“Baron, them dogs say there is sumtin’ behind tha waterfall!” one of the lads said.
“Alright, stay here. We will check the place with the soldiers. Get your crossbows ready, if he is hiding here, strike him down without giving him the chance to charm us!”
“He won’t have the time for uttering even a word,” One Eyed encouraged me.
Getting closer with Hrindel and the soldiers, we noticed that a cave was hidden behind the falls. We crossed through the cold water and entered, lighting our torches. We arrived in a dimly lit, pleasantly cool cave. Living creatures were bustling inside the wet cavern. Olive green lichen and mushrooms covered the rocks.
We proceeded cautiously in the cave which expanded to a large hollow, its ceiling reaching high up above us. We noticed smell of smoke and the sound of sluggishly crackling branches as the passage continued to the left. We advanced step by step, observing each noise, raising our crossbows ready to shoot. Deeper inside, we glanced at the fire consuming a couple of collected branches. All of a sudden, we heard a dreadful bluster from behind. We rushed back to see what it was. Rocks were falling from up high and, within a few seconds, they completely blocked the entrance. Merely some dim light could penetrate from outside through the tiny gaps between the rocks. We heard violent barking from the other side, then cursing and shouting. The sound of yowling, whimpering, and yelling followed. Soon, everything quieted down once more.
“What in Dermeron’s hell is going on outside?” Hrindel asked nervously.
“The devil bastard trapped us! And now he killed the peasants and their dogs so that they won’t be able to follow us.”
“He had quite a plan, this little goddamn creep, and we walked right into it!” One Eyed was furious.
“What should we do now, sir?” one of the robust soldiers asked, holding a torch.
“We must scour through the whole cave, there must be a way out. Off you go!” I commanded.
We scattered around and searched through all the hidden corners and nooks, all in vain. We only spotted a three-foot wide crack on the ceiling which let some light in. Although some people attempted to move the rocks from the entrance, they only managed to dig out smaller pieces, they couldn’t cope with the major rocks weighing hundreds of pounds.
“Fuck this hell, there is no way out! I don’t want to kick the bucket here!” a soldier cursed.
“My lord, we are trapped like rats!” said One Eyed, with contorting nerves on his cheek. He rarely seemed this tense.
“Let me think, goddamnit!” I yelled. Whining would not help us proceed.
I looked around in the cave to identify what could be used to get us out of there. I saw poisonous and edible mushrooms alike with wide caps, common lichen, and, at some places, the ground was covered by bat feces. I devised a plan to resolve our problem.
“Does anyone have a metallic pot or mug?” I asked around.
“I have one, sir,” one of the soldiers said as he handed over his own copper cup.
I poured some water in it and placed it on the still glimmering fire that the warlock had left behind as a trap. I brought it to boil and added the ingredients one by one, crushing the mushrooms, lichen, and bat feces. Within half an hour, it turned into some sticky mush.
“What are you doing, my lord?” One Eyed asked, curiously studying what I was concocting.
“This will get us out, just be patient.”
I took it off the fire and let it cool down. The whole mixture turned into some sticky puree, exactly as I had expected. I thoroughly applied it to the sole of my boots and to my palms, then stuck it to the wall, I could swiftly climb up, the gluey material didn’t let me slide down. I only lifted one hand at a time so I could always achieve the proper adhesion. After a few minutes of exhausting climbing, I reached the small gap on the ceiling and I pulled myself up to the surface. I was gasping for breath but I was relieved to stretch my limbs that had numbed after such strain. Beside me, the cold water of the little brook was pouring down from the top of the rock.
“Sir, have you arrived? Are you ok?” the trapped soldiers were asking me.
“I got out! I will bring help, just hang in there!” I shouted back to them.
I climbed down the cliff next to the waterfall until I tumbled upon the two poor peasants. They were lying beside each other, dead, with twisted limbs holding onto the leash of the dogs whose corpses were also lying next to them. The warlock didn’t spare the pain for them. I went back to the horses to get some ropes. I was unbuckling the saddle-bag when a thought struck me. Why would I help these scabby humans? Finally, I can behave how me, End’horis deems it better, not like the baron. They can die where they are! I will finish off the warlock on my own, at least I will return like a bigger hero. I felt a bit sorry for One Eyed. He would have sacrificed his life for me but only because he believed me to be his master. They would not escape from the cave anyway but will soon die of hunger. Or maybe eat something poisonous that kills them instantly. What did I care?
“Where can that bastard goblin be? Well, let’s be friends, warlock,” I smiled and I began the transformation.
My past proved to be useful yet again. Over the last decades, I shifted into the shapes of nearly all intelligent races. My shoulders widened, my muscles multiplied, my jaw expanded and I grew fangs. My forehead flattened and my ears became more pointed. Thick fur grew on my skin and it received a dark brown shade. I transformed into a proud, tattooed orc warrior. These two races got on excellently with each other. I took the knight’s armor off as it would have been strange to be still wearing it. I concealed my noble seal-ring, removed the clothes from one of the dead peasants and took his filthy garments – a silk shirt and embroidered baize trousers would have raised suspicion on a loathsome orc. I buckled up Bloodgusher on my back, only an experienced eye would have been able to recognize the knight’s sword about the blade within the scabbard. I found a flask of wine next to one of the saddlebags, which gave me an excellent idea as I was taking a sip from it. I noticed the yellow petals of some alpine laburnum close to the brook. I plucked some leaves and grinded them, then dropped the liquid it produced into the wine. This will have its effect, I thought to myself and smiled. I mounted one of the anxiously stomping horses, took a deep whiff – no humanoid races had better scent than the orcs. I could immediately smell the crappy stench of that reeking goblin. I simply had to follow it. I could still hear in the background how the trapped people were shouting from inside but I could only despise them. As for me, they can all just die there. I spurred my horse and, descending on the other side of the mountain, began following the smell of the warlock. Based on the direction, he must have headed to a village that lay on the territory of Baron Yuraj. What a coincidence, I thought to myself. He only had a couple of hours advantage. I arrived before sunset thanks to my strong horse. I noticed billowing smoke and an intensifying smell as I was approaching towards a leeward terrain under a cliff.
“Stop where you are! No sudden movements! Who are you and what are you doing here?” a squeaky voice yelled at me.
“I am Harwurf, son of Dwourf, warrior from the Clan of Sons of Hammer. Who are you? Show yourself to me!”
“My name is Zrindel from the Clan of Charmers, the Guardian of Secret Knowledge. To what aim are you wandering amidst these mountains, orc warrior?”
“I want to reach the duchies and become a guard,” I grunted.
Eventually the tiny, shifty creature disclosed itself. His size was barely the height of an adult. He was wearing a dark, rugged cloak and a hood on his head that he pushed back now. His pasque-flower yellow eyes were disproportionately huge for his size, his ears pointed and projecting, just like mine. Petite, sharp teeth glittered in his wide mouth, and compared to his size, his arms were long and thin. He was slightly hunched. This was the creature that I had seen in the mine.
“You have lost your trail then, there are only mountains in this region!” he shouted.
“I don’t know this r
egion too well, brother goblin. Would you help me by giving directions?”
“Fine, fine. Come closer, Harwulf.”
He climbed down from the cliff, next to the fire, where an impaled squirrel was being prepared. I got off my horse and settled on the ground next to him.
“You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”
“No, but you won’t get a bite from the squirrel!”
“My stomach is full, brother goblin. You may feast at ease.”
“Merchants and the wealthy avoid this region from far, you dumb oaf. Go back to the east, this is what I suggest to you.”
“I might have indeed lost track a bit, Zrindel.”
He stared at me with his enormous eyes as he removed the squirrel from the stick and took a huge bite from the well-done meat.
“Where are you heading, all alone?” I was trying to get some information out of him.
“I have a business meeting with a dwarf merchant,” he was delightfully chewing on the skinny meat.
“Do you do business with dwarfs?”
“I do business with whoever provides the money, I don’t care about their race.”
“Understandable. Are you always this careful when you are en route?”
“Let’s just say that certain folk try to follow me, hence the caution.”
You wouldn’t dare to think how close they are, I smiled to myself. I took the wine flask to offer some beverage to the tiny creep.
“Do you like the wines of Yandor, brother?” I offered the flask to him.
He suspiciously smelled it, narrowing his eyes.
“You drink first.”
“Of course, I understand. I would do the same were I you.”
So, I drank some of the poisoned wine since it had no effect on me, then I handed it over to the goblin.
“To a brighter future,” he grabbed the flask and gulped the wine down.
“It has a great taste, doesn’t it, Zrindel?”
“It indeed does! Where did you get it from?” he burped.
“I won it by playing cards with a blustering human pretending to be a nobleman.”
“Those humans, they always believe to be the best at everything. It was only a couple of decades ago that they acknowledged us as an intelligent race and now they despise us more than during the previous centuries,” the goblin answered with his mouth full, wine spilling down his cheeks.
“Don’t even tell me. I can see it in their eyes how they look at us, orcs and goblins. It seems futile to have deceived the Nozgold Empire for them, they seem to have forgotten to be grateful,” I replied, recalling the events of the past.
“It’s an arrogant race, they assume they are in control of everything. I believe this will bring about their fate at some point,” he scratched his bald head.
“You talk well, I have to agree with you. Soon the age of another race will come.”
“Let that be so, orc brother, let that be so. Until then we can do nothing else but adapt to the circumstances. If we need to lick their arses, we will do so.”
“We must be patient until our time comes and we can take the first step.”
Suddenly, the roast squirrel dropped out of Zrindel’s hand while he grabbed his throat and began vomiting.
“Are you fine, mate?” I asked, leaning closer.
He spat out blood and looked at me furiously with bloody eyes and a contorted back.
“You have poisoned me, you damned orc! You will regret this!” he yelled.
“But how can you say this? You saw me drinking from the wine.”
“I will kill you even like this, you bastard!” he raised his hands and muttered some words, his pasque-flower yellow eyes flared up.
“What spell did you cast on me, you little pile of sheep shite? I will strangle you!” I lifted the goblin at his throat. Frothy, bloody slobber heaved up from his throat as his body was beginning to absorb the poison extracted from the plant. He laughed out in agony.
“I cast black death on you! Your skin is going to blacken and peel from your flesh. Your organs will become jelly and you will decay amidst excruciating pain!” he rattled.
“You ratty little goblin, your hexes have no effect on me!” I grinned with my fangs. “For I am not an orc, not even a human, but something much more ancient and superior,” I transformed back to my original shape. My skin became transparent, my brain and organs became visible, the iris of my patchouli pink eyes turned vertical. “I belong to the tribe of the ancients, I am a Zauron. No poison or hex takes hold of me!”
His enormous eyes widened and I could see the spark of fear in them as I kept him in my tight grip. He had no energy left to resist and I was much more powerful.
“Now tell me, were you hired by the Goldenaxes?”
“Why would I disclose anything to you, you shapeshifting maggot!” he rattled, gasping for breath.
“Because you will die anyway, Zrindel, but I can decrease your pain and finish you off swiftly, or I can leave you here to decay, but that might take more than an hour for the alpine laburnum to take its effect.”
“I will not tell you anything… damn shapeshifter…” his voice chuckled as blood burst out from his throat.
“Always this resistance, all in vain, I will obtain all the information from you whether you like it or not.”
I pushed him down to the ground with one hand, gripping his throat, and started sucking his memories with the other. I got a hold of new information within a few minutes. He was hired two weeks ago in Birwulf by a disguised dwarf who didn’t reveal his name. He must have been the member of the same clan as the one I killed a couple of days earlier. They were all connected to Baron Yuraj. As discussed, Zrindel had to stay in the vicinity of the border to wait for the command to attack the mine in Kirklander. I suppose this depended on whether the assassins succeeded in murdering me. Since they didn’t, their plan advanced to the next phase – smart move. I released his neck and drew out Bloodgusher.
“All I need is one last thing from you, my goblin friend.”
He had no energy to respond, the poison ended his life. Death had found him convulsing in pain when I cut his dreadful little head from his thin neck. Now that I knew that this was again the making of that bastard Baron Yuraj and the alliance of dwarf merchants, the Goldenaxes, I got tired of constantly only reacting to their moves. I hence decided that I would visit the neighbor of Telron and strike a deal that would finally be of mutual benefit. I transformed back to the body of the Baron and headed back to the cave to collect my equipment and put on my disguise of the nobleman.
CHAPTER TEN
Suspicious Events
I got severely injured in the course of the fight against Iriana. I had lost a lot of blood and I fainted several times on the journey back. I slept over a whole day to finally become rested enough following those nights of tormenting nightmares. The priestly magic healed my wounds, however, I was still feeling feeble. I sat up in the bed and checked myself by moving my shoulders to see whether the bite had caused major damage in it. Thanks to the protective hands of Dermeron, it didn’t hurt anywhere. My father used to ask me, “Are you sure this is the life you want for yourself, son? You will see. I will be the one who buries you and not the other way round.”
In the end, he was proven to be wrong as the Wailing Death had taken him, may he rest in peace.
My stomach was burning from hunger which I had to alleviate somehow. I closed the door behind me and went down to the dining hall of the inn, taking slow, considerate steps. It must have been around early morning based on the position of the sun, only a few were lingering downstairs, sipping their beverages quietly, killing time.
“The Master awakes!” I heard a familiar voice say behind my back.
I turned around and saw Motari looking at me delightfully, holding his carved staff.
“I already thought you have retreated to winter sleep, like the bears do.”
“Well, I was not far from that, my old friend. I am dying of
hunger. Let me invite you to a copious lunch. Will you join me?”
“It is rather early for that, but I am happy to accept your invitation. I trust you are feeling better now.”
“Let’s say so, although I still feel somewhat dizzy, but my shoulder doesn’t hurt anymore. Have you seen my team?”
“Of course. They are milling about in the city but I’m sure they will be back by noon.”
In the meantime, we sat down at one of the available tables. Bonecracker came to us with a wide smile on his cheek, flashing his fangs. He wiped his hands in his greasy apron.
“Greetings, Master Noan, Arch Mage. Let me congratulate to you on your victory over the Shadow Sisters and their ramador. The troubadours are going to sign songs in your praise,” he said and shook my hand with his thick fingers.
“Thank you, Bonecracker. I would like to have a copious lunch…”
“Let me interrupt you, Master. Today everything is on me, you can eat and drink as much as you like. This is my way of expressing gratitude for having cleasned the city from these despicable wenches. They sent one of my fellows to the world beyond, so I am glad to see him avenged.”
“This is just my job. We do, however, accept your generous offer, innkeeper.” I looked at my old friend who was brushing his fingers through his long greyish beard that reached down to his chest.
“Great! So, let me share some gossip with the Master and the Arch Mage,” the hulking orc said as he sat down at our table. “Do you remember that the other day, that dwarf merchant was murdered here in my inn?”
“Of course, I remember,” I replied.
“Well, yesterday the corpse of the bloke who I last saw the dwarf with was found in the forest during one of the patrols of the city guards. It was not too far away, close to a small village. They brought in his corpse where the pathologist determined that his throat was slashed. But this is not the important part...” he excitedly flicked the golden ring in his nose.
Faceless: The Takeover (The Shapeshifters Book 1) Page 15
