by Jenner, M
A muffled click was heard, but nothing as loud as they had expected. Ty stepped backwards and drew his daggers.
Kern reached forward and touched the handle to the door; then he turned to Ty and nodded again.
With a sudden yank he wrenched the door open. Inside the room were five orcs, two standing and three sitting and rolling dice. The two standing orcs lunged at Kern. A dagger flew through the air and took one down, catching him square in the throat; blood poured from the victim’s wound. The second orc was felled as quickly as the first, by a slicing blow from Kern’s sword.
“Two, you said!” Kern spun round and finished off the orc with a thrust to the chest.
Galandrik ran past Kern into the room. By this time the remaining orcs had overcome their shock at the sudden invasion. All three advanced towards the fearless dwarf. The closest one took Galandrik’s axe straight in the chest, opening him up like a hog on a butcher’s hook. The axe embedded into the orc’s chest, and it pulled Galandrik down with the orc as he fell to the side. The next orc jumped over his dead companion and faced Galandrik, who still struggled to free his axe. The last orc charged Kern, screaming in a long-forgotten tongue. Kern, advancing to assist Galandrik, was forced to divert his attention to parrying a blow from the orc. “Ty, help Galandrik!” Kern shouted.
Ty knew he couldn’t cover the distance in time, and raised a dagger above his head. Kern parried the attacking third orc, a sweeping blow narrowly missing his target. Ty’s line of sight was hindered by Kern’s movement and he could just make out the orc raising his bastard sword above his head for another blow.
Galandrik had one foot on the dead orc’s shoulder, wrestling with his axe which was still wedged in the orc’s ribcage. He glanced up and saw another orc looking down at him, drool dripping from his mouth onto Galandrik’s chest. Galandrik reached for his belt dagger before remembering he’d given it to Pedlyn. Releasing the handle of his axe, Galandrik threw his arms up to cover his face, in some vain attempt to parry the downward strike; he shut his eyes and waited for the end.
Kern disabled his attacker with a slice to the leg, and followed with an upward stab to the soft, unprotected area under the orc’s jaw. Blood geysered from the wound and covered Kern as he knelt to finish the orc off. Glancing over to where Galandrik battled, Kern saw the orc standing above the dwarf with sword upraised; Galandrik’s arms were crossed – protectively, hopelessly – over his head.
Ty leapt forward with all the speed and dexterity he possessed; he dashed past Kern as the ranger jammed his sword deep under the orc’s chin. Ty raised his dagger, but knew he was too late.
Suddenly something hit Ty in the shoulder, spinning him round and into Kern’s dead opponent. Kern looked up as a lightning bolt stuck Ty a fleeting glance on its path to the orc above Galandrik. It stuck the orc in his side and knocked him flying to the ground; the orc convulsed uncontrollably as white lightning engulfed him all around. It crackled and sparked before slowly fading, leaving the orc’s body lying motionless on the floor.
Galandrik quickly rose, finally yanking his axe clear. He stepped over to the orc that had been struck by lightning and raised his axe; it came down with a sickening thud and split the orcs head like a watermelon.
Ty rolled to his feet, patting his shoulder frantically. “What in Hades was that?”
Kern looked to the doorway and saw Pedlyn holding his book in one hand, his other hand extended, palm up.
“Sorry, Ty,” Pedlyn said, lowering his outstretched hand. “You jumped in front from out of nowhere. I was aiming at the orc and had no time to spare.”
Galandrik turned and walked to the mage. “Thank you, Pedlyn. You saved my life, and I am truly in your debt,” the dwarf said as he bowed his head.
“You saved my life first; consider the scales balanced,” the mage answered, nodding back.
“So you’re a mage then?” Ty said, rolling his shoulder.
“No, he’s a blacksmith!” Kern laughed.
“You know what I mean,” Ty replied, bending down to search the dead orcs.
“Yes, I am a mage. My order is in Breeze, the Order of the Relentless.”
“You could have warned us. I wouldn’t have jumped in your way if I’d known,” Ty said, slipping some silver pieces into his tunic.
“Not everybody accepts us; a lot of people think we practice the black arts.”
“Well, we do accept you, and thank you for saving our friend,” Kern answered. Looking around, they saw they were in a square room with only a little furniture – a small table littered with cups, dice, and some copper pieces; a few chairs. A cupboard and two closed doors finished the room. After listening closely at one of the doors, he knelt and peered through the keyhole, then searched for traps by running his hands over the door and its frame. “I think it’s a store cupboard,” he said, as if speaking to himself. He placed his hand carefully on the doorknob and slowly, quietly, opened the door.
After peering inside, he pulled the door fully open to reveal a food and armoury store. Inside were old rusty swords, shields, daggers and everything else used to arm up an orc for battle; boxes of hard rations, fruit, and wine sat on other shelves.
“Good guess,” Galandrik quipped.
“I could smell the fruit.” Ty smiled at the dwarf.
They salvaged what they could use from the store, and searched the rest of the room.
Ty turned to the main door and closed it. “What’re you doing, Rat?” Kern asked. “Just locking this in case the guy who wanted to gut Pedlyn is following us. A little trap will help to hinder whoever may follow,” Ty explained as he searched the room for likely trap-making items.
“I could help with that, Ty. A little magic in the lock always hinders,” Pedlyn said.
“Be my guest,” the thief answered, picking up a line of hemp thread from an old crate.
Pedlyn pulled the gnarled wooden wand from his backpack and touched it to the keyhole, reciting some old elven words: “Shakran oy bolmak.” The lock glowed red as waves of dancing red lights circled the lock, then vanished.
Ty look over his shoulder and saw the wand. Muttering to himself, “A stick,” he shook his head. It would have fetched a good price, had he recognised it for what it was when he was sifting through the elf’s pack.
“What stick?” Kern asked.
“I need one for this trap, that’s all, nothing,” Ty said, retrieving a dagger from a dead orc’s belt.
After Ty had set his traps and the room had been fully searched, the second door was opened. It was an exit, leading to another corridor lit by lanterns.
The group moved on. They walked cautiously through endless corridors and old mine shafts, rats scurrying all around them. Galandrik got some menacing looks from Ty for kicking out at them.
The only real lead they had was the slight breeze that no one other than Ty could feel. Twice they paused to eat, and they stopped in an open room and slept, taking watch in shifts, but they continued to move on.
“We are going round in circles, Ty,” Kern grumbled.
“No we’re not,” Ty argued. “Trust me, I said.”
Kern looked at Galandrik and raised a sceptical eyebrow.
“We have been going for a long while,” Galandrik ventured.
“Well, you’re the dwarf that builds and lives under these wretched mountains; you find the way out!” Ty folded his arms and leaned back against a wall.
“All I was saying is…” and with that they heard a banging in the distance.
Ty looked at Pedlyn and in unison they said, “The traps at the door.”
“We’d better move, and move fast,” Ty said, stepping further down the corridor.
“Wait! Why run? They are looking for us; maybe we can ambush them?” Kern suggested.
“Good idea, but we need a better place than a corridor. Galandrik might just be spotted,” Ty said, looking at Galandrik, who sucked his belly in.
“Okay, let’s move forward and look for somewhe
re better,” Kern said, pushing past Ty.
They moved on as quickly as they dared; Ty kept a lookout for traps as best he could. The corridors weaved east and west, slowly inclining. Their legs began ache from the steepness of the climb. Eventually they reached an archway that opened onto a large balcony; beyond that was an open room that seemed to go on forever. There were alcoves, arches, and ledges everywhere they looked, orcs hustled and bustled on every platform and ledge, pulling ropes up and down to lift or lower buckets filled with rocks and water. It was like the inside of an ants’ nest. The commotion was staggering and the smell awful.
Kern gestured to the others to keep low, and they all crawled forward towards the edge of the balcony. Galandrik’s movements sounded like someone dragging a string of pots and pans, which infuriated Ty, and he glared more than once at the dwarf.
Once at the edge of the balcony they carefully peered over, between the rungs of a wooden handrail badly tied together with tiger grass.
Below them the scene was the same. A stream of rushing water flowed through the bottom of the room and out under a massive opening which looked like a huge open mouth swallowing the flow of water. Orcs scurried about in every direction, digging and smashing rocks with shovels, picks, and axes. Ty nudged Kern and pointed; Kern followed the line of Ty’s finger and saw Tovlok talking to three orcs at the bottom of the cavern, just above the mouth-shaped exit where the water rushed through.
Galandrik counted at least fifty workers and twenty armed orcs; he turned to Kern and whispered, “I think we could take them.”
Kern shook his head and pointed up at the higher ledges, scattered with orc archers.
“Pedlyn, have you any magic that could help us here?” Ty asked.
“Sorry. I’m a mage, not a miracle worker.”
“I guess we’ll have to go back and face… wait, if he’s down there, who’s behind us?” Kern asked, looking back down the tunnel.
“I say we fight,” Galandrik snarled.
Kern shook his head at the statement. “We wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Whatever you decide, decide it quick. Look,” Pedlyn said, pointing down the corridor to where flickering lights were coming into view.
“Shit! We’ll have to jump,” Kern announced.
“You are joking?” Ty frowned. “That’s fifty feet, we’ll be lucky to survive the fall!”
“What else should we do?” Kern snapped,
“Fight?” Galandrik asked hopefully.
“No!” Ty and Kern said together.
“Kern is right; we have no choice but to jump,” Pedlyn said, fumbling in his bag. He finally pulled out a bag of green leaves, and passed one to each of them. “Chew this, it’ll help you breathe under water. It will not last forever so don’t think otherwise; it will aid us, that’s all.”
They chewed the leaves with grimaces and gags. “Tastes like cat piss,” Ty said, trying to swallow.
“I’ll take your word on that,” Galandrik replied.
Kern drew his dagger and began to cut the tiger-grass bindings on the wooden handrail. The others followed his lead, not cutting completely through, but just enough that they knew a slight push would easily collapse the rail. The lights from the tunnel were growing brighter and now they could hear voices.
Suddenly an arrow hit the floor between Ty and Galandrik; at almost the same instant, a horn bellowed from up above, “Shit, they’ve spotted us!” Kern shouted. “No time to cut the bindings, jump NOW!”
The horn echoed around the cavern as arrows flew from all directions, one glancing off Pedlyn’s backpack, another striking Galandrik’s shoulder but failing to penetrate. Orcs began running up the slopes on either side. The companions scrambled up from the floor, trying to dodge the arrows that flew past. Kern swung a leg over the top of the handrail, but as he put his weight on it, it collapsed; he fell, very ungracefully, down into the water, Pedlyn following immediately behind him.
Ty looked over at Galandrik. “After you, my friend,” Ty said, side-stepping an arrow.
“See you in hell!” Galandrik shouted as he plummeted down into the water, arrows following his descent.
Ty stood poised on the edge. Always one for the dramatic gesture, he ducked another arrow, then held his arms out from his sides, closed his eyes, and let himself fall forward.
He waited for the sensation of weightlessness, the wind whipping past his face, but it didn’t come. He opened one eye, peeping down to see his feet still planted firmly on the rock. Something was holding him back. He tried to turn his head but could only manage a few inches in either direction. He waved his arms frantically as he felt himself rising into the air. His feet now clear of any solid ground, he felt himself slowly revolving.
Once he was fully turned, facing back down the corridor, he found himself face-to-face with Tovlok, who was holding him aloft by the scruff of the neck.
“Well, little one, it’s time you died,” Tovlok said, grinning. Ty released his wrist daggers and stabbed at the half-orc’s wrist, but it was like striking metal. “Pathetic,” the half-orc hissed, and raised a double-forked dagger up level with Ty’s face, savouring the moment.
Ty struggled as options flashed around in his head: Invisibility, wriggling out of his tunic, kicking, punching – but it was too late. He knew his time had come. Why didn’t I just jump like Kern did? Why always be dramatic? He watched, helpless, as the dagger was readied.
The half-orc’s eyes opened wide and his glare turned to stone. Ty glanced down and saw the tip of a blade protruding from his stomach, blood beginning to pour down his robes. His jaw opened and slowly his eyes rolled in his head. He toppled forward, Ty still clutched in his grip. As they plummeted towards the water Ty could see, standing in the space behind where Tovlok had stood, an unexpected face: Bok.
Chapter Eighteen: Babysitting Fire
Ty hit the water back-first, with the half-orc next to him. The water was freezing and he was blind. Confusion, panic, and disorientation washed over him as he was swept along towards the giant mouth. He struggled to reach the surface for a breath, but arrows were striking the water all around him. He could hear the whooshing noise they made when they hit the water. Spinning and turning he was carried along, but he didn’t struggle in the water; he seemed able to breathe without swallowing a drop.
He could just about make out the lifeless body of the half-orc being swept along next to him. As they went down into the mouth everything went dark. They rushed along, tossed and turned about by the rushing water, and then Ty felt himself falling. A waterfall, he thought, just as he was dropped again into another fast flowing stream. Ty struggled to see what was around him, trying to keep up with the water’s direction – then his world went black, as a sudden thud on his head sent him into a lifeless haze.
Kern, Galandrik, and Pedlyn were swept along in the water until they went over a third waterfall. Kern struggled to adjust to the bright sunlight, squinting his eyes tightly as he landed in a calm pool. He felt the bottom under his feet and pushed himself to the surface. Still struggling with the sudden daylight, his eyes slowly refocused as he bobbed on the surface of the water. There were several men standing on the banks of the pool all around them.
All the men were dressed in the livery of King’s guardsmen apart from one; that one was standing up front holding a large crossbow and dressed slightly more extravagantly, giving the impression of a higher rank.
“Don’t even think about it, thieves,” Tez said, cocking his crossbow. “Just swim over to that shore and lie still.”
Too wearied to resist, they did just that, swimming over to the closest shore and scrambling up, throwing their weapons down to the grass. Once fully disarmed, the guards prodded them until they all sat back to back, then one of the guards secured them with a length of rope, tying it off with a handful of complicated knots.
Suddenly, the body of the red-robed half-orc came flying over the ledge above them and landed into the water. After a few moments, it
bobbed to the surface face down. As it did, a shout was heard and four other bodies flew over the edge. These were very much alive, all thrashing and screaming.
After landing with enormous splashes, the four newcomers crawled out of the water, revealing themselves as Svorn, Bok, and two guards. They stood on the shore, catching their breaths and glaring at the roped men. “Where is he?” Bok shouted, struggling for breath.
“Where is who?” Kern answered with a knowing smile.
Bok turned to Svorn as if asking for permission, then swung a fierce backhand at Kern’s jaw, knocking his head into Pedlyn’s. A trickle of blood rolled down from Kern’s lip onto his chin.
“You may regret that,” Kern said calmly, licking his throbbing lip.
“I might, really? Right then,” Bok shouted, “I will ask you once more, where is that fucking Rat?”
“Kiss my –”
Bok punched Kern full in the nose; the crunch of breaking bone and cartilage was clearly audible. Kern winced and his eyes began to water; blood now streamed from his nose and mouth.
“This is your last chance,” Bok said, whipping a dagger from his belt and pressing it against Kern’s neck. Another trickle of blood dripped onto his tunic.
“I don’t know, we left before him. You saw what happened.”
Bok drew the dagger back to strike, but Svorn caught his arm, stopping the fatal blow.
“You are not killing anybody,” he said, and pushed Bok away. “You two, search them,” he ordered two of his guards; he ordered others to drag the body of the half-orc out of the water. After a thorough search of the captives and the corpse had revealed nothing, Svorn glared at Kern. “Where are the chests?” he barked.
“We sold them,” Kern answered.
“To whom?”
“The Fire and Water magic shop in Forkvain.”
“Is that right,” Svorn said, obviously sceptical.
“As I sit here now. They’d brought us nothing but trouble, so we cut our losses.”
“So let me get this straight… Your friend went to all that trouble to steal them and then you just sold them?”