Stone of the Denmol

by R C Gray

  The man looked down at Skara, eyeing him as he turned his head towards the door. Slapping his hand on the table to get the goblin’s attention, the man glanced over at his friend. “Haldon, why don’t you go and get the guards before our little friend decides to try and make a run for it. I think they’ll wanna know we found ‘em. And I wanna collect the reward.”

  Haldon smiled, his nearly toothless sneer revealing several black, rotted teeth. “I’ll let ‘em know. Keep an eye on ‘em ‘til I get back, Pogrel. Word is they want ‘em alive.” Turning towards the door, Haldon scurried out of the inn, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. Pushing open the front door, he stepped out onto the busy streets and darted towards the guardhouse as soon as he reached the darkening lane.

  Smiling, Pogrel reached down and picked up another date, shoving it into his mouth, letting bits of cheese fall onto the table as he chewed.

  Skara scowled at the man as looked up from the table, his grip tightening on the handle of the knife. “Don’t do that again.”

  “And what are you gonna do if I do?”

  “Do you really want to find out?”

  Pogrel let out a slight chuckle as he peered down at Skara. Reaching his fingers out, he moved his hand towards the tray, slowly walking his fingers along the table, taunting Skara.

  “I don’t want any trouble, but this is your last warning. Leave me alone and let me eat in peace.”

  The man leaned in, leveling his gaze with Skara. “You already got trouble, you little shit!” Laughing as he glimpsed back at his lanky friend still sitting at the table, he reached his hand forward and grabbed another piece of food.

  Dashing forward, Skara caught the man’s hand, pulling it closer to his face. Clamping his teeth down hard, he bit off two of Pogrel’s fingers and spit them out onto the floor. Screaming in pain, the man jerked his arm back as blood poured down his hand and onto the floor. Drawing a dagger, the lanky man jumped up from his table and charged towards Skara, sending a flurry of people rushing out onto the streets, screaming, and calling for the guards.

  Ducking under the table, Skara stabbed his knife through the Pogrel’s boot before tipping the table forward, knocking him off balance. The table and tray clattered to the floor as the bleeding man fell hard, holding his injured hand close to his chest as he pulled at the knife that pierced his foot with the other. Stepping over his injured friend, the lanky man bolted around the side of the table and slashed down with his dagger.

  Putting a chair in between them, Skara kicked it forward, smashing it into the man’s shins. Turning to run, Skara’s back erupted in pain as the chair crashed into him, knocking him to the ground. Falling to his knees, he felt the man wrapped his long arms around his torso, squeezing hard as he was lifted off the ground.

  Kicking his legs, Skara tried to wriggle free but was held in place as Pogrel hobbled up in front of him, his lips pulled into an angry sneer. Dark blots of blood covered his shirt, oozing out from the two jagged stumps where his fingers had been. Drawing back his uninjured hand, he slammed his fist hard into Skara’s face, sending a stream of blood pouring out of his nose and mouth.

  “Don’t kill him. They need ‘im alive, or we don’t get no pay,” the lanky man holding Skara said, keeping a tight grip on him.

  “I know they need ‘im alive! But that doesn’t mean he has to be in one piece. Look what he did to my fingers. Maybe I should just take his whole hand. That’ll teach ‘em a lesson,” Pogrel said, pulling back his fist and punching Skara one more time.

  A wave of darkness fell over Skara like a thick blanket, briefly blotting out the lights and sounds around him. Stars floated in front of his eyes as his head sagged, and his body went limp. Raising his head slightly, he looked past Pogrel and saw the door to the back room slam open as Faine glared across the room, his shirt wrapped tightly around his hand. His muscled torso was covered with several tattoos and scars, and his chest heaved as heavy breaths escaped his lips. Clenching his fists, he charged from the room, picking up a wooden chair as he ran. Raising the chair above his head, he smashed it down onto Pogrel’s back, breaking it into several large pieces. Kicking the man over, Faine picked up one of the heavy chair legs, holding it like a club as he took a step towards the other man.

  Holding the dagger to Skara’s throat, the lanky man glanced around the room, looking for an easy escape route as he backed up closer to the front door. “Come any closer, and I’ll kill the wretch.”

  Faine held up his hand and took a step back. “You know that’s not how this is going to go. If you kill him, your injured friend down here dies. Then, I’ll break as many bones in your body as I can before killing you. I’ll put through as much pain as possible before I decide how you should die.”

  Skara struggled weakly as the man eyed Faine, glancing down at his friend as he rolled on the floor, blood oozing from his hand and out of his boot. “What, you think I’m just gonna let ‘im go? The way I see it, I only have to wait for the guards to show up and take you both away. Then I go about my business and collect my reward.”

  Faine shook his head as he knelt next to Pogrel, grabbing him by the hair and lifting his head up off the floor. “You think it’d be that easy? The cell wouldn’t hold me for long. And even if it did, I’d send one of my contacts in the city to take care of you. Now,” Pogrel moaned in pain as Faine stuck the jagged end of the chair leg into his mouth and began to pry it open, “put the goblin down, or I ram this piece of wood through the back of your friend’s neck.”

  The lanky man gave Skara a hard squeeze and held the dagger up to his throat, pushing the sharp tip into his skin, drawing a trickle of blood. Gasping for breath, Skara kicked his legs and tried to break free of the man’s tight hold.

  “This is your last chance,” Faine said, pushing the wooden leg deeper into Pogrel’s mouth, choking him as he tightened his grip on Pogrel’s hair.

  Growling, the man shoved Skara to the side, smashing him hard into a nearby chair as he rushed towards Faine, slashing down towards the kneeling elf with his dagger.

  Pulling the club free, Faine stood and raised his arm, blocking the man’s swing as he kicked out with his foot, catching the man hard in the gut. Letting out a quick cough, the man thrust at Faine, swinging the dagger wildly as he held his torso and tried to catch his breath. Sidestepping the attack, Faine brought the club down, striking the man hard in the hand, knocking the dagger to the ground. Grunting in pain, the man lunged at Faine, trying to drive him backwards and knock him off balance.

  Heavy blows hammered Faine’s arms and sides as he moved backwards, arms tucked tightly to his torso as he tried to block the man’s powerful attacks. Tossing down his club, he unwrapped the shirt from his arm and pulled it tight between his hands, using it to parry the man’s attacks. Dodging several more quick punches, Faine caught the man’s wrist in the fabric, wrapping the material tightly around his arm. Darting around to the man’s back, Faine pulled hard on the line, binding the man’s wrist to his chest as he twisted the fabric around his neck like a noose.

  Gritting his teeth, Faine pulled the knot tighter, choking the man as he pressed his elbows hard into his back. “You see what happens when you don’t listen. You should have just walked away.”

  Turning around, Faine ducked under the shirt, pulling it over his shoulder. Leaning forward, he lifted the man off the ground like a sack, holding him in the air as he flailed his legs, trying to get his feet back on the floor.

  Breathing hard, Faine held the struggling man until he fell still, letting his body fall limply to the floor. Touching the bruises forming on his ribs, he grimaced as he walked over to Skara, stepping over Pogrel as he crawled towards the door, a thin line of blood trailing behind him.

  Sitting down on the floor next to Skara, Faine slipped rumpled shirt back on and leaned his head back against the top of an overturned table. “You doing alright?”

  Skara wiped the blood off of his mouth as he watched Pogrel. “I’m fine. Bu
t we need to find Renna and get out of here. Someone knows we’re here and what happened in Banrielle. There’s a bounty out for us.”

  Faine lifted his head and looked over at Skara, shaking his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. How could anyone know where we are? How does anyone even know who we are?” Faine rubbed his eyes and stared at the floor as a loud voice cut across the room.

  “There they are! Seize them!”

  Five armed guards rushed at them from the door, heavy chainmail showing beneath their blue and green tabards.

  Glancing over, Faine spoke quickly, keeping his voice low. “Do what they say, Skara. Don’t fight them, or they’ll kill you. No bounty will stop that if you give them any reason to hurt you.” Putting his hands above his head, he leaned forward, showing that he was unarmed.

  The guards lifted Faine off the ground and bound his hands. Pointing their swords at Skara, they pulled the daggers out of his belt and dropped them on the floor. Wrapping a rope around his torso, they yanked him to his feet, keeping a tight hold on the line.

  As the guards looked at the destruction around the room, Haldon burst through the door and ran over to Pogrel. Checking his wounds, he glanced up at the nearest guard. “He needs a healer. Look at his hand. Look at what that monster did to ‘im.”

  Pulling Skara and Faine over towards Pogrel, one of the guards gestured towards the dead body, then down to the injured man. “What do you have to say about this?”

  Faine turned his eyes towards the men before looking back at the guards. “We were defending ourselves. We just wanted to sit in peace, but these men wouldn’t leave us alone.”

  Haldon opened his mouth, anger crossing his face. “They’re criminals. We heard that someone wanted ‘em caught and we saw ‘em. I didn’t think it would turn out this way.”

  Skara clenched his fists, tugging at the rope as he scowled at the man. “It wouldn’t have had to if you had left me alone. I told you to go away, but you didn’t listen. Looks like your friends got what they deserved.”

  In a quick back-handed swing, the guard slapped Skara across the face. “You shut your mouth, filth. You’re lucky we don’t kill you right here for this. Take ‘em away. We’ll deal with them later after we clean up this mess. And will someone fetch us a damn healer!”

  Spitting a trickle of blood onto the floor, Skara followed the guards out of the inn, his arms held fast to his sides by the rope. Turning out onto the street, crowds of people stood on the side of the lane, watching as Skara and Faine were escorted out of the inn. Two armed guards led the way, shouting for the onlookers to clear a path, while two followed behind, keeping their captives in the middle. Whispers and shouts spread through the crowd about the destruction the two murderers had left at the inn, and how they needed to be locked away for the safety of the town.

  After walking for nearly a mile through the winding streets towards the dock district, a vast expanse opened into a barren yard surrounded by the backs of buildings and a small strip of dense forest to one side. In the center was a large stone building, its pale stone glowing orange in the lantern light. A tall watchtower stood at the entrance to the prison and was surrounded by four smaller towers standing at every corner of the square structure, all connected by long walkways that ran along the top of the stone fortress. Black iron bars covered the small windows and a heavy gate barred the main entrance. Shouting to the gate guards keeping watch on the wall, the gates creaked open, raising into a slot that led up into the central tower.

  “I don’t remember seeing this when we were pulling into town. But it looks cozy,” Faine said, looking up at the massive gate being pulled upwards into the gatehouse.

  “You keep your mouth shut, scum,” one of the guards said, pushing the two through the open gate. “From this point on, you only speak when spoken to.”

  Passing through the door, the thick walls of the fortress rose up in an archway around them. Reinforced wooden doors stood on each side of the wall, leading up a stairwell into several small rooms and sleeping quarters in the towers. The inside of the prison stretched out in five cell blocks leading off like fingers from the central corridor with three on the left and two on the right. Each cell block held ten cells, five on each side divided by a smooth walkway patrolled by guards, with the back half of the fortress leading to an open yard for prisoners to be occasionally let out into the fresh air. Continuing past the cells, Skara and Faine were led to a small holding cell in the back righthand corner of the building.

  “Welcome to Stonekeep. Better make yourselves comfortable. You may be here a while,” one of the guards said as she removed their bindings. “Got any questions?”

  The small cell sat in the corner of a larger room and was surrounded by walls on each side. Two of the walls were made of the thick stone of the fortress with only a single, barred window looking out towards the backs of several shops that stood outside of the clearing, while the other two were made of black pitted metal bars. The floor was made of smooth stone that had buckled and split with dirt rising through the gaps. A worn hay mattress was tossed into the back corner, stained and damp from any number of liquids that could have soaked into the fabric.

  Rubbing the rope burns on his wrists, Faine looked up at the guard and smiled. “If it’s not too much trouble, would it be possible to get a few pillows and some mugs of ale? Or maybe a few bits of cloth to hang up around the cell for a bit of privacy?”

  The guard smirked at Faine and slammed the door shut, rattling the cage as she locked the door. “Let’s see how long you keep that sense of humor in here. You got it easy tonight. Come tomorrow morning, the commander’ll be in and sort you out. But don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll fix you both up real nice.” Laughing to herself, the guard slid the keys into a drawer in a nearby desk and motioned for one of the guards to stay and watch the prisoners as she walked off down the main corridor.

  Sighing, Faine sat down on the uneven floor and rubbed his sore ribs as he glanced around the dimly lit room. Lanterns hung on the walls outside of the cell, casting flickering shadows of the bars along the back wall. The faint smell of the ocean blew in through the small window, helping to drown out some of the foul odors that wafted inside the dense stone walls. Touching his fingers to a small cut on his left bicep, he looked over at Skara sitting in the corner. “Don’t look so worried. We’ll find a way out of this.”

  Skara pulled his legs up to his chest and rubbed his hands roughly through his hair. “What do you mean, don’t worry? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re sitting in what looks like a pretty heavily guarded prison.”

  “I’ve been in worse.”

  Skara shook his head and pulled out a small antler tip necklace from under his shirt and rubbed his fingers slowly over the rune carved into its surface. “If I knew I’d just end up rotting in a cell, I would have stayed back in Banrielle. And that’s if I even live long enough to rot.”

  Faine glanced over at Skara and smiled. “Well, you’re gonna rot one way or another. If it’s not here, it’ll just be somewhere else.”

  Skara scowled as he threw a clump of dirt at Faine. “This is your fault. If you hadn’t scampered off for a tryst with that barmaid, we might not be in here right now.”

  “I can’t help it if the women find me irresistible. Besides, I had just spent weeks on the road with all of you and needed someone that smelled pleasant to get the stink of the road out of my nose.” Faine looked down and pulled at a small patch of grass growing between several of the cracked stones on the floor. “But don’t worry about this. This is just a minor setback. We’ll be outta here in no time.”

  Skara sighed as he leaned his head back against the wall. “I hope so. Otherwise, I might just have to take one of your ears and offer it to the guards as payment for my release.”

  Faine smiled to himself as he looked up through the bars in their cell. He had a feeling that Skara was making a joke, but he didn’t want to be stuck in jail long enough to find out.

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nbsp; BRAIG’S EYES DARTED open as a loud knock rattled the wooden door to his room. “I told you to leave me alone.”

  “And I told you if there was any trouble that you’d be out. Your time here is over.”

  Slamming his feet to the floor, Braig ran his hand through his beard and stomped over to the door, jerking it open. “By the stone, boy! I told you I didn’t want to be bothered.”

  The innkeeper and two armed men stood outside in the hallway, their faces stern as they looked down at the dwarf. “Get your bags and get out.”

  “What’s this all about? What reason do you have to be here banging at the door? I’ve been in my room all evening.”

  One of the men stepped forward and squared his shoulders as he rested his hand on his sword hilt. “Your friends caused a bit of a tussle and are in jail where they belong. And if you don’t want to join them, you need to shut your mouth and do as your told. The innkeeper said he wants you out, so that’s what you’re gonna do.” The man looked at the bags thrown around the room before turning his eyes back to Braig. “And we’ll be taking any coin you have to help pay for the damages.”

  Thinking about the coins hidden under his mattress, Braig glanced at the bags lying on the floor near his bed, anger rising up inside of him as he glared at the innkeeper. “We don’t have any coin. All we have left is our road-stained clothing that stinks of sweat and horse. It took all we had just to get here and pay for our rooms. And since we haven’t even stayed a night, I’m sure the amount we paid will more than cover the cost of any damages.” Looking up at the two men, Braig stretched his shoulders and clenched his fists. “Now tell me what happened down there. Where are my companions?”

  The two men glanced at each other and stood up straight, bracing themselves in case the dwarf decided to charge them. “Your friends are murderers. They’ve been taken to The Fist where they belong.”

  “Murder! What proof do you have?”