by Mark Dame
Flyn thought for a minute.
“Actually, I do have an idea.”
Exiting the stockade, they found the sun had already set and the light was fading. They had used the chains and shackles to tether their feet together, and then some of the other chains to link themselves together like Flyn had seen the miners earlier in the day. Sigrid hid the keys on a string around her neck. Her beard completely covered any sign of them under her shirt.
“This will never work,” Randell said.
“Sure it will,” Flyn replied. “I know I haven’t met a lot of orcs, but the one thing I’ve noticed is the smarter ones are in charge and the ones in charge don’t do guard duty. As long as we look the part, and don’t run into any of the smart ones, we should be fine.”
“Aye, I think the lad is on to something,” Sigrid said. “These lumbering oafs aren’t exactly the sharpest picks in the mine, if you know what I mean.”
“Agreed,” Gudbrant said. “The time for discussion is past. We need to move quickly. Someone will eventually find the bodies of the orcs we killed and we must be out of the garrison before that happens. Otherwise, we’ll never escape.”
“If it doesn’t work, we won’t stand a chance,” Harvig said. “Chained up like this, we’ll never be able to outrun them.”
“Chained or not, if it doesn’t work, we’ll never have a chance to try,” Gudbrant said. “Now let’s get the door closed and barred so no one passing by thinks anything unusual is going on.”
“Won’t they notice there are no guards?” Randell asked.
“There weren’t any guards this morning when we got here either,” Flyn said. “They only put guards out front after we broke in. How likely is it that a random passerby knows the change in procedure for the stockade?”
No one else had any more objections, or better ideas, so after Gudbrant checked to see if anyone was around, the group exited the building and barred the door behind them. They quickly moved away from the lockup area and onto a back street.
With their earlier attempts at disguise, along with the torture they had endured, they looked like any other group of slaves Flyn had seen. Sigrid led, followed by Flyn, Gudbrant, Randell, and Harvig at the end of the line to protect their backs.
“Which way?” Flyn asked Sigrid. She knew where the mining supplies were stored.
“This way.” Sigrid headed toward an alley.
She led them through a maze of alleys and back streets, which kept them mostly out of sight, but the chains forced them to move slower than Flyn would have liked to avoid making a lot of noise. They passed very few people, humans or orcs. Only once did they have to stop and hide from passing orcs, a pair meandering to or from some guard post.
Most of the buildings they passed were dark and empty. Barracks for the troops sent out the previous night, Flyn suspected. Through the few lighted windows they did come across, they could see other prisoners sitting down for their evening meals, the same sort of charred meat Flyn had eaten earlier. Guards stood around watching the prisoners eat. The escapees ducked under the windows as they passed, although chances of those inside seeing them were slim.
Sigrid led them along a route that put the doors to the dining halls on the other side of the buildings.
Night had settled over the garrison by the time they reached their destination. Lanterns had been lit along the main streets, but the side streets were left in darkness. The door of the toolshed Sigrid had brought them to was well hidden from the closest main street. Outside the shed, carts like the ones Flyn had seen earlier were lined up along the wall. Sigrid opened the door and peered inside.
“Picks and shovels for everybody,” she said as she started handing out the tools.
The pickaxes had wooden handles and metal heads with a pointed end on one side and a flattened, chiseled end on the other. Sigrid gave hers a few test swings, easily controlling the heavy tool with one hand.
“I’d still prefer an ax,” she said. “This will do, though.”
Flyn hoped he wouldn’t have to try to fight with the pickax. It was heavy and awkward for him, even with both hands. The others seemed to manage, though being chained together gave them little room to maneuver. Should they have to fight, only Sigrid and Harvig would have much chance of hitting their target.
“Harvig gets to pull the cart,” the dwarf said. “Works best if you put your shovel and pick in it so you have both hands to pull.”
Harvig nodded, but the scowl on his face said he wasn’t happy about it.
They set out, pickaxes over one shoulder, and shovels over the other. With their disguise complete, the need for stealth had diminished, allowing them to move quicker. Even so, Sigrid kept them off the main streets to minimize their chances of running into guards.
“Keep your heads down and shuffle your feet,” Flyn told the others. The prisoners he had seen earlier had all been dejected and beaten. To pull off his plan, they had to appear just as sullen as the rest of the prisoners, though for Flyn, it wasn’t much of an act.
Even though the back gate was less than two furlongs away, they took nearly ten minutes to reach it. Sigrid chose the darkest, most unused alleys, of which there were many. Most of the buildings seemed to be empty barracks and galleys. Although the journey took longer than a more direct route, they encountered no orcs on the way, much to Flyn’s relief.
The group found themselves hiding behind the same building they had hidden behind that morning while they had waited for Gudbrant. The gate was less than one hundred yards away, far closer than they had realized that morning. There was no one between them and the gate.
“Now comes the hard part,” Sigrid said, almost to herself. She turned back to the rest of the group. “Remember, keep yer head down. Don’t look up at them or they’ll know something’s up. No slave would ever look an orc in the eye unless he wants a beating. We don’t want that kind of attention.”
The others nodded.
Flyn’s heart was already racing. Though freedom was only a short walk away, it looked to be leagues.
Back in the relatively safe confines of the stockade, his plan had seemed so simple, so brilliant. He had been absolutely sure of it. Now, standing in the open, chained to his companions, the idea of trying to fool the guards seemed ludicrous. They were sure to be caught. Then the orcs would haul them back to the stockade and discover the dead guards. They would most likely kill the humans and dwarf on the spot.
“Let me do the talking,” Sigrid was saying. “Don’t say nothing unless one of them asks you a question. Then keep your answer short. They may be stupid oafs, but they aren’t complete fools.”
She stuck her head around the corner, then signaled for them to follow her.
Once around the corner, they were completely exposed. Flyn felt as if a thousand eyes were watching him. His heart pounded even harder in his ears, his breathing quickened. He glanced up to the top of the wall, unable to keep his head down.
An orc was watching them as they made their way to the back gate.
Flyn forced himself to look down at his feet. Sweat poured down his body, burning the wounds on his back left by the whip. His legs felt like he was walking through thick mud, the gate seemingly growing farther away with each step rather than closer.
Sigrid stopped suddenly, causing Flyn to almost run into her. He looked up at the gate.
An orc patrol was coming through the gate, only a few yards in front of them.
The lead orc glanced over at the escapees, chained together and loaded down with tools. Flyn looked away, sure the orc would stop and question them. He swallowed against the queasy feeling in his stomach.
The orc turned away from them, continuing on its way without pausing.
The other orcs ignored the group completely.
Flyn exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath. His stomach was still twisted in a knot and his knees felt weak. He had to put a hand on Sigrid’s shoulder to keep himself steady.
“Let’
s go,” Sigrid whispered.
Flyn looked back at the others. Gudbrant wiped sweat from his brow and Randell had lost all the color in his face. Harvig, as stoic as ever, seemed completely unfazed.
“This is it,” Sigrid muttered.
They turned the corner and entered the gateway.
As when they entered the fortress, the portcullis was open. Just beyond it, a guard stood on each side of the opening. One of the orcs turned toward them as they entered the gateway, the sound of their rattling chains echoing through the tunnel.
“Steady now,” Sigrid whispered back to them.
The guards moved to block the gateway as they approached. Sigrid walked right up to them. Flyn looked at his feet.
“Where you think you going?” one of the guards said.
“To the mine,” Sigrid replied.
“It’s night. There’s no work in the mine at night.”
“It’s always dark in the mine,” Sigrid said. “I just go where I’m told. The Master wants to increase production to arm more troops for the war.”
“Nobody tell me about it,” the first orc said.
“Nobody ever tell us nothing,” the second orc said.
“Where your taskmaster?” the first orc said, stepping closer to the group.
Flyn’s heartbeat was so loud in his ears, he was surprised the guards didn’t hear it. He clenched his jaw and kept looking at his feet.
“Rounding up the other crews,” Sigrid said. “I guess he got a late start and sent us ahead.”
“He going to be in trouble,” the second orc said.
“Who’s your taskmaster?” the first one said.
“Garguk.”
“Not like Garguk to be late.”
“I heard he was busy interrogating some new prisoners for Master Ugglar.”
“You can’t go to mine without taskmaster.”
“I just go where they tell me,” Sigrid said. “I don’t care if we wait here for Garguk. It’s all the same to me.”
Sigrid sat down in front of the orc. Flyn hesitated, then did the same.
“Of course,” Sigrid continued, “I wouldn’t want to be you when he shows up and asks why we aren’t in the mine working.”
The guards looked at each other.
“Me don’t want to make Garguk mad,” the second orc said.
The first one growled and cursed under his breath, then stepped back.
“Go on, get to work you lazy maggots,” the orc said. “You rest when work is done.”
The group stood up and Sigrid led them out of the fortress and into the fresh mountain air.
Once the wall and the guards disappeared in the darkness behind them, they stopped and looked at each other.
“I can’t believe that worked!” Randell said.
“Aye,” Sigrid said. “Truth be told, I wasn’t so sure myself.”
“But you said it would work,” Flyn said.
“Well, that might have been a little fib. I figured, what did we have to lose?”
“Well done, Flyn,” Gudbrant said.
“A bold plan,” Harvig added. “The Andor is more courageous than he looks.”
“Enough talk,” Gudbrant said. “Sigrid, get us out of these chains.”
The dwarf pulled out the key and unlocked the shackles on her ankles and waist, then started to unlock the others. She was interrupted by the sound of a loud bell coming from the garrison.
“What’s that?” Flyn said.
“That’s the alarm,” Sigrid replied.
“I guess they found the bodies of the guards we killed,” Gudbrant said. “Give me the keys.”
Sigrid handed the keys to Gudbrant.
“Flyn, you and Sigrid get to the gear. We’ll be right behind you.”
Flyn turned and ran, not waiting to see if Sigrid was following him. He slipped and skidded as he ran up the crushed rock path toward the cliffs towering up in front of him somewhere in the dark. The bell continued to ring behind him.
He stopped when he reached edge of the slope that led up to the mine and turned to look for Sigrid. To his surprise, she was right next to him, the pickax still over her shoulder.
“Dwarves are faster than we look,” she said in response to his unasked question. “Which way?”
“This way,” Flyn said, pointing. Even though he wanted to stop to catch his breath, under the circumstances that didn’t seem like a good idea. He set off along the base of the slope at a slower pace, looking for the marker Gudbrant had made. The darkness hampered their search. The sun had completely set and the moon was not yet visible above the mountain peaks to the east.
Gudbrant and the others caught up to them before he had found the marker.
“They haven’t sent out a search party yet, but you can be sure they will. Gear up quick.”
Sigrid watched for pursuers while the humans pulled on their armor and packs. Flyn was happy to have his sword and bow again, though he was disappointed by the loss of his hunting knife.
“Now where do we go?” Flyn asked as they gathered their gear.
“Hemdown,” Gudbrant replied. “It’s a town in the Blaslet Plains, a few days’ travel from Gurnborg, but it’s closer than any place in Asgerdale. And easier to reach, given our circumstances.”
“Will they help us?” Flyn remembered his reception at Garthset.
“I think so. They’re Ilfin, at least, so they won’t turn us away.”
“You, maybe,” Sigrid said. “But what do they think of dwarves? The Ilfin clan isn’t known for welcoming outsiders.”
“As long as you’re with us, they’ll accept you as a friend.”
Sigrid grunted in response, but said nothing.
“I suggest we leave tracks heading away from our path,” Harvig said.
“Good idea,” Gudbrant said. “Can you and Randell handle it?”
“Perhaps I should go with him,” Sigrid said. “After all, they’re expecting to see my footprints as well as yours.”
“Even better. Get going so you can make it back before the orcs catch up to us.”
Harvig left his pack, taking only his sword, followed by Sigrid with her pickax. They slipped quietly into the darkness, heading east, back the way the group had come from.
Gudbrant found a place for the rest of the group to wait. He sent Randell back toward the path from the fortress to watch for search parties. From their vantage point, they could see torches lit up outside the back gate and along the top of the fortress wall. The alarm bell had stopped ringing, replaced by yelling, though it was too far away to understand.
“How do we get to Hemdown?” Flyn asked, more to pass the time than anything.
“Normally we would take the road we followed through Ingekirk Pass. It continues on down into the plains, all the way to the west coast of Tirmar. Hemdown was originally just a small outpost used by trappers and prospectors who used to work in these mountains. Over time, it grew to be a major trading town. Before Jarot, merchants from Garthset regularly traveled to Hemdown to sell their goods and to buy goods from other lands. Meinrad was one of the traveling merchants before he became Thane. A quite successful one.”
“Really?” Flyn said. “I had assumed he had been a soldier.”
Gudbrant laughed. “Meinrad? I don’t think he’s been in a sword fight in his life. He’s a good leader, but he’s no soldier.”
“What about that scar on his face?”
“He doesn’t talk about that,” Gudbrant said, grinning at Flyn. “He likes people to come up with stories about how he single-handedly fought off a band of marauders who ambushed him, or some other wild tale. The truth is much more mundane. He was harnessing his horse to a wagon when the horse spooked and kicked him in the face. But don’t tell anyone. The only reason I know is because Brenna told me.”
Gudbrant looked away, toward the fortress, and was quiet.
“Anyway, we can’t take the main road with the orcs looking for us,” he said after a long pause. “We’ll have t
o climb down the mountain slopes and through the forests until we reach the Blaslet Plains. Once there, we’ll need to consider our options.”
Flyn nodded, not that the information meant much to him. At least climbing down the mountain slope should be easier than climbing up.
A loud noise from the garrison broke into his thoughts.
“Here they come,” Gudbrant said.
A group of orcs marched out of the gate, each carrying a torch and a mace. As they made their way from the fortress, they used their torches to search the ground on both sides of the path.
Just then, Randell slipped in behind the boulder they were using for cover.
“The first search party is on the way,” he said.
Gudbrant nodded and pointed. “We noticed. And they don’t look like they’re interested in capturing us.” He paused and watched the orcs make their way across the plateau. “Nothing else?”
“No, all’s quiet between here and the path to the mine. At least for now. Harvig and the dwarf better get back soon, because it won’t stay that way for long.”
As he spoke, there was a clattering of stones to their left. The three men drew their swords and waited. A moment later, Sigrid appeared out of the darkness.
“Best be on our way,” she said as she reached them. “The big guy’s right behind me.”
“Okay. Load up.”
Flyn sheathed his sword and shouldered his pack. He was about to sling his bow across his back, then decided better of it. Instead, he nocked an arrow.
Harvig arrived, out of breath, just as they were ready to go.
“Can you keep going?” Gudbrant asked as he threw Harvig his pack.
Harvig nodded and waved for them to get moving.
Randell led the way, picking the easiest path he could find across the face of the mountainside and keeping them far enough up the slope that any searchers looking up wouldn’t see them in the dark.
Down on the plateau, the orcs reached the abandoned cart. They stopped and searched the area before moving on. Two of the searchers moved ahead of the rest, making their way to the mountainside where Flyn and his companions were. Gudbrant signaled a stop at a small gulley where they all crouched down. Peering off the lip of the gulley, they watched as the orcs got closer.