Survivors

by Dave Willmarth

  “Mace told me that when he discovered the stronghold, he killed fifty slavers who were living there. There may not be beds for everyone right away, but there is room for more. And we can craft furniture in time.”

  Ag’thar’s eyes widened. “Your friend killed fifty slavers himself?”

  Griff shook his head. “He had a halfling with him. She had been a prisoner there. He freed her, and she helped kill the guards.”

  “Ha! So your drow and a halfling killed fifty slavers. I think I will like your friends.” The orc chief chuckled to himself. Then his eyes lit up with Griff’s next words.

  “Actually… if I counted right, by now they have killed more than two hundred and fifty slavers. More showed up to check on the first group. They died outside the stronghold. And no, Mace did not do it alone. He had help. Then they discovered another fifty or so on a boat headed toward the stronghold, and killed them. When they reached Port Bjurstrom, they killed about a hundred more. Now they are on the way to Graf to finish off the rest of the Black Flame.”

  Ag’thar grinned. “It seems it does not pay to make your friend angry. That is a long way to go to teach some slavers a lesson.”

  Griff nodded in agreement. He didn’t know Mace well. But he did know Mace was pursuing multiple quest lines toward Graf. He didn’t feel the need to share that with the orc, however.

  Instead, he said, “You and your people will have to swear an oath in Elysia’s name. There are some things you will see on the other side of that portal that cannot be shared with anyone. Violation of the oath would mean the wrath of Elysia and instant death. The portals alone would have every nation on the continent fighting to take control of the stronghold.”

  Ag’thar nodded. Unbidden, he took a knee, placed a fist over his heart, and said, “I swear to Elysia that I will never reveal the secrets of Darkstone Loch or betray its people. May she shatter my soul should I violate this oath.” As he finished a swirl of silver light surrounded him, then appeared to be absorbed into his body. Elysia’s acknowledgement of his oath.

  Griff held out a hand and helped the orc to his feet. He shook the hand before letting it go. “I think you and Mace will be good mates.” Then he chuckled at the alarmed look on the chief’s face. “Sorry. Good friends. In my world, ‘mates’ is a word for friends. And for actual mates. It’s all a bit confusing.”

  The chief looked relieved Griff took a moment to message Mace. “The portal is here. The chief came with us. He has just sworn an oath not to reveal the secrets of the dungeon to anyone. We have extended your invitation. If he accepts, should we begin to move his people?”

  Griff waited a few minutes as the group left the cave and began their walk back to the camp. It wasn’t far. Before they’d even made it down off the rocks, the reply came, from Shari instead of Mace.

  “Yes. You’ll need to go with them, so there’s no confusion with the guards at the stronghold. You’ll need to tell them that we sent you. If they doubt you, tell them you want to speak with Brahm and Captain Charles. When you see them, tell them you know they’ve evolved because Mace chose them. That should be enough to convince them. If not, message Mace and we’ll do some ‘only he would know’ kind of thing.”

  After another pause, she said “If things go well at the stronghold, you don’t have to stay. We know you have more leveling to do, and the village might be the best place to do it. But we have another option. Offer the village leaders the chance to relocate too. If they swear the same vow of secrecy, you can tell them about the portals to entice them. Your party members that have seen the portal need to swear the same. Also, they can work the mine and keep fifty percent of the resources. The rest goes to improving the community. And we’ll buy their share from them at a fair price if they’d like.”

  Griff felt a cold chill run up his spine as something occurred to him. “And if my party won’t swear?”

  There was a short pause, then Mace’s voice came through. “If they won’t swear, then take them through the portal to the stronghold. I don’t want to do it, but we’ll deny them access to their village until either the village has sworn secrecy, they agree to swear on their own, or the village relocates. There’s just too much at risk. Think how many citizens would be killed if a war started over those portals.”

  “I hear ye. It’s just… I hope me friends are feelin’ cooperative.” Griff replied.

  He paused as they walked, and eventually the others stopped as well. Turning to his friends, he said, “I’m sorry. But I need the three o’ ye to swear the same oath Ag’thar has sworn before we go back to the camp or the village. This be a secret some mayn’t be able to keep. And if word o’ the portals were ta spread, there’d be war. Thousands o’ citizens would die.”

  He wrung his hands together as he spoke. He didn’t like making such demands of his friends, though he agreed with the need to do so. And if they refused, he would be seriously conflicted about taking them back through the portal.

  Without hesitation, Meg, Jo, and Leroy took a knee and repeated Ag’thar’s oath. The same swirling silver light enveloped them. As they rose to their feet, Griff hugged each one of them. “Thank ye. I hated ta ask but…”

  Jo held up a hand. “We’re just surprised ye didn’t demand an oath o’ silence before ye took us to yonder cave.” The others grinned at him, pointing out his mistake but softening the blow. “Get yer head outta yer arse and forget about it.” She added.

  As they continued their march, Griff said, “I’ll let ye in on another lil secret. Mace has invited yer whole village to join the Falling Water tribe at the stronghold. Providin’ they’re willin’ ta take the oath as well, and become loyal citizens o’ the community. There be a mine there, and maybe even access to the other portals.”

  Meg nodded. “Me da’s been sayin’ how ye two wouldn’t be staying long in the village. And worryin’ bout what we’ll do after ye leave. Might be the elders would consider it.”

  It was late morning when they returned to the orc camp. Ag’thar called all of his people together at the central fire. He even sounded a horn that recalled the scouts watching the perimeter. When all his people were present, the elders sat in a half circle in front of Ag’thar. He began to speak quietly.

  “We have suffered much defending this place. Our new home. The dark ones come, and though we defeat them each time, we also lose a few of our own. Our once proud tribe has become a dying memory. We can not withstand many more raids.”

  The other orcs all nodded, some looking fearfully toward the forest. This was not news to any of them. Ag’thar continued. “Much of our blood has fertilized this soil. It has become our home. Yesterday I would have said we will defend it with our last breath.” A communal growl of approval poured forth from the crowd.

  “But today our friends have given us another choice. There is a place we can go. A stronghold, far away. It is cut into the mountain, and there are already others there who would welcome us. Not just orcs, but many races. We would be safe to hunt, and farm, and raise our children.”

  There were muttered questions among the gathered orcs. Ag’thar paused a bit longer and said, “But if we choose to move there, it may mean the end of the Falling Water tribe. We would merge with a larger clan, to protect each other. To help each other grow.”

  One of the elder orcs raised a hand, and the group went silent. She looked to be about a hundred years old. Her scarred, wrinkled skin was mottled with age spots and her hair had gone white. Both eyes were cloudy, and Griff wondered if she could see at all.

  “It is simple. If we remain here, we die. Our warriors, our children. If we go to this new place, we live. Falling Water is a new name we gave ourselves when we came here. A proud name, and honorable. But still just a name. I will cast off my name in return for the lives of our children.”

  Another elder, this one a warrior with a missing eye, spoke next.

  “We are Falling Water! We do not surrender. We took this place as our home. Fought the forest for
it. We have defended it time and again! If we die here, it proves we were too weak to hold it. That is the way of the orc.”

  The orc next to him shook his head.

  “No. Stubborn fool. To waste our lives in a fight we have no hope to win is not bravery. It is foolishness. I will fight any orc or beast one on one. Maybe two on one. But to stand defiant before a hundred enemies is not bravery. It is a waste of life.”

  Most of the other elders and the orcs gathered around them grunted approval at this.

  Griff raised his hand, asking for permission to speak. Ag’thar nodded.

  The dwarf looked at the volatile elder who wanted to stay. “This new place will have plenty of enemies. Many will wish to seize our resources for themselves. You will simply have new enemies to battle, and new allies to stand beside you.”

  The old orc looked less certain as he considered Griff’s words. Finally, he nodded and gave a grunt of acknowledgement. It was better than Griff expected.

  Ag’thar asked “Any others wish to speak?”

  When none raised a hand, he said “I call for a vote. Do we follow our friends to a new home? Who wishes to go?”

  Hands shot up among the crowd and each of the elders slowly raised a hand.

  “And who wishes to stay?”

  Griff and the others searched the crowd. No hands appeared.

  “Then it is settled. Pack your things. You have one hour. The journey is not long, so bring all that you can carry. Our friends will help.”

  Griff and the others sprang into action. Leroy and Jo went with the female elder who’d spoken first. Turned out she was the medicine woman and had a large collection of potions and ingredients to move. Meg went to help with the children, keeping them busy while the adults packed. She chased them around the central fire, making growling noises and occasionally tackling one and tickling them. The others would pile on and ‘free’ their comrade, and the game would start again.

  Griff and Lisa went with Ag’thar, taking several bulky, heavy items and putting them into their bags. The orcs did not have bags of holding, and would have to carry everything on their backs. Griff lifted an anvil and dropped it into his inventory. Though he knew it was only in his mind, he felt heavier. When the orcs began to break down their huts, Ag’thar stopped them.

  “We will sleep underground for now. Bring the furs, but leave the wood. If we need to build new huts, we will find wood to do so.”

  It was closer to two hours before the camp was fully packed. Griff didn’t push them, though. They were leaving their home. Another hour either way was no loss for him. Lisa and Meg were each carrying a child on their shoulders as they began the march. The other children danced around them, waiting for their turns.

  They arrived at the cave by mid-afternoon. Ag’thar led them single-file up the rocks and behind the waterfall. One of the young ones slipped and fell off the ledge into the water. Lisa was preparing to jump in after when the child’s mother held her back. The child surfaced in the pool below and his young friends pointed and laughed. The boy quickly swam to the edge of the pod and scurried back up the rocks to join his mother. She clapped him on the back of the head, admonishing him to be more careful.

  The line got moving again and eventually they all reached the cave. It was crowded inside, so Lisa quickly moved to locate the portal. This time she didn’t go through first.

  “It’ll be a wee bit disorienting when ya step through. Like walkin’ on air. Ya may stumble on the other side. Just don’t block the portal. Crawl if ya must, but move to one side so that the others don’t fall over ya.”

  Ag’thar raised his hands. “Before we step through to our new home, we must swear by the goddess to never betray the secrets of our new home. Take a knee.”

  All but the oldest of the elders complied. Ag’thar led them through the oath, and the same silver lights appeared around each of the tribe’s members without exception. Children too young to understand were bound by their parents’ oaths.

  Then Ag’thar turned and, one hand held out in front of him, stepped through the portal.

  Lisa regulated the flow, making each of the orcs wait several seconds before stepping through so that the one ahead of them had time to move out of the way. In just a few minutes, all of the orcs and their supplies were through.

  The dwarves followed, Griff going first and Lisa bringing up the rear.

  As soon as he was through and had his legs back under him, he spun around, looking at all the portals. His sense of adventure made him itch to go exploring right then and there. Instead, he sent a message. “The entire tribe of about sixty has come through.”

  “Great! Thank you, Griff. If you’ll lead them upstairs and make the introductions, I would be grateful,” Shari answered. “If you have any problem with the door trigger at the top of the stairs, let us know.”

  Griff led the procession out of the room and up toward the surface. None of the four players had been sure whether any of the monsters would respawn. But when they exited the doors to the portal room there were no undead waiting for them.

  It took less than an hour to reach the final steps and the exit to the dungeon. Then they climbed the steps that led to the chest in Justin’s old chamber. Lisa was able to find the switch that unlocked the panel, and they proceeded upward.

  Griff stepped out of the bedchamber into the corridor. Immediately on either side of him were the two large rooms filled with bunks that had housed the slaver guards. Griff held out his hands to indicate both doors.

  “There should be enough beds for most of your people here. I suggest the elders, children, and most of your people begin to settle in. You can come with us to find the guards above. Bring as many of your people as you feel is necessary.”

  Ag’thar motioned for his people to move into the rooms. Then he turned. “I will come alone. No point in frightening our new friends with a mighty host of orc warriors!” he grinned as several of the orcs behind him laughed. So did Griff.

  “Good thinking! Follow me. And try not to look too scary.”

  *****

  Mace and Shari logged back into the game and found the Sea Sprite was once again underway. They were immediately accosted by Stonehand and Red, who thanked them quietly and sincerely for their newly evolved status. Red looked at Stonehand as he finished speaking his thanks, and rolled her eyes. “This one. He was fearless before. Now I’ll be chasin’ him into every battle within a hundred leagues!”

  Stonehand looked completely unrepentant as Mace chuckled. “At least now ye can’t fail in yer job. I can’t be killed, so ye can just sit back on yer shapely arse and relax.”

  Mace held up a hand. “I don’t know if Elysia explained this, but dying is painful. Very painful. And the higher level you are, the worse it hurts. For outworlders, we lose levels when we die; I don’t know if it will be the same for you. So don’t run off and get yourself killed right away.”

  The dwarf nodded once, but it didn’t seem to dampen his enthusiasm.

  “I hear there be close to two hundred o’ them Black Flame ninnies ta kill in Graf. How bout we split ‘em? I’ll take a hundred, you and your lot get the rest?”

  Red rolled her eyes again. “I’m going to need more knives.”

  The group passed the next few hours chatting and planning the best way to take down the entrenched slaver organization. Captain Jorin came to sit with them, informing them that the Sea Sprite had made much better progress than expected both yesterday and that morning. At their current pace, they were less than two hours sail from Graf.

  Mace looked to the side at the landscape passing by them at a good clip. He didn’t understand the nautical measurements for speed call ‘knots’ but he figured they were moving along at a solid thirty miles per hour. The sails were full and the boat pushed against the river’s current with ease. Mace gazed up at the sky and noticed something that made smile. “Friggin

  “Friggin’ devs,” he muttered to himself as he watched what could only be an Af
rican Swallow flying over the trees, carrying a coconut. It disappeared into the trees ahead.

  As he observed the copse of trees approaching on the port side, he caught a glint of metal. Not in the trees, but in the air above the riverbank. He stared for a second, thinking that it must have been a glint of light off the water. Then he saw it again. Metal. Wire. A horrifying realization hit him.

  “Down!” he shouted. “Everybody down on the deck! Now!” He dove at Jorin, who was looking around in confusion, as were many of his crew. “There’s a wire! Someone strung a wire!”

  Those were the only words he got out before a sailor on the foredeck screamed. They all looked up in horror as his legs were separated from his body above the knee. The wire was now visible to all, and the rest of the crew hit the deck. As the boat sped forward, the wire raked the railings on either side and threw crates and barrels on their sides or cut through them. Then it struck the first mast.

  The boat lurched as its forward speed was almost stopped dead. The wire cut deeply into the wood of the mast, then snapped. Its two ends whipped across the deck, slicing deeply into half a dozen sailors, decapitating one who raised his head to watch.

  The damage was done. The mast groaned under the weight of the wind in its sails, then snapped and fell forward. The moment that happened, arrows and magic attacks raced in at the crew from both sides of the river. Already a fireball had hit the fallen mast and set it on fire.

  Shari and the others leapt to their feet and began to return fire. Layne played a tune that buffed their party and crew’s Stamina and Health Regeneration, while Mace shouted, “Frigus!” and cast a sheet of ice over the downed sail, dousing the fire and hopefully preventing another one from starting. The crew were frantically moving to load the ballistae or picking up crossbows and firing at their attackers on the banks. Mace saw several of the enemy fighters go down, but it seemed there were dozens more.

  He began to cast fireballs of his own. “Infier!” he shouted again and again as he burned away the shrubs the enemy was using for cover. Several of their archers were scorched as well. But crew members were dropping from the withering fire. There were few places to take cover, as missiles were coming from both sides of the river. Jorin shouted for them to move crates and barrels to create some protection for themselves.