by Mark Dame
Sigrid turned and continued on without waiting for replies. She moved slower now, stepping more carefully to avoid scraping her feet or kicking loose stones. The rest of the party followed her lead.
The nature of the tunnel had changed. The walls and ceiling were smoother now, the passage more resembling a square hallway than a cave. The walls formed perfect right angles with the ceiling and floor. From time to time small holes at the base of the walls allowed the water to drain away. Even to a layman, this section of the tunnel left no doubt it wasn’t a natural occurring cave.
After a few minutes, the end came into sight. A pair of large steel doors blocked their path.
“I hope there’s nobody on the other side of these doors,” Flyn said.
“There’s no light coming from around the doors,” Sigrid said. “So unless they’re guarding the door in the dark…”
Sigrid handed her torch to Flyn and grabbed the door handle.
“Everybody ready?” she said, looking back at them. Randell and Harvig drew their swords. Flyn followed suit.
“Go,” Flyn said.
Sigrid pulled on the handle.
The door wouldn’t open.
“Locked,” she said. “Should have figured it wouldn’t be that easy.”
“Now what do we do?” Randell asked.
“You didn’t bring me along for my charming personality,” Sigrid said with a grin. She took off her pack and rummaged through it.
“Can you open the lock?” Flyn asked.
“Aye, if it was made by orcs. If a dwarf made it… Well, let’s just see what we have. Hold the torch down so I can see.”
Sigrid peered into the lock, then inserted something she had pulled from her pack. She jiggled the tool in the lock, then inserted another one. She worked the two tools, then twisted them. The lock clicked.
“An orc lock,” she said. “Let’s try this again.”
Sigrid stowed the tools back in her pack, then grabbed the handle again. The others raised their swords. Sigrid pulled on the handle and the door squealed open.
On the other side of the door was another hallway, continuing straight into the darkness.
“If they didn’t know we were coming before, they do now,” Sigrid said as the echoes of the screech disappeared into the distance. She picked up her ax and led the way through the doorway.
“Better let me go first,” Harvig said. “Everybody be ready.”
Harvig handed his torch to Randell and moved to the front of the group. He led the way down the hall, followed by Flyn and Sigrid, with Randell bringing up the rear. They moved as silently as they could, listening for any sign of guards coming to investigate the noise.
Ahead of them, the tunnel intersected another tunnel that led left and right.
“Which way?” Harvig said when they reached the junction.
The new tunnel went straight in both directions as far as their torches could illuminate. Flyn stared first in one direction, then the other. He was about to suggest the left tunnel, for no reason other than they had to pick one, when they heard clanking metal and running footsteps coming from the right.
“Quick,” Sigrid said. “Put out the torches.”
Flyn and Randell threw the torches on the floor and stepped on the burning ends, extinguishing them and plunging the group into total darkness. Flyn moved toward the wall, one hand in front of him until he felt the cold stone on his fingers. He pressed his back to the wall and waited.
The footsteps drew closer, accompanied by a dim glow that grew brighter.
“It came from the back door,” a breathless voice said.
At that, two orcs appeared in the intersection carrying torches and large clubs.
One of them never saw the intruders. Harvig’s sword sliced through the air, striking the orc in the neck. It staggered back and collapsed against the wall.
Surprised by the flash of steel, the other orc stepped back and raised its club. Sigrid leapt forward swinging her ax over her head.
“Hey!” the orc shouted, swinging his club at the dwarf. As its club struck Sigrid in the side, her ax embedded in the orc’s forehead, cleaving its skull. Its mouth opened and closed as if it were trying to say something else, but the only sound that escaped its throat was a weak groan. It collapsed on the floor where it stood.
The entire battle had lasted mere seconds. Flyn and Randell were still standing against the wall as Sigrid sank to one knee, her ax falling to the floor.
“Sigrid!” Flyn yelled, running to her side.
“I’ll be fine, laddie. Just knocked the wind out of me is all.” Sigrid tried to grin, though it looked more like a grimace.
“Let me help you,” Flyn said.
“We need to hide the bodies,” Sigrid said, waving Flyn off.
“Where?” Randell asked.
There were no doors in the tunnel they had used to enter, and there were none they could see in either direction in the crossing tunnel.
“We could drag them to the entrance tunnel,” Flyn said after they had conducted a quick search. “It doesn’t look like they use it, so if we close the door, no one will find them.”
“That should be good for the moment,” Harvig said. “Though I suspect someone may come looking for them when they don’t return.”
Harvig and Randell dragged the dead orcs back down the hallway. Pulling the heavy bodies across the stone floor was a difficult task, each one taking both men to move. Flyn brought the orcs’ weapons and used one of their torches to light the way. One of the orcs had a large ring of keys on its belt that Flyn took. With her injury, Sigrid wasn’t of much help with physical labor, so she ripped pieces of cloth from the orcs’ clothing to wipe up most of the blood from the floor.
When they were finished, Harvig turned to Sigrid. She was gasping for air, wincing with each breath.
“Perhaps you should wait here,” he said.
“I’m not going to let a little bruise stop me,” she said.
“He’s right,” Flyn said. “You look like you’re hurt pretty bad.”
“We need to move fast,” Harvig added. “Are you sure you’ll be able to keep up?”
“I’ll outlast the lot of you,” she said. “Now let’s get moving.”
Flyn shrugged at Harvig, who just shook his head in disbelief.
“You heard her,” Flyn said.
“Wait a minute.” Sigrid took some of the remaining oil and dripped it on the hinges of the steel doors. “That should keep them from squeaking,” she said.
Her solution worked. The doors closed without the loud screech that had brought the orcs.
“We should leave it locked,” Harvig said. “Like we found it.”
Flyn tried the keys he had taken from the orc until he found the right one.
“Don’t forget which one that is, laddie,” Sigrid said.
“That shouldn’t be hard.”
The key was larger than the others, with a strange rune design.
Flyn looked at his companions in the dim torchlight.
“Let’s go find Kel,” he said.
Flyn led the party back to the intersection where they had fought the orcs. He carried one of the orc’s torches. Harvig carried the other. Flyn and the militiamen had their swords out and ready. Sigrid carried her ax over her shoulder.
“Which way?” Harvig asked.
“I think we should start to the right, where the orcs came from,” Flyn said.
No one else had a better idea. Flyn held his torch to the ceiling for a few seconds, leaving a black soot mark.
“To mark which tunnel we came from,” he said.
“Good thinking,” Randell said.
Flyn continued in the lead, following the passageway the orcs had come from. After a while, the tunnel changed. Brackets for torches began to appear at regular intervals, though no torches were in them now. Across from each bracket was a door.
At first the doors were mostly rotted and falling off their hinges. The rooms behind t
hem empty or containing just trash and broken crates. After they had passed a dozen or so doors, the passageway turned to the left and the doors looked newer. Some of the doors were locked.
Flyn used the keys he had found on the orc to open these locked doors, though none of the rooms contained anything of much use. Mostly the locked rooms were armories, with weapons and shields. In one room they found crates full of gold and silver coins. Some crates contained jewelry, though nothing extravagant. A series of shelves held trinkets of varying craftsmanship.
“Jarot’s treasure room?” Flyn asked.
“I don’t know,” Randell said. “He doesn’t need money.”
“Most of the jewelry is junk,” Sigrid said. “It’s probably worth more melted down.”
“Whatever it is, it’s not what we’re here for,” Harvig said from the doorway. He was watching the passageway.
“Okay, let’s go.” Flyn pocketed a handful of coins before leaving.
They continued down the passageways, checking every door, but finding nothing else of interest. At each intersection, they paused to examine the floor, always choosing the passage with the least dust. Flyn marked their way with the torch as they went. They found no sign that Jarot used the tunnels as a dungeon like Gunnulf had claimed. Only more storerooms for weapons and furniture.
“Maybe the cells are down one of the other passageways,” Sigrid suggested.
“Only if the prisoners in them are dead,” Harvig said. “Otherwise there would be some sign that someone has been down them recently.”
They continued on, still hoping to find cells with prisoners and finding none. The passageway turned again. The doors in this new section weren’t locked. The first few led to rooms with nothing but empty shelves. The fourth door they checked, however, turned out to be a pantry.
The shelves were full of canned fruits, dried vegetables, and loaves of bread. From the ceiling hung cured meats, sausages, and salamis. Flyn’s stomach growled as he looked at all the food.
“Laddies, I think we hit the mother lode,” Sigrid said. She pushed her way past Flyn and grabbed a loaf from the nearest shelf. Randell quickly followed her lead.
“We can’t stay here,” Harvig said, still at the door. “These pantries are freshly stocked, which means they use them. If we linger too long, we are bound to be discovered.”
“Harvig’s right,” Flyn said. “Grab what you want and we’ll go back to one of the empty rooms to rest.”
“Let’s fill our packs too,” Harvig said. “In case we have to leave in a hurry.”
They filled their packs with breads and dried meats, then grabbed as much food as they could carry and hurried back the way they came. They chose the first empty room they had found in this section, the one farthest from the pantry. Once inside, they closed the door and barricaded it with one of the empty shelves before they sat down to eat.
“Back home, this would be a pretty poor meal,” Flyn said. “But right now, this is a feast.”
Randell nodded, his mouth too full of ham to reply.
“Feast or no, I’m not comfortable sitting in a room with only one exit,” Harvig said. “If we’re discovered, we’ll be trapped.”
“It doesn’t look like they use this room very much,” Flyn said. “We’re probably safe for a while. Let’s rest a bit. We haven’t stopped since we found the entrance to the cave.”
“Aye, rest would be good,” Sigrid said.
“At least keep your voices down.” Harvig glanced toward the door. “We don’t want to attract attention to ourselves.”
They ate the rest of their meal without talking, as much because they were too hungry to talk as they were concerned about being discovered. The bread was mostly stale, the meat was too salty, and the dried vegetables without flavor.
They ate every last bite.
When he had finished, Flyn leaned back against the wall and yawned. A few more minutes of rest was just what he needed.
Chapter 14
Flyn awoke to the sound of shouting.
He blinked and rubbed his eyes, trying to see where the noise was coming from. He was in total darkness. They must have fallen asleep and the torches had burned out. Now they were barricaded in a storeroom with no light.
No light wasn’t exactly right. Across from him he noticed a dim sliver of light on the floor.
The shouts grew closer, accompanied by the sound of clanking metal. Flyn couldn’t make out the words through the closed door, though the voices were clearly orc. He stood up, putting his back to the wall to keep himself oriented, and drew his sword. Elsewhere in the dark he heard two other swords being pulled from their scabbards. He slid one foot forward, preparing to attack.
The light under the door flickered and grew brighter as the voices reached the door. Flyn held his breath. The shelf they had used to barricade the door might hold for a minute or two. He wasn’t sure. The orcs were probably strong enough to break the door into pieces, making the barricade useless. At least it would give him and his companions the chance to make the first attack. With one or two orcs, they might stand a chance. Any more and they would be in trouble.
The shouts continued past the door, the light again fading.
Flyn lowered his sword and breathed a sigh of relief.
“That was close,” Randell said from somewhere else in the room.
A spark from across the room almost blinded Flyn. A click and another spark, then one of the torches burst into flame, illuminating Sigrid’s face.
“How about a little light,” she said, grinning at the others.
They blinked at each other in the torchlight.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Flyn said.
“None of us did,” Harvig replied. “We were lucky not to be caught. Those orcs are probably searching for the ones we killed.”
“How long were we sleeping?” Randell asked.
Flyn shook his head. No one else seemed to know either.
“It doesn’t really matter now,” Harvig said. “We should get moving before the orcs come back.”
“Go where?” Randell said. “So far all we’ve found is storerooms.”
“We need to find our way into the citadel,” Flyn said. He reminded them of what he had heard from the orcs so many weeks before: Brenna had been taken to be one of Jarot’s personal servants. “That means that she’ll be in the citadel.”
“If she’s still alive,” Harvig said.
“I think we have to assume she and Kel are both alive,” Flyn replied. “Otherwise, why are we here?”
Harvig grunted in response, but didn’t say anything else.
“Why don’t we leave our gear here, though,” Flyn said. “Just take a couple of torches and our weapons. If we don’t find Kel and Brenna in a few hours, we can come back here to rest before trying again.”
They all felt this was a good plan. They stacked their packs in a corner and used another old shelf to hide them. Flyn leaned his bow against the wall next to the packs, then found the other torch. He lit it using Sigrid’s torch while Harvig and Randell removed the barricade from the door.
“Keep the torches away from the door while I make sure the way is clear,” Harvig said.
Flyn and Sigrid moved to the corner of the room. Harvig cracked the door and peeked through, then opened it enough to stick his head out and look down the hallway. Apparently satisfied, he opened the door fully and beckoned to the others. Flyn stepped up next to him and looked out himself.
There was no sign of the orcs who had passed by minutes before. In the opposite direction lay only darkness.
Flyn used his torch to mark the wall above the door, then led the way into the hall, Harvig following close behind. Randell took the torch from Sigrid and, ushering her in front of him, brought up the rear.
They continued checking the doors, though not as thoroughly as before. Most were pantries like the one they raided. One contained large kegs—orc ale, Sigrid speculated. None contained prisoners or additio
nal hallways.
After a few minutes, they came upon a set of double doors. Light spilled out from under them.
“Something different, for a change,” Sigrid said.
They stood by the doors for a moment, no one daring to open them. Finally, Flyn handed his torch to Harvig and stepped up to the doors. He motioned for the others to stand behind it to hide the torches. Once they were in position, he lifted the latch and slowly pulled one of the doors open a crack. He pressed his face to the edge of the door and peeked through.
On the other side was a short hallway leading to an open room. A stand holding unlit torches and a bucket of water stood next to the doorway.
Flyn carefully opened the door and slipped through. He stopped at the entrance to the room. Before him was a great hall, hundreds of feet across. Rows of columns, spaced fifty feet apart, rose to meet the ceiling, which arched between them. The floor was covered with black marble tiles, each three feet wide. The pillars and ceiling were covered in smaller tiles made of the same black marble.
Torches were mounted in brackets on the innermost rows of columns in the half of the room closest to the doorway. The torchlight reflecting off the dark tile bathed the nearest half of the hall in an odd orange glow. In the center of the room, a wide spiral staircase ascended through an opening in the vaulted ceiling. Beyond the staircase, the hall disappeared into darkness.
“By my pappy’s beard,” Sigrid whispered next to him. Flyn hadn’t heard her walk up.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Randell said from behind her.
“I knew this was dwarven work,” Sigrid said, the awe still in her voice.
“What do you think they use it for?” Flyn asked.
“Hard to say,” Sigrid said. “Maybe a dining room or meeting room of some sort. Anywhere else, I might think it was a cathedral, but I don’t think the orcs care much for the gods.”
“We don’t have time to admire it,” Harvig said.
Flyn nodded. “That stairway must lead to the citadel.”
“We don’t need these anymore,” Harvig said. He extinguished his torch in the bucket of water and set it in the stand with the other torches. Sigrid did the same with hers.