by T. H. Lain
If any of the three expected large mounds of gold or jewels, they were disappointed. Most of the caravans from the north carried manufactured goods that the orcs either destroyed at the scene or brought back and broke for their amusement.
The orc lieutenants each had decent weapons and armor and some amount of treasure. The trio also found a few rolls of fine silk that the ogre had used for a giant pallet. They could be salvaged, if the soil and stink could be gotten out, but they were too heavy to carry. Almost by accident, Naull discovered a bag under a stone in the ogre's cave. It held nearly all the gold, silver, and jewelry they found in the lair.
"What do you think?" Regdar asked." About a thousand?"
Naull shrugged and said, "You wish. Some of these stones look pretty rough." She held up one large gem in their torch's light. "I'd say seven, eight hundred. Maybe." She tossed it back onto the pile. "I'm no expert, though."
The fighter sighed.
"How about this?" Ian asked, tossing the wizard a small vial.
She popped the stopper, dipped a pinky in, and tasted it carefully.
"I'm not sure. It's a potion, but I don't know what it does. Sorry."
The half-elf shrugged. There'd be time enough for detailed examinations later. He gathered up all the decent-looking weapons and armor—not a large amount of either—as well as a ring carved in the shape of a snake. All of it lay on a large, filthy blanket.
"All right; stand back," Naull said.
She gestured and looked at the pile. Not surprisingly, only a few items glowed with the hue of magic. She pointed at them, and the other two separated them from the pile. Concentrating, Naull read them as best she could.
"Sorry, Ian," she said with a grin, "no magic ring."
"So," Regdar said, "three arrows, a dagger, and a bead."
He bent over the smaller pile and picked up the spherical shape.
"Careful with that," Naull cautioned." It's the strongest of the bunch."
"Then you better take it," he said, tossing it to her.
Fumbling with momentary panic, Naull caught the small bead and glared, open-mouthed.
"Regdar!"
"Naull!" he mimicked, then smiled.
She smiled back and put the bead into one of her empty spell pouches.
"If you two are through playing," Ian said, "I'd like to get out of this stink."
Naull wrinkled her nose and said, "Hear, hear."
The party regrouped just outside the edge of the forest. Alhandra's horse was burdened with two corpses, both bundled in old bedrolls and tied carefully on its gray back. Early waved at the trio solemnly as they approached from the woods.
"What is it?" Regdar asked as he jogged toward the road.
Early lifted his arm and pointed south. A thick plume of black smoke rose above the hills.
Regdar cursed. He started to sling the sack he carried over Windlass's saddle, but the horse shied. Alhandra stepped up to him.
"What is it?" the paladin asked. She still had her helmet off, and she squinted toward the smoke.
"The warning fire," Naull said. "Before we went hunting the orcs, we set up a bonfire in the middle of the village. We planted alchemist's fire and some coal dust logs. We told the villagers to light it if there was trouble. Wouldn't help much during the dark, but..."
"Sure shows up good in the mornin' light," Early rumbled. He held his sword in one hand and his chipped shield in the other.
"Let's go," Regdar said. "Alhandra, would you...?"
"I beg you to let me accompany you," she interrupted the fighter.
He nodded.
"Thanks," Naull said.
The party jogged down the road as quickly as they could. The village lay only two miles south of the treeline, but they had to pass over and around several hills. The smoke grew as they ran and they took that as a hopeful sign—it must have been lit recently. The pile was built to burn fast and smoky, not long.
Ian, even with his wounds, started to outdistance the heavier members of the group, and Naull grew worried he would pass beyond their sight. She'd just made up her mind to sprint ahead and tell him to wait when he halted. As she, Regdar, Early, and Alhandra caught up, they saw a pair of figures, a halfling and a young boy, approaching from the south. They reached Ian at the same time as did the rest of the party.
"You're back!" the boy exclaimed.
Naull recognized him as the innkeeper's son. She couldn't remember the youth's name, though. His father, Eoghan, had done much of the talking for the villagers during their hiring. The boy panted, clutching his side, and the halfling looked at him with grim amusement.
"We came looking for you," said the halfling. His voice had the fine timbre common to his race—not high-pitched or thin, but light and strong.
"Why?" Regdar asked. "What happened?"
"We caught one," the boy gasped before the halfling could answer. His face was flushed, but he obviously wanted to be the one to break the news.
The halfling smiled and said, "The outriders—the ones you said we should have circling the village—they found one and brought him in. He was exhausted. It looked like he'd had a helluva bad time." There was no sympathy in the halfling's voice.
Regdar nodded, jerked a thumb back toward Windlass and the horse's burden, and said, "So did we."
The halfling paled slightly as he looked up at the two bedrolls and instantly guessed their contents. He looked from one adventurer to another, his gaze pausing briefly on Alhandra.
"Trebba?" he asked. "And the dwarf...Yurgen?"
Regdar nodded solemnly and the halfling's eyes dropped.
"What's your name, young man?" Alhandra asked gently but firmly.
"E-Eoghan..." he stammered, "but everybody calls me Straw, 'cause Eoghan's my father's name an' I'm in charge of the stable."
"Straw, can you take us to where they have this prisoner?"
"Yes ma'am," he said. "They've got him at ol' Urthar's farm. It's all the way around the village."
"All the way around? To the south?" Naull asked.
"Yeah," the boy answered.
"Why all the way around there?"
"That's where they caught it, I guess," the boy shrugged.
He looked up at Alhandra and she nodded. He started off down the path, with Ian and Early stepping up beside him.
Naull shook her head and yawned. Her head felt like it was full of cotton. Not surprising—they'd all been up for nearly twenty hours. Beneath the dirt and grime, she could see the dark rings under Regdar's eyes and realized she must look pretty ragged herself. She glanced at Alhandra's nearly spotless face and perfect skin, and felt her blood grow a little hot. She turned to the halfling.
"I'm sorry; I don't know you," she said.
"I'm Otto—Otto Farmen." The halfling bowed slightly and added, "I'm a friend of the boy's father. I work with the traders of times, but I've been out of town on business."
"Did you see the prisoner?" Naull asked. "The orc the outriders captured?"
Otto nodded and said, "They sent to the inn right after they caught it. I was just getting up an' Eoghan an' I hustled down to the farm with some others. Eoghan sent me back to light the fire and go looking for you. Straw insisted on coming along."
"Did they really catch it south of the village?" Naull continued.
"Yep. It was down at the edge of the Sandrift, collapsed by one of the springs. Looked like it'd been running all night." He noticed the pair frowning and asked, "Why?"
They told him about their adventures, paying careful attention to their time estimates. Otto took the stories of Yurgan's and Trebba's deaths without comment, but they could see anger smoldering within him.
"So," the halfling said as they concluded their tale, "you don't think this orc is one of the band that's been attacking our traders?"
"Right," Naull answered, and Regdar agreed. "We're certain no others escaped from the ambush, and an orc would not have had time to leave the lair and get all the way around the village
before dawn, even if there'd been some reason to do so."
Otto frowned and asked, "So where do you think this orc came from?"
Naull shrugged and Regdar shook his head.
"I guess that's what we'll have to find out," Regdar said. "It bothers me, though."
It bothered Naull, too.
When they reached the village, the square was nearly deserted. One woman stood tending the fire. She waved at them and Straw ran toward her. The party started in her direction then a sound erupted from the south, like a hundred voices all shouting at once. Naull didn't like the sound of it. She turned toward Regdar to say something, but the fighter was already loping across the square. Naull started in surprise to see Alhandra jogging along right beside him.
Another shout reached Naull's ears as they cleared the village square and headed along the south road. The party rounded a corner and headed up a muddy path toward a low ranch house. It looked as if the entire village had walked over the soft earth. A third shout came from behind the barn. They could see parts of the crowd on either side. Some people waved clubs, others torches, and a few had weapons.
"I don't like the look of this," Regdar said.
Naull didn't either, though she didn't know why. If the town truly caught one of the orcs that had been raiding their settlements and trading caravans, they had every right to execute it, though Naull didn't care much for mob rule.
The sight that greeted her when she rounded the corner confirmed her worst fears.
From the hayloft pulley hung a nearly naked body. Streaks of blood ran down the scarred, well-muscled chest and legs. Grayish skin looked almost purple in the morning light. Wounds on the face had closed one eye and the other stared at the crowd dispassionately. As Naull watched, one of the villagers jabbed the hanging figure with a pitchfork. The body twisted and blood seeped out of the wounds as the crowd yelled, but the figure made no sound. It breathed heavily, though, so Naull knew the creature was still alive.
"That's no orc," Ian hissed in her ear.
The wizard gaped. She couldn't imagine how she'd been so blind. The figure twisted back toward her so she could see the face and features clearly. The eyes bulged, the forehead sloped, and one fang protruded from a prominent underbite, but Naull had fought and killed enough orcs to know the difference between those brutal, barbarous humanoids and this poor wretch.
"He's a half-orc," Naull breathed.
"Probably an evil son of a bitch, too," Ian said. Before Naull could object he added, "But he doesn't deserve this. Not just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Are you sure of that?" Regdar asked. "He could've been up to something."
"Everybody's 'up to something'," Ian answered coldly. He glared at Regdar, then shook his head. "Doesn't mean he had anything to do with our orcs."
"Is it any of our business?" Naull asked, but she knew the answer.
Regdar smirked and said, "Hey, it's not as if we have anything else to do—like sleep." His tanned face was lined with fatigue but also grim resignation.
"How do we stop it?" she asked, looking from Ian to Regdar.
The sharp sound of steel being drawn broke the tired wizard out of her thoughts. She started, seeing Alhandra with her weapon in hand, her silver armor gleaming in the sunlight. The paladin stepped forward. Naull had a horrifying flash of her hacking a path through the unarmored villagers and she put out a hand to stop her.
Regdar grabbed Naull by the arm as she moved toward the paladin. She looked back at the fighter but he shook his head slowly. His dark, tired eyes met hers then looked toward the armored figure striding to the edge of the crowd. Her sword was down and the point moved away from the nearest villagers. Naull's tired mind caught up with what little she knew of Alhandra, and paladins in general, and she relaxed slightly.
As Regdar released his grip on her arm, however, he said, "Be ready." He looked over at Ian, who appeared about to collapse, then he scanned the crowd. "Where's Early?"
Naull shrugged.
The fighter let out an exhausted sigh and said, "Well, be ready to back her up."
The sun shown down on the damp ground and the murmuring crowd, but one thing was obvious despite the dawn: Night wasn't over yet.
The Village
"Stop!"
The paladin's powerful tenor cut through the noise of the crowd. Those who saw her stride forward into their midst tugged on their neighbors, who turned and gaped. Others whirled as if struck. No one ignored her cry. Even the prisoner turned his one open eye toward the paladin.
Alhandra stopped halfway through the crowd. Regdar, Naull, and Ian watched uneasily as the men and women of the village closed in around her. Regdar pushed his way forward and the villagers nearest him avoided his spiked armor. Naull fidgeted with her spell pouches, knowing she had nothing left for this sort of situation. She saw Regdar trying to make sure Alhandra had a way out, if she wanted one.
She didn't look like she wanted a way out—or felt she might need one.
"You!" she pointed at the man nearest the rope holding the half-orc aloft. "Cut him down!"
The man actually started forward, but another, bigger man grabbed his arm. The big man held a spiked mace and wore a leather apron around his neck. He hadn't tied it around his back, though, and the apron swung free. Bushy muttonchops covered the sides of his thick face, and his black hair gave him a strong, almost violent appearance.
"No!" the man said.
He didn't exactly brandish his mace at Alhandra, but the challenge was there. Her sword stayed at her side, point down but gleaming naked in the sunlight.
She recognized the big man as Eoghan, the innkeeper. His eyes flickered over the adventurers, particularly Regdar, as his face grew red.
"What's going on? You're supposed to be out huntin' these."
"We were," Regdar shouted in answer. "We did. We got them. All of them," he added pointedly.
Naull wasn't so sure. The figure strung up at the bailing pulley looked very orclike in some ways ... but not in others. His features, covered in blood and bruises, looked uneven and his skin was grayish, but he didn't have the exaggerated jaw or bushy fur she'd seen so recently on the orc lieutenants.
"Regdar..." Naull started.
"Quiet!" Regdar snapped in a whisper, glancing back. "No time for discussion. Shut up and back me up!"
Naull recoiled, stung by his words and surprised at his tone, but the fighter didn't notice.
He shouted to the crowd again, "We ambushed the orcs, followed them back to their lair, and finished them off. None of them escaped."
A ragged cheer went up, but was cut short as Eoghan stamped his foot, drawing everyone's attention back to the prisoner. The crowd murmured.
The paladin, picking up Regdar's cue, said, "Their leader, an ogre, lies dead not five miles north of here, along the forest path. He was the last."
Brandishing his mace like a torch, Eoghan shot back, "Not the last, knight! I don't know who you are, but we hired them to get rid of all th' scum raiding our farms and killing our friends. All o' them!"
He jerked the rope that held the prisoner aloft. Eoghan echoed Regdar's words in his challenge, but his eyes flashed at Alhandra.
She accepted the challenge. Sheathing her sword with a flourish that showed much practice, the paladin walked slowly toward the barn. Whether grumbling against her or looking awestruck at her, the crowd parted until she reached the bailing porch. She climbed up onto the stand gracefully, despite the bulky armor she wore. Eoghan did not step back, but Alhandra interposed herself between the innkeeper and the hanging half-orc.
"I am a paladin of Heironeous. You know what our order stands for?"
Eoghan didn't respond, but several in the crowd eyed the holy symbol emblazoned on Alhandra's breastplate and looked uneasy.
"Justice," she answered herself. "Law."
Her armor gleamed in the sunlight. Mutters of support began in the crowd, but Eoghan bristled.
"Law? Whose law?
Where are you from, paladin?"The big innkeeper slurred the title but Alhandra didn't react. "This is our village. Durandell respects the laws of the king, but no outsider tells us how to enforce our laws!"
He wasn't speaking to Alhandra, but to the villagers. Indeed, Eoghan turned away from the paladin and took half a step toward the crowd. The big innkeeper was used to public speaking. He served as something of a combination mayor and lawyer in the little town. He had the villagers' respect, but he knew an outsider of Alhandra's stature was imposing to the simple village folk. Working to suppress his rustic accent, he wiped his bare hand on his apron and raised it over his head.
"Where were the knights o' the kingdom when the orcs started raiding the few traders we could get to come here, so far off their normal routes?" he asked. "Where were the law keepers when th' orcs raided Tesko's farm?" Eoghan jabbed a meaty index finger at an older man wielding a wooden hayfork. The man had a haunted look in his eyes and nodded grimly. "Where was the soldiery when they burned the Snailrooks' wagons an' killed half the little folk as they tried to escape th' flames?" A plump halfling woman's eyes flashed as several in the crowd turned to look at her. Eoghan whirled on Alhandra and snapped his fingers under her chin. "Where were you, knight? Where were you? When we sent out the call for mercenaries—paid for with what little gold we could raise—they came." Eoghan gestured at Regdar and nodded briefly. Then he trained his attention back to the paladin and enunciated his last three words slowly and carefully. "Where were you?"
Alhandra didn't blink, didn't flinch, but she didn't answer, either. Grumbling started again in the crowd.
"She came," Regdar said, stepping forward.
His weapon remained slung across his back, but he stood amongst the crowd in defiance. Regdar presented a stark contrast to Alhandra. Naull supposed the crowd could see just how much mud, blood, and even rust spotted Regdar's plate armor. The goatee and face Naull found dashing hadn't been shaved or washed in days, and dark circles stood out under his eyes. If a few patches of trail dust clung to Alhandra's silver armor and dark traveling cloak, that was all. Naull imagined Regdar looked like a hero the villagers could imagine one of their own becoming, but Alhandra was an alien, an outsider. She was someone who could be held in awe and maybe even respect, but could never be one of them, and Eoghan took advantage of that difference deftly.