“I’m the Destroyer, for goodness’ sake,” he preached to himself. “I should act like it!”
From where he stood, he could tell that the chains binding the prisoners’ wrists were very rusted, and so a good blow of the sword should break them easily enough. Then, if the people he was planning to save had mastered black magic, they’d be able to get rid of the archers without too much difficulty.
“If I take out two noruks and free the barbarian and the dwarves, we could clear the platform, which would mean our remaining enemies would have to climb up to face us. And if the humans or the elves know any magic, they’d be able to break their chains without my help. Hmm... Really, I’d need to set up some kind of diversion until they were all free and the archers were dead. Then, we could fight. The prisoners may be tired, but surely they’d fight for their lives and their freedom. That could work!” Above all, though, he had to know whether or not any of the slaves were capable of magic. He drew closer then, merging with the crowd. With a sense of satisfaction, he noticed that no one else was paying any attention to him, even though he was their mortal enemy.
As he drew close to the platform, he realized that the unfortunates there were in bad shape: they were barely able to stay on their feet, and any sign of combativeness had long since left their eyes. They were no more than walking corpses. Glaide was not dissuaded, however. He took in a great breath of air, then called out loudly, “Hey, before you go on asking for such high prices, answer me this: are any of these creatures able to do magic?” The two noruks fixed their gaze on him, and silence fell around them. Without even realizing it, the young man held his breath. Behind him, he heard a gravelly voice that he thought belonged to a dwarf.
“Yeah, he’s right! Do any of them know magic or not?” Happy at the improbable support, Glaide let out a sigh of relief, which luckily went unnoticed by the crowd, who immediately took up their side conversations and bellowing once again.
“Of course they’re mages,” growled one of the noruks. “The three elves know magic.” Glaide smiled to himself. Three sorcerers in one group. What more could he ask for to put his plan into motion, even if he didn’t love the idea of the bloodbath before them? Before jumping into action, though, he took a moment to let out a silent prayer that the prisoners would find the strength to fight, because the success of his plan depended entirely on that.
Then, he jumped onto the stage.
Chapter 5
MUCH to his relief, Glaide noticed that the slaves lifted their heads as he jumped up, showing that they still had some strength left in them.
“Hey, what are you doing?” yelled the closest noruk.
“My job.”
“Your job?!”
“Exactly: my job as the Destroyer.” In a flash, Glaide decapitated the creature. His companion opposite Glaide reacted promptly, drawing his own weapon, but the adolescent was able to impale him nonetheless. As the sword passed through the body of his adversary, the barbarian, with a cry of rage, broke through the chains that bound him. An arrow—the first of the battle—missed the boy by a fraction of an inch.
“Kill the archers!” he cried. Then, he brought down his sword, liberating one of the two dwarves, who quickly grabbed the axe the barbarian held out to him. Two of the elves suddenly let loose with their power, riddling their enemies with shards of ice, while the third worked to free the remaining prisoners with small explosions. The chains didn’t stand a chance against the assault, though the young man hurried the process along by striking at the metal here and there with his sword.
When he turned back to the battle, he saw that it was already raging. The inhabitants of the village had taken up arms, and the adolescent was sure they’d be formidable fighters indeed. Fortunately, by this time the archers had all been struck down, and the second dwarf—also freed by now—had rejoined his comrade, who was helping the barbarian fight near the front of the platform. No one could climb up in the face of their attack. The four humans took up the blades of their fallen enemies, and threw themselves into battle as well. Meanwhile, the elves had been casting spells to strike carefully selected targets. Glaide couldn’t understand why they weren’t using broader attacks, taking out more enemies at once, until he saw exactly which enemies they were targeting: dark elves. Obviously, they, too, knew magic, and if they managed to launch their own attack, this rescue mission would quickly change into a battle for their lives. Thankfully, despite their exhaustion, the young man’s allies worked miracles.
An enemy barbarian came surging forward then, just in front of Glaide, who jumped out of the way instinctively. His adversary managed to climb up on the platform, but he didn’t remain there for long: his counterpart from among the slaves gave him a blow to the stomach that sent him sprawling off of the platform, and the two were soon wrestling on the cobblestones down below. The dwarves moved forward to protect their ally, and the humans followed suit. Glaide, before moving forward to lend a helping hand himself, took the time to grab a massive war hammer that one of the enemy dwarves had been using. With great difficulty, he threw it towards the two barbarians, who were back on their feet.
His ally caught the weapon out of the air with one hand while holding a noruk battle axe in the other. In front of him, his enemy drew a pair of two-handed swords. Time seemed to freeze for a moment, and Glaide felt transported back to that confrontation in the forest near Shinozuka, when he had seen his first two barbarians locked in battle—one because he’d wanted to massacre an entire family, and the other because he’d wanted to protect them. Like the one in his memory, this battle, too, proved to be epic: sparks flew each time metal struck metal, and their cries of rage rang out over the din of the combat surrounding them. The two warriors struck at each other with staggering force, and they wielded their weapons with incredible speed. The young man couldn’t move; he was spellbound by what he saw. He recovered from his torpor only when the barbarian he’d thrown the hammer to used it to smash in the skull of his adversary. The mountain of muscle crumbled to the ground soundlessly.
Glaide noticed then that their battle had reached an end. They had won, though at a cost: one of the three elves and one of the humans had lost their lives. The commons were littered with bodies and Glaide noticed that this time, aside from the two noruks, none of the creatures belonged to any of the usual monster races. For a moment, he envisioned just what a war against Baras would look like: if he started one, the number of dead would be far greater than here, and he would certainly have to confront other enemies than just orks and goblins—though he wasn’t sure he’d be able to kill another human being.
His battle companions got rid of the remains of the chains that had held them prisoner, then went to look for shirts among the cadavers. They took the time to pick out the pieces of clothing with the fewest blood stains and rips. Before any of them said a word, the young man spoke up.
“We’d best move away from here. We should take the main road towards the entrance. No one is guarding it, and we can talk there.” They all showed their agreement silently, then Glaide took the lead and guided the group through the small lanes. He noticed that the men and the elves carried the bodies of their two comrades. He made no comment, thinking instead that they deserved a proper burial. After all, they had lost their lives when their liberty was nearly at hand.
“They fought for it,” he thought, “and they nearly had it, but now, it does them no good.” He didn’t know how long they’d been prisoners, but the cruel irony of a man dying when a chance to return to his own life was being held out to him made Glaide’s vision cloud with anger.
Soon, the group had reached their destination, and as Glaide had said, no one else was there. They leaned the two lifeless bodies gently against one of the abandoned homes along the main road, then at long last, they each let a sigh of relief pass by their lips. Bit by bit, as if they were suddenly conscious of the fact that they truly were free, the humans, elves, dwarves, and even the barbarian began to laugh. They drop
ped the weapons they’d collected from the bodies of their enemies, and while tears of relief streamed down the cheeks of the men, the others found themselves unable to hold in their cries of joy. Glaide, off to the side, watched the spectacle. He noticed that their different races were of little importance in this moment, and the sight before him was a representation—though on a smaller scale—of what he wanted to produce for the future: this solidarity, this camaraderie even, that he wanted to see spread across all of the Known Lands. Yes, that was his final goal.
After a few minutes, their euphoria began to die down. The ex-prisoners seemed to recall that they weren’t completely out of the woods yet. It was then that the barbarian seemed to remember Glaide. A broad smile covered his face, and in two steps, he came up beside the adolescent.
“Whoever you are, your bravery and courage will be an example to me forever!” Glaide took that as a thank you. The barbarian’s companions joined them in turn, and the men were the first of them to show their thanks. They threw themselves on their knees in front of the younger man. He, red with embarrassment, asked them to get up, but they didn’t seem to hear. The dwarves and elves were more restrained; they simply looked at him for a long time, as if trying to understand how he could have accomplished what he’d just accomplished, then, in one movement, they bowed before him.
“Good grief,” thought Glaide. “I go to another world, and in eight months, everyone is greeting me like I’m a king!” One of the elves spoke then, his voice melodious.
“Humans are a truly resourceful race. You are an example to all of us.” The young man didn’t know how to respond, and he thought to himself that luck had certainly helped him along the way...
“Maybe that’s what it means to be the Destroyer: to be very, very lucky,” he thought to himself with a smile.
“I am Skelf,” the barbarian declared. “Skelf of the Ueluf clan.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Glaide.”
“Then Glaide, it is an honor to meet you.” With that, he gave the young man a friendly slap on the back that sent the young man reeling forward so that he barely managed to stay on his feet. The whack had knocked the air out of him, and he was amazed that his back had even held up against the blow. Skelf didn’t seem to notice that he’d almost knocked his savior out.
“Right,” he added in a jovial tone. “We should get going! It would be unfortunate to get captured again.”
“Indeed,” growled one of the dwarves. The group picked up their weapons, the men and the elves collected the bodies of their companions, and then they all headed for the gate. Glaide watched them go, preparing all the while to head in the other direction, when suddenly the barbarian seemed to take note that the young man wasn’t following them, and motioned for the others to stop.
“What are you waiting for, Glaide? Come with us! We should get as far from here as we can.”
“Listen,” replied the boy, “I have things I have to do here, so you should leave without me. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, though.”
“Things to do?” repeated one of the men. “You can’t possibly mean to risk your life all alone after saving ours like this. We’ll come with you.”
“No!” exclaimed the adolescent. “I’m sorry, and your concern is touching, but I’m looking for information, and I should do that on my own. Bury your dead and return to your homes. Surely you have family and friends. You shouldn't leave them waiting.”
“They think we’re dead. They can wait a few more hours.”
“Glaide,” one of the elves began, “we understand that this is something you must do on your own. If you are looking for information, the best place would be in the tavern, which is at the end of this road. Much information is exchanged there. Everything that Baras knows is shared in that place. We will go and bury our dead, but we will not go far until you have returned to us.” The adolescent sighed. He was deeply thankful for the elf’s compassion, and he had to admit that he would love to travel with them, but he tried to make his voice cool as he gave his reply.
“If you want to stay, do as you wish. But I won’t be held responsible for whatever happens to you. Listen: it’s possible I’ll have to leave here... in a hurry, let’s say. If that happens, I won’t wait for you and I won’t search for you. If we don’t cross paths directly, I’ll simply go on my way, so if in the hours to come, you decide to return home—which I think would be wise—don’t hesitate. I’ll assume you’ve gone anyway.” Speaking like that pained the boy, but he wanted them to leave, and it was important that they not threaten his plans.
“If you think your exit might be complicated, then we’ll simplify it,” Skelf replied, and the others agreed. The adolescent looked to the heavens in frustration. They understood nothing.
“The important thing is that you get yourselves somewhere safe! If you die here, or if you’re made prisoners once again, then what I did will have meant nothing! You have to flee.” No one replied this time, and he thought that maybe he’d succeeded in convincing them. However, one little question remained. “Umm... Before you go, can you tell me... Do you think the others in the village are aware you’ve been freed?”
“No,” replied one of the elves firmly. “Here, it’s every man for himself, and news hardly travels at all. We killed everyone there, and even if someone were to come across the bodies, they might not even think it anything more than a particularly bloody disagreement. If you play along, there is no reason to worry about your identity being discovered.” Glaide jumped then, before remembering that he had been the one to declare to the noruk that he was the Destroyer. He didn’t add anything to that, however.
“Thanks,” he said. “One last thing. Before you go, can you make sure the city gate will remain open, and the portcullis up? After all, I don’t really want to find myself trapped here.” They all assured him that they would as if his request was—at least in their eyes—an order.
“Good luck, everyone,” Glaide said then, turning to go. “Perhaps one day we will meet again.”
“It is certain that we will, Destroyer,” replied one of the dwarves. The adolescent made no reply. Then, Skelf moved forward, leading the group towards the village gate. They would bury their dead and then... Well, and then it would be up to them. Glaide, on the other hand, looked at the part of the city that stood in front of him, where the tavern—and perhaps the answers he was seeking—awaited him.
He spotted the building just a few minutes later. The main road was long, but he came across no one, and not a sound broke the calm around him. As he drew closer, though, he finally began to make out voices coming from within the tavern. It seemed that when the inhabitants of Zakorth weren’t finding and selling slaves, they were sitting around and drinking. Two thoroughly drunken men suddenly stepped out of the building. They could barely stand on their own two feet, and were slurring so that they were practically incomprehensible.
Glaide chose to hide his sword so that it couldn’t be recognized, and so that no one would realize he had the ability of a protector to make it appear, and the two drunken men didn’t seem to notice anything. However, and to the great disappointment of the young man, they also made no attempt to move away. Deciding to ignore, Glaide drew closer, and the two drunken men didn’t seem to pay any attention to him anyway. However, just as he moved to push open the door and go inside, one of the men behind him put a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, you, I haven’t seen you here before, have I?” His words slurred together, and it seemed like he might collapse at any moment. Glaide sighed and pointedly shook the man’s hand off, but the drunk was having none of it. Before the adolescent could step into the tavern, the second drunk put his hand on the adolescent’s shoulder, this time clenching it tightly, as if to crush it.
“My friend asked you a question,” bellowed the man.
“Remove your hand immediately,” Glaide cautioned with an olympic calm, despite the pain he was beginning to feel.
The two seemed to
be looking for a fight, though, and the boy, it seemed, had just given them the excuse they were looking for, because they yanked him around to face them, sending a fist flying towards his face at the same time. The boy let it come, but ducked as he completed the turn and came to face them. His enemy’s fist went crashing against the wood of the door, and the appalling crunching sound bore witness to the fact that he’d likely broken a few fingers. However, with the alcohol clouding his brain, he seemed unaware of any pain.
Glaide lost no time, however, and his own blow struck the chin of the second drunk, then he knocked the wind out of the man with a blow to the abdomen. The man fell back against the door, and the adolescent turned to strike the second man, knocking his feet out from under him. In his current state, his adversary could do nothing but fall backwards, crashing into his companion who had just barely managed to catch his breath.
A splintering sound rang out as the weight of the two men crashed against the door, but the wood held. Glaide took a step back, then sent a solid kick to the torso of the man closest to him. The power of the blow destroyed the door, sending the men flying into the tavern. One slammed into the bar, while the other went crashing into an unoccupied table. However, the end result for each man was the same: they both lay where they landed, unconscious. The adolescent followed them into the building and paused for a moment on the threshold, the mangled remains of the hinges and splinters of the wooden door scattered at his feet.
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