“Water is getting short. If we don’t find a water source down here in the next couple of days we’re really going to be in trouble,” Zeb informed him.
“There may be a more immediate concern at hand,” the big minotaur rumbled. “I used to work in the mines back in my own kingdom, and I can tell that for the past two days these passages have been worked; and recently. Even more disconcerting is the fact that we are being followed.”
Azerick’s eyes widened in alarm. “How long have they been following us, and who are they?”
Toron shook his big, horned head. “I noticed them about an hour ago. Who they are, I have no clue. Dwarves, abyssal elves, and many other races live under the surface. Some can be extremely unpleasant like the abyssal elves. Others are more benign, but those are few. The underworld is a harsh world, and its inhabitants have to be tough to survive. If it is dwarves or another of the less hostile races, they are likely just keeping an eye on us until we are beyond their territory. If they are abyssal elves, then we are in a great deal of danger. They are either waiting for a good ambush site, or their numbers are not great enough to risk an attack and are waiting for more of their kind to reinforce them.”
Zeb asked, “What should we do? I’m a ship’s captain and a decent fighter, but underground battle tactics are not my forte. Should we just go back and ask them what they want, or create an ambush site of our own and try to parlay there?”
Azerick took charge once more and directed his people. “No, I think we should avoid whoever it is no matter what their intention. If we confront them, that may cause them to attack out of alarm. Divide whatever weapons we have amongst those best suited to use them. Myself, Toron, and a third of the armed men will take up the rear. Zeb, you and the rest of the men guard our front, but leave a couple in the center with those who are unarmed. I have a sneaking suspicion that if they are going to attack us they will have a group hit our front or flank in an attempt to block us or divide our party in two.”
Toron nodded his horned head at the young sorcerer’s wisdom. “The larger party will likely be the one to our rear. Any attack to the front will be to slow us down, and if the fight goes badly for them they would want their path of retreat to be in the opposite direction of wherever we are going.”
Azerick looked around the cavernous chamber where they had decided to stop to rest. “We’ll sleep here. If they are going to attack us, we need to get as much rest now as we can. The two passages leading into here are narrow and that gives us a defensive advantage as well. Double the guard, tell everyone what you know, but reassure them as best you can and tell them to sleep with one hand on their weapons.”
Fortune seemed to smile on them and their rest went undisturbed. Their hidden watchers, lacking in interest or courage, chose not to attack them that night. Their luck did not hold for long however. Just a little over an hour after the refugees resumed their trek to the surface, their pursuers decided to confront them.
“They are drawing nearer,” Toron informed Azerick in a low voice.
Azerick nodded and dropped his light stone onto the cave floor. A minute later, he saw the creatures that were following them as they stepped cautiously into the circle of light fifty yards behind them. Whoever they were, they were short; about four feet tall with long slender arms and grayish skin. Azerick could see that they were a well-armed party, wielding crossbows and picks that looked as effective against flesh and armor as they did stone.
Azerick raised his empty hands in a gesture of peace. “We mean you no harm and do not wish to trespass on your territory. We have recently escaped a city of evil creatures and just wish to return to the surface. We could be gone from your tunnels more quickly with your help, which would be greatly appreciated.”
The cavern gnomes answered Azerick’s request by raising and firing their crossbows. The sorcerer spoke a command and raised a shield in front of him just before the steel-headed quarrels could tear into his flesh. The bolts’ flight halted just a foot from his heart and clattered to the ground as they met the spell caster’s invisible shield. Azerick called for peace once more, but the cavern gnomes raised their pickaxes and charged.
He let a lightning bolt rip from his hand and dropped several of the wiry creatures in their tracks. He heard the clamor of battle behind him as another contingent of gnomes attacked the head of the party. Furious shouts from the humans and the foreign battle cries of the gnomes reached his ears as he let loose another lightning bolt, killing several and driving back the rest of the cavern gnome forces that harried their rear.
“You men, go search those bodies as quickly as you can for weapons. Toron, go help Zeb at the front of our party while I guard our rear,” Azerick ordered.
He followed just behind the remaining men to where the cavern gnome casualties laid. Azerick erected a long field of stone spikes along the passage to slow any pursuit as the men stripped the fallen cavern gnomes of picks, daggers, crossbows, and small shields.
“Half of you guard our rear, the rest come with me,” Azerick ordered.
Azerick and four of the men raced to the front of the small column of former slaves while the remaining four men fired their pilfered crossbows at any enemy that came within view.
Toron charged into battle swinging his battleaxe in huge, sweeping arcs. His arrival was welcome relief to the unarmored humans who were trying desperately to fight off numerous enemies with nothing more than kitchen utensils. The gnomes had wounded several of the sailors, but the humans were acquitting themselves well despite their meager weapons. Sailors were often accustomed to fighting with various makeshift weapons, from gaffs to belaying pins, and had left two of the gnomes dead on the ground before Toron arrived.
Azerick and his relief force arrived to see the huge minotaur wading into a knot of vicious gnomes and cleaving two them nearly in half with one powerful swing. The gnomes were quick and wily though, darting around and under Toron’s thick, hairy legs and delivering painful wounds of their own.
Azerick sent a stream of energy bolts into two of the gnomes, knocking them away from the harassed minotaur. Toron swept his great axe down at the off-balance gnomes, taking the head from one and the weapon arm from the other.
The armless cavern gnome stumbled back spraying his kin with bright arterial blood from his stump. Azerick sent another barrage of magical bolts into the gnomes and turned their fighting withdrawal into a route. Toron was about to chase after them until Azerick called him back.
“Let them go, Toron. Help us with the wounded and let’s get out of here,” Azerick called to the big minotaur.
Toron looked at the fleeing gnomes with a hunger in his eyes then turned back towards his comrades with a sigh of regret. “It has been a long time since I last felt the stirrings of battle lust in my blood. It felt good.”
“I have a feeling you will get another chance at them. For now, we need your strength to help carry our wounded.” Azerick looked down at the minotaur’s blood soaked legs. “Make sure you get those bandaged up too. I shudder at the thought of having to carry you.”
“These little scratches? They are nothing, but I will do as you ask.”
The few women in the group tore any extra clothing they had brought into strips for bandages. Azerick took one of the precious healing draughts from his satchel and gave a measured dose to those most in need. Unfortunately, two of the men were beyond the potion’s ability to help.
“I’m sorry, Zeb,” Azerick told his captain. “We will have to leave them here. We need to be able to move swiftly and I doubt that it will take long for the gnomes to regroup and hit us again.”
“Aye, lad, you’re right. They died free men, and none of us can ask for more than that. Their spirits are grateful to you, don’t you let that worry you none,” the old sailor assured his young friend.
The men salvaged what weapons and armor they could from the bodies of their enemies and moved out swiftly. None of the armor fit any of the men, but many of them now had
metal helms and small shields as well as weapons that were more formidable than kitchen knives. One of the smaller women slipped a hard leather cuirass over her head and gripped a kitchen knife in her hand.
*****
Humans and a huge, horned beast were in their caves. This was intolerable. Particularly after the creature with the spider’s face and his soldiers had caused so much trouble a few weeks ago. The human that threw lightning had spoken some words and made gestures that hinted at peaceful intent, but that was irrelevant. A stone master was coming with more soldiers. He would take care of that one. This was their territory and they would tolerate no trespassers.
*****
Azerick and the refugees moved as quickly as they could, helping the wounded move as swiftly as they dared. He would treat their injuries more thoroughly when they stopped. He wished Delinda were here. She was a better herbalist and healer than he was and would know how to care for the wounded under these conditions. She had quickly mastered the few tricks he had shown her in regards to brewing healing potions. Given time and practice, she would have become a master herbalist and healer.
His thoughts brought a wave of fresh grief crashing against his heart, threatening to rip it from its moorings and shattering it upon the rocks of his pain. Azerick suppressed his sorrow as best he could and focused on getting these people to safety. He did not have the luxury of time to mourn. He would do that later.
Fear energized their steps and they put a great deal of distance between them and the site of the ambush. No signs of pursuit were apparent, but Azerick and Toron both agreed that it was very unlikely that the cavern gnomes were simply going to let them go. They continued their exodus until fatigue and the pain of their wounds forced them to rest.
Azerick treated the debilitating wounds with his scant supply of healing potions. The rest he used raw ground herbs to make a poultice to deaden the pain, prevent infection, and speed healing. They posted guards at the three tunnel entrances leading into this particular chamber.
Zeb sidled up next to the young sorcerer as he sat with his back against the clammy cavern wall. “How long do you think they are going to let us rest before they hit us again?”
Azerick answered without opening his eyes. “To be honest, I’m surprised they have waited this long. If we get a full rotation of sleep it will be a miracle,” he answered.
Azerick knew better than to believe in miracles and rightfully so. Barely more than three hours passed before the twang of firing crossbows and the shouts of men and gnomes woke him. He jumped to his feet with everyone else as the clanging of metal on metal resounded throughout the cavern.
“Toron, take most of the men and defend the forward tunnel. I’ll handle the rear,” the sorcerer instructed.
Azerick followed the sounds of battle to the tunnel they had traveled down a few hours before. One man was down with a quarrel through his chest while four others showed bloody wounds but were still battling furiously against twice their numbers in gnomes. Azerick sent missile after brilliant missile streaking into the ranks of cavern gnomes until his spells forced them back or killed them.
“You men fall back and do not pursue them,” Azerick ordered.
As the wounded humans slowly retreated, the tenacious cavern gnomes regrouped and renewed their assault. As the short, sinewy creatures charged forth with a cry of anger, Azerick wove another spell. Being in a world surrounded by stone had its advantages. He directed his stone spikes to sprout from not only the floor but the walls as well. Stone spears slammed into the forward ranks of the attacking gnomes, skewering several of them and completely blocking the passage for the ones behind them.
Azerick watched as a solitary gnome stepped forward and raised a fist-sized gem over his head. Balor came running up behind him as the gnome glared at the sorcerer and spoke an incomprehensible stream of words. As the gem flared brightly, the stone spikes that Azerick had raised suddenly crumbled to dust.
“Azerick, the gnomes have retreated up front. One man is dead and another has a bolt in his gut. Zeb wants to know what you want to do now,” Balor reported hurriedly.
“Get the bolt out of the man and have him drink this,” Azerick said as he handed the sailor a small metal vial. “Then get everyone moving as fast as you can. I do not like the looks of this.”
Azerick expected the cavern gnomes to charge the instant the magic-wielding gnome cleared his spikes from the passage, but they stayed back as the strange gnome raised his gem once more. He uttered another stream of strange, but obviously magical words, and the ground began to tremble beneath Azerick’s feet.
“Go! Tell them to run as fast as they can!” Azerick ordered Balor and the rest of the men that stood with him.
Balor and the others ran back to the rest of the group with one last look at the sorcerer and yelled for everyone to get moving. Balor reached the wounded man and saw that a blood soaked wad of cloth had replaced the bolt in his stomach. He popped the cork and emptied the contents into the stricken man’s mouth. The potion stopped his bleeding almost immediately. His shipmates then helped him to his feet and carried him along.
As the gnome’s gem flared and the rock trembled, three mounds of earth started rising in front of Azerick. The mounds quickly began to take shape. The tops of the mounds formed a rough approximation of a human-like head, thick arms sprouted from the sides, and legs formed beneath them. The creatures were so large that they had to stoop to fit into the passageway, but Azerick doubted that would hinder their ability to crush him to a pulp one bit.
He released a powerful bolt of lightning into the earth elementals. Chips of sharp stone flew off the creatures and black scorch marks seared across their wide chests. The stone juggernauts ignored the trifling damage and rumbled towards him, causing the ground to vibrate under his feet with each step. The sorcerer sent a flight of arcane missiles into the lead elemental followed by a jet of intense flame. More stone flecks flew off the granite titan and blackened its surface, but his assault failed to slow it down in the least.
Azerick made one last desperate attempt to slow the creatures down. He erected another barrier of stone spikes extending directly in front of him and several yards down the halls. The sharp, monolithic shards scored tracks along the elementals’ stone bodies, but they caused negligible damage. With single-minded determination, they swung their huge fists and feet, snapping and battering their way through the granite spears as if they were no more than dry corn stalks.
Azerick ducked as the lead elemental swung its maul-like fist at his head. Sharp stone flecks peppered the side of Azerick’s face and neck as the elemental’s massive fist crashed into the cavern wall. He heard the whistling and caught a glimpse of steel as it whisked past the top of his head. With a roar of defiance, Toron cleaved a huge gouge of stone out of the elemental where its shoulder and neck joined.
If the massive attack bothered the extra-planer creature in the least, it did not show. It silently swung its other huge fist at the big minotaur that had dared to interrupt its assigned task. Toron brought his axe back around in another powerful blow in the opposite direction. Steel met stone in a colossal impact that set Azerick’s ears to ringing. Finely honed steel won out against the unnatural stone and severed the arm of the elemental just below the elbow.
Azerick was forced to roll out of the way to avoid being pummeled by the hundred-pound chunk of arm that narrowly missed crushing his head. “Toron, let’s go! We need to catch the others.”
The big, stubborn minotaur was loathe to flee combat, but he knew there was discretion in valor and followed the sorcerer’s instructions. He leapt back as the elemental swung its remaining arm at him, intent on killing these weak creatures of flesh. Azerick and Toron ran back in the direction in which the rest of their band had fled.
“How far ahead are they?” Azerick asked the minotaur who puffed in deep breaths behind him.
“A few hundred yards at best given the speed they were moving. They have some wounded that
will force them to a slower pace,” Toron’s deep voice answered.
Within minutes, Azerick and Toron spotted the light of the rear element just ahead of them. Azerick shouted out a greeting before the guards filled them with crossbow bolts in a case of mistaken identity.
“Where is Zeb?” Azerick asked one of the rear guardsmen.
“He’s leading the column up front,” one of them answered with a jerk of his thumb.
“Go find him,” Toron rumbled. “I will stay back here and help guard our rear.”
Azerick had a hard time reading the expression set in Toron’s non-human face, but the glint in his eyes spoke volumes. “Don’t do anything foolish, Toron. We still have need of you.”
The old minotaur’s grey muzzle curled up into a grin revealing a row of sharp teeth. “Foolishness is only when a brave act fails.”
Azerick could not order him to do anything, but he hoped the minotaur would not sacrifice himself needlessly. He had grown somewhat fond of the big creature in the short amount of time he had known him. Azerick raced up to the front of the column of fleeing humans and found Zeb breathing heavily but pressing steadily onward.
“Glad to see you made it back, lad. What the boys told me they saw before you ordered them off had me a bit worried.”
“What I saw before I left still has me worried,” came the sorcerer’s serious reply.
Zeb grimaced at the dire words. “So what’s our situation look like now?”
“Not good. The gnomes brought in some kind of spell caster that has some rather potent earth magic. He summoned three earth elementals, which is a feat I could not hope to achieve. Worse yet, I have nothing in my spell inventory that I can think of that will cause them any serious harm,” Azerick answered.
“So are they indestructible or what?”
“No, not quite. I think Toron could chip one into rubble with that axe of his, maybe two in his prime, but not all three.”
The Sorcerer's Torment (The Sorcerer's Path) Page 16
