“Gentlemen, Captain Lucien wanted me to present you with a token of his appreciation and an apology of sorts for having fine fighting men work with goblin scum and their ilk.”
“What do have there, boy?” one of the grizzled veterans asked, not unkindly.
“Just a couple bottles of the finest spirits one could find on this dusty road in the middle of nowhere,” Drew replied grandly.
“Hey now, that’s what I like to hear! Bring them bottles over here, lad, and have a seat with real men.”
Drew walked into the middle of the group and handed out both bottles of liquor. The corks were immediately pulled and the bottles raised to lips and passed around. The conversation quickly turned to the old complaints of having to fight next to non-humans, thanks in part to Drew deftly steering the topic in that direction. The mercenaries complained of how savage they were, how much they smelled, their stupidity, and their inability to fight like real soldiers.
“They’re a bunch of thieves too,” Drew added. “They’ll steal the clothes right off your back if you’re not watching. Have you ever seen how they watch you? Especially how they eye your weapons when they think you aren’t looking. I’ve watched them looking at our weapons. Probably because their own are so lousy.”
“What do you know about goblins, boy? You don’t look like no fighter yourself. No offense,” the mercenary quickly added as he tilted the bottle back and took another swig.
Drew told the group of his capture and everything he had done to hurt the goblins that had taken him. The group of dirty warriors howled in laughter at his exploits, clapped him hard on the back, and offered him a drink from the bottle. Drew obliged and took a small sip, the fiery liquid burning a trail all the way down to his stomach.
“Yer right, boy. Damn creatures are nothing but thieves and liars,” another agreed.
The mercenaries continued their complaining and drinking and bad mouthing of the nonhumans. Drew excused himself, claiming need of the latrine pit. He stalked across the camp and stealthily stole into the goblin quarter. He hid behind one of the crude, filthy tents and spied on a group of goblins on the outer edge of their territory. They stared into the fire while chewing the bones of some undercooked meat, snapping and growling to each other in their crude language.
Seeing they were preoccupied and not paying attention to anything around them, Drew pulled out the dagger that he lifted from the big mercenary and tossed it into their tent. He was no great thief like Chase, but he thought even his light-fingered friend would have been proud. He paused for a moment, making sure none of the goblins had seen him, and made his way back to the mercenaries. They men welcomed him back as he took his seat back among them.
The conversation had turned to the women they would get once they were paid and given leave to go to one of the towns. They good-naturedly teased their new young friend about the ways of women and his youthful inexperience. Drew tried to steer the conversation back toward their mutual dislike of goblins.
“I just wish I had had a blade so I could have stabbed that pack leader, Droog. Then again, I probably wouldn’t even know how to use one if I did,” Drew said laughing at his own lack of fighting prowess.
Just as he had hoped, the large mercenary he sat next to was willing to show him how easy it was to deal with their kind. In his drunken bravado, he reached for the dagger that should have been safely in its sheath on his hip.
“Where the bloody hell is my blade?” he cursed as he fumbled around his belt and the ground around him.
“I thought I saw a goblin earlier with a dagger that looked far too nice to belong to him. That was one reason why I said I thought they were a bunch of thieves. Do you think it might have been yours?” Drew asked innocently.
“Do ya remember where you saw it boy? If I find the ratty little scum that took my blade, I’ll feed it to him point first!”
“Yeah, I think so. I saw it right after I got the liquor from the guy at the wagons,” Drew answered excitedly as he jumped to his feet.
The group of mercenaries followed Drew across the camp, their numbers swelling to over a score by the time they crossed from the human camp over to the goblin side.
“One of them had it. It was about a foot long with some kind of engraving on the handle. I think it looked like a person of some kind,” Drew said, describing the dagger he had planted.
“That’s it! That’s my blade Greta!” The mercenary stormed into the goblin camp. “Which one of you rotten little bastards took my blade? Hand it over, and I’ll kill ya quick!”
“We no have no stupid human stuff. You drunk, go away,” one of the goblins growled.
“I don’t see it on none of them, Manx,” one of the mercenaries said.
“They probably hid it. Check the tent,” Drew suggested helpfully.
Manx stormed over to the tent, tore it from the ground, and tossed it aside. Lying on a filthy bedroll was the big mercenary’s dagger. The look in Manx’s eyes was pure murder. He lunged forward, scooped up the dagger, and spun to face the goblins. Goblins were not terribly intelligent creatures, but they knew the humans would never believe they were innocent of the theft. They stood as a group and drew weapons in preparation to defend themselves.
Manx lunged toward the goblins with the intent to throttle and slap around the one who had spoken for the group, thinking he was most likely the guilty party. Goblins, being smaller than humans and most other races, relied on their numbers to defend themselves. When the human grabbed one of their pack, the rest jumped to his defense. Seeing one of their own outnumbered, several of the human mercenaries joined the melee. It did not register, or at least did not matter, to the other humans that Manx probably still outweighed the five goblins clinging to him by a large margin.
Goblins from nearby fires heard the commotion and threw their own numbers into the fray. A domino effect quickly took place within the goblin camp. When dozens of goblins jumped the score of humans, word quickly made its way to the human camp. More humans ran to the help out their own kind. Their increased numbers precipitated an escalation in the goblin response, which in turn brought more humans to lend their support in an ever-growing battle.
Within minutes, the simple conflict over a stolen dagger turned into a chaotic riot of hundreds of humans and goblins that eventually spilled over into the orc camp. The orcs, no friends of goblins and often their competitors for territory, still took the side of their rivals since humans regarded any race not their own as inferior and rarely hesitated to display their idea of superiority. The battle started to turn against the humans until the mayhem crossed over into the ogre camp.
The ogres, not wanting to be left out of such obvious fun, plowed their greatly fewer numbers but significantly greater bulk into the flanks of both sides and began flinging bodies across the camp regardless of race. The orcs and goblins fared the worst from the sudden inclusion of the massive ogres. The ogres attacked the orcs because they were the closest to them and were old racial enemies. They attacked the goblins because they were smaller and flew farther with the added bonus that an ogre could grab two and three goblins at a time in their massive fists.
Deciding his work was done, Drew melted back into the shadows before he got absorbed into the uproar. He crept back to the large, circular tent, keeping to the shadows and avoiding those that ran to either break up or join the brawl. Captain Lucien nearly ran him over as he reached for the tent flap. The Captain paused to glare at him for a moment.
“Get yourself inside and stay there!” he ordered.
Drew walked inside and sat down on his cot, smiling at his accomplishment. Outside, Captain Lucien mounted his horse and called to his cavalry. He ordered them all to mount up and arm themselves with truncheons. He and his mounted men rode into the mob, clubbing fighters without prejudice and ordering them to disperse to their own camps.
The mounted, impromptu riot police slowly broke up the brawl into smaller groups and then dispersed those groups back to their
camps. Captain Lucien and his men finally fought their way to the ogres while nearly being unhorsed by flying goblins. Even mounted, the ogres stood at eye level. The army commander rode up to an ogre holding an orc over its head, ready to toss it out into the darkness.
“Put that orc down this instant!” he commanded the ogre, who was grinning with glee at all the fun it was having. “All of you, drop those men!” he commanded loudly.
With a shrug, the ogre dropped the orc at his feet. The other ogres followed his example and the sound of falling bodies thudded dully like huge drops of rain striking the earth. The massive creatures realized the fun was over and trudged back to their camp, whooping and laughing in their deep, guttural voices.
Captain Lucien handed his mount off to one of his men and stormed back to his tent. He threw back the tent flap and glared at the young man sitting on the cot, trying his best to look innocent of any wrongdoing.
“I know you had something to do with this. I know you think there is no way to prove you were involved, and that you will get away with it. But be rest assured, nothing happens in this camp without Lord Darkrell’s knowledge.”
Drew was about to profess his innocence when Lord Darkrell called from beyond the partition. Lucien took him by the elbow, pulled him up from the cot, and propelled him into the opulent chamber. Lord Darkrell reclined on his pile of plush pillows with a less than a warm expression on his lined face.
“You have greatly disappointed me. I offered you my hospitality, and how do you repay me? By throwing my troops into chaos,” he said smoothly but coldly as he stood.
Drew saw the anger smoldering behind the controlled, impassive visage as the enigmatic lord glided toward him. Drew suddenly felt more fear than he ever had since this adventure began.
The dark lord stopped a little over an arm’s length before him. “Such impudence cannot be allowed to continue. I had hoped you would be reasonable, but your cooperation is not required. I cannot allow this type of conduct to happen again.”
With that chilling pronouncement, the sinister leader raised his arm and stretched out his boney index finger. He hissed one word, and Drew’s world fell into darkness and he knew no more.
CHAPTER 11
The group trudged down the dark tunnel without fear of attack for the first time in days. The corridor was immense, the walls almost glassy smooth from years or decades of steel-hard scales rubbing against the stone. They walked for nearly half an hour before they noticed the tunnel had become brighter. As they turned a bend, they saw the opening and felt a breeze of fresh air hit their faces. They all glanced at each other for a brief moment before sprinting toward the bright light shining ahead.
The small band of young humans emerged about a thousand feet up the rocky mountainside. Below them, a wide path cut a zigzag between large, jutting rocks. The party inhaled deeply, relishing the sweet fresh air before starting to make their way down. The path narrowed quickly beyond the entrance before disappearing altogether. They then had to pick their way down the rock-strewn slope and over huge boulders. When they looked behind them, huge boulders and jutting pillars of granite concealed the massive cave entrance from view.
It took close to three hours to pick their way down the rugged and treacherous slope, and they were quite exhausted by the time they reached the foothills. Small pine trees dotted the upper slopes and grew larger and denser as they made their way farther down. Near the base of the hills, the party decided to stop to rest and eat. Trees towered over them as the wind whispered through the thick boughs. The day was overcast, but thankfully, it wasn’t raining yet.
“I am so glad to be out of those caves,” Chase said as he chewed on a strip of jerky.
“Yeah, but there are more things to attack us out here,” Phil submitted. “There are orcs, goblins, ogres, and who knows what other aggressive wildlife.”
“But there are also more directions to run away,” Gabe said brightly.
“You can’t run away from everything, Gabe,” Felicia told him resignedly.
“I don’t know, we’ve done pretty well with it so far.”
“I for one am tired of running. It seems like I’ve been chased by people all my life,” Chase put in bitterly. “I’ve been chased by cops, mall security, and my mom with a switch because I sold her beer to some high school kids when I was twelve. I even got chased by a really, really fat woman wearing a Hawaiian print muumuu when I was nine.”
Gabe gave Chase a quizzical look. “Why was she chasing you?”
“I stole one of her muumuus off her clothesline,” he confessed.
“She must have not been too hard to outrun though,” Felicia reasoned, trying not to laugh at the image that she conjured in her mind.
“You would think so, but when we hit a downhill stretch she really picked up speed and gained on me quick.”
“How did you get away?” Josh asked.
“I stopped, she couldn’t, too much inertia. Newton’s law of motion you know,” Chase said off-handedly.
“What law is that?” Chuck asked.
“You know, an object in motion stays in motion until acted upon by another force,” Chase explained patiently.
“What force acted on her?”
“A car.”
“Oh my god, she got hit by a car?” Felicia cried, her hand going to her mouth in surprise and sympathy for the woman.
“No, she hit a car backing out of a driveway. Crushed the whole rear quarter panel and spun the back end around about three feet. Then she rolled for about another fifteen feet,” Chase smirked.
“Was she ok? Was she able to get up?” Gabe asked, also feeling sorry for the woman.
“Eventually. A truck driver living nearby had one of those little forklifts strapped to the back of his big rig and he used that to get her back on her feet,” Chase snickered.
“So what did you do with the muumuu?” Phil asked, wiping tears from his eyes.
“You, me, and Drew used it as a parachute jumping off the top of that apartment complex they were building,” Chase reminded him.
A look of recognition dawned on the young ranger’s face. “Oh yeah, I remember that! So that’s what that was? That thing worked really well. Good thing, too, since the roof was three stories high. Whatever happened to it?”
“My mom found it and used it to cover her Harley.”
“You shouldn’t steal, Chase,” Gabe chided.
“Yeah, well, your waist shouldn’t exceed your inseam!” Chase fired back.
“I can go on a diet!”
“No, you can’t,” Chase chortled. “I bet I can keep from stealing longer than you can keep from eating sweets.”
“Oh yeah? Bet then!”
They slung their packs back on and headed in the direction the dragon told them they would find a human settlement. They walked until well after sundown before pitching their tents to sleep for the night. As Chase rummaged through his pack, he called out to Gabe.
“Hey, Gabe, I found a jolly rancher in the bottom of my pack. Do you want it?”
“Yeah, thanks!” Gabe shouted happily.
“Ha, I win. You make it so easy,” Chase gloated.
“Damn it! I mean darn it!” Gabe yelled quickly, taking back his curse word. He blushed brightly in embarrassment at his slip.
“I knew you would fall to the first sign of temptation,” Chase needled his friend mercilessly.
Gabe fumed for a moment then looked up at Chase. “Did you really find a jolly rancher?”
“No, I made that up.”
“Damn it, I mean darn it! Darn it!” Gabe shouted as he sulked back into the tent.
They wisely maintained a guard but made it through the night without being disturbed. After a quick breakfast of leftover roast elk and dried fruit, the party packed up and trekked on through the woods. By noon, they were counting their good fortune that they had not run into anything other than some harmless local wildlife. However, they were running dangerously low on water. Even in th
is, their good fortune held when Phil called back from his point position that he heard the sounds of running water up ahead. They approached the waterway with caution, but it seemed that having a dragon living in the area kept away most large creatures. The river was narrow, but it looked deep and fast.
Felicia looked up and down the river. “We need to find a place we can cross.”
“How about Gabe and I go downstream and you all go upstream?” Chase suggested.
“Why not split up evenly? It’s safer that way,” Josh replied.
“Fine, we’ll take Phil then.”
“All right, if you find something just yell.”
The group split up and looked for a bridge or a place that would allow them to ford the river. Each party walked along the riverbank for half an hour before turning back to report if they found anything. As Josh’s group returned to their meeting point, they heard Chase call out to them. They quickly followed the river downstream and saw Chase jogging toward them waving his arm.
“We found a bridge a little ways down,” he told them excitedly.
Chase led them around the bend where Phil and Gabe stood at the foot of a weathered wooden bridge spanning a narrower portion of the river. The wood was cracked and grey from age, but it seemed stable. It was a narrow arch about three feet wide and lacked handrails.
“Do you think it’s safe?” Josh asked dubiously.
“It wobbles a bit, but it seems sturdy enough,” Chase replied. “I suggest Chuck goes first since he is the heaviest.”
“Why do I have to go first?”
“Because if we go across, but it breaks on you, you’ll be stuck on this side by yourself,” Chase reasoned.
“All right,” Chuck sighed, “but get a rope ready just in case I fall through.”
Felicia dug a rope out of her pack and made ready to rescue Chuck in case the bridge failed to hold. Chuck stepped out onto the bridge, which sagged slightly, but it did not creak or crack at all. He walked out farther, feeling confident of the bridge’s stability.
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