Orlla leaned the broom against a wall and retrieved the items for her.
“Make haste and warm up some pottage!” Madora called back to her as she minced out the door.
Orlla hung a small pot over the fire to heat, and then snatched up her broom again. Her fists tightened around the handle at a vaguely familiar voice. She stopped sweeping and listened as Skinner roared with laughter in response to something the man had said, too low to make out. Broom in hand, she pressed herself against the doorframe and peered cautiously around it.
Her stomach dropped when she saw who was breaking bread with Skinner.
Chapter 12
Orlla yanked her head back inside the kitchen, her heart thumping uncontrollably in her chest. Lord Davian—supping with Skinner! He must have survived the battle between Brufus and Hamend. Or maybe he had fled like the devious traitor he was. But what was he doing at Boar’s Fort? Surely, he couldn’t have followed them there. Then again, he was desperate to get his hands on the Opal of Light. Orlla’s skin prickled. It must have been his eyes she had felt watching her when she was carrying the slop bucket earlier.
She chewed on her lip trying to analyze the situation rationally in an effort to calm her racing heart. It could be just a coincidence that Lord Davian had shown up at the mercenaries’ outpost. After all, he had betrayed King Hamend to Brufus and the king was likely hunting him. A well-known noble like Lord Davian would have few options for safe havens south of the Strylieht mountains. But Boar’s Fort would welcome him as a mercenary. Lord Davian had extensive military training, an intimate understanding of the machinations of Hamend’s court, not to mention knowledge of the Opal of Light and the Keepers who guarded it. A cold shiver ran down Orlla's spine. If Lord Davian shared that information with Skinner, it wouldn’t take the mercenary overlord long to put two and two together.
Orlla flinched when Madora bustled back into the kitchen, strands of flaming red hair falling down around her flushed face. She cast a searching glance around, taking note of the well-swept earthen floor and rows of neatly stacked plates and mugs. “You’ve gone a long way toward redeeming yourself,” she conceded, sounding considerably more pleasant. “You’re dismissed for now. The gruel can wait until morning. I’ll finish up here.”
Orlla pulled her brows together in consternation. She couldn’t walk out into the tavern with the men still seated at the table. If Lord Davian didn’t already know she was here, he would recognize her instantly and might tell Skinner who she was.
“I wouldn’t dream of shirking my duties,” she protested, grabbing the broom again. “I want to prove to you that I’m no sluggard. I’m not quite done yet. I’ll stay until I’ve finished everything you asked me to do.”
Madora shrugged. “As you wish.”
Orlla turned her attention back to the floor, painstakingly sweeping every spot of it again, before moving on to wiping down every surface in the kitchen with a damp cloth, all the while straining to hear if the men’s voices were still audible. By the time she finally heard the welcome sounds of chairs scraping across the floor, her nerves were fraught and the kitchen sparkled. With shaking hands, she wrung out her rag and pegged it up to dry. “That’s everything now,” she announced, a tad too brightly. “Sure you don’t want me to start the gruel?”
“Not tonight. I have the oats soaking. Be back here bright and early. I could use more like you around here.” Madora managed a smile, hinting at a renewed attempt at friendship.
Orlla nodded, tearing her gaze away quickly for fear the perceptive Madora would spot the glimmer of guilt in her eyes. She wouldn’t be back bright and early—couldn’t be now that Lord Davian had shown up and wormed his way into Skinner’s good graces. Davian would almost certainly try to use her as a pawn to get to the Opal of Light. She couldn’t help wondering if Lord Davian knew the dark dragon stone was here at the fort too. With both dragon stones in his possession, he would be unstoppable. He might even aspire to unite the monarchs of the lost kingdoms under his considerable sway and seize control of both Macobin and Pegonia. At all costs, she couldn’t allow that to happen.
Once outside the tavern, Orlla headed back to the bunkhouses. Despite being bone weary after a day of hard physical work, her mind raced in myriad directions at once. She wanted to warn Erdhan and Khor that Lord Davian was here, but they were housed in the men’s bunkhouse. Her news would have to wait until she met up with them later on. Telling them now wouldn’t change their plans anyway. Lord Davian’s arrival only confirmed the urgency of the situation and the need to get the dark dragon stone out of the fort tonight.
Inside the women’s quarters, Orlla climbed onto her cot and lay on her side, tuning out the muffled chatter and laughter of the other women as she went over the various combinations of runes she would need to wield to enter the bailiff’s station unnoticed. Eventually, the voices around her faded away, replaced by rhythmic breathing and intermittent snores, indicating that a deep sleep had befallen the bunkhouse. Gingerly, Orlla sat up and swung her legs over the side of her cot. Once she was satisfied no one else was stirring, she stood and padded quietly over to the door. She opened it only enough to squeeze through into the crisp night air.
Hugging her cloak tight to her body, she skulked along the back of the buildings until she reached the alleyway opposite the tavern. Khor and Erdhan were waiting for her in the shadows.
“Lord Davian is here,” Orlla said in a low tone trembling with urgency. “He arrived this evening and signed up as a new recruit. He ate at the tavern with Skinner and I fear he has ingratiated himself with him.”
For a long moment no one spoke, and then Khor swore softly under his breath. “Did he see you.”
Orlla shook her head. “No, I stayed in the kitchen. But he may have seen me carrying the slop bucket through the square earlier. I had an uncanny feeling someone was watching me. Either way, we can’t afford to waste any more time.”
“We’ll be gone before sunrise.” Khor’s face was a mask of composure. “I’ll take out the guards at the station. Erdhan can help me drag the bodies to the back of the building. Once we’re in position, the rest will be up to you.”
Orlla took a deep breath. “I’ll approach the door under the guise of a veiling rune just in case anyone happens by.”
“How do you intend to get Varon out?” Erdhan asked.
Orlla swallowed back her trepidation. “I fear he may prove uncooperative. I took a slop bucket to the prisoners after supper. He was locked in a cell by himself, and he wouldn’t eat a morsel or even acknowledge me. I can try applying a mental rune to bend his will to mine, but it may not take. I wish Akolom was here to fortify my runes.”
“If Varon resists, take the dragon stone from him and leave,” Khor said. “Time is of the essence.”
Erdhan frowned. “Remember what Yaarlin said happened when the mercenaries tried to forcibly take the stone from Varon.”
“They were not protected,” Orlla countered. “I will use the runes Akolom taught me as a shield against its power.”
Khor peered out of the alley into the main street. “Let’s go while all is quiet. Once we reach the bailiff’s station, keep your distance until I’ve put the guards out of commission.”
“What if the door’s locked?” Orlla said as they crept along the street.
“One of the guards will have a key about him,” Khor replied. He motioned to them to follow him behind the building that neighbored the bailiff’s station.
They fell silent, studying the two guards on sentry duty. The guard closest to them panned the shadows constantly, alert and standing at attention, but his companion on the other side of the doorway was clearly struggling to keep his eyelids above half-mast.
“I’ll take care of the guard nearest to us first,” Khor whispered. “It will take the other one a few seconds to orient himself and realize what’s happening—by then it will be too late, and I’ll have overpowered him.”
Orlla glanced at Khor’s massive cl
enched fists as she began working the veiling runes. By overpowering he meant slitting their throats with the knives he kept hidden on his person. It was a disturbing thought, but they couldn’t afford to take the chance of the guards regaining consciousness before they had the Onyx of Darkness safely in their possession.
Orlla crouched down next to Erdhan, her heartbeat picking up pace as Khor silently slunk toward the door of the bailiff’s station. He moved so swiftly when he struck that she barely saw the lethal swipe that felled the first guard. His body hit the ground with a dull thud, the only evidence of his demise. The second guard scarcely had time to twist his head before he too lay crumpled in front of the doorway.
Erdhan leapt up and sprang into action, dragging the first body out of sight while Khor grabbed the second guard by the legs and hauled him around to the back of the building.
Precious seconds ticked by while Erdhan and Khor undressed the guards and donned their garb. Orlla peered anxiously around the deserted street as she wove the last of her runes, hoping no one would wander by and notice the guards were missing from their posts. Only a scrawny cat crossed the courtyard, scratching its claws on a barrel in passing. Orlla let out a sigh of relief when Erdhan and Khor slipped into position at the front of the station and Khor unlocked the door.
Casting one last glance down the street to make sure no one was coming, Orlla got to her feet and made her way over to the bailiff’s station. “Going in,” she murmured to Khor and Erdhan, as she pushed open the wooden door.
The heavy snores of the mustached guard that greeted her were a reassuring sound, bolstering her courage as she tiptoed inside. An empty pitcher of ale lay on the table in front of him. Even though he couldn’t see her through the veiling rune, it gave her more peace of mind to know he wouldn’t inadvertently hear her either. She blinked, giving her eyes a moment to orient to the dim light of a lone, flickering wall sconce before padding past him to the nail on the wall where the key hung. She lifted it down, taking care not to let it jangle, and then edged over to the cells.
Emboldened by the rumbling snores of the prisoners—loud enough to cover any incidental noises she made—she turned her attention to the second cell and the bundle of blankets in the far corner. Taking a quick calming breath, she slid the key into the lock and tried to turn it. It was stiff and required both hands, but after an agonizing couple of minutes, a reassuring click signaled her success. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure the guard wasn’t stirring, and then slipped inside.
Kneeling down in the darkness, she reached out to shake Varon awake, but the woolen blankets gave beneath her touch. Yanking them aside, she stared in disbelief at an empty straw pallet.
Chapter 13
Orlla pressed a fist to her mouth to keep from gasping out loud and waking the prisoners in the neighboring cell. This was not a development she had anticipated. Where could Varon and the dark dragon stone have disappeared to? She got to her feet, a clammy feeling coming over her. Had he escaped? Or had Skinner taken him somewhere to interrogate him? He might even have moved Varon as a precaution after talking to Lord Davian and learning of her connection to the Opal of Light. Her heart began to thump so hard she thought her chest would burst. Had she walked into a trap? Skinner and his men could show up here at any minute. A cold dread congealed in her veins. Once they spotted Khor and Erdhan outside the bailiff’s station, it would be over.
With trembling fingers, she locked the cell back up and replaced the key on the nail before sidling past the slumbering guard. Closing the front door behind her as she exited the building and released the veiling rune, she whispered urgently to Khor and Erdhan, “Varon and the dragon stone are gone.”
“What?” Erdhan’s alarmed tone only heightened Orlla’s dread. “We have to leave, regardless. As soon as the guards’ bodies are discovered, we’ll be the prime suspects as the newest recruits.”
“I don’t want to leave without the stone,” Orlla replied.
“It seems we don’t have any other choice,” Erdhan insisted.
Khor set his jaw as he shrugged out of the guard’s jacket. “We could stage a break-in—throw a rope over the stockade and make it look like the attackers scaled the wall from outside the fort.”
Orlla frowned. “Skinner might suspect it was the goat herders attempting to rescue Varon. What if he goes after them for what we did?”
“It can’t be helped,” Khor said. “We’re not leaving here without the dark dragon stone, not after getting this close to it.”
Erdhan and Orlla exchanged dubious looks.
“What about Lord Davian?” Erdhan said. “He knows who we are.”
“Yes, and I’ll wager he already knows we’re here,” Khor said in a grim tone. “It’s no coincidence he showed up at the fort the same day we did. I suspect he pursued us from Macobin believing we had the Opal of Light. He won’t expose us because he would expose himself in the process, and I can’t imagine he’s willing to share the light dragon stone with Skinner. He’ll play the part of a mercenary recruit until he gets what he came for.”
“You’re right,” Orlla said. “We need to stay here for now until we find out where Skinner is keeping the dark dragon stone.” She turned to Erdhan. “I’ll help Khor get the jackets back on the guards’ bodies. See if you can find a rope and tie it to the top of the stockade. Meet us back at the bunkhouses.”
Erdhan darted off into the darkness. Khor and Orlla finished dressing the guards’ bodies and then dragged them back to the front of the bailiff’s station before setting out for the bunkhouses.
“Lord Davian couldn’t have crossed the sinking bogs without help,” Orlla mused. “He must have seen us leave with Gaunt and then recruited him to take him across afterward.”
“Or forced him to,” Khor said.
They fell silent as they approached the bunkhouses, loathe to risk waking the mercenaries.
“See if you can find out anything about Varon or the stone from Madora tomorrow,” Khor whispered to Orlla before she padded back inside the women’s bunkhouse.
She woke to the sound of rain beating down on the roof. Most of the other women were still sleeping soundly. After exiting the bunkhouse, she picked her way across the muddy courtyard to the tavern, eager to try and pump Madora for information before the day got underway and the woman got too caught up in her work to engage in any meaningful conversation other than barking out orders and admonishing the slovenly drudges who worked in the kitchen.
“An early riser I see.” Madora arched an approving brow when Orlla appeared in the kitchen. “I wasn’t sure if you’d follow through and show up at dawn.”
Orlla shrugged. “I’m used to rising early to train.”
Madora tutted as she pulled out a paddle of freshly-baked loaves from the oven and slid in a second batch. “Don’t tell me you still want to be taken seriously as a mercenary?”
“I have spent many years training in weaponry and fighting techniques. I take my craft very seriously.” Orlla reached for a ladle to stir the bubbling gruel in the vat, choosing her next words with care. “What makes me any less qualified than that mercenary Skinner was so enamored with yesterday?”
Madora twisted her lips. “That one’s battle-hardened and has considerable experience commanding troops—even brought some of his soldiers with him. Believe me, Skinner can tell if a man’s lying about such things, or if he’ll prove more trouble than he’s worth.”
“Like that goat herder they brought in? Some of the men said he attacked a patrol,” Orlla ventured, fully expecting Madora to scowl at her or clam up again.
Instead, Madora threw a cautious glance over her shoulder and then leaned in closer. “Skinner says the goat herder’s companions broke in here last night to try and rescue him. They killed the guards outside the bailiff’s station in the process.” She gave a mollified sniff. “They didn’t find him inside though. The man died yesterday afternoon.”
Orlla let out an audible gasp, almos
t dropping the ladle into the gruel.
Madora waved a languid hand. “It’s no loss. Skinner wasn’t interested in the goat herder as a mercenary.” She raised a conspiratorial brow. “It was what the goat herder found in the mountains that caught his attention.”
Orlla’s heart pounded so loudly she feared Madora would hear it. “What was it?” she asked, trying to hit a nonchalant note.
Madora peered at the loaves in the oven for a long moment as if deliberating whether or not to answer. She straightened up with a heavy sigh. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me,” Orlla said.
Madora twisted a red ringlet around her chubby forefinger for a beat before locking her gaze on Orlla. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Skinner says the goat herder found the Onyx of Darkness.” A flicker of excitement lit up the lines in her face as she clutched distractedly at her empty neckline. A yearning look swept across her face. “He says we’re going to be rich and he’ll buy me jewels. Every ruler in the lost kingdoms will barter for one of the dragon stones.”
Orlla didn’t even attempt to hide the mixture of emotions washing over her face. “Where is the stone now?” she asked in an awed whisper.
Madora folded her arms over her ample bosom with a disgruntled humph. “Skinner won’t tell me. I wanted to see it, but he says it turned the goat herder into a mad mortal.”
“I’ve heard the dragon stones can turn a person’s head,” Orlla said, blinking innocently while her mind worked furiously to figure out where Skinner might have taken the Onyx of Darkness.
Madora shrugged and blew a strand of hair out of her face. “If you believe the legends. In any case, the stone’s worth nothing to us without knowing the runes that master it. But some say the rulers of the lost kingdoms have ancient annals from the days of the dragons in their vaults. If one of them gets their hands on it, they’ll take control of every kingdom on earth.” She let out a contented sigh. “They will bid high for such a remarkable treasure.”
Onyx of Darkness_An epic dragon fantasy Page 10