by Alexey Pehov
“Eat!” the gkhol said to us one last time, and then disappeared into the darkness.
Two others followed the little talker’s example, leaving the fourth to stand guard at the metal grille. The gkhol grabbed hold of it with his little hands, tugged at it a few times, and then hissed in disappointment.
“Just look at the little lad’s claws,” I said rather nervously.
How could I not be nervous, knowing that any moment Purple Nose could pull that lever and raise the barrier that was the only thing standing between us and a meeting with the gods?
“We ought to get some sleep, Harold.”
I looked at Eel as if he was insane.
“No, I’m absolutely serious. Sleep, there’s nothing we can do.”
“Go to sleep, with neighbors like that? No, thank you!”
“Whatever you say.” He closed his eyes.
This is a guy with nerves of steel. He could probably get to sleep with the Nameless One himself standing behind him.
I took another look at the gkhol standing on guard beside the grille. Demons of darkness! How much of that vile sticky saliva does he have inside him?
Noticing that I was looking at him, for some reason the gkhol started getting nervous, and he twittered. One of his friends immediately appeared out of the darkness to make sure that breakfast was not about to cut and run. Once he was certain everything was under control, he went back into his lair.
“Valder,” I thought, trying to summon the archmagician, “Valder, are you there?”
No answer.
As far as I knew from my dream about the magician’s former life, he really hated these vile creatures, but apparently this time the archmagician had no intention of interfering. A pity; I would have been delighted to see what a dry-roasted gkhol looked like. They’re much more likeable that way than when they’re still moist and alive.
I made a face at the gkhol sentry. He mirrored my efforts and made a face back at me, and I must say that the corpse-eater’s effort was a lot better, and a lot more frightening.
* * *
A little more than four hours had gone by since I first made the acquaintance of the charming family of corpse-eaters, and Eel had still not condescended to wake up.
Meanwhile the gkhols had already changed their sentries twice. They deliberately stayed where I could see them, staring with those red eyes, sometimes hissing menacingly, twittering and drooling, checking the metal grille to see if it was edible, and generally making me more nervous than the detachment of corrupt guards who once caught me in a certain count’s treasure house at an inappropriate moment.
Basically, the gkhols amused themselves until they got bored, and then the sentry withdrew into the darkness, but I could still feel the hungry gaze of those ravenous eyes on me.
The sun had been in the sky for a long time, its bright rays were shining in through the little barred window up under the ceiling of the cell and falling on the straw. Time slips through our fingers like golden sand, and no one can slow its pace.
At first I took no notice of the squeaking that came from somewhere above my head. But the gkhols and Eel did take notice. Alarmed by the unfamiliar sounds, the gkhols crowded against the grille, while Eel opened his eyes abruptly, as if he had never been asleep at all.
“Praise be to all the gods!” the warrior murmured joyfully, and his face lit up.
I turned my head to look at the little window.
“Invincible!” I exclaimed.
“Exactly. And that means that the lads have found us!”
“Hey! Is there anybody there?” we heard Marmot’s voice ask.
“We’re here! What took you so long?”
“Why didn’t you hide another ten leagues away? Then we could have spent another week looking for you! Are you alive?”
“Yes!”
“Can you move?”
“Our hands are tied!”
“That’s no problem. I’ll send Invincible down.”
“Find the door!” said Eel.
“That’s what we’re trying to do. There’s a whole heap of the Nameless One’s followers here. We’re just finishing off their patrols. Right, see you soon.”
Something glinted for an instant in the rays of the sun, and then a cobbler’s knife landed blade first, sticking into the straw just behind my back. With a squeak, the ling leapt down intrepidly from the wall, landing in the straw and ambling toward us.
“Now what?” I asked nervously, watching the shaggy rat.
“Now we get the knife.”
“I don’t know about you, but I can’t even move my hands, let alone reach for the knife. This damn rope!”
“Don’t be in such a great hurry, Harold.”
Meanwhile Invincible had darted across to Eel and started gnawing through the rope tying his wrists together.
“Surprised?” Eel chuckled. “Marmot’s taught the ling all sorts of tricks.”
“So I see.”
I took heart, realizing that rescue was close at hand. Soon one of the Wild Hearts would reach the cell and open the door, and we would be free.
The minutes dragged by, and a feeling of alarm crept into my heart. Where had they got to? Had the lads really been spotted and forced to retreat? No, what was I thinking of! Wild Hearts didn’t retreat and abandon their comrades. Any moment the bolt would clank and …
But the bolt didn’t clank. There was no sound at all apart from the vicious hissing of the gkhols, who seemed to realize that their breakfast was about to make a run for it. Invincible gave a squeak of satisfaction and came toward me, and Eel began rubbing his wrists.
“Right, now we’ll fight.” The Garrakian grabbed the knife and sliced through my rope at a single stroke. Just at that moment the lock of the door clanked.
“At last!” I hissed. “Hey, what are you doing?”
Eel dashed back to his old place, grabbing up the ling and stuffing it into his pocket on the way. He put his hands behind his back, setting the knife along his forearm so that it wasn’t visible to anyone else.
“Sit still and don’t move!”
Unfortunately, Eel was right; it wasn’t our rescuers who entered the cell.
Loudmouth, so imperturbable and so unfamiliar, so very different from the character that I was used to, leaned back against the wall farthest away from us, folded his arms across his chest, and fixed his eyes on an invisible point just above Eel’s head with an air of absolute indifference.
Purple Nose stood not far from me and pointed me out to the third man.
“There, Master Rizus, this one’s the thief.”
Master Rizus was short, with shiny black hair and deep-set gray eyes. His thin-lipped mouth and perfectly straight nose indicated a man not given to listening to other people’s opinions, and the unhealthy yellow color of his face put me in mind of the copper plague. He gave off an acrid smell of horse’s sweat, and his rich clothes were badly creased and spattered with mud. He’d probably galloped for a day and a night without stopping in order to view my humble person.
“I shall ask you just two questions.” For a man with such a delicate figure, his voice was exceptionally deep and low. “The way you die will depend on how you answer. Tell me the truth and you will die quickly. If you are stubborn, the gkhols will gnaw on your bones.”
“By your leave, Master Rizus, I will explain everything to them,” Loudmouth put in. “That way we will save a lot of time.”
The man nodded reluctantly and hissed: “But be quick. You have ten minutes while I change out of my traveling clothes.”
He went out.
“Friends…,” Loudmouth began.
“The Nameless One is your friend,” I replied morosely.
“Perhaps so,” said the traitor, not attempting to argue. “In case you have not already realized it, Master Rizus is a shaman and, I can assure you quite definitely, a very good one. He came to Ranneng especially to collect the Key for the Nameless One. I’m sure you can imagine how upset
he was to discover that we didn’t have the artifact.”
We said nothing.
“All that Master Rizus wants from you is two honest answers to two very simple questions. If you answer them, I promise that I will kill you myself, quickly and painlessly. And then I shall make sure that you have a dignified burial.”
“And what are the questions, if you wouldn’t mind telling us?”
“I always knew that thieves were more amenable to a deal than other people,” Loudmouth chuckled contentedly. “The first question is: Who killed the shamans who were preparing to attack our group?”
“You were with us then,” I exclaimed in genuine amazement. “So how would we know? Some good people turned up, that’s all.”
“Good people are not capable of killing six of the Nameless One’s best shamans!” snapped Loudmouth. “Now Master Rizus is the only supreme shaman he has left in Valiostr.”
“Loudmouth, your Rizus is crazy. How does he think that we could know who knocked off his best wizards when we were ten leagues away in Hargan’s Wasteland?”
Well, I couldn’t really tell him that the Master and Lafresa were behind it all, could I?
Loudmouth clicked his tongue in disappointment and said regretfully: “Yes, I never really doubted that it wasn’t you, or Miralissa or Tomcat. They’re not up to it; this was done by someone of a much higher class.”
“Then why do you ask?” Eel said.
“Don’t look at me like that, old friend, or you’ll drill a hole right through me. Master Rizus wants to know, and I have to ask. All right, then, the second question is: Where is the Key?”
“Get lost!”
“Let me deal with him,” Purple Nose suggested to Loudmouth.
Loudmouth frowned angrily, but he didn’t say anything.
Eel muttered something very uncomplimentary about the big brute’s mother. The Garrakian’s calculations proved absolutely correct. The quick-tempered executioner immediately forgot about me, grabbed Eel by the sides of his chest, and lifted him up off the floor.
“Why, I’ll tear you to pieces! I’ll—”
But Eel punched the man under the chin with his left hand and threw the knife with his right. It flew through the air and hit Loudmouth in the shoulder. I jumped to my feet and took great pleasure in pounding the traitor with my fists.
Eel appeared beside me, pushed me aside, pulled the knife out of our enemy’s wound, slashed him across the leg below the knee, and knocked him to the floor.
“Rope! Look lively!”
Somehow we managed to tie the wriggling traitor’s hands together with the scrap ends of rope.
I hobbled across to the door and looked out into the corridor.
“All clear!”
“Excellent! Don’t take your eyes off that corridor!”
“For sure. Is he still alive?”
“Yes. Take the mouse from me.”
I put the ling on my shoulder and as my eyes met the Garrakian’s, I read the traitor’s death sentence in them. Eel leaned down over him.
“I promised to cut your heart out, but I don’t have the time for that now. Good-bye.”
He gestured to me to show me it was time to leave the cell. Once we were in the corridor, he closed the door and pushed the bolt home.
“Don’t tell any of our lads about Loudmouth,” he said to me. “Let them think he died back in the inn. They don’t have to know who the wretched villain really was.”
“Okay.”
“And don’t say anything about what I told you about myself, either.”
“Okay,” I repeated.
“And another thing … no one must hear a thing about there being enemies among the Wild Hearts. This is not the time to be spreading alarm. When we get back to the Lonely Giant, I’ll have a word with Owl myself.”
“All right.”
“I’m glad we understand each other,” the warrior said with a nod, and tugged hard on the lever that I hadn’t noticed in a niche in the wall.
A mechanism rumbled somewhere, raising the metal grille and letting the gkhols out. I shuddered, but I didn’t feel sorry at all for the Nameless One’s followers.
“Let’s go,” Eel said laconically, and hurried away without looking back. A guard jumped out of the watchman’s room and the Garrakian wrung his neck with a single deft movement.
The door of the corridor opened and three familiar short figures appeared in the doorway.
“What did I tell you, Hallas?” the smallest one piped happily. “I said I’d find them first, didn’t I?”
“Kli-Kli, is that you?”
“You humans have a strange habit of stating the obvious. Of course it’s me, Harold!”
“You’re the one thing I’ve been missing all this time.”
“And I’m glad to see you alive and well, too,” said the royal jester, making a face. “Oh, look! Gkhols!”
It turned out there was another cell full of the creatures. Apparently Purple Nose was even more of a pervert than I thought, and he bred them for his own pleasure.
The goblin completely forgot about me, went over to the grille with the crazed man-eaters raging behind it, and stuck his finger in, evidently wishing to get to know the vile creatures better. Fortunately for Kli-Kli, he had much faster reactions than the voracious little monsters, so he managed to pull back in time and the greedy jaws closed on nothing but air.
“Eel, your blades,” said Deler, leaning his poleax against the wall and taking the scabbards with “brother” and “sister” out from behind his back.
“You didn’t happen to bring the crossbow, did you?” I asked the dwarf hopefully.
“I did, but Marmot has it, so keep behind us for the time being. Kli-Kli, are you going to stay here?”
“I’m coming. Oh look! A dead man! Eel, did you wring his neck? Why is he looking backwards like that?” the goblin jabbered excitedly.
“Cut the chatter, Kli-Kli,” I growled at the goblin.
“It’s hard work with you fools,” Kli-Kli sighed, turning serious. “Well, are we going then?”
“It’s high time! Our lads have been holding the exit for us,” Hallas wheezed from under his helmet.
The gnome leaped out into the corridor, followed by Deler, then Eel.
Kli-Kli and I walked up a stairway and found ourselves outside the door, beside the gnome, the dwarf, and the man.
Master Rizus was lying there dead, with two black arrows sticking out of his back. Ell was standing there with his face painted black and green and his bow across his shoulder. Elves are not noted for magnanimity to their foes, and they’re not above planting arrows in an enemy’s back if he offers them such a magnificent opportunity.
“How did you manage to get him?” I asked the dark elf in surprise, with a sideways glance at the shaman’s body.
He didn’t look so menacing now. A skinny little man who had met his death from elfin arrows.
“Harold, are you blind?” Kli-Kli asked me mockingly. “Can’t you see how he died? He was shot full of arrows.”
“That’s not what I meant!” I said with a frown of annoyance at Kli-Kli’s slow-wittedness. “I want to know how he managed to kill a shaman.”
“A shaman? Hmm…,” rumbled Arnkh, who had just walked up to us, covered from head to foot in iron. He gave the body a curious glance.
“He could be a hundred times a shaman, Harold, but when I fire an arrow under a man’s shoulder blade without any warning, he forgets all about any shamanism,” Ell explained. “Do you think we fight the orcs’ shamanism in Zagraba with swords?”
“No, I don’t. An arrow from out of the bushes, and the job’s done.”
“Quicker, may the darkness take you!” we heard Marmot shout from somewhere in the distance, and then we heard men shouting and the clash of weapons.
The ringing sounds of swords clashing were suddenly interrupted by screams and howls—Milord Alistan had joined in the battle with his sword of singing steel.
W
hen we darted outside, it was all over. There was a new dent in Alistan’s oak shield and the right sleeve of Marmot’s jacket was torn, but no one had been hurt, which was more than could be said for the enemy. Three of the Nameless One’s followers were lying dead and another was writhing in the bushes, groaning and clutching at his stomach.
Yes, this is no fairy tale. It’s only in fairy tales that men die honorably and silently. In life they usually squirm and howl and bleed a lot. Blood was oozing through the wounded man’s white fingers. He had been stuck as neatly as any pig.
Arnkh’s sword rose and came down again. The man fell silent forever.
“Withdraw!” Markauz ordered when he caught sight of us. “This noise will bring the whole nest of them running!”
So we ran. That is, the jester and I ran. The others withdrew in organized fashion to positions that had been prepared beforehand and were guarded by the Wild Hearts who had not been involved in the fight, Honeycomb and Lamplighter, and a rear line support group consisting of Egrassa and Miralissa, armed with bows. I couldn’t see Uncle anywhere. No doubt the platoon sergeant had been left behind at the inn because of his wound.
I heard shouting behind me, a crossbow bolt whistled through the air, and I took a dive, burying my nose in the ground and almost smothering the ling underneath me. Egrassa and Miralissa, joined by Ell, began returning the enemy’s fire, aiming at the windows and doorway of the building. Three of our pursuers decided to chase after us and try their luck in honest combat, but they each caught an arrow in the chest and ended up stretched out on the ground. That discouraged any more of the villains from sticking their noses out from behind their stone walls.
“Is everyone all right?” Miralissa asked, pulling her bowstring with an arrow on it back to her ear.
Twang!
“If you don’t count my nerves!” said Kli-Kli, as usual taking any opportunity to complain.
“There’s worse to come,” I muttered, getting up off the ground.
“Withdraw to the horses!”
Alistan’s order was never carried out. Something white but, unfortunately, not fluffy took off from the top story of the building where we had been held in the basement for almost an entire day and night.
