by Drew Hayes
“Handy trick,” Eric said.
“More ostentatious than a torch, but it allows the wielder to keep their weaponry at the ready. To be honest, I wasn’t sure it would work. Just something I’ve heard paladins were capable of.”
“You really should talk to Grumble about getting a detailed breakdown of what powers come with paladinhood.” Eric pulled his own short sword from its sheath and took one last glance at the daylight. He hoped he’d make it back to see the outer world again, but in his brief time as an adventurer, he’d already learned to take nothing for granted.
“I rather suspect that the discovery is meant to be part of the journey, though, if I ever get the chance, I will do my best to wring out as many details from him as possible.” Thistle pulled the daggers from his belt and held them both tightly. Within seconds, the same light that had spread across Timuscor’s shield was glowing from the blades in Thistle’s hands.
“No prayer this time?”
Thistle shook his head. “Prayers do not always need to be said out loud, or even contain words, for the gods to hear them. They only need to be sincere.” He reached forward, motioning for Eric’s sword. “Would you like me to illuminate your blade as well?”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” Eric pulled his sword back a few inches, keeping it from Thistle’s grasp. “You two are already throwing off plenty of light, and I’d prefer not to have my only weapon turned into a giant glowing beacon. Just in case I need to move around unseen, you understand.”
“A fine point.” Thistle pulled back his hand and turned to Timuscor, who waited patiently at the tunnel’s mouth. “As you have the biggest light and a shield, are you all right taking the front position? I’ll use my daggers to light up anything that might be out of your range, or attack if some unexpected beast makes an attempt on your life.”
“I was going to ask for the front, anyway.” Timuscor drew his sword, longer and heavier than anything Eric could successfully wield, and headed into the tunnel without another word.
“Go after him,” Eric urged the gnome, who seemed to be hesitating. “Don’t try and keep me safe by putting me in the middle. You’re the only one of us with any ranged attacks, so we need you able to throw in either direction.”
“One of us really does need to learn how to properly wield a bow,” Thistle muttered, hurrying to stay on Timuscor’s heels. Eric followed, leaving the world of light behind as they plunged headlong into the empty darkness.
The path was narrow: too close for more than one moderately sized person to move through at a time, but not so close that they had to turn to their sides to make it past. Even Timuscor, the widest of the three of them, was able to make it through easily, so long as he paid attention to where he stuck his sword and shield. Whoever had made these tunnels had done so with humans, or human-shaped beings, in mind. As they walked, Eric kept his eyes peeled, scanning for any signs that the villagers had come through the same passageway. Sadly, with the light source ahead and only rock on all sides, there was precious little to work with in terms of clues.
It was hard to say how long they walked. With no sun overhead and only occasional dips and turns to measure their progress, time quickly became a slippery thing that slithered out of any firm grip Eric tried to lay on it. His best guess was that they’d been walking for under half an hour when they came to the cavern.
The expanse of open rock came from nowhere; Timuscor simply turned a sharp corner and suddenly there they were. A carved ceiling rose above them, barely reinforced by stone pillars that were half crumbled into dust. Four more tunnel entrances greeted the travelers, dark and foreboding, like hungry mouths ready to swallow their souls.
To Eric’s surprise, there were also supplies resting in a corner: pickaxes, shovels, and a sack of stale bread all clumped up against each other. He picked up one of the shovels and brought it over to Timuscor’s shield, where he could see it in detail. The tool was well-crafted, but otherwise unexceptional: wooden handle, metal spade, and a bit of wear along the edges. Definitely not from the same era as the pillars, else it would have rotted into rust and dust.
“I think we found the miners’ base camp.”
“Well, at least we know my hunch was on the right track.” Thistle was standing by the tunnel they’d emerged from, carefully carving a series of notches just to the left of its opening. When that was done, he bent down and scratched a small arrow in the sediment that lingered throughout the cave, pointing down the tunnel. “Just so we don’t get lost on the way back.”
“Didn’t the notches take care of that?” Timuscor asked.
“Aye, but the arrow is in case we don’t have time to look for notches. It never hurts to have a clear path during an escape.”
Eric agreed but said nothing, not wanting to restart their argument about whether running would be viable. Instead, he focused on trying to see if he could hear anything from the mouths of the new tunnels. Occasional sounds met him at first—water dripping or some creature scuttling through the walls—but nothing that provided useful information. As he reached the fourth tunnel, however, Eric noticed a distinct, rhythmic thumping coming faintly from its dark depths. There was no way to tell exactly what it was, but it was different. And different was what they’d come here looking for.
“I might have found something,” Eric said, waving the others over. “It’s faint, but there’s definitely a noise coming from this one.”
“Well then, I suppose it’s our duty to go ask our neighbors to keep down the ruckus,” Thistle said.
Timuscor led the way once more, with Thistle following and Eric a few steps behind. Unlike before, his attention was split, constantly turning back to make sure some unwanted guest hadn’t joined them in skulking down the tunnel. No interloping figure appeared, even as they walked further and the sound grew progressively stronger. It was a tireless thudding, keeping in perfect rhythm no matter how long Eric listened. If it hadn’t been so perfect, he’d have likened it to the beating of a heart, but no heart stayed that constant. Fear, joy, love, even boredom, all them could change a heart’s tempo. This had no change, no variation. It was an empty, endless, perfect thudding, as dead as it was constant.
It did help Eric count the time, and as they came to where the tunnel opened up, he guessed they’d been going for only a quarter of an hour this time. They moved cautiously, knowing full well that the glowing metal in their hands would make them unmissable targets. This far in, there was no other way for them to see, though. It was a risk they’d have to take if they wanted to actually learn anything from the trip.
The tunnel opened up into a large, sprawling cavern. It seemed to run down for miles, far deeper than where the mountain met the ground. The three of them stood on top of a sloping path that ran from their location to another section of cave far below. The distance was impossible to judge, but it was not so far that they were unable to make out the activity taking place. Hundreds of bodies were lined up together, a massive piece of what appeared to be another stone pillar held above their heads. The people were slamming the pillar into a white, ornately carved door over and over. Each blow seemed to have almost no effect, but the slight crack in the spot they were striking told a different story.
What was most disturbing was not the act itself, nor the pillar, nor even the mysterious door. It was the people who were hitting it. They didn’t turn toward the light that Timuscor was shining down on them, didn’t even seem aware that their cavern had been invaded. All they did was hit the door, over and over, their pale skin stretched across nearly visible bones, milky dead eyes set firmly on the target before them.
Dead, the lot of them. Or, rather, undead. Eric had heard stories, but he’d never actually witnessed such monsters in person. Beside him, he felt Thistle stiffen. That was when he knew, even before the gnome’s softly whispered words filled the air, the grief in them nearly palpable.
“Though it pains me to say so, I believe we’ve found the citizens of Briarwillow.”
Chapter 13
Grumph moved carefully between the horses, daring only to peek up from the ground in brief intervals. The ropes binding his arms, or at least appearing to do so, ran from their wrappings around his back and up to Gabrielle and Fritz, each tightly holding an end. Occasionally, a drop of blood from the wound he’d opened near his eye would drip against his pupil, stinging and blinding him for a few horrid seconds. Gabrielle had tried to talk him out of adding the wounds with his dagger; however, Grumph remained steadfast in his dedication. They all looked far worse than they actually were, but no one would believe these two women had captured a half-orc without beating him into submission first.
Unfortunately, Grumph was all too familiar with exactly what being a captive looked like. He pushed those memories away as he trudged along the road, though. It was imperative that he appear beaten and defeated. If their charade was to sell, he couldn’t show the fire that would be brimming in his eyes were he to allow himself to dwell.
For their parts, Gabrielle and Fritz were both filling the roles excellently. They would glance at him occasionally, only to make sure he wasn’t up to no good, and otherwise treat him like one of the saddle bags. It showed concern for him as property but none for him as a person, just as he’d instructed. Gabrielle rode with axe out, dangerous though it was, and appeared constantly at the ready for a fight. This part was the easiest to sell, as Gabrielle truly was a hair’s breadth from spilling blood if she were attacked.
Their goal was not to make the bandits believe the fight was unwinnable; that was impossible to accomplish with only three travelers. Rather, their goal was to make the bandits see a target where the risk outweighed the reward. Bounty hunters might be flush with gold, but not when they were out working. Dragging in a quarry meant that they were on their way to a payday, not carrying ample sacks of coins. It also painted the picture of two women who were capable at what they did, at least enough to bring down a fearsome foe like Grumph. Certainly, the bandits could overwhelm them; however, in doing so, they would lose at least some of their men. For a hefty amount of treasure, that might be worthwhile, but with targets that seemed both tough and broke, it might be a gamble not worth taking. At least, that was what Grumph was hoping for.
Dusk had fallen upon them and nearly given its seat to night when the bandits finally appeared. With as much noise as Fritz and Gabrielle were making, there had been plenty of time for them to get ready. That, too, had been intentional; prey snuck about, predators announced themselves.
“Evening, fellow travelers.” He appeared to step out of nowhere, though in truth, he’d merely been carefully tucked behind a tree. The man wore simple vestments, made for utility over pomp. A short sword hung strapped to his hip, next to a crossbow and a set of daggers. A white-toothed smile that could not have been friendlier rested on his handsome face, assuring them that all would be well.
Gabrielle tightened the grip on her axe.
“Evening.” They didn’t slow their horses, nor give any signs of fear at this stranger’s appearance. Gabrielle appeared more annoyed than anything, and Fritz somehow managed to seem bored with it all.
“Tell me, dear travelers, do you come from Briarwillow? I’m on my way there now to check on the citizens, and would dearly love to know if there is news.”
“Urthos.” Gabrielle jerked the rope, and Grumph took the cue to stumble, nearly letting his knee smash into the road’s rough surface. “This one thought it could hide out in the wildlands.”
Even knowing that Gabrielle was playing a part—an act that all their lives might very well depend on—Grumph felt a familiar fire of hatred stoked as she called him “it.” With all the mental fortitude he’d acquired over the last dozen years, Grumph smothered the flames as best he could, keeping his eyes to the ground. He could easily bear this much. Grumph had endured far, far worse. Still, if things did go awry and the fight turned to blows, he at least knew there was ample fuel in him to cause pain.
“And a fierce-looking brute he is. Must have been a lot of trouble for you two to bring down by yourselves.”
“Hardest part is tracking these things,” Gabrielle snapped. “You with the kingdom or something? We got the bounty papers, if you need ‘em.” She motioned to Fritz, who began rifling through the satchel she always kept close at hand. It wouldn’t have surprised Grumph if Fritz really did have forged bounty papers somewhere deep down in that thing, but luckily, their bluff wasn’t called.
“No, no, as I said before, just a simple traveler. Though one that has run into some problems with his horses and equipment. If you were feeling so generous as to offer a bit of gold, I might be able to get back on the road.” Nothing in his face was pleading, nor did his smile seem humbled in the slightest. This wasn’t so much a ruse as it was a cheap coating of words, one meant to be seen through.
Gabrielle barked a harsh laugh, lifting her axe slightly so that it was in a more defensive position. “Gold? You think we’d be hunting these damn things into Urthos if we had gold? No, traveler, if you were to try cutting us down, and somehow the gods allowed you to succeed, all you’d discover is a few bits of copper, some half-molded trail rations, and a few of your own limbs clutched in our hands. You’ll find that we’re not inclined to part with what little we have.”
“That is unfortunate, for you see, I have many hungry mouths depending on me.” From the trees stepped more of the bandits, roughly a dozen walking freely into the road. There were certainly more hiding that they couldn’t see; the man seemed too experienced to make a mistake like playing all his cards at once.
“So it seems. Well, gents, I’m happy to give the first one of you who comes close something to put in your belly.” Gabrielle spun the axe in her hand once, lest there was any doubt about exactly what she was offering. A smile danced on her lips, though it was unlike the wide grin of the bandit standing in front of them. Hers was angrier, hungrier than he could have ever managed. Already, the blood was burning in her veins. She didn’t have to pretend that she wanted a fight in the slightest; it was all Gabrielle could do to hold herself back.
“I’ve got seconds, if the first doesn’t fill you up.” From a sheath at her side, Fritz drew Grumph’s demon-bone sword. Even in the faltering light of day, the bandits could see its sickly-pale color and the few dark stains running along the edge as she held it at the ready. This was not the weapon of someone who’d made a purchase; it belonged to one who had killed.
“Gracious as that is, I fear it won’t be enough for so many of us,” the bandit leader told them.
“Perhaps not, though I’m sure we can serve at least a few of you. The rest will be welcome to our meager copper and dirty rations. Surely those will be of great comfort to you while you dig the fresh graves.” Gabrielle turned down to look at Grumph, her grin deepening. “Oh, and I suppose you’ll also get to play with this thing. He’d wild as a boar, won’t care if you’re friend or foe. Perhaps we’ll let these ropes go, if you decide you’d like to dine with us this evening.”
Gabrielle allowed a little slack in her rope, and Grumph seized the moment, jerking on the bindings he was actually holding in place and surging forward, nearly pulling the horses with him. His eyes flew up from the round and he snapped his jaws so loudly that his teeth ached. It had the desired effect, though, as all of the nearby bandits took at least a half step away from him. Were he riding with the girls, composed and normal as usual, they’d have never shown him such instinctual terror. There was something about dealing with the wild things of the world, some part of them that remembered a time before lighted cities and sturdy homes. That piece knew that, in the face of animalistic ferocity, all ideas of battle and civilization burn away. All they could do would be to try and kill the monster before it killed them, and that was far more terrifying than committing a simple robbery.
The tug on his arms gave Grumph the signal to let himself be pulled back as Gabrielle re-asserted her authority. He made a show of struggling against it u
ntil the butt of her axe slammed into his shoulder. It looked worse than it felt, but it still felt pretty painful. Seemingly broken by his captor, Grumph plodded back into his starting position, head once again hanging in shame.
“So, will your men trade their lives, or that of their friends, for a handful of copper? Or should we keep riding? In truth, I’m fine with either option, as I’d imagine your head will likely catch a fair price as well.” Gabrielle leaned forward slightly on her horse, meeting the bandit leader’s eyes as she spoke. Her axe was angled just right for a charge, letting him know that if they attacked, she would see to it he was one of those amongst the corpses.
The moment seemed to stretch on interminably, until at last the bandit leader lowered his head into a slight, but definite bow. “My apologies if we seemed too aggressive. All we requested was charity, and if you have nothing to give, then we can hardly ask it from you. Please, ride ahead, and may the goddess Cecily bless you on your travels.” He took a step to the side, moving out of Gabrielle’s path, and nodded at his men to do the same.
Neither woman waited for any more signal than that, starting the horses forward and making Grumph jog to keep up. Their weapons never left their hands, nor their eyes the bandits, yet none of the men made so much as a single motion to attack. All they did was stand at the side of the road and watch as two women and one half-orc moved slowly out of sight.
Only when they’d been going for ten minutes past spotting any of the bandits did Fritz finally speak, and when she did, her voice was heavy with relief. “I cannot believe they actually let us go.”
“You shouldn’t,” Gabrielle replied, her eyes still locked on the woods. “Because they didn’t. They’re following us now, still planning on attacking.”
