by Riley Keene
With a noisy slam, Ermolt let go of the grate. He bent and picked up the executioner’s axe. As Ermolt walked forward, Athala noticed his face was bright red from effort. As the rumble of metal hitting the floor died, he surveyed the room full of guards, breathing heavily.
With enough breath gathered, Ermolt roared out a bellow of challenge, catching the attention of the guards not already looking his way. He whirled the axe over his head twice. The head of the axe was heavy by design, enabling tremendous force behind the swings, but the blade was narrow, intended only to strike the necks of restrained victims. And the haft was short, making it difficult to find a grip that appropriately compensated for the weight of the head.
The sight of the giant barbarian with an impractically large axe gave the guards pause. They still outnumbered the prisoners, but likely to the guards, the odds of catching that axe seemed a little high.
“Surrender!” one of the guards yelled, managing to keep his voice from cracking. “Lay down your weapons and you won’t be harmed!”
“Funny!” Detlev called back from beyond the portcullis. “I think the big man was about to offer you the same terms!” Athala felt a little bit of tension relax as the words were followed by the clanking of a cranking winch.
“Stop gawking and get them!” yelled a guard. “Charge!”
Some number of the guards surged forward, leading those who were a little less certain. Athala threw a blast of fire blindly into the oncoming guards as she scurried across the hallway to where she could hide behind Ermolt and Elise as they met the guards’ charge. The fire scattered harmlessly against a raised shield, but the hesitation broke the solid line, causing the ranks to fold a little bit in at the center, weakening the formation.
Ermolt swept the axe back and forth, blocking most of the hallway. The guards skidded to a stop, trying to halt their charge before their fellows behind them pushed them on into the path of the giant axe.
Athala hurled a bolt of fire at the stopped group, catching one of them across the helmet. Embers and tongues of flame flickered across the faces of that guard and those around him, keeping the group from coordinating.
Elise was fighting defensively, keeping her shield up as her sword whipped up and down to catch the strikes that sought to circumvent her defenses. She began to give ground, letting the guard’s line bulge alongside Ermolt’s wild swings as the guards focused on her pushed forward. They were trying to land a strike on her unarmored flesh through her focused defenses.
“Switch!” Elise shouted as the guards attacking her were almost entirely past Ermolt.
The barbarian whirled at the small group of guards pressuring Elise, and bellowed a challenge at them. He charged forward, axe held high, and the lot of them looked at him as though they’d forgotten he was even there. Ermolt brought the axe around in an arc, spinning it to strike with the back of the haft. The back of the axe head struck across the stomachs of the two guards closest to Elise, doubling them over and sending them back into the group behind them. The whole group stumbled, with those who kept their feet trying to make the choice between helping their comrades back to their feet, or scurrying away before they were the next one to feel the axe land on them.
As soon as Ermolt engaged the group, Elise spun away, circling around and charging the rest of the guards who were trying to come at Ermolt from behind once his back was turned. She slashed at the back of a guard’s leg, forcing him to one knee where she could smash her shield into his face.
The attack sent him tumbling to the ground, scrambling blindly to defend himself from her follow-up. He kept a hold of his sword as he fell, and the flailing blade warded the other guards away.
As they bunched up perfectly, Athala threw a bolt of fire cleanly into a man’s face as he was opening his mouth to shout an order. The would-be commander fell to the ground, flailing, his intake of breath turning into a scream of shock and pain instead of a rallying cry.
The guards faltered at the scream, and Ermolt filled the air with a bellowing laugh. He swung about himself with the axe wildly, landing the heavy weapon into shields and breastplates, knocking the guards around with the force of his blows, looking to damage their morale worse than their bodies.
“Gate’s up!” Detlev shouted from behind. “Let’s move!”
Athala glanced back and quickly ducked under the portcullis, which was hanging only about four fen off the floor. It was more than enough space to escape. She turned to cover the retreat of her friends.
Elise kicked a guard in the knee, slamming the pommel of her sword into the side of his helmet to send him to the floor before disengaging herself. She ducked under the portcullis and turned, sword raised to swipe at any guards that tried to follow.
“Ermolt! Come on!” Elise shouted.
“But I just got started!” Ermolt said with a laugh. “This axe hungered for blood this morning—it would be a shame to put it up before it’s had its fill!” He raised the axe high and Athala was amused at his ruse. She was relieved he was feeling better enough from yesterday’s accident to even joke. “Come on then! Who wants to stick their necks out for me?”
The already shaken guards backed off.
Ermolt dropped the axe and rolled under the portcullis. As soon as he was clear, Detlev hit the winch and let the massive gate drop back to the floor.
“Let’s go!” Detlev called as he started running. “If they’ve got a squad coming around from one of the other exits, I don’t want to see them!”
Elise tossed her sword and shield to the ground and took off at a sprint after him. Athala followed closely behind. Ermolt brought up the rear, breathing heavy already from the previous exertions, but keeping up.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The prison was outside the city walls. The gate nearest to the prison was likely fortified and always on the lookout for anyone in prison outfits, so Detlev led them off the paved path. They circled along the wall, with Detlev keeping them a fair distance away from the wall itself. Eventually they arrived to the southern gate to the city and Elise saw the nimble fingers of Ydia’s Temple in the distance. Her heart sang with joy.
Detlev slowed their pace for a bit, but Athala was out of breath just the same. Despite her struggling to keep up, Detlev redoubled their pace as they arrived at the gate, breaking into a brief sprint. Elise helped the wizard keep up.
They were already almost a block into the city before they heard someone from the gate yell at their backs. Detlev led them into an alleyway immediately, taking them on a zigzagging path until they finally came to a small courtyard between buildings. The area was cramped, the ground mostly taken up by sparse gardens.
“Well, it’s been fun, you three.” Detlev stretched his arms up over his head, somehow not even breathing heavy from the run. “But this is where I leave you. I’ve got to close out a few accounts before I leave town. Can’t call the place a total loss. I’ll need a few assets to set up the next thing.”
“Thank you, Detlev. Or whoever you are.” Elise made a physical effort to act like she didn’t need to catch her breath either, though her lungs screamed at her for the trouble. Behind her, Athala was gasping for air loudly, and Ermolt was panting in deep, controlled breaths. “I may not approve of your methods, but we would never have gotten out without your help.”
“I would say not to worry about it.” Detlev let a smile creep across his face a little too far. “But if you do, it’ll be a lot easier to get a favor out of you when I need it.”
“Is that very likely?” Elise asked, crossing her arms.
“Not for a while. But if I need something, I’ll find you.” He let his smile deflate to a more normal smirk. “I’d also say not to look for me, but honestly, you wouldn’t find me anyway.”
Detlev vanished down an alleyway. The muffled patter of his feet died out after a moment and Elise sagged, joining her companions in catching their breath.
“Alright,” Elise panted. “We’re free.” She patted Athala on the a
rm. “We’re only a few blocks from home, so we’ll go get a quick change of clothes before word of a prison break gets too far.” She turned to Ermolt. “We should meet up at your place, get some weapons and armor together, and get into the sewers immediately.”
“Right,” Ermolt said, his breath almost back. “Faster is better. If we can’t stop Ingmar from getting the spell, we can still stop him from getting away with what he’s done to us.”
“If he didn’t work through the night,” Athala gasped, “we still have some time. Being so smug about having us killed, he probably got a good night’s sleep so he didn’t foul the ritual.” She bent over and spit on the ground, panting for air.
“We can’t worry about that now,” Elise said. “What we need to be outrunning now is the news of our escape. If we can get there before he even knows we aren’t on our way to cremation, he won’t be ready.”
“If they’re dealing with a dragon,” Ermolt said and he scratched his chin, “they might not even have swords and shields on hand. They’ll be armed with polearms and armored for fire. If they don’t know we’re there, they might not have anyone equipped to deal with us.”
“You have a battle plan, then?” Elise asked, putting a hand to Athala’s shoulder, guiding her to stand up straight. “Hold your arms up over your head, dear, it’ll help you catch your breath faster.”
“I have a few things put away for a rainy day,” Ermolt admitted with a grin.
“Looks clear to me,” Athala said as she looked up at the sky, resting her hands on the back of her head. Her breath came a little easier as Elise knew it would. “But we should bring what you have anyway.”
“We shouldn’t hold anything back,” Elise said to Ermolt with a grin. “You have to remember that in our best-case scenario, we still have to fight a dragon after we get that spell.”
Ermolt answered the door half-dressed when Elise and Athala arrived, and he ushered them towards the back of his home.
Elise and Athala had thrown on whatever clothes they could and hurried around to his place, so they didn’t have much to say about his state of undress. It wasn’t as if they’d never seen him with his shirt off before.
Ermolt’s home was relatively sparse, most of the luxury of his furniture was in it being appropriately sized to his frame, rather than the quality. But the modesty of the place was not at all present in the back room, where he kept his personal armory. Ermolt quickly went to the far wall, where his racks of armor were.
“I have a shirt of mail that would probably fit Athala over here.” He went through the racks. “Just something light she can wear over her robe just in case. Most of this stuff is in my size, so you’re going to have to make do with whatever you can adjust, Elise.”
He tossed the chainmail shirt to Elise. She immediately turned to help Athala into it, making sure the wizard’s hair didn’t get caught in the chain links.
“It’s a bit big.” Athala noted as the shirt was settled into place. It reached just past her knees. Elise snickered slightly at the comical effect of the look. “But, er, thank you. I hope I won’t need it.”
“Well, I hope you don’t either. But if you do, we’ll all be glad you’re wearing it.” Ermolt picked his way over the other armor until he found an orange and white breastplate. “This is probably the most adjustable thing here.” He pulled down the breastplate and handed it to Elise. As soon as it was out of his hands he turned back around and began pulling down the other bits and pieces of the suit that went along with it, including pauldrons and greaves.
Elise struggled with the armor a bit. Most of it was almost falling off of her as Ermolt started to help her into it. But once it was on, she noted that it was almost more straps than armor. Ermolt went around and started tightening the straps and buckles to fit her size. Every one of them had been sized out almost to the maximum, and as Ermolt tightened them, the breastplate finally rested snugly against her chest. She set about tightening the straps on the pauldrons as Ermolt knelt down and affixed the greaves to her thighs.
“I don’t know if you want to throw something on over the top of that, a gambeson or something,” Ermolt said, looking over Elise’s armor and finding it tightened to his satisfaction. “But I need to get started on myself.”
“Oh, and here I thought we were charging to battle with the intimidating influence of your lack of chest hair on our side,” Elise said with a smirk, and Ermolt laughed deep. “Perhaps you are right and a little something extra will be needed.”
Elise and Athala were given free rein to dig around the racks and shelves of weapons Ermolt had as he went to the very last armor rack on the wall.
He started with padded armor not unlike what the guards at the prison had, but this set was sized to his proportions and he was able to retain full movement without ripping it. Over that he slid a chain shirt. Sized appropriately to him, the hem of it was almost halfway down his thigh. Once it was on, he called Elise over to help him with the final bit.
Donning plate mail was not a quick and easy process, but Ermolt was trained and practiced in it, and with Elise’s help, he was able to get it on without wasting time. He started with the legs, since the breastplate would make it difficult for him to bend down to affix or tighten them. As they moved up to the chest and back plates, he held his arms up to let her tighten the straps for him.
Once they had armored his arms and affixed the pauldrons and gorget, Ermolt cut an imposing figure.
The suit of heavy plate seemed expensive. Elise was impressed by how well it fit him, and how impenetrable it looked.
“Did you two find what weapons you want?” Ermolt asked. He started doing a couple of squats to get accustomed to the weight of the armor.
“You have some great shields.” Elise went back to the wall of weapons, pulling down a kite shield. “But your maces are all terrible.” She strapped the shield to her arm as she crossed the room to the racks of bludgeoning weapons. “It’s not just that they’re bad, it’s that none of them really compare to mine.”
Ermolt grimaced. “I have to agree. I’d be bringing my hammer if it wasn’t still in Auernheim. Maybe if we can take Ingmar alive, we can hold him hostage to trade for our stuff.”
“That sounds slightly monstrous,” Athala said before picking a quarterstaff from the wall. It looked to be about three-quarters of her height. Though Elise didn’t know if Athala would be effective in a fight with it, using it as a walking stick might make her legs feel a little better, especially if she was still a little sore from the run out of the prison.
“That’s true,” Ermolt chuckled, looking over his weapons collection to find the right one for this cause. “It seems like a grave disservice to the world at large to let him out of this mess alive.”
“Are we approving of murder now?” Elise asked with a smirk, finally selecting a flanged mace that would serve well enough. “I mean, I remember having to drag you away from the last person you killed.”
“You know I’ve killed before, and likely will again.” Ermolt grimaced. “But I never want to kill someone like that. Just doing an honest job. Doing the right thing.” He finally picked up a crude club. The weapon amounted to a sizable length of wood with iron bands around the head. It was quite the contrast to his fully-armored form, but if his instincts told him it was the right weapon for the job, who was Elise to judge? “Ingmar is a monster who ought to be put down.”
“Speaking of monsters,” Elise said as she walked toward the door, holding it open for Athala. “What do we all think of Detlev? Should we be worried that we just loosed a murderer in our city?”
“Considering what we saw in the hallways,” Athala said, shivering, “I’m not sure there was much we could have done to stop him.”
“Don’t get me wrong—I wouldn’t ever call him a friend,” Ermolt said, following Elise back into the front room of his home. “But he did right by us. He could have bolted once he was outside, but he raised the gate for us and got us out, too.” He shrugged.
“Whether or not he’s a murderer, he earned his freedom as far as I’m concerned.”
“I don’t think that justifies his actions.” Elise shrugged. “Or our actions, for that matter. But if we can make it in time to stop whatever Ingmar is doing, I’ll feel a little better about it.”
“Then we need to get moving,” Athala said, waiting by the front door. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ermolt set a moderately quick pace to get them to the sewers in a reasonable amount of time.
They didn’t run across any guards in the streets, but Ermolt still refused to let them run all out. It was still early morning, but the streets of Khule were bustling with travelers and locals alike. A barbarian in full plate armor was turning enough heads—if they actually ran, they would draw attention, and attention meant guards.
He only got turned around once, and Athala helped put him back on track by taking him down an alleyway that Ermolt didn’t know existed.
Once they got underground, he set as fast a pace as they could handle. Elise eventually took the lead, being the only one who had brought a torch. Ermolt had thought of doing so, but he realized he would have enough trouble with his armor making noise in the tunnels and didn’t want to have to juggle both the torch and his plate. They fell into a single-file line once more, with Ermolt following close behind Elise, ready to charge forward at the first sign of danger. Athala brought up the rear, panting with the exertion of wearing the heavy chain shirt, but leaning on her quarterstaff so that she could keep up.
They arrived at the catacombs much quicker this time, a combination of their urgency and the familiarity with the landmarks they had previously used. Ermolt moved to take the lead, letting Elise drop back with the torch.
Their urgency was spurred on when they approached the inscribed stone.
The sconces along the wall had been filled with torches, filling the small space with a blinding light. There were scuff marks along the floor and wall as if many boots had entered the space and many bodies had tried to move through the area at once. The stone pillar itself was no longer present. In its place there was a gaping hole, reaching back into the recess of the wall.
