Niln nodded. He had been wondering what, exactly, had happened there. One moment, he had been shouting to Gorm, and the next moment he was on the ground in a cloud of blue-black smoke.
And yon fumes from the Bard’s grenade didst choke Kaitha of House Tyrieth, so that her arrow flew wild. And it struck the Warrior Gaist upon the back of the thigh.
This was a slight discrepancy, but only because the scriptures generally didn’t mention one’s rear end.
And so Gaist did fall upon the Mage Laruna. Laruna was blinded by yon smoke, and did assume it was the Scarg atop her, and she did throwe many a mighty fireball in response. And the other Heroes did flee from her wrath.
Only Gleebek made it away unscathed, Niln recalled, and that was because Gorm had instructed the Goblin to avoid the fight. Most of the heroes had needed a healing potion. Kaitha had needed two.
Then the smoke was blown clear, and yon Scarg did fly away with much laughter. And the Heroes were greatly chafed. But Gorm Son of Inger was filled with great wrath, for the Heroes were Not Prepared. And he did decree that they would have Half Rations and Extra Training that night.
Niln acted as though he had agreed with the Dwarf’s recommendation, and that it was a mutual decision to impose the rigorous regimen upon the others. In truth, he didn’t know if he could have changed Gorm’s mind, and he was sure that he didn’t want to try.
Still, Niln knew, the Dwarf had more years of questing than Niln had years of living, and his experience was invaluable. There was nothing wrong with letting subordinates utilize their expertise, he told himself.
So the Heroes did train with much intensity that night. And there were No Exceptions, not even for the High Scribe to finish writing his—
“What are ye doing?” Gorm roared, sticking his head into the tent. “You’re supposed to be training with Kaitha and Gleebek!”
“I … I needed to write in my scriptures.”
“Do it when training’s done, and not a moment sooner,” barked the Dwarf. “Get out on the field!”
Niln set his book down. “I think that’s a good idea,” he said, because he wanted to be clear that he was still in charge of this party. Then he hurried from the tent, because he didn’t want Gorm to yell again.
“You have to admit, she’s pretty impressive,” Laruna whispered.
Gorm gave an appreciative nod. Across the clearing, Kaitha moved along the perimeter of a squat, square tower as swiftly and as silently as a breeze. With her long emerald cloak flowing behind her as she darted from window to window, it was easy to see how she’d earned the name Jade Wind. Gorm whistled low as she scaled the exterior of the ruined tower, seemingly without effort, to peer through a third-story window.
“Very impressive,” Laruna reiterated.
“When she’s sober,” Jynn added.
“Which hasn’t been as often as one might have anticipated,” Niln whispered.
“Well, at least not as often as one might like,” said Heraldin.
Gorm nodded with considerably less appreciation. He’d been posting watches over Kaitha since lunch yesterday to make sure she didn’t touch a bottle before the raid on the old tower. Still, it was worth it. Kaitha had finished scouting the ruins much faster than he had imagined, and she was already running back to the woods where the seven heroes were waiting.
Once they had huddled just inside the undergrowth, Kaitha began to deliver her findings. “All right. It’s an old military tower. The main door to the tower opens into a small antechamber, twelve feet by eight feet. There’s a door to the west and to the north. Inside the room are some ruined tables and a rusted suit of armor, but nothing of value.”
“That’s some really detailed information,” Niln whispered to Gorm.
“Aye, a true professional.” Gorm turned back to Kaitha. “What’s through the west door?”
“A small, dark room with only one window. It smells like the Lizardmen have been using it as a latrine.”
“Disgusting,” said Laruna. “Okay, let’s try the north door.”
“It leads to a large room, a hundred feet by eighty feet. There’s a staircase leading up near the eastern wall, and a staircase down near the—”
“Wait, wait. Let me get this straight.” Gorm kicked the leaves from a patch of earth and began drawing a crude map in the dirt with a stick. “So there’s an antechamber here …”
“Let me.” Kaitha grabbed her own branch and filled out the rest of the map. “See? There’s a door here, and these are windows. And here are the stairs down. There are painted stones and feathers all around it.”
“That’d be where they’re performin’ the ritual,” said Gorm.
“What ritual?” Niln asked. “Do you know what they’re doing?”
“Oh, the gods alone know what they’re doin’. But Lizardmen are always performin’ rituals to something or another.”
“Legends have it the lizardkin were bred by Noros back in the Third Age as commandos for Mannon in the War of Betrayal,” said Heraldin. “To keep them fanatically loyal, even when far afield, Noros designed them to worship Mannon. But when Mannon fell, they still needed something to worship.”
“So now the little buggers will bow down to anything,” said Gorm. “Whenever a nest of them moves somewhere, they always find a weird-shaped rock or a cow with a funny marking or something and set it up as their god.”
“Interesting,” said Niln.
“It’s all well and good until they start stealing things to offer to their newfound deity,” said Laruna.
“Or making sacrifices to it,” said Gorm. “Livestock, pets, even people. They keep on giving it bigger and more elaborate rituals. Whatever they’ve found to make a god of, I’m sure they’re keeping it in that basement. And if they took the marbles, that’s where they’ll be. I’ll wager it’s well guarded.”
Kaitha nodded. “There are four Lizardmen in the large room. Two by the stairs down, one by the north window—”
“Hang on,” said Heraldin, and he ran off to the clearing where they had left the horses. He returned with his thrones set, and placed four of the bannermen on Kaitha’s map. “All right. Go on.”
“Right. So there are Lizardmen here, here, and here,” said Kaitha.
“So what do we do?” asked Niln.
“We’ll assemble in the antechamber,” said Gorm. “Warriors in the front, mages in the middle, bard and ranger at the back.”
“Hang on,” said Heraldin. More thrones pieces were added to the map, after a brief argument as to which piece would be used for each hero.
“Right,” said Gorm. “So we burst through the door—”
“It’s locked,” said Kaitha.
“What? Ye sure? Lizardmen don’t usually make use of anything more complicated than a spear, and even then they have trouble keepin’ track of the pointy end.”
“Oh yes. There’s a giant iron padlock on the door.”
“They may have accessed the basement through an underground passage,” said Jynn.
“We could go searching for the secret tunnel,” suggested Niln.
“No need,” said Gorm. “Look, a lock ain’t enough to stop us. We’ll just move the mages to watch the back door, set Gaist and I up to support Heraldin, and we can get through it in no time.” He shuffled the pieces around the map.
“I can’t get off a good spell at that angle,” said Laruna.
“And what about the secret passage?” said Heraldin.
“It could be miles from here,” said Kaitha, setting off a wide-ranging argument that started at the average size of secret entrances, passed through mixed-unit tactics and proper ways of maintaining line of sight to a target, and wound up back at the best way to storm a tower.
“Look!” barked Gorm. “It’s simple. We just need the bard to pick that lock, and then we move in like we planned!”
“Oh, I’m not picking that lock,” said Heraldin, casually snacking from a parcel of crisped potatoes.
“Gron
go da.”
“What do ye mean ye ain’t pickin’ that lock? You’re the closest we got to a thief!”
“Listen, friend, I know I was once a member of a less reputable profession—”
“I’m not sure that’s possible,” muttered Jynn.
“But my illicit ways are over. I’ve given them up for clean and simple living.”
“All I seen ye do is drink and chase tavern maids!”
“Relatively clean and simple living,” Heraldin amended.
“Grongo da!”
Gorm shook his head. “It’s just a simple lock in an abandoned tower.”
“Oh, it starts that way, yes. But once you’ve felt the click of the pins and tumblers, once you’ve seen a lock snap open, something stays with you. You’ll have the itch again, and every locked door looks like a wrapped present, and every pocket holds a surprise just for you.” Heraldin shook the wistful look from his eye. “Soon, you’re stealing anything you take a shine to, and soon after that, you find yourself taking a shine to anything you don’t already own. And then Benny Hookhand finds out you’re back in town and kills you—if you’re lucky.”
“Enough!” said Gorm. “Spare me the excuses. You’re pickin’ that lock.”
“I’m not. I don’t even have lockpicks with me,” said Heraldin.
“Gleebek?”
“What kind of thief doesn’t carry lockpicks?” exclaimed Laruna.
“The kind that’s actually a bard!” snapped Heraldin. “Why is this so difficult to understand?”
“Well, for starters, I’ve yet to hear you sing a song,” said Laruna.
“And you can’t really play the lute very well at all,” added Jynn.
“And there’s this general oily, sleaziness about you,” said Kaitha.
“Hey!” said Heraldin.
“To be fair, a lot of bards have that too,” Laruna said.
“Ix’isst?” said the Lizardman.
“Now listen, I’m sorry if I’m not your typical bard, but that doesn’t—” Heraldin stopped short. The heroes stared at each other, communing in unpleasant realization before turning as one to the short, bipedal reptile leaning on a spear between Niln and Gleebek.
Gleebek threw his arms up in exasperation. “Da spi’root ra!”
“Bloody ashes,” swore Gorm.
The Lizardman extended the vibrant crest on its scaly head, gave an open-mouthed hiss, and darted away.
“Don’t let it warn the others!” cried Kaitha.
Gorm was already charging after the scout, the other heroes falling in behind him. Yet Lizardmen survived by compensating for their considerable shortcomings in stature, strength, and intelligence through sheer speed. The Lizardman had already reached the tower by the time the heroes emerged from the woods. With a weird, whistling cry, it scrabbled up the wall of the tower and slipped between the bars of the window.
“Guess there wasn’t any thrice-cursed secret tunnel,” sniped Laruna, as the heroes skidded to a halt.
“What now?” panted Niln, coming up behind them.
“Brace yourself,” said Kaitha.
A chorus of reptilian shrieks rose from within the tower. As the cacophony reached its crescendo, the old building erupted with Lizardmen; they poured from every window, hissing and spitting and waving crude weapons.
“Stay together!” roared Gorm as the scaly tide rushed at them. The heroes pressed back to back into a tight ring, with Niln and Gleebek in the center. The oncoming Lizardmen parted and flowed around the heroes like a river around a stone, ringing them in but remaining an arm’s length away.
“What’s happening?” Niln shouted.
“Lizardmen may be fanatics, but they ain’t particularly brave,” Gorm hollered back. “If they can’t separate one of us from the pack, they won’t press in.”
A Lizardman lunged forward, jabbing with a crude spear. Gorm easily deflected the blow, but he knew it wasn’t the real assault. Lizardmen needed time to build up their courage. Every one that attacked and lived made the throng behind it that much bolder. Already, another warrior was darting forward to test Gorm. “Drive ’em back!” he shouted, dispatching the assailant with a quick blow from his axe. “Keep the fear in ’em!”
“What are ye doing?” Kaitha shouted to Jynn as she notched an arrow. Her shot took down a forward Lizardman and scattered its companions. “Cast a spell!”
“Sorry, but I’m n-not used to being jostled while trying to weave the raw energy of the universe!” snapped Jynn. Gorm had seen the noctomancer quickly erect a sorcerous shield in front of himself, but the wizard had not managed to cast a single spell afterwards. Heraldin’s elbow caught the noctomancer’s shoulder as the bard stabbed an encroaching Lizardman, and the weave Jynn was trying to craft melted away. “Watch yourself!”
“I just watched myself save your pale skin,” snapped Heraldin, dodging a thrust from a stone spear. “Just throw some magic at them!”
With an indignant harrumph and a quick gesture, Jynn sent a burst of violet energy arcing at the nearest Lizardman. The creature shrieked and withered away like a flower in a desert wind. “Well, the weave was a little cruder than normal, but—”
All around the heroes, fountains of flame blasted skyward with a thunderous roar, sending spouts of charred and screaming Lizardmen high into the air. Gorm could feel his whiskers singeing as the front ranks of the Lizardmen were decimated. The surviving reptiles fell back from the sorcerous flame, shielding their eyes and gibbering in terror.
Laruna blew a wisp of smoke from her finger. “Nice kill, newblood,” she called to Jynn. “See if you can get a second.”
“Goddess above.” Niln was slack-jawed as charred Lizardmen rained down around them.
Jynn only scowled and shriveled another unfortunate Lizardman with a blast of necrotic sorcery.
“Ha!” laughed Gorm. “Look at ’em scarper!” The tide of scales was receding as fast as it had flowed in. Every Lizardman who was still capable of running was darting back toward the tower.
“But what are they doing?” asked Niln. Instead of climbing back through the tower, the Lizardmen began running and dancing in rings about it; their whoops and cries fell into a unified rhythm.
“They’re callin’ to whatever god they found,” said Gorm.
A deep bellow from beneath the tower answered the sibilant chant of the Lizardmen, like the rumblings of a distant-yet-not-distant-enough storm.
“What was that?” Panic rose in Niln’s voice.
Gorm gritted his teeth. “Bone and ashes. Their god’s answerin’.”
A dark shape eclipsed the tower windows. The roaring from within was drowning out the ecstatic cries of the Lizardmen.
“I thought you said they worshipped rocks and cows!” said Jynn.
The Lizardmen’s god slammed against the wall of the tower, shaking dust and mortar from the stones. The heroes took an instinctive step back in unison.
“Whatever it is, it’s big,” said Kaitha.
“How did it got into the tower in the first place?” Laruna said.
“A secret passage!” said Heraldin triumphantly, just as a mountain of muscle and scales tore a new—and far less secret—passage through the side of the tower. The beast’s beady reptilian eyes found the heroes, and it let loose another ear-shattering roar.
“Stone Drake!” hollered Gorm.
Stone Drakes were among the basest of the dragon-kin, usually encountered in one of three conditions: eating, sleeping, or violently furious about whatever was impeding their eating or sleeping. Essentially a toothy mouth propelled by six legs and a voracious appetite, a Stone Drake was nothing if not straightforward—mostly because turning took so much effort.
The specimen standing in the rubble of the tower wall had been slathered in garish cobalt and lemon paints, with wooden totems and bunches of crimson feathers jutting from every ridge and crag in its scales. The makeup and accessories that the Lizardmen had bestowed upon the drake seemed to have done li
ttle to improve its mood. It opened its great maw and charged at the heroes, its throng of worshippers cheering the dragon-kin on.
“Scatter!” yelled Gorm, already in motion. The heroes broke apart and sprinted off in different directions.
Gorm quickly turned, arcing back toward the drake. The key to fighting a Stone Drake was to stay out of its path. Given how cumbersome a three-ton hybrid of stone and dragon could be, avoiding one was fairly easy, as long as you didn’t run in a straight line directly away from it. He glanced back to check the position of the drake, and his heart dropped into his stomach.
The high scribe of Al’Matra was sprinting in a straight line, directly away from the Stone Drake. Niln held the hem of his robe up around his waist, his sandals flapped with the mad pumping of his bony legs, but he hadn’t close to enough speed to outrun the engine of tooth and scale bearing down on him.
“Niln!” Gorm screamed. “Get out of its way!”
“Well, we all knew he’d wind up getting killed,” said Heraldin, running up beside the Dwarf.
“If the high scribe dies, the guild will see us all hanged!” Gorm snarled.
“Niln! Dodge!” screamed Heraldin. The drake was closing in for the kill.
Then Gleebek was there. From nowhere, the tiny Goblin leaped and tackled the high scribe, sending them both flying out of the creature’s path. The Stone Drake bellowed in angry confusion as momentum carried it past its prey.
“Run!” screamed Kaitha.
Goblins, however, need no prompting to flee; the only thing their race excels at is retreat. The Stone Drake hadn’t finished skidding to a halt before Gleebek was on his feet, pulling Niln up. The pair was halfway back across the field, ducking projectiles hurled by the jeering Lizardmen, when the Stone Drake reoriented itself and started getting back up to speed.
Gorm was running back toward them. “Shoot it! Get it off Niln!”
The other heroes sprang into action. Gaist hurled throwing knives, and Kaitha fired arrows. Laruna unleashed another impressive blast of flame, and Jynn fired off a couple of relatively unimpressive magical missiles; yet projectiles bounced off the drake’s scales, and sorcery washed over it like waves over a stone. The drake rushed forward, undeterred and gaining on its prey.
Orconomics: A Satire (The Dark Profit Saga Book 1) Page 17