by Aaron Bunce
“Where did the men come from? Why would they help such monsters?” Sky asked.
“A few came on dere own…twisted fools, but most came in chains, led by the whip. A lot of them was injured. Some died in the grass right outside me door. None of em was much to look at, weak, sickly. None of em was strong like you lot, not a fighter in the whole lot. Well, most of t’others hollered bloody murder until they were beaten quiet,” Gaston said raising his hands to rub his weary eyes.
“What did they have you do?” Julian asked, reading Gaston’s dark look.
“Well…after they beat me, broke me, and left me chained to the floor for a few shiverin cold nights they started marching them poor half-dead bastards into me forge. They were all bound up with ropes n chains. Two at a time usually, Gunta save em. From the looks of it, many of em hadn’t eaten in weeks, no food, and no water. They were all haggard, except for the ones that came willingly. They were treated special, given food, water, a soft bedroll and furs fer warmth.
“The strange fellar, the one in the mask, brought this sack o gems. Little cloudy green things they were. He had me forging special shackles for em, an’ then in each one he fitted one of those gems. Well, they brought those men in here by the whip, one by one, an’ had me clamp em to those poor screaming bastards while the steel were still screaming hot. That way they couldn’t take em off, you see?” Gaston looked at Julian, his eyes hollow and a sickly pallor settling over his face.
“Can still smell their burning skin, hear their cries…nothing right about it, nothing at all,” Gaston said and took another drink. “After the metal cooled, they stopped screaming, stopped flopping like fresh caught fish on the floor. They changed, got a weird look in their eyes, like they were dead inside. They didn’t complain a lick after that, they did whatever they was told to do, even if it was to cut off ther'n own arm.”
“My men here will look after you. They will take you safely back to the city, where you can get healing, food, and rest,” Julian said to Gaston before turning to Nirnan.
“Wait, and where are you going?” the big man asked as Sky stepped closer.
“Take this man back to Craymore, and tell them what we have found. I have to find Tanea. I can move faster and quieter by myself,” Julian reasoned.
“You are no match for him in your condition. You can’t go at him alone. I am coming with you!” Sky stepped in defiantly.
“No, I need you to get the others back safely. Go to Jiqou, he will listen to you,” Julian said, and before Sky could protest, he put his arm around his friend’s shoulder and whispered, “You have to trust me.”
Sky pushed back, uncertainty creasing the skin around his dark blue eyes…but eventually he nodded and reluctantly walked back to the others. Gaston gave Julian directions to the north cave, before departing for Craymore. Sky looked back several times before finally making his way through the trees, and disappearing into the creek bed.
Julian wanted nothing more than to have his friends at his side, but he knew he had brought them far enough. He couldn’t stand the thought of any of them getting hurt or killed because of his mistake, because of his failure. On this particular errand, Julian knew he had to be the one that paid the blood debt.
Gaston was good to his word. Julian followed his directions, and he was glad of it too, for the woods covering the northern expanse of the grove was thick and hard to navigate. To make matters worse, the gentle snowfall covering the ground started to blow about, clouding the path and stinging his eyes.
Julian, with his face covered to ward off the wind, stumbled out through a break in the trees and almost tripped over a massive tree stump. The wind shifted, revealing a clearing dotted with the stumps of hundreds of felled trees.
Scrap wood, iron banding, and an assortment of crude hand tools lay heaped over the clearing, left barely distinguishable by the powdery coating of fresh snow. As Julian approached the mid-point of the clearing he stepped in a rut cut deep into the ground. He knelt down and ran his fingers over the indentation. It looked exactly like tracks made by a wagon, only he had never seen a wagon this big before.
What did they build here? Julian wondered.
He jogged the rest of the way across the clearing, coming across even more tracks cut into the ground. They were all facing the same direction. Julian was starting to understand the bigger picture. This was not simply a band of desperate raiders, attacking for food or gold. The gnarls were primal, blood-thirsty and savage creatures, but their attacks were not simply random encounters. He was sure they were testing the city’s defenses, testing its men and their resolve.
Julian considered the masked man who had taken Tanea. Somehow, this strange figure had the strength and power to control the gnarls. Even more frightening yet, he was capturing men and women and enslaving them. His chest ached as he remembered the strange glowing gems in the man’s bracelet, and had to wonder if they were the same ones Gaston spoke of.
Are they the source of his overwhelming strength?
Julian kept that in mind as he headed back into the woods, moving towards the north end of the valley. He had to consider that knowledge to be his only real advantage if he had to square off against the masked man again.
He could not best him by strength, or skill for that matter. But if Julian could find a way to separate the man from the strange bracelet, then perhaps he might have a chance.
The northern wall of the valley appeared after only a short walk beyond the clearing. The cave Gaston told him about was centrally located along the sheer valley wall. The cave mouth had been expanded. The rock was chiseled away, and the ceiling reinforced with heavy timbers.
Julian slipped inside and took in as many details as he could before ducking behind a pile of old, rotten timbers. Torches crackled all around the cave’s entrance, held in place by ancient looking wrought iron holders. A single tunnel located on the rear wall led deeper into the mountain.
Julian ducked out from his hiding spot and made for the tunnel. He passed several old dwarvish carts, their bins still full of rock and ore, and paused just outside the tunnel entrance. He ducked behind the closest cart as a torch appeared suddenly, carried by a pair of men.
Julian ducked low, holding his breath and crab-walking sideways to keep the cart between them. The men walked right past the cart, completely unaware of his presence. They wore short swords on their hips, yet no armor. Their clothes were old and the cloth was poor. One of the men wasn’t even wearing shoes. One of the men turned and laughed. He looked gaunt in the torchlight, his eyes sunken and dark.
“How many more can they possibly want? I don’t understand their rush,” the sickly man said after his laughter died away.
“You know what he said - they are picky. Not just anyone will do. So, the more the better,” the shoeless man replied with a sarcastic laugh.
“What do you think will happen to those they don’t pick? Do you think they will mark them like the others?” the first man asked.
“How should I know? Hell, half of em are either too young or old to bear children. They’ll probably cut 'em, and feed em to the trolls. You know, like they did with the old folks they took from that village in the mountains,” the shoeless man replied off-cuff.
Tanea! Julian’s chest instantly tightened as he considered the news. They had taken more people, and not just women, but men and children. They had been selected, and those not selected had been killed.
But what does that mean? Selected for what?
Julian couldn’t fathom what the masked man and his lot had in store for Tanea, but he did know that he wasn’t about to let her find out. If it was his own life that he would have to trade to see her freed, then he would give it willingly.
He moved to the edge of the cart, readying his sword, but a deluge of Tanea’s emotions washed over him. He felt fear and uncertainty, terror and doubt. The burden of her emotions made his legs shake and almost laid him low. Something had affected her. Something horrible.
Julian was out from behind the cart before he realized what he was doing. He broke into a fast walk, keeping his steps smooth and even, as to not scuff his soles against the tunnel floor. The two men sauntered ahead, moving at an uninspired pace, two wrapped up in their conversation to notice him.
He flexed the grip on his sword but then paused, reaching around for the axe. Two men, two weapons.
Julian lunged, chopping the heavy weapon down at the closest man’s head. The axe sank deep into his neck with a sickening plop. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Julian swung the sword in his left hand as soon as the axe came free. The second man barely had time to turn before the edge of Julian’s blade cut into his shoulder. His face scrunched up, contorted by the alarm and pain. He whimpered and gagged, but could not cry out.
The sword pulled free, and the shoeless man flopped onto his back, his torch pinned beneath him, its flames burning and singing cloth and skin. Julian stalked towards him as he squirmed.
“Wait…wait!” the shoeless man sobbed, pushing himself along the ground as blood ran freely down his chest. He managed only a few paces before slumping in a heap. Julian stepped over him, both bloody weapons gleaming.
“You’re from the city? Yeah you are,” the shoeless man said, blood bubbling up in his mouth. “I know why you’re here…and you’re too late!” His face twisted into a mocking sneer.
Too late, Julian thought.
“No…it’s too late for you,” Julian spat and brought the axe down.
He wiped both blades clean on the dead man’s trousers and continued down the tunnel, their blood still sticky and warm on his hands. He knew that he should feel remorse for killing them, but instead he felt gratified.
What am I becoming? Julian thought bitterly. He never wanted to be one that killed so readily.
They are making me do this, not me! Julian thought and stopped abruptly. He stood on a dark precipice. Not a single torch glowed in the tunnel before him. Two smaller tunnels branched off on either side of him. On instinct, Julian turned left. He bent low in the dim light and could barely make out a pair of bare footprints, so he continued.
The passageway narrowed until it was tight to his sides, while the ceiling rose and dropped irregularly. A faint light trickled down from ancient lanterns riveted into the walls. Their glass enclosures were so covered in filth and soot that hardly any light could escape.
Julian slid his feet out with each step, searching along the dark floor as he went. He approached a curve in the tunnel and heard something echo off in the distance. After a moment, Julian realized that it was the ring of metal on metal, like a hammer striking an anvil.
Bang…bang.
Water droplets fell from the ceiling above, spattering his head and neck. His heart started to leap in his chest, matching the hard crash of metal, but he forced himself to keep going. The noise escalated, growing louder with every step forward. The tunnel abruptly turned left and ended, bright light cascading from the room beyond.
Julian ducked his head around the corner and took in the room. He saw large braziers hanging from the walls, burning bright and belching smoke into the air. He also saw heavy cages, constructed from heavy timbers and iron bars, lining both walls. The cages spanned as far back as he could see. Movement caught his eye. The fire’s reflection glinted off shifting, moving shapes trapped within the cages. They were people.
Tanea is there somewhere, Julian thought in horror.
Bang…bang. Metal crashed against metal once again. It was so loud now that it made his ears ring.
Julian spotted a stooped, hairy figure walking towards him along the row of cages. As the gnarl passed a cage it rapped the heavy handle of a whip against the iron bars. The creature sauntered down the line, harassing the trapped figures inside with child-like amusement. Then it stopped before one of the cages, and bent down to look inside.
Julian gave the room one final look. He took in the lines of corroded cages stuffed full of people. There were so many he couldn’t hope to count them all. Without warning, the gnarl began pounding on the cage with its fists, snarling and growling angrily.
Julian had seen enough. With only a slight hiccup in his step, he rounded the corner. He heard the people rustling in the cages as he walked by, but he forced his eyes up and on his target.
Don’t look down. Focus on your target, he thought, fighting the urge to stop and look for Tanea among the captives.
Bang…clunk, the gnarl jailer continued, slowly and deliberately lingering before those that cried out or showed the most fear.
Julian crept forward, trying as he might to become as small and quiet as he could. His feet began to tingle and his legs burned from the effort, but he was close now. Close enough to smell the creature’s offensive musk. Julian envisioned his first move, just like his father taught him.
Picture in your mind the act as you desire it. The way you feel it must be done. If you do that, your arm will do the rest. He flashed back to that day with his father, barely ten name days old, and holding a sword for the first time.
His arm went back, the handle of his sword squirming slightly in his damp palm. He short stepped with his left foot to set up a lunge with his right, better to build power for his sword strike. One cut, one kill.
His left foot planted and he lunged. His muscles bunched and flexed, but his sword arm caught on something and his thrust contorted into a painful pirouette.
“Please help me, get me out of here. You can’t just leave us here!” Someone moaned softly from the depths of the cage as a pair of pale hands wrapped around his arm. It was a young woman, smashed up against the iron bars, grabbing and clutching at him.
The woman grasped him so tightly that her skin became like paper wrapped around her knuckles. Julian pulled to free his sword, but more hands emerged and latched on.
“Let me out…help me!” She moaned, others joining in, shouting and banging on their bars.
The gnarl spun, and growling menacingly, came at him. The weighted end of the creature’s whip thumped loudly against the ground as the gnarl let the braided leather unfurl. Julian backed away, fighting to pull his arm free the captive woman’s hold but not daring to take his eyes off the jailor.
“Let me go, woman, I’m trying to help you!” Julian growled, but she continued to wail desperately for freedom.
“Help me, help me…you have to help me!”
The gnarl’s arm went back and the whip whirled with it, disappearing in a blur of motion and a promise of pain. Julian released his grip on the sword and wrenched free. He heard the crack of the whip before he felt it.
He swung back, falling against the cages and then tumbled to the floor. His left arm throbbed where the whip struck. Julian reached up and found a hole where the weapon’s strange tip cut clean through his shirt and split the skin beneath.
The whip smacked the stone between Julian’s legs, slashing in like a springing viper. Water and fragments of stone splattered his face and eyes in a violent shower. Julian, blinded by the debris, rolled to the side, grimacing as he pushed to his feet.
Julian wiped desperately at his eyes, trying to dislodge the grit and dirt blurring his vision. He danced back as the gnarl, little more than a brown blur, moved, and again the whip head cracked in the air, this time next to his head.
The entire room echoed with the desperate, shrill cries of the prisoners trapped within the cages. He tugged the axe free and waved it before him just as the whip snapped in again.
Julian’s steel vambrace rang from the strike, the muscle already going numb beneath. His vision finally cleared, allow him to see the creature slowly circling him.
“Come on!” Julian challenged, bring the axe up before him.
The gnarl barked something in a guttural tongue. A heartbeat later he had to dodge back as the whip split the air between them. Affixed to the whip’s end, and curving like the fangs a snake hung a mass of sharp, hooked blades.
Julian had heard of suc
h weapons, used by slavers and jailers for torture and domination. They were capable of flaying flesh and muscle, eviscerating someone before they even got within arm’s reach.
That chest plate would come in handy right about now!
The gnarl worked the weapon back and forth, keeping the barbs in motion and ready to strike if he dared get close enough. Julian figured the gnarl didn’t expect to kill him with the whip. It was more likely that the creature would use it to keep him off balance and at a distance. It would wait until Julian was too exhausted to fight properly, and then finish him off with a blade.
Or, if I’m not careful, it will be the blade in my back from the enemy I don’t see.
Julian moved, driven by a half-crazed plan that popped into his mind. He took two steps forward, making as if to bull-rush the gnarl in a brutish tact. The cat of nine tails whipped forward, streaking level with his face, as Julian anticipated. He hopped back a step, the whip’s tasseled blades cracking right before his face.
The gnarl didn’t even have time to start retracting the weapon before Julian burst into motion. He pushed off hard from the wet stone, bringing the axe up over his head, preparing the weapon for a killing strike. His only hope was to end the fight in a single stroke.
The gnarl threw the elongated handle of the whip above its head, just knocking the axe aside. Julian recovered as best he could, feeling the muscles in his arms and shoulder strain as he swiped the weapon sidelong towards the creature’s neck. Yet the gnarl ducked that blow as well.
Julian knew his attacks with the axe were awkward. He felt more like he was chopping at a tree, but trees didn’t move. The gnarl ducked another swipe, and dropped to a knee, driving the whip’s handle against the ground. As soon as the black metal struck stone a foot-long spike slid forth.
Julian could hardly acknowledge the blade’s appearance before he was dodging a skewering strike. He twisted around, swinging the axe in a mighty response, but the gnarl dodged aside and answered in kind.
