“Yes, Lord Frantis.”
“I wonder what they are doing?” Rika asked, watching the dancing pixets descend into the room.
“I don’t know,” the wizard said, but if they are going to do something, I hope they make it fast. The screaming stopped.”
The lights swarmed in little circles and loops as they descended towards the human and partial humans in the room. They seemed to come together into one large glowing ball for a moment, and then in an instant split up five ways, each group going to a different lock on the shackles holding Gnath and Nyssa. One at a time, the locks fell free and the clasps opened. Gnath dropped down onto the souls of his feet for the first time in hours and rubbed his neck. A red mark betrayed where the collar had been.
“Thank you, little pixets,” Nyssa said, holding her hands up as if to catch a few in her palms.
“Find friend!”
“Of course, come on,” Arick said, “I know where he is. This way.”
Everyone left the room as the pixets rose again towards the window, the light they brought with them extinguishing as the last one slipped back into the night air.
“Hurry,” Arick said as quiet as possible. “I fear we have little time.”
They sprinted down the passage, Gnath ducking his head down slightly to keep from brushing the ceiling as he ran. They turned a corner into the passage leading to the King’s torture chamber when they were met by three of Frantis’ soldiers marching towards them, not ready for the surprise of seeing the group suddenly before them. Gnath, before anyone else could react, pushed the wizard and the two girls aside and reached the first of the warriors before he could even draw his sword. With a quick swipe of his massive hand, he struck the warrior in the side of the head, thrusting him against the wall. The clang of his helmet striking the stone surface was quickly followed by the sound of his neck snapping, then his armored body fell in a heap on the floor.
The other two warriors looked up at Gnath, and though having pulled their swords, decided his best strategic move would be to run for their lives.
“I got this,” Nyssa said, reaching down and pulling the sword from the dead warrior’s body. She took off in a sprint, and being less encumbered than the armored warriors, quickly caught up to one and pushed him down from behind. The warrior tumbled with the sound of metal on stone and finally ended up lying on his back, while the other kept running for all he was worth.
Not giving the downed fighter time to regain his senses, Nyssa found an opening between the man’s breastplate and his helmet, just big enough to slide the sword through. A gurgling hiss of protest was the last sound the warrior made.
“Let the other go,” Arick said. “He’s too far away, and we need you with the group.”
Nyssa took his sword and pulled a long knife from a sheath as the others caught up to her. She handed one sword to Gnath, which seemed to be merely a large knife to him.
“My big sword!” he said, looking up to the ceiling.
“I know, buddy. They took your big sword. When this is over, we’ll get you another one, okay?” Nyssa said, handing the large knife to the wizard.
“Okay,” Gnath said.
“Arick, lead the way.”
“It’s right down here.”
A short way down the passage they came to the door of the torture chamber. Torchlight could be seen flickering through a small window cut into the door. Inside, voices could be heard. Gnath looked through the window and relayed the number of occupants by holding up two fingers.
“I think he’s coming around,” one voice said from within. “Hey, fat head. Wake up. Lord Frantis wants to have more fun with you.”
As my awareness and recollection cleared, I could see two armored warriors next to me, poking me with iron rods, and for a moment I feared they might be scorching hot, but I relaxed – as best I could – when I realized they were cold against my stretched out midsection.
“Wake up, shorty! Haha! Shorty. Not when Lord Frantis gets back!” The two of them chuckled sadistically. “Run and tell Frantis that the pipsqueak has regained consciousness.”
“Okay,” the other said, turning and opening the door, only to find a large, half-ogre blocking his exit. Gnath, using his free hand, grabbed the man by the neck and with a quick squeeze of his fist, snapped it. He carried the lifeless body into the room and tossed it aside as Nyssa rushed in and plunged her sword into the other guard, piercing his armor plating with one strong thrust.
“Oh, hello,” I said, lifting my head to see my friends enter the room. Nyssa quickly pulled her sword from the man’s lifeless body and set about cutting my hands free of the rack. Now, I must say, that if you thought having the tension released from my hands and feet was a comfort, I will inform you now that you would be quite wrong. When my body contracted to its more normal size and shape, my ball and socket joints that had been pulled apart for what seemed like hours, hurt equally as bad going back together as they did when they were pulled apart.
The scream that everyone heard must have been terrible. I could only guess because I had passed out again. Gnath picked me up and pulled me in close to his chest. Though I didn’t actually see it, I learned later that the big guy had cried, much like the first time we met when I won him in the card game.
“Okay, we best get going,” Arick said as I regained awareness of my surroundings again. “If we are quick, we can sneak out the Spellcrafter’s secret passage and be gone before anyone knows we are missing.”
“Can you walk?” Rika asked looking at me.
“I don’t know. Gnath, put me down so I can see if my legs still work.”
Though my stance was not very sturdy, I managed to stand by myself. I took a few steps.
“It seems as though I still have mobility, but I don’t know how long I can go. Every bone in my body hurts.”
“Okay, do your best. If you can’t manage any longer, then maybe your friend can carry you.”
“Gnath carry!” Without another word, he picked me up. “Go now.”
And with that, we rushed out of the torture chamber and headed towards the Spellcrafter’s passage. That is, until the path ahead and behind filled with Lord Frantis’ warriors. At that point, stopping became the best option. Stopping and waiting for our impending doom.
“You ever have one of those days?”
Chapter 22
“Look at those peasants down there begging for food,” Lord Frantis said, waving disingenuously to the crowds outside the castle wall. Thousands upon thousands of people hoping to get some food, food that they themselves had offered the king in order to remain in the king’s good graces another week or two longer. “And the sun isn’t even up yet. We have some early risers in our midst. That will be good for productivity, don’t you think, General Hagen?”
“Lord Frantis, you did say you’re here to liberate these people from a tyrant. Would it not be good of you to share what we have? I mean,” the warrior General said, waving his hand towards the common area inside the castle filled with row upon row of tables of food and drink, “we have plenty to offer them.”
“Fool! The moment we open the drawbridge the castle will be filled with ungrateful peasants taking every speck of food we have. Do you want to starve yourself?”
“But sir, isn’t that what the previous king did?”
Lord Frantis pulled his dagger and thrust it up towards the General's throat. “If you question me again, I will toss your dead and lifeless body over to the city folk for them to feast on. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Lord Frantis turned to address the crowd below. He held out his hands as though trying to quiet the masses of people below. Slowly, the crowd grew silent.
“Good people of Ebony City. I welcome you back to freedom!”
The people erupted into a cheering, fist-pumping frenzy. Then cries of “How about some food!” and “We’re starving!”
“I know… quite down, please… I know you were hoping
to get some food, but we are still sorting all of this out. The King was a horrible man, and it appears that much of the food he had is already gone or spoiled.”
The masses below erupted again, this time in anger. “We can smell it! You are feasting right now!”
“Quiet, now! We are merely disposing of rotted meats to get rid of bad stores. Trust me, we will share when we are able. The good news is, you can keep what you sow from now on.”
“But we’re hungry now!”
Lord Frantis turned away from the wall as the crowd began throwing rocks. “If they get too unruly fire some arrows down upon them to disperse them.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“I am going down to enjoy some of this meat and bread the king has so generously provided us.”
“My Lord, your guards are bringing your prisoners this way,” the General said, pointing into the open area of the castle.
“Are they? They better have a good reason for this.”
Though my legs and arm, shoulders and hips hurt beyond description, I managed to walk along fine with only a bit of encouragement from the sword poking into my back. As we neared the area where Lord Frantis had staged his feast, the morning sun was cresting the horizon, lighting the sky over the top of the castle wall.
“Any chance you can use your powers now, wizard?” I asked, hoping for one more miracle.
“If I take the potion now, we will only have a short time to take the portal back to Neverwind. The Spellcrafter said in order to go back to where we first came through, we need to get back to where we first came through to this land, else we might end up lost somewhere, or in a place that might just kill us. Like the sea.”
“But wizard, that would put is back into the Forest of the Damned. Is that really where we want to go back to?”
“I agree, that’s not a pleasant thought either.”
Ahead, Lord Frantis was walking towards us. The look on his face clearly showed he was not happy. By the way he pulled his dagger and pointed it at the lead guard, I would say he might not wait for a reason why his prisoners were being paraded in the common area of the castle when they should be locked up in the dungeon, and being stretched to new and exciting lengths.
“You better have a good reason for bringing them up here!” he yelled, stopping his dagger precisely one layer of skin deep into the guard’s throat.
“My Lord, they had escaped.” The guard took a moment to swallow and gulp what might be his last breath of air before he continued. “They freed the tiny one with the big head from the rack and were preparing to flee.”
Why does everyone dwell on my larger-than-average head?
“And,” he continued, “We managed to catch them before they could complete their escape. We thought you might enjoy dealing with them yourself, instead of us killing them on the spot… my Lord.”
Lord Frantis chucked to himself. It was a short little chuckle. One might say it was only one chuck, and not a full chuckle, but none-the-less, he chuckled and sheathed his dagger.
“Of course. You did well.” Then he turned his attention to the Arick. “We meet again, wizard. I’m amazed at your abilities to free your friends, but it appears you are still not sneaky enough to get past my men.”
“Lord Frantis, please believe me when I say we had no intention of foiling your plans. We only needed to meet with the Spellcrafter. And we felt we needed to do so before your mighty warriors tore the place into chaos.”
“Save your pathetic story. Guards, see that they have no more weapons, or magic beans, or anything of use to them. Then put them in the stocks in the middle of the courtyard! We will make examples of them.”
The guards surrounding us took every bit of the few possessions we were carrying, most notably the small satchel that the wizard was carrying; the one with the scroll and the potion. Then, without so much as this way ladies and gentlemen, they pulled us over to the courtyard and locked all but Gnath into stocks. There weren’t stocks made large enough for his massive arms and neck. Confused as to what they should do with him, they stood there looking at each other. It was then that Gnath, noble as his huge half-ogre heart was, decided to take on the entire Lionborne army. By himself. Without weapons.
Gnath pulled away from the guards holding him, ripped free of the cords binding his hands, and began swinging his massive arms, knocking those closest to him through the air like dolls made of straw. Several others ran towards him and he batted them away as well. Screams could be heard as the few women and children in the castle ran for their lives, and more guards realized there was a battle raging right there in their courtyard.
Though it was a pleasure seeing him knocking the Lord’s army about, I could see that the numbers were quickly beginning to build against my friend. There was a moment when the fighting stopped, and Gnath, breathing heavily, stood there looking at a wall of Lionborne warriors. It would be but moments more before I would certainly see the end of my loyal friend.
And then a miracle happened. The drawbridge went down, followed by a massive riot of city dwellers rushing in to take whatever they could. The army of Frantis became overwhelmed by the crush of people rushing in, many were knocked down and trampled upon. Some tried to fight off the waves of citizens, but the sheer numbers of the angry, hungry peasants quickly overwhelmed them.
Gnath, seeing his only opportunity, turned to us and rushed to release us from our stocks.
“Gnath, great job!” I said, forgetting about the pain in my bones that lingered from my session below.
“What brought the drawbridge down?” Rika asked.
“Happy accident, I guess. We need to get out of here. Now!”
“We can’t go yet, I must get the potion and scroll back, or we will be stuck here forever.”
“I will take care of that,” Nyssa said, picking up a fallen sword. “You and everyone get out of here through the crowd. It’s the only way.”
“I will go with you,” Arick said.
“You fool, let me handle this. You go. I will meet you outside the city. Go!” With that, she was off through the crowd.
“Crazy lady,” I said to myself.
“I hope she comes through. We only have until sunset to use that potion.”
“We go!” Gnath said, picking me up and tucking me under one arm. “Follow!” he said back to the wizard. Taking Rika’s hand in his free hand, he began plowing a path through the crowd, pulling Rika along with him.
“What is going on here?” Frantis yelled as the crowds of people swarmed past him. “Who opened the drawbridge?”
“I don’t know, my Lord.”
“Find out! I want him executed!”
“Yes, my Lord.
To my relief, we managed to slip out the main entrance to the castle as those rushing in moved aside to allow the giant half-ogre named Gnath through without contest. I looked back at the towering wall over the drawbridge, and I may or may not have caught a glimpse of the Spellcrafter looking down on us as we scurried away.
Chapter 23
Nyssa ducked and dodged her way through the rushing masses, hoping to find Lord Frantis and regain the satchel with the potion and scroll. It was crucial, however, that she saw him before he saw her. The two Lionborne warriors standing before her, swords ready, posed a problem.
Making every effort to not hit an innocent, Nyssa went into full attack mode. She swung her sword at the closest of the two, but the warrior managed to block her attack swiftly and cleanly. Certainly, this was a trained and skilled fighter. She countered with a slash in the opposite direction, but again the attack was parried. The second warrior stepped forward, and now Nyssa was on the defensive. Two swords came slicing her way, and she moved twice as fast to counter the attacks, the ring of metal on metal as blades met one another over and over.
She backed up, bumping into rushing civilians with almost every step, making fending off the attacks even harder. Fighting off panic, she frantically tried to come up with a winning strategy, but realizin
g she was being backed against the inside walls of the castle meant that she had to come up with a new plan quickly. In a flash of inspiration, she ducked and rolled to the side, then leaped onto an empty oxcart, then in one glorious motion, jumped over the heads of her attackers, landed and rolled on the ground, sprung to her feet, and dashed towards the center of the common area. The confused guards turned and took pursuit, but their fighting armor prevented them from keeping up with the unencumbered and agile Nyssa. They were soon lost in the crowd.
“Get these people out of here and get that drawbridge back up. General Hagen, do whatever it takes!”
Lord Frantis made his way back to the king’s palace as the peasants of Ebony City snatched every bit of food off the tables, fighting for bits of bread or meat. The light of the rising sun, vibrant through the now open drawbridge, lit the way to the palace entrance.
Two soldiers stood nervously guarding the entrance to the palace. As Lord Frantis approached, they opened the large door to let him inside, bowing their heads as he passed. The door shut behind him with an ominous thud, dust wafting down from the rafters above. Frantis hadn’t noticed the old man standing across the room from him prior to the door shutting. Yet, there he was.
“Lord Frantis, I suspect. I’d heard much about you, and your conquering of this kingdom. Not a major feat, considering the incompetence of the previous administration.”
“Who are you, old man?”
“My name is Quint. I am also known as the Spellcrafter.”
“Ah, you’re the Spellcrafter? I pictured someone more…”
“Younger? Stronger? Fit?”
“All of those things. So, are you here to join with me, and celebrate my victory?”
“I think not. I was going to disappear into the early morning darkness, but I decided to see how you would handle things. I must say, I am not impressed.”
The Dragons of Neverwind Page 12