by Jenner, M
“OK, but for now we wait. I can’t see these two just walking round and round all night. They must sleep or change shifts or something.”
Ty and Solomon bedded down and waited. After what seemed like forever, the sound of footsteps got quieter and the scant daylight filtering in from the tower’s windows faded to gray shadow. Ty rolled over and looked beyond the bars of his cell door. One guard sat on the floor with his back to the wall, seemingly in a deep sleep; the other guard walked aimlessly, kicking at thin air and marching in circles. Ty rolled off his bed and crept over to Solomon’s. He whispered, “I’m going to need all the spare blankets you have and your pillow. I’ll stuff it under the covers, so if he does look in he will think I am sleeping.” Without another word Ty had all of Solomon’s spare bedding, and heaped it up under one thin blanket, into the shape of a body.
“Ty, here he comes,” Solomon said as loudly as he dared. Ty rolled silently under his bed and held his breath. The guard reached their cell door and stopped to look in. Solomon slitted his eyes, pretending to be asleep, and could just make out the guard’s bulk standing in the doorway. Solomon fought to keep his breathing steady and calm – then the guard moved on.
“It worked!” Ty whispered, rolling out from his hiding place.
“Yes. He definitely stopped and looked in.”
The guard made his way around to where his partner slept on the floor, and sat down beside him. Before long, his head was nodding too; he eventually fell into a deep sleep, his snores echoing around the landing.
Ty knelt down in front of his locked cell door and went to work on the lock. He held a scrap of cloth over the lock to muffle the noise. Because the lock could only be opened from the outside he had to do it blind and backwards; this skill was practiced by higher-level rogues. Ty’d had to teach himself after being kicked out of the Guild, and the many occasions he had been locked up had provided him with valuable practice.
Eventually the lock clicked.
“I’ll be as quick as I can, Sol,” Ty whispered, looking back at Solomon with a cheeky smile.
“Be safe – and come back with my backpack and staff.” Solomon gave Ty a thumbs-up gesture. Ty paused at the door, then stepped over to Solomon’s cot and unlocked his hand restraints.
“That’s just in case I don’t,” Ty said, turning back to the door. Slowly he crept through and gently closed the door behind him. Crouching low, he moved quietly to the handrail that circled the walkway. The lift rope was just on the other side. Ty tested the handrail first for its strength, making sure it would hold his weight; the last thing he wanted was to fall to his death because of a schoolboy’s error.
With one hand on the handrail he leaped up, landing with the ease of a gymnast. He held his position on the handrail for a few seconds, making sure the guards didn’t stir, then leapt again, this time catching the rope. It was further away than he had anticipated; it had looked a lot closer when he’d stood next to the handrail and sized it up. Getting back would be slightly harder, he thought, but he was sure he’d be able to manage. He wrapped his legs tightly around it, and carefully edged his way upwards. Solomon watched from his cot as Ty’s feet slowly disappeared from sight.
Ty climbed until he could see the floor of the next level; it was smaller than the one below and had only two doors, one on either side. A sleeping guard was slumped on the floor next to one of the doors, his head bowed and arms folded; his sword was propped up against the wall next to him and his helmet lay in his lap.
After pausing for a brief moment to rest, Ty pulled himself upwards until he could see the floor of the topmost level. It was again smaller than the last, with only one door – but sitting outside this door were three guards, playing a game of bone dice. Ty breathed a silent sigh of relief that they were on the opposite side from where he dangled on the rope.
Ty eased back down the rope, hand over hand, until he was level with the penultimate handrail. Stretching his foot as far as he could, he just managed to grab the railing with his toes, giving him enough leverage to pull himself over to the railing and jump down. He squatted quickly with his back against the railing. This was a crucial moment, he knew – if the guards above or below were to notice the rope’s movement, he was done for.
He watched the sleeping guard for any movement, but there was none. Moving silently, he padded towards the doorway and slowly reached for the hilt of the guard’s sword. The orc snored gently as Ty brought the sword into position, inches away from his chest.
Nah, he would still scream, Ty thought. He turned the sword and held the blade horizontally over the guard’s head, ready to bring the flat of the blade down sharply. But if I don’t knock him out in one, he’ll scream blue murder. Damn! He held the hilt with both hands and held it straight over the sleeping orc’s head. Right through the skull, he thought, and took a deep breath.
Suddenly the guard’s head rolled back, and he opened his mouth in an enormous yawn. Ty seized the opportunity and forced the sword straight down the orc’s throat. The orc’s eyes flew open in astonished pain as Ty heaved on the sword with all the weight he could muster.
The guard reached up with eyes wide, grabbing for the blade – but just like that it was over. With one final push, Ty sank the sword hilt into the orc’s mouth with a sickening crunch, snapping bone and muscle. Ty stepped back and watched as the dead orc slumped to one side.
The helmet rolled from the guard’s lap onto the floor, making an almighty clatter. Thinking quickly and moving even faster, Ty reached down and pulled the guard up by the shoulder, propping him upright. Placing one foot in the guard’s groin, he heaved the blade free, and the guard’s head dropped forward. Ty slid the blade between the guard’s arm and side, then pulled it out. Clean as a whistle, he thought as he propped it back up against the wall. Ty folded the guard’s arms across his chest, then placed the orc’s helmet on the floor next to his leg. He ran round the level until he was under the orcs above, out of their line of sight, and waited.
“Fraksh!” Ty heard someone shout from above, barely a second later. “Wake up! Grig will have your guts!”
Ty waited anxiously, but there was nothing more. The voice from above had nothing more to say, and apart from the faint sounds of chatter and skittering dice from above, there was silence. Slowly he eased back around to the door next to the dead guard, keeping a close eye on the handrail above.
He crouched there silently, waiting to hear any noise from the guards, but no alarm was raised. After several moments, he moved slowly forward to the closest door and went to work with his picks. The lock soon clicked open and, as slowly as he could, Ty pushed the door open and peered inside.
The room was a semi-circle, one large table filling the back wall. On the table were weapons – swords, daggers, bows, arrows, axes – and piles of armour that had been looted by the orcs. Ty slipped silently across the room; he found their weapons straightaway, as they had been thrown on top of the pile. Soon his precious daggers were back on his wrists, his boot daggers and small crossbow back in their places. He wrapped his cloak around him, hiding anything that might glisten in the darkness.
He gathered up the rest of the party’s weapons and laid them out on an old blanket he found lying on the floor. Taking a leather drawstring from a backpack, he tied his friends’ equipment up into a neat bundle, making it easier for him to carry. Then he set the bundle down next to the door. Looking around the room once more, he spotted Solomon’s staff on the floor under the table. He snatched it up and laid it across the bundle.
Ty edged the door open and stepped onto the circular walkway, quietly closing the door behind him. He made his way over to the second door, keeping as close to the wall as he could so the guards above had less chance to spot him – if they were even looking. After a few moments’ work with his tools, the second door clicked open – but as it did, one of the bone lock-picks snapped in two. Cursing under his breath, Ty entered the room – then immediately forgot about his broken pick.
This room was a mirror image of the first one, except for the fact that this table was glittering and sparkling. Gems, diamonds, small caskets of gold, necklaces, rings, goblets – everything a dragon would need to make a comfortable bed, piled high and unattended.
Eyes wide as a child’s in a sweet shop, Ty walked towards the table. He spotted his party’s backpacks, tossed carelessly against a wall. When he inspected his pack, he found it had been looted; the potions had gone, but he didn’t care. He tipped what was left out onto the floor – a couple of torches, flint and tinder, a blanket, and some old stale rations. He moved over to the table and began stuffing the pack with gems, gold – everything he could reach. When the pack was stuffed full, he tried to lift it, to swing it over his shoulder – but he couldn’t budge it. Damn, he thought frantically, how am I going to carry it? Ah! Solomon!
He cast a look at the riches still piled on the table, wondering if he should fill another backpack. He picked a diamond out of the pile, bigger than any he had seen before. He studied it for a minute, then popped it into his mouth. After three attempts he managed to swallow it; picking up a handful of gold coins and trinkets, he distributed them over a few pockets. His mind was scrambled by the lure of the gold. He couldn’t focus – his mind was swirling, trying to work out a way to take everything.
Then he heard a noise from outside, and snapped back suddenly into reality. He inched the door open and saw that the rope he had climbed up on was swaying – someone was using the lift. Ty stepped out into the walkway and gently closed the door behind him. Looking over the handrail he saw the lift moving up – without another thought, he vaulted over the rail and onto the rope. He slid down as fast as he could, his palms burning from the rough rope. When he came level with the handrail below, opposite his cell, he tried to catch the railing as he had done before, stretching his leg out and straining to reach the rail, but the speed of his descent ruined any chance he had of gaining a sure footing. He could see the guards, both propped up against the wall and still sound asleep.
He climbed down the rope until he was a bit lower than the handrail on his level. He knew this was the last chance he would have; the lift was only feet away and rising. As soon as he was level with the handrail he sprang from the rope. He misjudged the distance by a fraction, and his foot caught on the top of the handrail. He tumbled over the rail and landed gracelessly, rolling twice and ending up with his back to his cell door. It creaked and opened slightly; then a hand reached out and grabbed him, dragging him into the cell.
“Quick, into your bed!” Solomon whispered, closing the cell door. Ty handed Solomon his staff, which Sol quickly slid under his blanket as Ty scurried to get under his own.
The thief’s noisy landing had wakened the two sleeping guards, and they sprang to their feet just as the top of the lift came into view. Unknowingly, by waking them Ty had spared them a whipping from Grig.
“Hurry up, you fool, it’s our shift change! You go that way,” the bulkier orc guard said to the other as he rubbed his eyes, trying to bring himself fully alert. He walked quickly to the lift door, hoisting it open just as the second guard moved into position.
“Everything OK?” Grig said, stepping out of the lift, followed by his companion Hodash.
“They’re all sleeping like little mice,” the guard said, yawning. After giving a brief report, both night guards entered the lift. Once they were inside, Hodash pulled down the door and secured it, and the lift descended. Within a few seconds it was out of sight.
“Let’s wake these soon-to-be-dead prisoners up, shall we?” Grig said, looking at Hodash with an evil smile.
“Yeah, let’s have some fun.”
They walked to the nearest cell, drew their swords and rattled them across the bars as they walked, like children clattering a stick down the length of a fence. They were clearly enjoying themselves, making as much clamour as possible.
“If they hit our door, it’ll open, and I can’t lock it now!” Ty whispered to Solomon.
“Get ready to fight,” Solomon replied, pulling the covers over his face.
The two guards reached their cell door and as Grig’s sword pushed against it, it swung open. Ty’s heart was beating fast and his entire body seemed to tense.
“Those stupid guards left this one open! They’ll get thirty lashes for this,” Grig said disgustedly. “Lock it up, quickly.”
Hodash stepped forward, producing a large ring of keys from his belt. He pulled the door closed and had just put the key in the lock when Ty flung off his thin blanket, sat upright on his bed, and threw a dagger.
His aim was true. The blade struck Hodash full in the throat. Dropping the keys, the guard staggered back, grasping the dagger. He managed to pull it out of his throat, and a fountain of blood pumped from the gaping hole. He fell to his knees as blood fountained out on to the cell floor.
“No!” Grig roared, kicking open the cell door. He raised his sword and lunged at Ty. Solomon rolled out from under his covers and swung his staff into Grig’s solar plexus with all his might. Grig pitched forward as the air whooshed out of his lungs.
As Grig doubled over, Ty drew his second dagger and stood up, thrusting the blade deep into the guard’s chest. With one hand on Grig’s back, Ty ripped the dagger upwards towards the dying orc’s throat.
Grig stopped moving and fell to the floor, lifeless. His blood pooled on the floor.
“Lift them onto our beds,” Ty said, taking charge of the situation. They lifted Grig and Hodash’s corpses up onto the beds and covered them up. They scuffed their feet around the cell, kicking at the hay on the floor and doing as much as they could to absorb or cover the blood on the floor. Ty crawled under the beds to pull out any straw lurking there, while Solomon emptied the rags and hay from their pillowcases. Satisfied they had done their best to disguise the scene, Ty grabbed the ring of keys and left the cell with Solomon, locking the cell door behind them.
“We need to climb up to the next level,” Ty said.
“What about the other prisoners?” Solomon whispered.
“Not my problem. We need to get out and find the others. We haven’t got time to save everybody,” Ty said with a shrug. They crept to the handrail and looked over; the lift hung unmoving, its rope only a few feet away.
“Happy?” Ty asked.
“Yes, let’s go.”
They jumped from the handrail, Ty going first and making it look easy. Solomon struggled at first, but eventually, with Ty’s help and whispered advice, maneuvered up the rope and over the handrail on the floor above. They quickly slipped into the room with the weapons.
“Take all this; the others’ll be no good without their weapons,” Ty ordered. They gathered all they could manage, then stealthily made their way over to the other room.
“Now, take a look at this!” Ty said, pushing the door open to reveal the table full of gold.
Chapter Ten: The Escape
Solomon walked over to the table, eyes roving over the haul of gold and jewels. “They must be here,” he said, as if to himself.
“What must be here?” Ty asked. Solomon didn’t seem to hear him, and was spreading the loot about, shoving the larger items out of his way. Coins and trinkets dropped to the floor.
“Be quiet! Do you want to wake the world?” Ty hissed.
Solomon froze, then lifted out a small chest, about the same size as the potion boxes they had carried. He reached back into the pile of treasure and pulled out a second. With one in each hand, he turned to Ty.
“The King’s Gold,” he said, with absolute delight.
“That’s the King’s gold? You couldn’t get a hundred gold pieces in those!” Ty eyed the two little chests. Despite their small size, they did look very expensive and regal, covered as they were in gold leaf and glittering with gems and diamonds. The hinges of solid mithril gleamed in the torchlight. Solomon stooped to pull a blanket out of his backpack. “I’ll explain later,” he said. He wrapped the chests and placed them in his backpa
ck. He pulled out the scrolls he had found in the casket hidden in the sarcophagus and fixed them in his belt, then tied Kern’s longbow and quiver to one side of his pack.
“Why not now?” Ty asked suspiciously.
“I’m not going to try to explain everything while we’re in this much danger,” Solomon explained, standing up and donning the pack. “Now is not the time.”
“Yes, you will, Sol! Now is a perfect time! King’s Gold my arse – if there’s gold in those chests then I’m a bloody elf!”
“We’ll need as much armour and rations as we can carry,” Solomon said, sizing up the other packs and ignoring Ty’s outburst.
“Fine,” Ty fumed. “What about the gold, then?”
“Leave it. You’ll be richly rewarded by Conn anyway.”
“Leave it? Are you mad?”
“King Moriak is a very generous man,” Solomon said soothingly, “and this is a pittance compared to what’s stored away in his vaults.”
“‘What’s in his vaults’ – that means nothing unless he’s willing to share it with me!”
“After I tell him what you’ve done, he will be very grateful.”
There was a small pause. “How grateful?” Ty quizzed.
“Listen, the King treats me like a son,” Solomon said, rather boastfully. “I’ll tell him of your bravery and cunning, and he will make you very rich.”
“The king sends you on missions to orc temples because he thinks of you like a son?” Ty scoffed.
“No, I requested to go. I wanted to repay the King’s generosity in some way,” Solomon lied.
“He must be generous indeed, to inspire someone to want to come here!”
“Trust me – he is very generous to those he favours.”
Ty packed as much of the armour and rations as he could into Kern’s backpack, leaving Nuran’s heavy breastplate and leggings behind. He looked down at his gold-filled pack and sighed.
