by Bill Albert
Violently spinning, the mists fell together, and, in a black and white image, they could see Zaslow staring at them. It gave a sudden, horrible shriek that send shivers up their spines. Zaslow laughed at them as he disappeared into the fiery glow.
Then, like a candle being blown out, the fiery orange light disappeared.
“Did we just get a look into hell?” Jakobus asked quietly thanking his god, Ha’dar, for protecting him. As confident as he was, he couldn’t help but feel that the daimon known as Zaslow had been born and was a very powerful enemy.
Novelevon’s analytical mind had never found much time for prayer but decided that this was as good as time as any to start.
***
“I believed I’d never do this,” Jakobus said a day later after they had talked about what needed to be done. “We dwarves frown on this. We believe there is something unnatural about it.”
“But it’s the only way you can get to Gallif on time. Please, my friend, I have done this many times with no foul effects.”
“But you saw what happened to Zaslow.”
“And will be haunted by it forever. That, what we saw, wasn’t because of what he did but who he was. I’m sure of that,” Novelevon said assuredly. “In that self, his original self, evil was his biggest strength.”
“My instincts tell me the same thing,” Jakobus said almost reluctantly. “You’ll begin your work here?”
“Of course, I will, you know that. I will do what I can, but I still think we must have Lincilara here to make it work.”
“Okay,” Jakobus said. He shook hands with Novelevon, took a deep breath, then stepped into the shimmer and was gone.
BOOK THREE:
SPARKS
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: THE EXECUTIONER’S DAY
Kwim sat on his throne, a tall back wooden chair with steel joints, and relaxed while his attendants got him ready. There were 13 of them, mostly human but two hobgoblins and one giant, who were responsible for making sure his uniform was proper. They took care of the boots, gloves, pants, vast and everything he wore to make him look professional for the execution. They were now binding up the metal buckles on his cloak and polishing the handle of his axe.
Kwim looked at the axe and figured that was why he wasn’t as excited about this as he should be. Axes were good for the average executions when you had a number of condemned to go through with very little time. It was mostly silent, and the victims went quickly with little fear and that was why he disliked it so much. Looking into the deep dark hole cut into the stage, supposedly to tell them what their future would be like, the condemned were quiet and usually caught off guard when the axe fell. As far as executions go it was quite boring.
Now, Kwim thought, a good old-fashioned hanging was more to his taste. The condemned were marched onto the gallows and stood looking at the rope for several minutes. That was the part that aroused him. He could see that dread in their faces as he prepared them. That great moment as he stood before them and put the hood over their faces was near ecstasy.
Even better, once in a while, there would be condemned prisoners, usually a young, human female, who would whimper when they felt the noose tighten around their necks. Those were the moments of pure joy when he truly loved his job.
He tried to find some comfort in who the condemned was. She had assassinated the King, wounded the Fourth Minister, and brought down Starpoint Mountain. She was the most hated thing anyone in the land had ever known and he would be remembered in the history books for it so he supposed he could accept the personal disappointment of the moment.
“Master Executioner Kwim,” one of his aides call to him.
“Yes, what is it?” he asked as the hobgoblin brought him out of his thoughts.
“Master Executioner Kwim, it’s time for you to go on stage. The woman, err, the condemned has been prepared.”
“Of course, thank you,” he said and tighten the black leather mask he wore. He didn’t like the mask, he wasn’t sure if his fans could see him clearly, but it was necessary for this Royal Event. “How do I look?”
“Excellent, Master Executioner Kwim,” an aide said.
“You are an image of strength, Master Executioner Kwim” the second said.
“There is an aura of majesty about you, Master Executioner Kwim, the third added.
“Master Executioner Kwim,” a fourth and jumped in. “I am forever honored by your greatness.”
After all the aides delivered their well-rehearsed complements Kwim took the axe and walked out onto the stage with his attendants marching in unison behind him. He could hear and feel the awe of the crowd at his presence and managed to hold back a smile. With great flourish he walked over to the executioner’s mount and stood with axe in hand. Just for effect he would occasionally, flexes muscles and could hear the crowd trembling and excitement.
There was a hush in the crowd of thousands of eyewitnesses when the condemned was brought on stage. He was not too impressed with her. After hearing all she had done he was surprised at just how plain she looked. He had imagined her to be almost as big as a giant and the red hair did nothing to excite him.
He flexed his muscles some more but remained as stolid as he could as she was given her last chance with the remaining members of the Circle of Ministers then finally laid on the table with her head hanging over the edge. The orange cloth was wrapped around her and then she was tied into position, her shoulder down, so he could make a clean cut of her neck.
As the last trumpet call began, he raised the axe high over her head for a moment then reared it back. Muscles tense and ready he kept his eye on the prize and enjoyed the fact that he was about to remove her head from her body.
The trumpet stopped and he thrust the axe forward with pleasure. As the axe cut through the air there was the briefest flash of a very bright light as something glowing green flew past his face. The surprise caused him to waver his swing and the axe embedded itself into the stage floor.
He blinked several times and shook before he looked for the condemned on the table.
“My goodness, you dolt,” one of his aides yelled at him aghast. “You missed!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: HARD LANDING
Gallif came to a stomach-churning stop and laid violently coughing on the damp floor. She breathes deeply and clenched her fists forcing the dizziness out of her system before opening her eyes, closing them again, then just rolling onto her back until the breathing steadied.
She had voluntarily been through a jump casting before and gotten used to the disorientation but being pulled through the cast itself was a different story. Ending up on this side of the cast, emerging in midair, was making matters worse. She knew she was lucky she hadn’t broken anything and swallowed hard to prevent herself from vomiting.
As soon as she dared, she slowly opened her eyes before gently propping herself up on her elbows and looked around behind her.
She was lying in a dark, underground hallway lit only by tortures space evenly. There were no doors in the hallway leading up to her location that she could see. Ahead of her was a flight of stairs leading downward.
She concentrated letting the dizziness in her mind’s saddle as she listened for any movement or signs of life. She tried to reason what had exactly happened. If she had traveled through proper jump casting, she would’ve ended up someplace she had known. Nothing about this place was familiar. She considered the possibility that someone had managed to pull her through a jump casting. It seemed odd that if someone had she would end up here all by herself. Was it possible she could have landed in the wrong place?
Blinking a few times to make sure there was no disorientation she climbed to her feet and repeatedly looked in both directions. Her vision in mind were now clear. She pulled off the orders death shroud and was about to discard it when she changed her mind. Having no resources of any kind with her she knew to keep everything she had. She rolled it up and tied it around her waist.
On instinct, she headed
down the stairs figuring there would be fewer people further down and she could find something she could use to defend herself.
After a hundred steps the walls changed from a car stone to a natural tunnel, but the steps were still very carefully placed. There were a few very small natural breaks in the cave walls, and she stopped in only one. It was barely a foot-tall crack only inches from the ground and she kneeled to it and took a deep breath. She smiled and reached into the crack to dip her hand into a puddle of freshwater. She licked the moisture from her palm then rubbed what was left across her face. It felt good but she slowed when she felt the permanent scar below her left eye. She collected another palm full and splashing on her face before continuing. The steps finished and she walked uninterrupted until she found herself entering a dungeon.
She immediately noticed that almost everything in this dungeon was designed for Giants. The weapons and tools were heavy and difficult for her to grass with ease. It was also obviously a torture chamber. There were tables, chains, spikes, and other violent instruments in the chamber.
Searching carefully, she founded dagger almost big enough to use as a small sword and strapped its rotted leather sheath around her leg. It was slightly uncomfortable but at least it was something. She was looking for more when she heard the grunt of someone approaching in one of the offshoot tunnels. She hurried and was quickly safely hidden behind one of the weapons racks.
Two men entered the chamber and headed to the table used as a rack. Both were human males and were heavily armed but carried no indication of rancor insignia. They were, apparently, in the service of the Giants but carried nothing that would indicate they were part of the hobgoblin militia. They were both in their mid-20s and one had ahead of light blonde hair and a beard and the other was dark skinned. The men appeared to be carrying bags of something over their shoulders but as they approached the tortured tables, they were revealed to be carrying bodies. The blond man unceremoniously dumped a small body of a human girl onto the table. The dark-skinned man was carrying an elf and tossed it on the table with a sickening thud. The dark man nudged the body twice and it jiggled lifelessly on the table.
“I think I broke it,” the dark man laughed.
“Hey, be careful, the blond man protested. “We got paid good coins for them. Especially the one with the pointed ears!” The blond man went over and checked the else body for life and found nothing as well. “He won’t like it already dead. Maybe we should just drop it in the pit,” he said
Carelessly the dark-skinned man grabbed the elf by its throat, Dragon across the floor, then tossed it into a pit in the corner.
“We better find another one. That was good money.”
“Let’s get out of here,” the blond man said. “And this place gives me the wiggies,” he exclaimed with a shiver.
“What is that?” The dark man asked.
“What?”
“It looks like a person down there,” the dark man said in confusion “it’s a body armor? Metal stuff.”
“It’s your imagination.”
“No, seriously, take a look?”
Reluctantly the blond man joined him and soon agreed it did appear to be a body. They debated whether they should retrieve it one Gallif started to sneak up behind them.
Still wearing the cut cloth pants and shirts they had dressed her in for her execution she was able to move with absolute silence. She was halfway across the chamber when she stepped on a razor-sharp splinter of metal on the floor. Involuntarily she gasped and took a step back. She thanked her god Tebiet that the shard didn’t stick in her foot, but the men heard her and turned with their weapons drawn. They took a few steps towards her demanding an explanation.
She now knew that these men were mercenaries usually hired to do dirty work. They asked no questions if whoever paid them what they wanted. They were also, she knew, quite ruthless at their jobs. They were heavily armed fighters and even her skills would not be enough against them unarmed. She thought about reaching for the dagger strapped to her legs but just decided to smile.
“Welcome,” she said looking her lips. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
“You are expecting us?” The blond man asked.
“Well, I was told someone would be making a delivery today and I assumed it was you. Maybe I was wrong,” she pouted.
“I sure hope not,” the dark man said.
“Why would you be here for us?” The blond man asked.
“Well, you’ve been doing so well he thought it was time to give your reward for all your work.”
“He, who?” The blond man asked.
“Well, let’s just say the same person who pays you to do what you do pays me to do what I do.”
“What is it you do? The blond man asked and was elbowed in the side by the dark man.
“Well,” she said slowly pulling the order shroud away from her hips. She pulled the shirt down and back, so it was tight against her body. “I did say he wanted to reward you.”
As fast as their weapons had been drawn that put them away. They smiled and quickly tried to make themselves look presentable.
“You want us altogether are one at a time,” the blond man asked as they stepped closer to her.
“Well,” she whispered breathlessly, “I think the way things are now I’ll have no trouble taking the two of you at the same time.”
Both men were surprised by her taunt and they walked of her dropping their belts and she soars on the floor. They were even more surprise when she sidestepped and kicked hard against the blond man’s knee. He doubled over in pain. She clasped her hands together tight and smacked them down on the back of his head knocking him unconscious. The dark man instinctively reached for his sword. He had just enough time to realize why he wasn’t wearing it when her fists caught him square in the job. The pain shot through his body like lightning and he fell to his knees.
She grabbed him by the hair and within seconds remove two daggers, a hammer, and freed bags of coins from his pockets. As she dragged him by the collar into one of the prison cells, she considered taking his boots, but they were too big for her. She dropped him on the floor, then slammed and locked the door on her way out.
Angrily the man stumbled up but completely fell onto his side nursing his jaw. She took the giant dagger from her side and used it to jam the door closed permanently.
She ran to the blond man and used the death shroud to gag him and tie his hands behind his back. None of the clothes he was wearing would help her. Like the others, they were so oversized they would hinder her movement. She dragged him into one of the other cells and made sure the door was closed and locked.
She looked at the body still wrapped in a blanket that the blond man had dumped on to the torture table. She ran to it and carefully unwrapped the blanket trying not to disturb the body inside. She was shocked to find a young girl inside the damp cloth and gassed when she gently rolled a halfling girl onto her back away from the blanket.
She brushed the girl’s hair away and clean some of the dirt off her face to make sure.
“I know you,” she whispered in shock and pray that the girl was still alive. She thinks forgot again that the girl was still breathing.
Wishing that Rosario and her healing talents were here she desperately looked around the room for something to help. She found some dry rags they were not too dirty to use and gently dry her off.
After cleaning her up she softly looked down on Aliala sweet young face. Gallif had met Aliala and her family right after the mountain had fallen. She had spent the night at the farm and, even in a few short hours, she and the nine-year-old girl had bonded. Their paths have crossed since then and she knew how important she was to Aliala. Now she hoped to get the chance to show her that the feeling was mutual.
She waited, watch the girl, and listened for any signs of someone approaching. She glanced around the room when she could to make sure there was a way out for them. Despite the number of passages leading to end away from
the chamber there were only two ways for them to go. No matter what came at them there was no way she was going to leave on her own.
Gallif laughed and shook her head and relief when Aliala awoke with a light cough. They made eye contact and Aliala threw her arms round Gallif. Gallif embraced her and set her on the table next to her without letting go.
Aliala buried her head and Gallif shoulder and started crying. Gallif rocked her gently and quietly but stayed alert in case someone was trying to sneak up on them. Finally, Aliala pulled away and Gallif wiped her face clean with the sleeve of her shirt.
“What happened Aliala? How did you get here?”
“They were going to execute you and I knew it was wrong. You were innocent and I told them so.”
“That’s quite a risk,” Gallif said touched by her loyalty. “I was Fugitive Kind, then presidential assassin, it was a very dangerous move to defend me.”
“I was defending the truth,” Aliala protested. “I knew you didn’t do it. I couldn’t just let the Giants lie. I was out there among the crowd that had come to see you telling them they were wrong. Then those guards grabbed me and tried to make me stay in a barn, but I slipped out the back. I was running through the forest when this evil man grabbed me,” she said with a shudder.
“It’s okay,” Gallif comforted her. “They’re in cells and are not going to hurt anybody. Do you feel good enough to walk?” Gallif asked and stood after Aliala nodded. She picked the girl off the table and gently set her on the floor. “We have to get out of here. See that way?” Gallif asked pointing to a crack in the wall. “That’s the way they brought you in. You need to go, run as fast as you can, and get free on the other side.”
“I won’t leave you here,” Aliala protested. “You won’t be. I’ll be with you as soon as I can, but I need to find something to protect me first,” she said pointing to her bare feet. “I’ll find something as soon as I can and then follow you. Once we are outside, once you are safe, don’t risk yourself but ask about me and get people thinking. Ask if they really believe what’s been said.”
