"Get up; you're coming with us," said the man closest to her, low but forceful. His shaved head and several visible scars only added to the menace he projected.
"We are not going anywhere with you! What do you want with us?" she said. "Who are you?"
"Keep your mouth shut and move; we won't have any problem forcing you."
Before she could say or do anything, the man that had been sitting at the table next to them spoke.
"I believe the lady said she does not want to go with you."
He was moving as he spoke, putting his back toward the front wall of the room and coming within a step or two of the second man on that side of the table.
The man who had been speaking to her snapped around as did his partner. The partner put a hand on his sword hilt, but the original speaker appeared to be in charge. He spoke again now.
"This doesn't have anything to do with you, and you would be wise to mind your own. This is a matter concerning the Crown."
"Does the Crown make a habit of sending four armed thugs to frighten children and young women?"
"This 'young woman' is wanted for murder and the kidnapping of these two children. As soldiers in the guard, it is our duty to bring her in," the leader spit out.
Alyssa, whose jaw had dropped at what he was saying, blurted "That is a lie! We were attacked on the way here from Haley."
"Silence!" The shaven-headed thug barked at her, then to the man who had stopped them... "This isn't your concern citizen, stand aside."
"Since you are all out of uniform, I will assume you're off duty or on leave?" He looked at the other two on the far side of the table. The one closest to him would not meet his eye.
"That's right," the other man on the far side said. "We do our duty, on leave or not."
"Well, this is cleared up easily enough. Send one of your men to the garrison in town, and have Captain Bridgewater come vouch for your story. He should be the one you're bringing them to anyway."
"We don't answer to this captain, and-"
"Enough of this!" shaven-head's partner snapped. He started pulling his sword, saying "Let's just take the bitches and kill this -"
He never finished. The stranger clamped a hand on the wrist that was drawing the sword and shoved back down. At the same time the other hand, moving almost too fast for Alyssa to follow, drove into the man's throat. He fell to his knees with his hands going to his neck and made a gurgling, wheezing sound before toppling to the floor. The leader stepped back, and grabbed the hilt of his sword as the other two started toward the stranger. They had barely taken a step when a heavy thump sounded and the one in back dropped to the floor as if his legs had been cut out from under him. Simultaneously, Brody had grabbed the other by his shirt at the neck yanking back and then kicking the man's feet out to the side while dragging him to the floor. He followed up immediately with the cudgel he had used on the first thug.
While all of this had happened very fast, and had startled her, Alyssa still had the presence of mind to react. She stood drawing her dagger while shaved-head's attention was on the stranger, and before his blade was more than half drawn she had the dagger digging into his side just enough to get his undivided attention. He froze.
The stranger stepped forward and relieved the man of his weapons. Setting those aside he spun the man around pulling his hands behind him. He quickly pulled the string loose from the neck of his own tunic and tied the man's thumbs tightly together and sat him in a chair. Brody was watching the rest of the room to ensure no further interference.
"Marian," the stranger called, "get us some rope so we can tie these four up securely."
Marian turned from where she was standing behind the bar and hurried back through the kitchen.
"Meric Vettor," the stranger said, "pleased to meet you." Looking at Alyssa with a slight grin, he nodded once.
She stared at him with what she was sure was a blank look for a moment before dropping back into her chair and putting her face in her hands.
"I see you haven't lost your touch with the ladies," Brody joked, then barked out a loud laugh.
Alyssa looked up as the two girls huddled close to her again. She pulled them in and hugged them tightly. "Thank you," she said to Meric, then turning to take in Brody. "Thank you. We..." She let out a heartfelt sigh that was almost a sob and said again, simply, "Thank you."
Marian came back in and passed the rope to Brody, who then began to bind the wrists and feet of the men.
"Will," Meric said to a young boy, maybe ten to twelve years old standing behind Marian. He had followed her in from the back along with an older woman wearing an apron. "Go back through the kitchen, out the back way. Take care not to let anyone see you. Go to the garrison and ask Captain Bridgewater to come with enough men to handle four violent troublemakers. Make sure you tell him he needs to come along as well."
Will nodded and darted to the back of the inn and through the kitchen door. Meric had moved to help Brody tie up the men, finishing with the leader. They lay all of them on their stomachs on the floor.
"Well," Brody said, dusting his hands and turning to take in the now quiet common room. "Sorry 'bout that bit of excitement folks, but it's all handled with no undue harm to any but those what deserved it. As you can see, we look out for our customers here at The Soldier's Rest. The guard will come and take these ruffians in hand, and you'll have no more trouble tonight."
A slight murmur rose from the room as Meric sat in a chair at Alyssa's right side. He looked at the two girls who were obviously tired, and already about to nod off at the table, despite the earlier excitement. He then looked at her and asked, "Are they alright?"
She nodded. "They will be. They have had a rough time the past two days. They just need rest."
"Can you tell me what this is all about?" He gestured to the men on the floor.
She hesitated, but realized that she was not going to be able to do this alone. She was also aware that this man and the innkeeper had helped when they did not have to. She was going to have to trust someone eventually.
"This garrison captain... you know him?" she asked.
"I do. James Bridgewater. He's a good man and loyal to the Crown, beyond a doubt."
"Can we wait for him? He will need to hear the story, and I would rather not have to tell it twice," she said.
"Of course. Sorry, I'm sure you three have been through a lot. Why don't we get them upstairs and into a bed, so they can sleep comfortably?"
She sighed, relief clearly written all over her face. "Yes, please."
Meric walked over to Brody, who had returned to the bar. Alyssa picked up Sara and prodded Teresa until she stood up, so they could head upstairs. Meric led them up and then let them into the room that was directly across from the stairs, and waited while Alyssa went in and settled the girls in the only bed that was in the room. When she came out she followed Meric back down and they sat at her table again. Marian was waiting with mulled wine for her and what appeared to be ale for him. She relaxed a little and sipped on the wine glad to finally be able to let her guard down, if only just a little.
"My name is Alyssa Camden, by the way," she smiled weakly at him and added, "pleased to meet you."
He smiled back and bowed his head to her. Then Brody sat down with them and she turned to him. "I still need to pay for our meal, and discuss the price for the room."
Brody waved her comment off. "These friendly lads have generously offered to cover your meal and lodgings." He said, patting a clinking vest pocket and kicking the boot of the nearest of the men on the floor. "Ain't that right boys?" The kicked man grunted, but did not argue.
Brody looked at Meric questioningly. "We're waiting on James," was the return answer.
Brody looked thoughtful. "Good thinking. Probably sort this out quickly. Brody Sonder, at your service." The last he aimed at Alyssa.
They sat in surprisingly comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. For Alyssa's part; now that she wasn't worri
ed about survival, she finally began to think through the events of the last couple of days trying to make sense of it. She was beginning to think the mention of Orcs had just been from fear, and that this was more likely bandits. Trying to figure out who was behind the attacks was going to be impossible without more information. There were too many people that could profit from taking the children hostage. How they were found was the more troubling question. While it was no secret they would be returning from Whitehall, when they left was known only to Alyssa, their escort, and the people at the keep on the day they departed.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the soldiers filing in through the front door of the inn. The man in the lead had captain's insignia pinned to his uniform, and he was the one to step forward and look at their table after glancing at the prisoners.
"Your handiwork, Meric?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Just one. Brody here took care of two others," He turned to look at Alyssa. "And the lady handled the last."
Alyssa's cheeks warmed a little at the praise, and maybe partly due to the clear admiration in his voice and eyes. She ducked her head slightly and cleared her throat before looking at the Captain. "Those men accosted me and the two young girls accompanying me. The girls are upstairs sleeping. Meric and Brody came to our aid."
The Captain looked back to Meric who gave him a quick version of what happened ending the tale with sending Will to the garrison.
"The fellow with the shaved head appeared to be in charge. There was also a weaselly looking fellow talking to them who left right before they got up and started the trouble."
Alyssa smiled at the description of the man that mirrored her own thoughts of him from earlier, thoughts that she certainly was not feeling guilty about anymore.
James nodded and then turned to the soldier next to him. "Tomas, take these men to the holding cells and keep them separate."
Tomas turned and went about following his orders with crisp efficiency. James sat at the last chair at Alyssa's table. "Alright, what is this all about?"
"We had just passed through Haley not even two hours before, when we were attacked. We had left Whitehall the day before, on our way back to Dallena. The girls, Teresa and Sara, had been visiting their Uncle Robert and Aunt Tessa. Just after-"
"Wait!" James interrupted. "Teresa and Sara? Uncle Robert... are you telling me the King and Queen's only two children are upstairs?" he demanded with an incredulous look.
"Damn," Meric muttered.
"Let's just get the whole story out first, and see what we've got," stated Brody. Alyssa gave him a grateful smile, and then told them everything she knew.
CHAPTER THREE
Destiny
The long hall lay silent, save the flicker of some nearby candles as Veesha stood at the end of one of three main tables lined up side by side at the center of the room. It was a decidedly calmer scene than it had been over a week ago when he had hosted the conclave of clan chiefs. Already a loud, raucous people, they had nearly deafened him when he told them of the reason for calling all of the chiefs to council. They had scoffed, ridiculed and some even got up to leave. Nearly every Orc in the chamber had reacted with anger or contempt, until his next statement silenced them all, like snuffing out a candle.
He Looked around the now deserted room and felt the familiar bitterness at seeing the old, frayed tapestries and fading paintings. The few sculptures around the room were ancient, and most of the Orcs who saw them did not even know what they represented. How the mighty had fallen, as his father used to say. They were once a race of scholars, artists, musicians, and craftsman. They had built amazing feats of architecture, wondrous works of art, and composed music that could make one weep with joy or sorrow. They had been learned in the ways of science, religion, and philosophy. Their shaman had been masters of the arcane, capable of achievements that were only thought of as myth in this age. Now, they were a race of brutes, bludgeoning anything they did not understand until it conformed to their concept of how things should be.
So when he told them he had the location of their most revered religious icon, a divinely bestowed relic that had been crucial to some of the most important moments in their history, the majority of them had not quieted in awe of its significance. They had been hushed by the potential the Scepter of Maris had for destruction, and most of the chieftains were thinking of how they could use such a weapon to get what they wanted. He had their support, but only until the artifact was found. Then it would be a matter of who got their hands on it first, and used it to gain dominance. History repeating itself.
Veesha knew his father had been disappointed when his only son had chosen the path of the warrior, instead of following in his scholarly footsteps, but Veesha understood the heart of his people better than his father ever had. So he had learned to fight, and he had used the education that had been force fed to him by that same father to rise up through the ranks. In a way, it had been his father's fault he chose the path he was on. He had been an exceptional student when he was younger and had enjoyed learning of their past, but finding out that he was a direct descendant of some of the Orc people's greatest leaders drove him to believe he could achieve more than being merely noted for his scholarly pursuits. His knowledge of historical warfare, and politics had served him well. Now he had reached the pinnacle, and he could use all of his teachings to help usher in a new age for his people. A return to the former glory of times past. They could once again become the enlightened race of beings, favored by the gods and destined to rule over the masses. A destiny that had been stolen away from them, by the greed of those vile little Dwarves.
He had to admit to himself that it had been pure luck that put him in a position to capture the two Dwarves that had finally given up the location of the relic. One might even believe that a higher power had been guiding him, or at least directing events in his favor. That they had even seen the two creatures was a shock, not to mention the fact that one of them had actually had the information that he wanted. He would also, grudgingly, admit that the toughness of the creature had surprised him. He had a better understanding of how it was that his ancestors had not wiped all of the Dwarves out. The Dwarf did eventually give him useful information, though. A warped smile came across his face as he remembered that day.
-X-
He sat staring at the floor as he focused on the slight echo produced by a slow steady drip. The noise was interrupted by the occasional wheezing sob coming from the center of the room. Filling his lungs with the rank air, his face twisted in disgust, and pushed up from the center of the bench that ran along the back wall of the room. Seven paces from corner to corner, the flame from the three torches mounted on each wall flickered as he passed them. All the way around the room two times before he stopped at the head of the rack that held the foul Dwarf. He moved to the side so the creature could see him, smiling as it sucked in a ragged breath and squeezed its eyes shut. He had been working on the dwarf for three days and believed he finally had it worn down to the breaking point. He stepped closer and just waited, listening again to its filthy blood pattering on the floor.
"Must we keep this up Dwarf?" he spoke in a near whisper, grinning in amusement as the short figure flinched. "Just tell me what I want to know and the pain will stop. If you continue this stubborn refusal to answer, your agony will only continue. Or, if you help me I can-"
The bolt sliding on the heavy door interrupted the relative quiet of the room. Veesha snapped his head in that direction to glare at the Goblin trying to push the door closed while struggling with the weight of a brazier that held a branding iron already resting in glowing coals. Veesha took two quick steps to the corner on the right side of the door where the Goblin was placing its load. As the slave turned the Orc's left hand gripped it by the throat, and he placed the tip of his wickedly sharp dagger to the skin just below the left eye.
"What have I told you, Stek?" he demanded, looming over the squirming Goblin.
The slave gasped out
a few nonsensical words, most likely an apology, and was still trying to explain himself when Veesha shoved him towards the door. The goblin's head rebounded off of the thick wood and he shook it while still scrambling to get out of the room. The door finally opened enough for the Goblin to squeeze through and Veesha gave him a vicious kick before he could make it all of the way out.
"Do not interrupt me again!" he screamed at the retreating back, spittle flying. He slammed the door and turned back to the Dwarf. His chest heaving, he moved back to the prone figure purposefully, detouring just enough to grab the bright orange tipped, metal rod from the brazier on the way. The dwarf was openly sobbing now as it watched the heated tip move closer.
"Now... where were we?" Veesha asked. He was enjoying the terror in the pathetic creatures eyes.
A few hours later the Dwarf finally spoke the information Veesha had been waiting for. The prisoner's voice was so raw from his continuous screaming that he had to put his ear right next to its lips to make out the ragged whisper.
"Thardenfell, Thardenfell..." was the name that was repeated over and over. Veesha smiled as he straightened, looking down at the pathetic lump of flesh. His triumphant visage turned decidedly evil as he reached for his knife."Tell me more about this Thardenfell."
The dwarf took several more hours to die.
-X-
A Soldier's Honor: The Scepter of Maris: Book One Page 2