Hazelhearth Hires Heroes

by D. H. Willison

  He banged an elbow on the channel wall. The frigid water dulled the pain.

  Thirty seconds.

  It was the point of no return. He pressed on.

  The channel took a slight bend, the light growing brighter as he rounded it. His lungs burned.

  I can do this, he thought.

  Forty seconds.

  He paused, wedging his feet against the walls to prevent himself from being dragged backward by the current.

  The glow was more distinct, seeming to come from above.

  His lungs rebelled. Wanting to breathe. Wanting to suck in fresh air. He fought to hold his breath.

  Fifty seconds.

  He lunged forward, limbs now jerking awkwardly. Pain shot through his head: the cold water, the lack of air, it pierced his brain like a thousand needles.

  Sixty seconds.

  He emerged into a larger chamber. The current faded, yet there was no surface in sight. Rays of light pierced the cavern from above. Was he hallucinating?

  Was he dying?

  He kicked furiously, swimming upward into the light.

  He passed through an elliptical opening in the cavern’s ceiling, light surrounding him as he did.

  Seventy seconds.

  His head burst from the water, he blasted old air from his lungs, gasping, sucking in sweet, fresh air. His vision blurred, he nearly blacked out, yet his lungs still worked, his numb limbs jerked against the water. Of all the survival needs, water, shelter, food… air was the most important, and at this moment he was thankful for every sweet breath.

  His vision cleared. He was at the bottom of a canyon. Above him between dense clouds were hints of sky. To his left, just a dozen strokes distant, lay a rocky outcropping.

  Shore.

  “No. First get Sam through,” he said.

  He could swim to shore and brace himself to pull Sam through more quickly, but that would risk snagging, or even severing the rope on the edge of the opening to the underground chamber. The vertical opening was elliptical, an arm’s length wide and almost twice that long. He could brace his feet on either side of the opening, but it meant going underwater again.

  “You already set a new personal record today,” he muttered. “No reason you can’t repeat it.”

  He gave the ‘get ready’ signal on the rope, took three deep breaths yet again, ducked underwater, and braced himself against the opening.

  Three quick jerks on the rope. He began pulling. Slowly at first, to give Sam the chance to orient herself in the channel.

  I may be able to hold my breath for over a minute, but she cannot. I have to pull her through faster.

  Arm over arm he pulled the rope, picking up speed as he did. The faster he pulled the rope, the heavier it became.

  Twenty seconds.

  How long could Sam hold her breath for?

  She may not have to swim like he did, but she was guiding their knapsacks through the narrow channel. She could get snagged much more easily.

  Thirty seconds.

  The rope slipped a little in his right hand. He barely felt the pain, clenching his fists tighter around the rope. Arm over arm.

  Forty seconds.

  A motion in the murky shadows below him. A shape emerged. He wrapped his arms around Sam and the bundles of gear, pushed off with both feet, and shot to the surface.

  Sam choked, gasped for breath, panted for half a minute much like he had, before speaking. “Are we out? Please tell me we’re out.”

  Lee grabbed the bundles from her and nudged her toward the rocky shoreline.

  Lee forced a grin. “There’s good news and bad news.”

  “Oh not this shit again.”

  The two shoved the bundles of gear onto a rocky ledge. The current moved slowly in this pool in the river. The canyon walls were steep, but far from vertical, and numerous trees and shrubs sprouted from fissures in the rock.

  “So we’re out. I assume that’s the good news?”

  “Yup.”

  Sam glared at him, shivering. Water dripped from the tip of her nose.

  “The bad news is that I don’t get to practice my campcraft skills. I think we’d make it back to Hazelhearth before I could get a fire going. Wring as much water from your hair and clothes as possible, and let’s go.”

  Chapter 28

  The pair nearly collapsed from exposure by the time they reached the city. Gnebnik and Shin practically carried them to the Dancing Dryad and soaked them both in tubs of hot water. The tubs were shallow, awkward, but the feeling of warmth seeping back into the cores of their bodies was intoxicating. They were dried, bundled up, and given a few gulps of well water before sleep overcame them.

  Sam awoke first, finding herself lying in front of the kitchen hearth, dry, and buried in a dozen layers of clothes and blankets. She sat up, unable to remember handing the final crystals to Lady Isylnoir. Were they sufficient to complete the lightning thrower? How long would it take? Lee lay at the opposite end of the hearth. She nudged him.

  “Is it morning already? I don’t wanna go to work.”

  “It’s night. I don’t know what time. How do you feel?”

  Lee sat up, prodding and pinching various parts of his body. Fingers, toes, knees, elbow—

  “Ouch. I must have really whacked myself on something. How about you?”

  “A few bruises and scrapes,” said Sam. “Looks like no frostbite.”

  “And the crystals? I hardly remember the trip back. It’s like it was a dream.”

  “Don’t know. You want to find out?”

  “Damn right I do!” Lee stood, the blankets dropping onto the timber wooden floor.

  “Ya might wanna put some clothes on first.” It was Tilly, who had apparently heard them stirring. “We run a casual establishment. But not that casual.”

  “Right.” Lee hastily wrapped a blanket around his waist.

  Sam snorked.

  Shin padded into the kitchen. “It is good to see the two of you recovered.”

  “Recovered might be an exaggeration,” said Sam. “But thank you. Did everyone from the mine make it out? Gnebnik? Yrsa? What about Lady Isylnoir? Where are they? The crystals?”

  Shin waved a soothing hand. “Our rubble stone barrier stopped the scarabs. Most of the miners made it out. Lady Isylnoir said the new crystals appeared ‘satisfactory.’ She is working on the lightning thrower as we speak. Gnebnik wished to be here but was needed at the city armory.”

  “And the ogres?” asked Lee.

  “Regrettably, it is as we feared. They draw near.”

  “Well then, what are we waiting for?”

  Shin poured them both a cup of water from a stone pitcher. “Drink. Two cupfuls.”

  “We both nearly drown, and you’re making us drink more?” said Sam.

  “You may not feel like it, but you were dehydrated. And the healing water will do you good. Your clothes should be dry. I’ll meet you at the armory in a quarter of an hour.”

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Sam and Lee donned a few layers of clothes, arriving at the armory after a brisk jog. Both Gnebnik and Corene were there, the former inspecting armor and melee weapons, the latter double-checking the condition of a rack of muskets.

  “Good ta see you two made it. Now if you’re done lolly-gagging, we could use a bit of help.”

  “Right,” said Lee. “What do you need?”

  “I’d like to check on the lightning thrower, if you don’t mind,” said Sam. “In as much as we risked our lives to get the crystals to complete it.”

  “Aye,” said Gnebnik. “But if the surly elf shoos you away, Corene could use a hand with the muskets.”

  Sam nodded a farewell and took off toward the city hall. She was almost there by the time she realized she hadn’t lifted the hood of her cloak: in comparison to a swim in a frigid underground river, the night air was positively mild.

  Lady Isylnoir was installing the last of the crystals on the brass arms of the lightning thrower, barely looking up a
s Sam entered. “Good. It pleases me to see that you have recovered. I shall need to calibrate the transmuter assembly, and you have proven to be the only person within the city with intelligence higher than a goblin.”

  Lee would have almost certainly used the opportunity to ask a dozen questions about goblins on the world of Arvia. Sam managed to bite her tongue.

  “So,” said Sam. “Power crystals provide the energy. Transmuter assembly converts it to a destructive blast of electrical energy. Targeting array directs it toward the ogres.”

  “Unless there is an imbalance caused by substandard gems,” said Lady Isylnoir. “In which case it is directed randomly. Or at its operators.”

  Sam nodded, picking up a wrench and screwdriver. “Since I presumably will be one of said operators, I would prefer to avoid such imbalances.”

  Lady Isylnoir returned the nod and the pair began aligning each of several hundred crystals and gems. Lady Isylnoir used her own magic to send a low power burst through each of the six main channels of the device, while Sam loosened, aligned, and secured each of the prismatic gems and crystals.

  “It’s rather like calibrating a large telescope,” said Sam.

  “Have you an interest in astronomy?”

  “Not particularly,” said Sam. “I did at first, but then when I learned that most of what one could see were just brighter specks of light, I was disappointed.” She tightened one of the power crystal brackets. “But the telescope itself was quite fascinating. My university had one with a twenty-eight inch reflector.”

  “The arcane academy has a most impressive observatory. If I were there, I might at this very moment be availing myself of it to behold the wonders of the cosmos.”

  Sam peered out from the last mounting arm. “And if that were the case, Hazelhearth would be ravaged by ogres.”

  Lady Isylnoir sent a pulse of pale blue energy through the last channel.

  “That should do it,” said Sam.

  “Hazelhearth may yet be ravaged by ogres,” said Lady Isylnoir. “But without your assistance, the situation would be more dire.”

  Sam gazed up at the elf. Lady Isylnoir’s sturdy frame and full head height advantage ceased to intimidate her some time ago. What was strange to Sam now was the fact that the compliment surprised her more than the fact that her colleague—perhaps even friend—was a seven-foot-tall woman with long pointy ears. And yet as gifted as the elf may have been, there was still much she could learn. “You may value my skills as an assistant. But there is someone else whose demeanor you would do well to emulate.”

  Lady Isylnoir cocked her head ever so slightly. “Please do not tell me you are referring to that dim-witted companion of yours.”

  “That companion of mine is far wiser than you give him credit for. But beyond that, attitude counts for a lot. And his is impeccable.”

  “I suppose there is something to be said for a companion with a positive outlook.”

  “Friend.” Sam cocked her head. “Actually, better than a friend. A buddy.”

  “Hmm.”

  “And yourself? You’ve never mentioned friends or family.”

  “I have not.” Lady Isylnoir sent a magic burst through the next channel, which glowed faintly as she did so. “I have not received word from former comrades at the front. Nor from family. At least no personal correspondence. My half sister sits on the regional counsel.”

  “She’s one of the puppet masters of this little conflict?”

  “She is most likely fretting about quality of tea at her manor, while I labor diligently.”

  Sam glanced out the window. “Unless she’s quite a night owl, I’d say it’s more likely she’s in bed.”

  “True.”

  “Not that close to her?”

  “There may be some lingering resentment on my part. While the counsel does have half-elf constituents, there is an undercurrent of conceit among full-blooded nobility. I told myself I wanted a more hands-on avocation so that I would not have to confront such things. Yet at times…”

  Beams of magenta light bathed the adjacent greenhouse.

  “Dawn already? I hardly noticed,” said Sam.

  “We must now transport this to the tower without jarring it out of alignment. Do you think your companions are up to the task?”

  “I’ll go get them.” Sam had taken but a pair of steps to the door when it burst open, a winded messenger wearing the green and black surcoat of the city watch storming through.

  He handed Lady Isylnoir a bundle of sticks. “They’re here,” he panted. “Just sent that over the wall.”

  “So it begins,” she said. “You may return to your post.”

  She unfastened the bundle and rolled the sticks onto the workbench. “Not an exorbitant demand, but I would prefer not to pay.” She glanced at Sam, who returned an empty stare. “Most ogres are not literate, not as you or I would know it. This is their way of presenting their tribute demands.” She removed a stick the length of her arm with a set of crude carvings. “This pictograph means caprid. Twenty notches is how many they want.”

  “There’s a lot of sticks in the bundle. I didn’t think there were that many types of livestock in Hazelhearth.”

  Lady Isylnoir inspected another stick. “Not all are livestock, although ogres do fancy exotic meat. Hmm. Twenty sacks of flour… Oh dear. Now this could prove to be a bone of contention.”

  “Oh dear?” said Sam. She did not like the sound of that expression.

  Lady Isylnoir twirled the stick, resting the end on the stone floor as if holding a walking stick. It was just above chin high to Sam, bearing a series of marks and pictographs.

  “Dare I ask?” said Sam.

  “Children. Ten of them. Between the height of these two marks on the stick.”

  Sam stared blankly back at Lady Isylnoir.

  “Some cities might pay this. In exchange for a winter of peace. They might offer livestock and a few of their children.” She gazed down at Sam. “The odds in a conflict are very much against us. What do you think the people of Hazelhearth would elect?”

  Sam thought about the people she had met these past months: Corene, Yrsa, Tilly, even little Breta. They may not have been warriors. But they were certainly fighters. She crossed her arms. “I suspect they will be disinclined to acquiesce.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “I am inclined to locate the nearest ogre and shove 10,000 volts up its ass.”

  Lady Isylnoir nodded. “I concur.”

  Chapter 29

  “I feel rather exposed here,” said Lee, the early winter breeze shifting a lock of his curly black hair.

  “As you should,” said Lady Isylnoir. “The standard emplacement for a lightning thrower would be partially armored. This tower doesn’t even have a dome for weather protection.”

  Lee took a step toward the edge of the tower. The stone platform atop which they stood was simply a level surface. There were no battlements offering protection for archers or musketeers. In fact, there was not even a handrail offering protection against unfortunate missteps. “Let me guess, it was planned, but resources were directed somewhere more critical.”

  Lady Isylnoir nodded, eyes flitting from tower to tower assessing the town’s defenses. All three ballista towers had been rebuilt with timber cladding for some protection against projectiles. Every approach was within the firing arc of at least one. The lightning thrower tower was further back with a 360 degree field of fire. But was regrettably exposed to fire from the same 360 degrees.

  “Ya don’t need it,” said Gnebnik.

  “I appreciate your confidence in our work,” said Sam. “But it’s a bit premature. Lady Isylnoir and I are fairly confident the device will activate, but beyond that…”

  Gnebnik shook his head. “I meant that the ogres have no small weapons. Anythin’ that hits this tower’ll do catastrophic damage if there were battlements or not.”

  “Should have known it would be something like that,” said Sam, tightenin
g the final bolt securing the lightning thrower to the tower.

  The ogres gathered at the edge of a hilly field, their exact numbers obscured behind trees and dips in the terrain.

  “What are they waiting for?” asked Lee.

  “They are positioned just outside the range of our ballistae.” Shin held one of the Mark II rifled muskets, his trusty oversized crossbow slung on his back. “When they are ready, they will push the trebuchets into range and begin firing. We have a limited window where our weapons are in range but theirs are not. We must make every shot count.”

  “Odd seeing you with a musket,” said Lee.

  “Uncivilized weapon,” said Shin. “But at this range, in this situation, more effective.”

  “Look at the bright side, Lee,” said Sam. “You finally get to play with firearms.”

  “Now look, the ogres may employ crude tactics, but they’re no fools,” said Gnebnik. “They have the same sense of self-preservation as we do. We show ’em we’re no soft target and they may just withdraw.”

  “We need to fight hard,” said Lee. “That works for me. Anything else?”

  “They’ll prolly target any weapons that look like they can hurt ’em first.”

  “In other words, us,” said Sam. “Your pep talks haven’t improved much.”

  “Actually it is likely they won’t recognize the lightning thrower as a weapon,” said Shin. “It is unusual to see one without its protective shroud.”

  “So they’ll prolly target the ballistae until you fire your first shot. Make it count.”

  “No pressure,” said Sam.

  “Actually,” said Lady Isylnoir. “While this entire device has been modified in a highly un-imperial fashion, the targeting array is the most—” She turned to Sam. “How did you phrase it? ‘Jury-rigged’ of the lot. It is improbable that any of our shots will hit, let alone the first.”

  “May I propose that Lee be put in charge of pep talks from now on,” said Sam.

  Lady Isylnoir made a final check of the device. “The intention of my statement is that this weapon is a capricious element and should not be relied upon. I am also put in the awkward position of needing to apply full concentration to operating the device. Which will leave me unable to observe the course of battle and adjust tactics accordingly. The captain of the watch has direct command of the militia and volunteers. Master armorer, I trust your experience in the matter and leave timing and target selection to you.”