The Andor: Book One of the Legends of Tirmar

by Mark Dame

  “You here to rescue the mole-girl?” Crack.

  While they had been questioning Randell, Sigrid had told him what to expect. She said they would beat him until he gave them answers or passed out. They would show no mercy. Knowing that hadn’t made it any easier.

  “Why you want her? She even uglier than you.”

  He didn’t want to tell them anything, but the pain was becoming unbearable. He just wanted it to stop.

  “You puny even for a pink-skin. That why you want mole-girl? She more your size?”

  The next strike of the whip caused Flyn to cry out. He couldn’t help himself. The pain was too much. He let his head drop.

  “Stop. Please.” He had lost his will to fight. “I’ll tell you what you want.”

  The orcs laughed. The one with the whip gave him another crack.

  “I’m looking for my friend,” Flyn cried out. “No more, please.”

  “What your friend’s name? Maybe I see him.” The orcs howled with laughter. “Your friend belong to Lord Jarot and now you do too.”

  The orc grabbed Flyn’s hair and pulled his head up.

  “Now, puny maggot, how many more pink-skins running around Gurnborg?”

  “None,” Flyn said, trying to shake his head. “It was just four of us.”

  “You lie to me, you get the poker.” The orc pointed to a metal rod sticking out of a nearby furnace. The coals inside the furnace were glowing red. “How many pink-skins hiding outside the gates?”

  Flyn shook his head again. “No more. Just us.”

  Another orc walked into the courtyard. This one wore a black sash with a red skull insignia across his chest. The orc questioning Flyn turned to the newcomer and saluted.

  “Have you learned anything from the new prisoners, Garguk?” the new orc said.

  “He said he here looking for his friend,” Garguk snarled. “He claim just four of them here. Other ones not talk yet.”

  “Good. Ugglar wants to see that one,” the new orc said, pointing at Flyn.

  “Yes, Captain.” He turned to the orc with the whip. “You heard Captain, get him out.”

  After releasing Flyn from the stocks, the orcs shackled his wrists to a chain and led him away from the courtyard.

  The fog had lifted, allowing Flyn to get his first good look at the garrison. Most of the buildings were long wooden structures, similar to the buildings they had investigated earlier. In the middle, however, a larger building looked over the entire complex. A single tower rose from the middle of the keep. Unlike the other buildings, this one was built from stone blocks, like the fortress walls. The keep seemed to be where they were leading him.

  They passed other prisoners, busy fixing equipment or hauling supplies, their feet chained together, and in some cases chained to nearby posts. Flyn noticed most of them were men, though a few were women. He saw people of all ages, some only children, all captured by the orcs and forced into slavery. Some stopped to stare at Flyn as he passed, only to receive a reprimand from an orc overseer. He noticed that none of the slaves were dwarves.

  The orc Captain led the way, followed by the one who had been questioning Flyn. The pace set by the orcs was more of a jog for Flyn. Whenever he started to fall behind, the orc would yank the chain attached to his wrists, jerking him forward and causing him to stumble. He tried not to fall, remembering what he had seen on the trail. As they walked, the orc with the chain continued to taunt Flyn.

  “If you think my questions hard, wait ’til you meet Ugglar. He not as nice as me. After you meet Ugglar, you won’t be able to work in fields.”

  Flyn barely heard him. His back throbbed with pain, alternating between a fiery burning and a dull ache. It was all he could do to focus on not tripping.

  Near the center of the garrison, they came to a main road, at either end of which Flyn could see the front and back gates. The orcs paused for a group of prisoners being led toward the back gate. The captives were chained together in a line and carried picks, shovels, and other mining equipment. Some pulled carts shaped like rectangular buckets. Slaves headed to work in the mine, no doubt.

  The orcs led Flyn across the main road and up a walkway to the main keep. The orc captain stopped when they reached the entrance.

  “I’ll take him from here,” the captain said.

  Garguk handed the chain to his captain, then turned to Flyn.

  “If you still alive when Ugglar done with you, we gonna play some more.” The orc laughed, then walked off toward the stockade.

  Two orcs, with the same sash as the captain, guarded the entrance to the building. They saluted, then opened the doors as the captain approached. Flyn stumbled along behind.

  Inside, the building was lit with torches mounted in brackets on the stone walls. The ceiling was stained with black soot, and the air was filled with a sharp, acrid smell coming from the torches. Other than the torches and a few doors, the walls were plain, bare stone, rough cut like the outer walls.

  More orc guards were stationed in the corridor. They stood at attention and saluted as the captain passed. The captain ignored them.

  At the end of the hall another pair of doors was guarded by two more orcs, who saluted and opened the doors like the ones outside. The captain dragged Flyn inside the room and flung him to the floor. The doors closed behind them with a loud thud.

  Another orc, bigger than any Flyn had seen yet, was sitting in a chair on the other side of the room.

  “So this is the Andor?” the big orc said.

  “Yes, sir,” the captain said, saluting.

  “Good. Unchain him, Rakug. He’s no threat here.”

  The captain pulled Flyn up by the chain and snarled at him as he removed the shackles. He dropped them to the floor in front of Flyn with a loud clang.

  “Kneel before Commander Ugglar, maggot.” Rakug pushed Flyn back to the floor.

  The commander got up from his chair and stood over Flyn.

  Ugglar was different from the other orcs Flyn had seen, not just by his size. His skin was dark red and he had tusks projecting up from his lower jaw.

  “He looks just like the other Andor, don’t you think, Rakug?”

  “Yes sir. Just as puny and just as weak.”

  “The other one said your name was Flyn,” Ugglar said. “Is that your name?”

  Flyn nodded. There was no point in lying. Kel must have told them everything. Not that he blamed Kel. Flyn had always seen himself as the stronger of the two, and if they could break him, Kel would have been easy.

  Poor Kel. He had always followed Flyn, no matter how stupid the idea, no matter how bad the plan. And now his loyalty to Flyn had probably cost him his life.

  Kneeling on the cold, stone floor in front of the most powerful being he had ever known, Flyn clenched his jaw and swore to himself that he would avenge Kel’s sacrifice. Someday, somehow, he would find a way.

  “Lord Jarot will want to see you, too,” Ugglar was saying. “He says your friend is a good talker. Told him everything there is to know about Trygsted and the Lost Clan of the Andors. Not so lost anymore, are you?”

  “We don’t mean anyone any harm,” Flyn said. He knew the plea was useless, but if he was ever to see his day of retribution, he would have to continue to play role of the beaten prisoner. “We just got lost. All we want to do is go home.”

  The orcs laughed.

  “You’ll go home very soon,” Ugglar said, still laughing. “You’ll join your friend in Uskleig as Lord Jarot’s personal guest.”

  Join his friend? Did that mean Kel was still alive?

  “I just had to make sure you were the one we’ve been looking for before I contact the Master with the good news.”

  Ugglar grabbed Flyn’s arms and yanked him off the ground. Flyn struggled to pull away. The foul stench of the orc’s hot breath overwhelmed him, making him want to retch. His skin crawled as Ugglar sneered at him.

  “But first,” Ugglar said, “I need to know a few things.”

  Ug
glar stared into Flyn’s eyes, his massive hands squeezing Flyn’s arms.

  “Your friend didn’t seem to know anything about the Ilfins at Garthset, but you’re traveling with the captain of their guard. Surely, you know more than your friend.”

  He dropped Flyn to the floor and walked over to the wall where various weapons hung.

  “I don’t know anything about them,” Flyn pleaded. “I just met them.”

  “And they just decided to help you sneak into my fortress to look for your friend because they’re helpful? I think not.”

  Ugglar selected a short rod that looked like a small pitchfork, but with only two prongs. He held it up in the air in front of him so Flyn could see it. Suddenly, a flash of light, like a bolt of lightning, arced between the prongs.

  “But if you’re telling the truth, we’ll find that out too.”

  Flyn closed his eyes and thought of the ocean. Warm breezes across icy-blue water. Floating in his boat. The sound of seagulls in the air.

  “Flyn? Wake up, Flyn.”

  Flyn opened his eyes, but saw only fuzzy shapes.

  “He’s awake,” another voice said.

  He rubbed his eyes. A face moved into his blurred vision.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Give the lad some room. He’s had a rough day.”

  He blinked and rubbed his eyes again. Gudbrant’s face came into focus.

  “Can you hear me?” Gudbrant asked.

  Flyn tried to speak, but nothing came out, so he nodded. Everything was sore. His back burned where they had whipped him, his chest was covered in burns from Ugglar’s lightning stick.

  He tried to sit up, but didn’t have the strength.

  “Easy now.” Gudbrant helped him into a sitting position.

  He was back in the stockade. The others were gathered around him, anxious looks on their faces. Beyond them, two orcs stood guard by the door.

  “Here you go, lad. Take a few sips.” Sigrid held a metal cup to his lips and tipped it up. The water was warm and had a foul taste to it, but he drank it anyway. He hadn’t had anything to drink for hours.

  “Easy, lad. Not too much.” Sigrid took the cup away. “Better?”

  Flyn nodded.

  Randell and Harvig were watching him from a few feet away. Both were covered in welts from the orc’s whip. Harvig’s face and nose were swollen and bruised.

  “You should see yourself,” Harvig said, noticing Flyn staring at him.

  Flyn looked away, embarrassed, though he didn’t know why.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Randell said. “He’s just mad because that orc got in a sucker punch that knocked him out.”

  “I’d like to see you do better,” Harvig replied.

  “Are you sure you two aren’t married?” Sigrid said, chuckling.

  “That’s enough,” Gudbrant said. Then he turned back to Flyn. “What did they want from you?”

  Flyn took the water from Sigrid and had another swallow before answering.

  “Ugglar wanted everything I know about you and Garthset and your people. He wanted to know how many people lived there, how many soldiers, how it’s being guarded, what kind of scouts you have. Fortunately, I don’t really know any of that. But you do. He said he was going to torture you next to get the answers.”

  “I expected as much,” Gudbrant said. “What else?”

  “He wanted to know everything about Trygsted and the Andor clan. I don’t understand. Why would he care about a bunch of people who don’t even know he exists? We’re just a bunch of farmers and shopkeepers. We’re no threat to the orcs or this Jarot. The people on Trygsted don’t even know Tirmar exists. And even if they did, they certainly wouldn’t climb into boats to go fight a bunch of orcs. The Andors hate boats.”

  “That’s a topic for another time,” Gudbrant said. “For now, you need to eat. They’ll chain us up again soon, and you’ll need your strength.” He glanced back at the guards, then back to Flyn.

  The “meal” was a plate of some kind of meat, burnt to the point of being unrecognizable and tasting like charcoal. The plates were made of lightweight metal and there were no forks or knifes. Basically, no chance of turning anything into a weapon. Not even a bone in the meat. Flyn ate what he could, and washed it down with more of the repulsive water. He had barely finished when the door opened and Garguk came in.

  “Break time’s over, maggots. Back to the chains.”

  The two guards took each of them in turn and shackled them to the wall while Garguk blocked the door, should any of them try to make an escape attempt. There was little need. As bad off as Flyn was, the others were little better. They were all bloody and bruised from being interrogated by the orcs. Even Sigrid, who had nothing to do with them, had been beaten to find out if she knew anything about the men from Garthset. Flyn felt bad for her, having to endure the orcs’ brutality because of him and his friends, but Sigrid seemed to be handling the pain better than the humans.

  “Rest up, maggots,” Garguk said. “Tomorrow we’ll have more fun.”

  When the orcs left, they took the torches, leaving the prisoners in the dark. The only light came from a thin crack under the door. After a while, Flyn noticed it was just enough light that he could make out the shapes of Gudbrant and Randell, who were chained up on either side of him.

  “Is everybody ready?” Gudbrant said, his voice barely audible.

  “Ready for what?” Flyn whispered back.

  “Just stay quiet and follow our lead,” Gudbrant replied.

  From his left, Flyn heard chains rattling. A moment later, Sigrid appeared out of the gloom. She hurried across the room and he heard the clinking of the key ring being lifted off its hook. She unlocked Gudbrant’s shackles, then moved on to Harvig. Gudbrant pulled the chain through the loop holding it to the wall. He told Flyn to leave his chain attached to the wall. A few minutes later, all five prisoners crouched around in a circle across from the door. All but Flyn had a four-foot length of chain with a shackle on each end.

  “How did you do that?” Flyn whispered, astounded at how fast Sigrid had escaped the shackles.

  “Dwarves are good at that sort of thing.” She chuckled.

  “But, if you could do that, why didn’t you escape a long time ago?”

  “Aye, the metal shackles are easy, lad. What’s not so easy is a door barred on the outside by a hundred-pound wooden beam. But do you really think I spent all night hanging from the wall like some hunting trophy?”

  Flyn nodded in amazement, forgetting that no one could see him.

  “We don’t know how many of them there are,” Gudbrant said. “I suspect there will be two. If there’s only one, even better. If there’s more than two…”

  “Since their war party set off last night, they’ve been short-handed,” Sigrid said. “There may be no guards at all.”

  “In which case, we have a different problem,” Gudbrant said. “All we can do is try. Harvig, you take the left side, I’ll take the right. Flyn, stand up and hold on to the ends of your chain so you look like you’re still shackled to the wall. Randell and Sigrid, hide in the shadows on either side until you see an opening. When I give the word, Flyn, you need to make a lot of racket. Make the guards think we’re trying to escape. Everybody ready?”

  Everyone replied that they were. Harvig and Gudbrant took up positions on either side of the door. Randell helped position the shackles on Flyn’s wrists so he still appeared to be locked up, then disappeared into the darkness. Sigrid was already hiding on the other side.

  “Now, Flyn.”

  Flyn took a deep breath, then began shouting.

  “Hey, don’t leave me! Take me with you!”

  Sigrid and Randell rattled their chains and banged them against the wall.

  “Hey! What going on in there?” a voice said from outside the door.

  “Quiet, Flyn!” Randell yelled. “Do you want the guards to hear us?”

  There was a scraping and a thump as the crossbar was rem
oved and dropped to the ground. The door opened and a large orc stepped through.

  “Quiet down,” the orc said to Flyn.

  Gudbrant and Harvig swung their chains at the orc’s head. The shackles hit its skull with a dull crack and the orc collapsed, falling face first in front of Flyn.

  Behind the orc, a second guard was already coming through the doorway. When it saw the first guard drop, it tried to step back, but it was too late. Gudbrant’s chain whistled through the air, hitting it in the face. The end of the chain whipped around its head and the shackle smacked it in the cheek.

  The second orc stumbled back, the chain still wrapped around its head. Sigrid raced forward to help Gudbrant pull the orc into the building. Harvig swung his chain down on the orc’s head. The guard’s knees buckled and it collapsed in the doorway. Harvig pulled his chain back and readied himself for the next guard.

  Meanwhile, Randell had jumped on the first orc. He pulled a dagger from the orc’s belt and used it to dispatch the fallen guard before it could recover.

  No third guard came through the door. All was quiet outside the stockade.

  Sigrid and Gudbrant pulled the other guard next to the first and Randell took care of it as well.

  The whole exchange lasted less than fifteen seconds. Flyn was still standing against the wall holding on to his chain.

  “That was a well-executed plan,” Sigrid said. “You lads are all right.” She turned and looked at Flyn. “You can put your arms down now, laddie. The fight’s over.” She chuckled and turned her attention back to the orcs.

  They searched the orcs for weapons, or anything else that might be useful, and came up with just another dagger. Gudbrant took this and Randell kept the other. Harvig opted to keep his chain. As did Sigrid.

  “It’s no ax,” she said, “but it beats a little knife.”

  “What do we do next?” Flyn asked.

  “We hadn’t gotten that far in our plan,” Randell said. “We’re open for suggestions if you have any ideas.”