard eyes still suspicious. She swallowed and looked back where she’d come
from. Apparently she considered them the lesser of two evils.
“The guards put us all in our cells hours ago,” she said. “They took every digger out of the hole and filled every bolt room. Except for Regan and Goblin, everyone else is up on the wall.”
“Goblin?” Gunner raised an eyebrow.
“Ugly whoreson,” Garm replied. “My guess is his parents probably saw one and decided it was a fitting name.”
“Go on, Rulla, tell him the rest.” Chaplain silenced her squadmates with a look. Rulla licked her lips.
“When the last guards went up, they barred the ore gate,” she said. “There’s no way in or out except the rear door unless that main gate is opened.”
The Irregulars looked at each other for several long moments, letting the significance sink in. The
Lieutenant smiled, and his troops smiled back. He stripped off the stained leather and tossed it aside.
Trilaina slit the lacing and peeled her disguise off like an unwanted second skin. Garm lit the second
lantern and handed it to the half-elf.
“New plan, everyone.” The Lieutenant rubbed his hands together. “Gunner, get outside and watch the
hilltop. If someone realizes the mountain’s bleeding out the rear passage, they’re going to stopper us
up from both ends.”
“Consider it done.” Gunner mounted up, and Garm opened the door far enough for the duo to slip
back into the dim night. He closed it without letting the door catch.
“Garm, did you get the keys from the guards?” Both the half-orc and the dwarf took out two sets of
well-used iron keys. The Lieutenant nodded approvingly. “Rulla, is everyone down here a slave?”
“Yes, sir.” Her eyebrows drew together. She looked unsure, but she also clearly knew it was too late
to stop, even if she wanted to.
“Good. Are there any hard cases we need to know about?”
Rulla shrugged. “I suppose.”
Hook nodded, stroking his chin. “Anyone that belongs in this hole?”
Rulla narrowed her eyes. “You’re just trusting me? Just like that?”
“He does that,” Garm said, looking back into the darkness.
“And you’d just leave them in those cages?”
“Probably not,” the Lieutenant admitted. “But I might make sure they went last, after everyone else
got a head start. That would make them the most likely to be caught, and it would give everyone else
more time to get away.”
“No,” Rulla said. The Lieutenant raised one bushy eyebrow. “No, there’s no one that I think will make trouble. No one wants to be here, and if they were given a choice, they’d run till their feet bled.”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Chaplain said.
“There’s only two keys, but we have to be fast.” The Lieutenant sucked his teeth, glaring at the
imaginary clock in his head. “Garm, you and Chaplain unlock the cages and send people back to this
room. We’ll make this our jump-off point. Small groups, easily mobile. Look for night-sights and
moonbeams, spread ‘em around as necessary so we don’t have a bunch of scared people stumbling
around in the dark and making all kinds of noise. We can’t give them lights, much as we might like to.
They’re a high priority, but not number one.”
“What are you going to do?” Trilaina asked.
The Lieutenant pointedly sat down in the chair he’d vacated a moment ago. “I’m going to supervise.
From here, I can bottleneck either way, and keep a leash on this whole thing.”
Garm, Trilaina, and Chaplain nodded, then scattered. Silence rolled in like an ebb tide.
Rulla looked at the Lieutenant, who took out a long-stemmed pipe. At last, she could stand it no more.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
The Lieutenant slowly crossed his good leg over his bad one, then lit the pipe and puffed. “Why are
you he
re, Rulla?”
“I was sold to a slaver by my husband to pay gambling debts to a bookie in Laekastel.” Her tone was
flat, yet the Lieutenant could still hear coals burning beneath the ashes.
“Cheliax.” The Lieutenant turned the nation’s name into a curse. “Molthune is a small man with big
plans. It has everything it needs to become an empire: ore, timber, fertile soil, and a defensible
border to keep it safe from invasion. But you can’t fight wars without soldiers, and you can’t reap or
sow without farmers. It’ll take too long to do it the old-fashioned way. The saber rattlers want to be
kings now. So they buy slaves.”
Rulla nodded. The Lieutenant blew a smoke ring, then cocked his head and listened. He stood, holding
the lantern high.
They appeared like bog ghosts—filthy, pale will-o’-wisps with wide eyes and bent backs. Most were
human, but an occasional dwarf or half-breed stood out among them. Down in the darkness, they’d all
become one, and it was as one they came to escape. The Lieutenant looked at them and grinned,
tapping out his pipe as he blew the remnants through his nose like a dragon scenting prey. He glanced
at Chaplain and jerked his head.
The dwarf stood up on the rickety chair, facing the room. The assembled slaves stared at her with red-
rimmed eyes.
“Prisoners of Molthune, listen close.” Chaplain was never loud, but when she spoke people listened. A
murmur went through them, and they shuffled forward to hear her. “You have been bought and sold.
You have been brought to this place and turned into little more than cattle that can swing a pick and
carry stones. Today that life is over. Today we’re giving you back the freedom that never should have
been taken from you.”
A soft, furtive cheer went up, as ragged and dirty as the men and women that offered it. Chaplain held
her arms out, quieting and embracing them all as she continued.
“The night is long and the mountains are treacherous. You need to move quickly and quietly. You’ll
have to help each other get away. Eagerness will get everyone caught, so listen carefully and do as
you’re told.”
Trilaina and Garm took charge, dividing the escapees into small groups. They went quickly, quietly,
The Irregulars Page 2