by Ryan Drake
“Just out of curiosity,” I said, “What do you know about the Magistrate’s death? Why am I being blamed for that?”
“How should I know?” she replied. “Ask one of the guardsmen.”
I might have called one over and done exactly that, except that Max chose that very moment to fly between the bars and plop himself on the floor in front of me.
“Max! Where have you been?” I said.
“They caught yeh good!” he said as if in reply, laughing and pointing at me. He hiccupped. “They caught yeh good, an’ now we’re headin’ back to Ulm! This is turnin’ to be one of the happiest days of me life!” Grinning broadly, he performed a little dance that ended in a wobbly pirouette.
“Max? Are you drunk?” I asked.
“You bet I am!” he said. “I hid when the guardsmen started kickin’ yehs awake. Found a guard who ain’t so good at keeping his booze hidden. He’s got considerable … consider … a whole lot less now’n what he thinks he has!” Another little laugh. “We’re goin’ to Ulm!” he repeated then blinked at me. “Did I say that already? You owe me a hat!”
“Max, you’ve got to help us get out of here.” I kept my voice low enough that even the closest guards couldn’t hear. “Can you get the key—”
He snorted. “’Course not,” he said, then hiccupped again. “Have yeh seen the size of them things, an’ that chain it’s on? Couldn’t lift ’em on me best day.”
I kept forgetting how small he was. “Well, how about a piece of metal? Something I can use as a pick…. Your sword!” It was a bit small and light, but it ought to work if the locking mechanism wasn’t rusty.
Obligingly, Max’s hand went to the hilt of the weapon in question. But then he frowned and swayed on his feet. “’Ang on a minute. Why should I help yeh? I got what I want. I’m goin’ home! If I help yeh escape, won’t the guards jus’ turn ’round an’ chase yeh again? How will I get home then?”
It was a surprisingly well reasoned argument considering his current condition.
I tried another tack. “Come on, Max. You owe me. Didn’t I save your life not so long ago?”
“Yeh did, yeh did. An’ a good job yeh done with it too or I wouldn’t be standin’ here to say so. But not much before yeh did that, yeh banged me head with a tankard, got me home burned down aroun’ me ears, stuffed me in a sack and took me miles away from Ulm, where yeh tried to use me to bargain for yer own life. An’ that’s pretty low, I reckon. An’ on top of all that, yeh’ve gone an’ made me lose me hat!”
It was quite a list. It was at least as long and almost as impressive as Gabby’s had been. It seemed that my being around wasn’t doing Max any favors either.
I struggled to come up with some sort of a reply. “Surely your life is more important than a hat?”
“Maybe it is,” he said. “An’ maybe it ain’t.”
“Maximus,” said Gabby. Max whirled about as if he hadn’t realized she was there. “Did you fall asleep when you were supposed to be standing watch last night?”
“Huh? Whaddaya mean?”
“It’s a simple question. Did you fall asleep when you were supposed to be standing watch, or not? Because if you did, then you are a good part of the reason I’m locked in a cage with the man who burned down your home and my tavern.”
“Look, I didn’t burn—” I started to say.
“Gordan, please be silent. Maximus?”
“I, uh….” Max said. Then it was as if all the fight went out of him. He looked at the floor and deflated a little. “Yeah. Didn’t mean to, but yeah, I guess I did.”
“In that case, I believe that you owe me. Therefore, do as Gordan—” She stopped abruptly, looked about, and sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?” she asked nobody in particular.
“Smell what?” I said. Max was too distracted by his own drunken misery to respond.
Gabby didn’t reply directly. “Maximus, could you do me a favor? Could you fly around a little bit and let me know what you see?”
He looked up, puzzled. “Sure, I guess. What am I lookin’ for?”
“Just look. If I’m right, you’ll know soon enough.”
Still somewhat uncertain, Max launched himself unsteadily into the air, threaded his way between the bars, then looked back at us.
“That way, I think,” said Gabby.
Max took her at her word and quickly disappeared. The guardsmen never noticed he was there.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“Something bad,” she replied. “Let’s hope I’m wrong.”
I decided that Gabby wasn’t very good at giving straight answers.
I figured I’d find out soon enough anyway, so I busied myself with looking around.
Nothing much had changed. Perhaps there were a few more trees about. But other than that, the sky was still blue. The Demesne still floated not far away, and the guardsmen still plodded along all around us as if they were our own guard of honor.
Up ahead, the Immaculate Captain was sitting bolt upright on the back of the only full-sized horse other than Gabby’s and the pack-horses that I could see. And beside him … no! It couldn’t be!
But it was. Thork Yurger was there as large as life (which for him was pretty small, really) riding a pony that was as black as an orc’s shadow and not much bigger than the poor creature I’d let get torn apart by the goblins.
What was he doing here? I wondered. For that matter (and as I’d asked the Captain), what were any of them doing here? Sure, in my mind I was the most important person in all the land, but I’m also a realist. To these people I was little more than a trouble maker.
Were the guardsmen here because of Thork Yurger? Had he somehow suggested I was responsible for a far greater crime than I actually was? The killing of a Magistrate, perhaps? If so, then that would explain a lot.
Max interrupted my musings by zooming back in between the bars. Or maybe he hadn’t really interrupted them at all, as my musings had reached a natural pause beyond which I’d need more information to muse any further. In any event, he was a welcome distraction.
But his news was not welcome at all.
“Orcs!” he gasped before he’d even slowed down. He crashed face-first onto the floor, righted himself and said, “Orcs! They’re coming!”
“What do you mean?” I asked at the same time as Gabby let out a groan and muttered, “I knew it.”
Max looked around with a panicked expression. “They’re coming!” he repeated, not entirely usefully. “An army of ’em. Thirty, forty, don’t know how many. Didn’t stay to count. But they’re armed an’ armored like they’re goin’ to war, an’ they’re heading this way!”
“Orcs?” I said. It wasn’t my most intelligent utterance ever.
“Orcs!”
“What do they want?” I asked.
It was Gabby who replied. “If there are as many and they are armed as Maximus said, then they’re looking for a fight. Trust me on this. I know orcs.”
I trusted her. “So what should we do?” I asked, but the reality was I could barely believe it. I mean, how bad could my luck have become? In the past couple of days I’d had to run from an angry mob, been shot at by Thork Yurger’s small crossbow, fought with a part-troll called Poodle, been beaten by the guardsmen in a tavern, nearly been killed by a horde of goblins, and been captured by the guardsmen who had previously beaten me. And now there were orcs to fight as well? Unbelievable!
“What can we do?” Gabby replied. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re trapped in a cage!”
“I’m not,” said Max. He started to take off but I caught him before he could go anywhere.
“Oi!” he shouted.
“Don’t go anywhere yet, Max,” I said to him before turning to Gabby. “There’s always something we can do.” So saying, I turned my attention to the guardsmen trudging along beside us. “Hey,” I said. “Hey you!”
One of the guardsmen tur
ned his head. It was the man who’d kicked me awake earlier. The one I’d tripped and threatened. “What do you want?” he growled.
“Just thought you should know. My little friend here was flying about and happened to stumble across an army of orcs heading this way.”
The guardsmen considered Max with thinly veiled contempt. “Fairy,” he muttered. Then, “So?”
“I ain’t no fairy—” Max began.
“So it might be a good idea if we all stayed out of their way.”
“That won’t work,” said Gabby. But she said it to me, quietly, and not the guardsman. “Orcs have an astonishing sense of smell. If I could smell them, you can be sure they’ve already picked up our scent. They won’t lose it again.”
Good to know.
“Why?” said the guardsmen.
That surprised me. “Um, have you ever fought an orc in full armor? And I don’t mean a drunk one in a ditch somewhere. I mean a savage, fully in control orc standing shoulder to shoulder with a score of his brothers, all intent on removing your head for you?”
“Nope. But why should they want to do that?”
Good question. Gabby picked it up. “Because that’s what orcs do,” she said.
The guardsman thought about it for a moment, then did what guardsmen do when they don’t have a ready answer. He increased his pace to talk with the Captain.
In moments, that worthy called a halt. The Captain dismounted and shouldered his way through his men. “What’s this about orcs?” he demanded. “And I warn you, you’d better not be just wasting my time—”
“There is an army of orcs heading this way. My little friend here,” I shook Max for effect, ignoring his complaints, “has seen them. We don’t know what they intend to do but they look like they mean business. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”
The Captain considered. He stared hard at Max. “Fairy, is this true?”
“I ain’t a fairy, I’m a pixie!”
“Whatever. Is it true?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you drunk?”
“No more’n usual,” Max replied, stifling a hiccup.
“How far are the orcs from here?”
“Not far. ’Coupla minutes if they could fly, but I ain’t yet met no orc with wings. Not much longer by foot, I reckon.”
“And they’re definitely heading this way?”
“Like they was on a string.”
“And which way are they coming from?”
Max pointed nearly straight back the way we had come.
“Right,” said the Captain. “At least they won’t come as a surprise. Men, hobble the cart-horses and take a defensive position. Let’s see what these orcs want.” He himself tied his mount next to Gabby’s.
The guardsmen did as ordered. When they were satisfied our cage couldn’t go anywhere, they arranged themselves in a tight wedge, twenty strong, with their spears pointing in the direction Max had indicated. I noticed that Thork Yurger had dismounted also, but he wasn’t joining in with the guardsmen. Instead, he was looking at me with a satisfied smirk on his face.
“Um, Captain?” I said. “If there’s orcs heading this way, do you think you could let us out?”
The Captain looked at me, sneered a little, but didn’t say anything. That was answer enough.
“Well then, how about letting us have a weapon or two? Just in case the orcs….”
The Captain had already turned back to watch with his men.
I shrugged. It had been worth a try.
“Do yeh think yeh have it in yeh to let me go now?” said Max. He looked unaccountably grumpy.
I realized I was still holding him by his wings. “Oh, sure. But first, give me your sword.” He hesitated. “Look, with the orcs heading your way, these guardsmen aren’t likely to escort you back to Ulm any time soon.” I said it loudly enough for Max to hear, but quietly enough so the guardsmen wouldn’t. “Your best chance is with us, which means we have to escape from here. Which means I have to pick this lock. Which means you have to give me your sword to pick it with. Ok?”
Even then he looked hesitant.
Gabby said, “Maximus,” and that was enough.
He grudgingly handed the weapon over.
It really was no bigger than a needle. I let Max go, but I was already having serious doubts. This sliver of metal would never be able to shift the tumblers in the lock keeping us trapped. Still, it was better than nothing. Hoping the guardsmen wouldn’t look my way and ignoring Thork Yurger, I moved over to the door and went to work as surreptitiously as possible.
Max was on the floor, smoothing his waistcoat. “Tha’s more like it,” he said. “Now if yeh all will excuse me, I think I’ll wait out this little fracas from somewhere safe.”
Before he took off though, Gabby stopped him. “Maximus, I was hoping you could do us just one more little favor.” Max sighed audibly. “There’s something in my saddle bags that I’m hoping you can get….”
She may have said more, but I’d stopped listening. The orcs had finally appeared.
It always surprised me just how big and scary-looking an army of orcs in full armor is. I mean, usually you’ll see orcs drunk and disheveled in a tavern, or missing their legs and begging on a street corner, or drunk and lying in a ditch somewhere. Every now and then you’ll see one working as a bouncer, if they’re able to keep sober. Sure, they’re not quite as big or strong as Poodle, but they’re plenty scary even if there’s just one of them, with their overdeveloped muscles, bluish skin and surly demeanor.
But even a small army of them can be terrifying. Picture a solid wall of bulging blue flesh. Now add studded metal armor and helms. Just for fun, litter that wall of flesh with anything and everything that has ever been used in battle. Pikes, double-headed battle axes, maces, morning-stars, clubs, bastard-swords, war hammers, and anything else made of spikes, chains and brutality that takes massive strength to wield.
Now add the concentrated stench of a thousand unwashed armpits and you’ve got a good idea of what was heading our way. The sight (and smell) of such an army has been known to make human soldiers break and run for the hills. Why else do you think the Shadow uses orcs as his personal troops?
Full credit to the guardsmen, though. Aside from a muttered curse and a few fidgets, they held their ground. For myself, I gaped at the sight for several seconds before remembering what I was supposed to be doing. Then I felt around the inside of the lock with Max’s sword with even greater enthusiasm than before.
“Halt!” bellowed the Captain. “State your purpose!”
Bad move. Up until then, the orc army had been trudging towards us without any particular urgency. Notoriously short sighted, it was possible that they hadn’t even seen us yet. But that all changed as soon as the Captain opened his mouth.
The orc army did exactly the opposite of what the Captain had requested. As one, they shifted whatever ugly weapon they were carrying into their hands, voiced blood-curdling battle cries and charged.
The ground shuddered under the cage. I fumbled with the lock, but I now understood how it worked. All I needed was a little more time.
“Steady!” cried the Captain. “If you run, you die!”
Again, in a situation where I would have been running for my life, the guardsmen proved their mettle. They stayed where they were. Surprisingly, so did the horses, including Gabby’s. It stamped its hooves but did nothing else.
“Hurry,” said Gabby.
Even though I was already hurrying as hurriedly as I could, I hurried a little more.
The orcs reached the guards with an audible crash. War cries were joined by howls of pain and the sounds of metal thudding into flesh as nearly two score of brutish, muscular orcs attacked a lesser number of smaller, weaker guardsmen. If I’d been one of those guardsmen, I probably would have wet myself.
You might be thinking that it was a bit of a mismatch. Bigger, stronger orcs bea
ting up on a smaller number of comparatively puny guardsmen. It should have been over in seconds, right? The orcs should have waded in the blood of the guardsmen, spilling their entrails and laughing in delight as limbs and other bits went flying.
Here’s the thing, though. As well as being big and strong and all the rest of it, orcs are famous for being a bit thick. Aside from those who serve the Shadow, they don’t tend to work together all that well. And to top it off, they tend to value the glory of the fight at the expense of the practical things. Like winning.
An army of orcs is an army of big, belligerent bullies, each one out to prove that he and only he is the biggest, meanest, strongest and most awesome orc who ever lived. The end result of that is while each was formidable in his own right, none would lift a finger to help out a fellow orc if they needed it.
The guardsmen, on the other hand, were well trained and professional enough to act as a single unit. More, they knew full well that to fail here meant their lives, and were therefore very keen to not fail.
They held their ground. They fought back. And while I couldn’t say they were winning, at least they weren’t carried away by that first charge.
I had a little time, I thought, to work on the lock.
“Look out!” cried Gabby at the same time as I heard a resounding clang! and caught a glimpse of sparks flying right beside my head.
I jerked back in surprise. What on earth?
“B-b-balls of a g-g-goat!” said Thork Yurger in his high, squeaky voice.
Oh. With everything else going on, I’d forgotten about him. Naturally, the little creep had taken the opportunity to shoot at me with his crossbow. Again. This time it had been pure luck that had saved me. The bolt had struck one of the bars, glanced off and now lay on the floor of the cage.
I forced myself to laugh. “Good shot, Thork, as usual,” I said. “I’m sure Pingo is very satisfied with the quality of your work. Value for money, I’d say.”
“L-laugh all y-y-you want,” the small assassin replied. “D-d-doesn’t m-m-matter to me. Y-y-you’ll be d-d-dead soon.” So saying, he started to reload his crossbow to the tune of bloodshed close by.
