Stone of the Denmol

by R C Gray

  “Are you going in, too?” Skara said, looking over at Renna.

  “I’ll be there. This isn’t my first fight. I know enough to take care of myself and to watch out for you two. Especially you,” she said, looking over at Faine.

  “Really, you get me out of a couple tricky situations, and you act like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Exactly. Do you remember the time you got caught with one of the chief’s daughters? He was going to have you strung up for it,” Renna said, laughing.

  “I would have gotten out of it. And let’s not forget that you were with one, too. You just didn’t get caught. But it could have just as easily been me saving you.”

  Skara watched them both laughing, and a worried look crossed his face. “What’s it like?”

  “What’s what like?” Faine said.

  “Killing someone.”

  Faine let out a deep breath and looked over to Skara. “It’s hard at first. But it gets easier each time. And before you know it, you don’t even think about it anymore.”

  Skara looked down at his bowl and spooned another small bite into his mouth. He wasn’t sure about how easy it would be, but he was ready to find out.

  The Shadow and the Flame

  The looming trees cast long shadows on the ground as the three crept towards the camp. Crouching low in a row of bushes just inside the woodline, the three looked out over the clearing. The sky above them was clear, and the two moons hung low, their pale light shining down on the camp that stretched out across the clearing in front of them. Nearly twenty small canvas tents littered the encampment, and several small fires burned in pits between the structures. On the outer edges of the camp, several wagons loaded with supplies sat near a row of short trees that the horses were tied to. Aside from a few murmuring voices and ragged coughs through the camp, there was mostly silence.

  “I can only see three guards, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t more somewhere else. I’d be willing to bet there’s at least one in the woodline somewhere,” Faine said, looking back at Renna and Skara.

  “So, what do we do?” Skara said, glancing back at the tents.

  “We move. I’ll go around the woods and check for anyone there, then work my way in from the opposite side. We make our way towards the middle, moving tent by tent. Strike fast and be quiet. If you see a guard, avoid them or take them out. We don’t want anyone to wake up or see any bodies on the ground and sound the alarm. If that happens, run to the forest and hide and take them out one by one.”

  “There’s the cage,” Renna said, craning her neck to look farther into the camp. “That’s where I’m heading.”

  Faine gave her a concerned look. “There’s a lot of armed people down there. How are you planning to get him out?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out. It will most likely involve breaking the lock with a hammer.”

  “Then give us time before you do. But if the alarm goes up, break the lock and let him loose. I’m sure he’ll take out a few of them.”

  “And what about Gregor?” Skara said, looking at Faine. “He’s the reason I’m here.”

  Faine nodded his head towards his left shoulder, “You see that bigger tent at the end with the banner and guard out front? That’s where Gregor will be. But it won’t do you much good if you get taken out by twenty guards before you get there, so take out as many as you can first.”

  Skara looked down at his hands and wiped them on the front of his dark green tunic. His palms were sweating, but he felt strangely calm for what he was about to do. Checking his daggers and pouches to make sure everything was in place, he took a deep breath and watched the flames flickering in the camp below. Seeing a glint of light out of the corner of his eye, he watched as an armored guard passed the fire and began moving in a straight line in their direction.

  Motioning to Faine and Renna, the three crouched lower and watched as the guard set down his shield and moved to the bushes only several feet away. Mumbling to himself about being awake for no reason, the guard undid his pants and began to relieve himself.

  Putting his finger to his lips, Faine moved closer to the guard, drawing his dagger as he crawled silently over the dirt and leaves. Just as the guard was about to walk away, Renna let out a slight whistle, causing the guard to turn quickly back towards the bushes, alarm showing on his face. As he turned, Faine stood and thrust his dagger under the man’s chin and up into his skull. The man’s eyes twitched as blood spattered out of his mouth and poured down Faine’s arm, dripping into the bush below. Pulling out his dagger, Faine took hold of the guard’s body before it fell and pulled him behind the twisted branches. Laying him down quietly, he wiped his blade clean on the man’s tunic and looked over at his shoulder.

  “I think I got piss on me!” Faine said, brushing his hand over the wet spot and holding it to his nose. “Yeah, right on my shoulder.”

  “But at least that’s one less guard in the camp,” Renna said.

  “That it is. So, let’s move. Stay in the shadows and strike fast. We’ll meet in the middle when it’s finished.” Faine gave Skara a reassuring look before he crept away, disappearing into the shadows of the trees a short distance away. Skara watched as the two broke off in different directions, leaving him alone at the edge of the forest. Steeling himself, he drew one of his daggers and ran into the camp, staying the shadows around him.

  Moving close behind an unlit tent, he could hear the faint sound of someone snoring inside. Peering around the corner, he moved the partially open tent flap and slipped inside. The tent was only big enough for one soldier and their gear, with only a little room to stand and move around.

  Stopping to listen for any voices or movement, Skara looked down at the sleeping guard, letting his eyes adjust the darkness. The man was covered with a thick, black cloak that bore the emblem of the flame on its shoulder. Raising his dagger above his head, he moved closer to the bed, ready to strike. His hand trembled, and his breath caught in his throat. Thinking about all of the nights he had to live without his family, and Mary being hung in Barielle strengthened his resolve. Letting the dagger strike down in a flash, the blade pierced the man’s throat, pushing through his flesh like a hot knife through butter. The man’s eyes darted open, but the blade flashed down again, silencing any cries before they were ever made.

  Holding the blade out in front of him, Skara touched his thumb to the blood and rubbed it between his fingers. “No different than any other animal,” he said quietly to himself, his face grim. He could feel something welling up inside him. It was an anger that had been trapped for years behind fear and uncertainty, and it was now awakening in the cold darkness around him. It was the anger of choices made for him by those that had brought him nothing but self-doubt and fear. And in the still night air, he could feel the fear slipping away.

  Wiping his blade on the black cloak, he sheathed his dagger and quickly searched through the man’s pouches lying on the floor beside his cot. “And you won’t be needing this anymore,” he said, pulling out several coins and a set of dice, shoving them into his belt pouch.

  Opening the front flap, he looked to the next tent a short distance away. Quickly covering the distance between them, he slid through the opening and drew his dagger, once more killing the man before he had a chance to wake. Taking the few items the man kept in his bags, Skara stopped before sneaking back out into the night. Thinking that it’s better to be prepared, he pulled out a small vial of dark liquid and coated the blade of his second dagger before putting them both away. Moving out into the darkness, he caught a glimpse of Renna running behind the wagons, her axe glinting in the light of the two moons.

  RENNA MOVED QUICKLY past the tents, stalking the guard that walked in a loop around the perimeter of the camp. Rushing from one hiding place to the next, she watched and waited for the right moment to attack. Looking towards forest beyond the clearing, she could see Faine darting between bushes and boulders across the open space, knowing that
if there had been a guard there, he was dead now. Turning her attention back to her target, she eyed him as he turned toward the clearing. The guard's head moved quickly from side to side, and his hand went to his weapon. Renna jumped to her feet and ran across the damp grass, her boots thumping lightly as she went. The guard drew his war hammer and opened his mouth to shout when he heard footsteps creeping up behind him. Turning swiftly to swing his hammer, Renna’s axe came smashing down, cleaving his skull before he could cry out or finish the blow. His body fell lifeless to the ground, his weapon falling with a thump beside him. Reaching down, she picked up the hammer, slid it in her belt, and began to drag the body out of sight.

  The guard’s body was heavy, and his armor grated against the rocks under him, causing a sharp screeching noise as she pulled. Cursing under her breath, she tugged harder, trying to move it under one of the wagons nearby. Hearing footsteps behind her, she wheeled around, her axe ready.

  “Whoa, it’s just me,” Faine said, holding up his hands.

  “It’s about time. Grab his feet and help me move him.”

  Grabbing the man’s feet, they carried the body and rolled it under one of the wagons still packed with supplies. As Faine and Renna began to move back into camp, the flaps of a nearby tent were flung open, and an unarmored man with a bow moved out in front of the fire, peering in their direction. Seeing the two standing in front of him, he fumbled with his arrow and began to shout. “Everyo-”

  His words were cut off as a Undriel leapt out from the darkness and bit down on his neck. The man toppled backwards into the fire, sending a shower of ash and sparks into the air. The wolf tore and tugged at the man, ripping wildly at his throat. Shouts rang out across the camp as guards rushed out of their tents, weapons in hand, shouting and leaping at the shadows as they searched for the intruders.

  As two men ran into the clearing near the firepit, the blood-soaked wolf lunged and sank his teeth into the larger man’s leg. Screaming at the wolf, the second man cut down hard with his bastard sword, cutting it in half behind its ribs. The wolf released its grip on the man’s leg, but its limbs still kicked at the dirt, and its blood-stained maw snarled and bit at the two men that stared down at the creature.

  Coming up from behind them, Faine and Renna struck them down and darted away into a nearby tent.

  “I’m going after the dwarf,” Renna said, opening the tent flap.

  “Wait! The plan was to go into the woods and fight.”

  “I don’t think that’s the plan anymore. I don’t think Skara’s going to leave before he kills Gregor—or gets himself killed first.”

  Faine shook his head. “You’re right. Then let’s give him some cover. I’ll see you in the middle.”

  Faine waited for two men to pass and took off behind them. His blade struck hard between the segments in the closest man’s armor, sending him to the ground holding his left side as dark blood poured out. The second man, wearing nothing but a light shirt and pants, wheeled around and thrust his sword hard at Faine’s stomach, driving him back while he deflected the blade.

  Switching his sword to his left hand, Faine lunged forward, his left leg in front driving his sword straight at the man’s unarmored chest. Stepping back to parry the blow, the man knocked Faine’s sword to the side with a quick sweep, leaving his chest open. Darting forward on his right leg, Faine stabbed the man repeatedly in the gut with his dagger. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a man running full speed at him, sword ready to strike. Pulling the knife out of the man’s stomach, he threw it end over end to smash into the approaching guard, burying the blade deep in his chest.

  “Glad that worked,” he said, running to retrieve his knife and take cover in the shadows.

  AS RENNA MADE HER RUN out of the tent, she saw Undriel’s split body pulling itself along the ground, a trail on innards dragging behind it. Running up to the wolf, she held out her arm and began to chant. Pulling a small knife from her boot, she made a shallow cut on her arm, dripping her blood onto its fur before flinging some onto the nearby corpse of the man that Undriel had killed. Raising her hands into the air, she drew them close to her body as if pulling a rope, and a dark smoke rose from the wolf and swirled in the air in front of her. Casting her hands down at the corpse, the smoke flew into the man’s broken body, sending it into convulsions before it stood, dead eyes looking at Renna. His face and body were burned and charred, and his throat hung open, strings of flesh quivering as he twitched.

  “Fight to kill,” Renna said, sending it her thoughts to keep her and her companions safe. With a guttural groan, the beast picked up a sword and took off in a sprint, cutting down a startled man that got in its path before chasing down and killing another. Watching the man kill, she pulled the hammer off her belt and bolted towards the cage. She could hear the dwarf yelling and shaking the bars, trying to break them open.

  “Open the cage, you cowards. Don’t just leave me here,” Braig said, kicking the bars.

  “Move back,” Renna said, running up to the cage and climbing onto the cart. “I said, stand clear!”

  Positioning herself in front of the door to the cage, Renna struck down hard with the hammer, busting the lock and sending the cage door swinging open.

  “I knew you’d come,” Braig said as he stepped out of the cage. “I saw the wolf watching from the woods. Now get these chains off me.”

  Renna jumped off the wagon with Braig and ran to a nearby stone. “Put the chain on the rock and close your eyes.”

  “You there, step away from the dwarf,” Onrin said, pushing two guards forward, “Or you’ll be strung up in a cage next to him.”

  “Hurry up and break it!” Braig said, rattling the chain as he stared at Onrin.

  Renna raised the hammer high above her head and smashed it down onto the links. Bits of iron and rock exploded under the force of the blow as Braig stood up and stretched his arms, his broad shoulders flexing in their freedom.

  “Go, girl. I’ll catch up with you when I’m finished. These three are mine.”

  Renna turned and ran back towards the camp, hoping that Faine and Skara were still alive.

  BRAIG STEADIED HIMSELF as the two men rushed him, one with a spear, the other with a sword.

  “Kill him, you fools!” Onrin shouted from behind them, his sword gripped tightly in both his hands.

  The spearman thrust at Braig, aiming for his chest. Sidestepping to the right, he dodged the blow and caught the spear with his left hand. Using the spear, he blocked the downward swing from the second man’s sword and kicked him hard in the knee, knocking him backwards. Bringing his right forearm down onto the haft, he broke the spear in half and thrust the splintered wood into the swordsman’s throat, pushing him onto the ground and jamming the haft into the dirt with the speartip pointing towards the sky.

  The spearman pulled his sword but stood motionless, despite the threats and curses that Onrin shouted at him. Picking up the dead man’s weapon, Braig walked towards the spearman, the sword held firmly in his grip. “Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna fight me?” Braig said, sprinting forward at the man.

  The man swung wildly out of fear at the dwarf. Ducking and stepping to the left, Braig tackled the man to the ground and began crushing his face with heavy blows from the pommel of his sword. The man’s face cracked and broke under the force, pushing bits of bone through his torn skin.

  Braig was breathing hard, and his face was covered in blood as he stood and looked at Onrin. “Looks like it’s just you and me, pig-licker. I hope you prayed to whatever god you follow, cause you’re about to meet ‘em.”

  “I’ll cut you down, dwarf. By the time I’m done with you, there’ll be little left to throw to the dogs.”

  Cursing under his breath, Onrin ran at Braig. His sword swung down in quick strikes causing Braig to backstep as he tried to parry the blows. Onrin’s sword flashed down, again and again, narrowly missing its mark. Braig fought to keep the man at bay, but his th
in sword was too fast, and a quick slash cut deep into Braig’s left arm. Stepping back, he touched the gash and looked at the blood covering his fingers.

  Onrin smiled as he looked down at the dwarf. “You can’t win this, you filthy beast. I’ll have you neutered and put back in your cage when I’m done with you.”

  Anger spread over Braig’s face as he tightened his grip on the sword. Raising it over his head, he charged at Onrin, swinging down at an angle at his chest. Onrin raised his sword to block the blow, but the force of Braig’s swing knocked it out of his grip. Glancing down at Onrin’s weapon, Braig kicked it out the way as he rushed forward and slashed down with his sword, cutting off Onrin’s hand at the wrist.

  Onrin screamed in pain as he clutched at his arm, a look of shock on his face. Throwing down his sword, Braig slammed his fist into Onrin’s thigh, bringing him to his knees.

  “Please don’t kill me. I’ll...I’ll do anything,” Onrin said, bowing his head. “I have a gold coin. It’s yours if you let me go. Here, take it,” he said, reaching his bloody hand into his pouch to pull out the coin and hand it to Braig.

  Braig sighed as he took the coin from Onrin and placed it into the side of his boot.

  “Thank you, dwa-”

  Braig’s fist smashed into Onrin’s jaw, breaking the bones and causing his jaw to hang loose on his face. Scowling, he stuck his hand into Onrin’s sagging jaw and gripped it tightly. “You talk too much, pig-licker,” he said, pulling down sharply, ripping his jaw and a large chunk of skin off of his face and neck.

  Onrin’s eyes widened as his tongue fell through the large hole where his jaw used to be. As the blood drained from his body and his eyes began to close, Braig picked up his sword, grabbed Onrin’s hair, and severed his head with several quick chops.