by J. K. Barber
“I helped work those mines as a kid,” Vlaric spoke up. “My father was a miner and I know those tunnels like the back of my hand. He insisted that I memorize each and every branch, fearing I might get lost should there be a cave in.”
Tashed looked at the black-haired warrior with obvious skepticism.
“It was before I started at the Warrior’s School,” Vlaric expounded. “My mother didn’t want me to die in the mines like her brother did. As soon as my father would agree to it, I took up a sword and started training.”
“That was years ago,” Tashed pointed out, still unconvinced. “And why did you not speak up before?”
“If Vlaric says he can find the tunnel, he can,” Parinan announced. His confidence was echoed by all the Snowhaven men and women.
Tashed contemplated his options for a few moments more, but eventually nodded his head in agreement. “It seems we have no other alternatives then. How far away is the entrance to the mine?”
Vlaric did not hesitate in his answer. “An hour at most, though I recommend we take a less direct route. There is a small path between the mountain peaks we can take that will hide us well. Traveling that way will only add another hour to our trip.”
Tashed turned to his men. “Very well then, let’s get moving. The more time we waste, the more chance there is we’ll be spotted.”
Everyone drew their white cloaks up around them as two of the Illyander soldiers conferred with Vlaric for a moment before moving out ahead of the small group. The black-haired warrior told the scouts the route they would take and landmarks to look for, before he fell into step beside Nawyn.
Parinan and Tashed looked warily at each other one last time before the entire group moved away from the waiting squad of orcs at the tunnel entrance.
They made good time through the ravine, the floor of the small valley being mostly clear of deep snow. The mine entrance was not guarded; the orcs apparently unaware of the connection between the mine’s tunnels and the once secret passages beneath Snowhaven. Nawyn had said a small thanks to the Great Mother for their fortune before they ventured into the mine’s entrance.
Now, however, Nawyn was less sure about their luck.
“I thought you said you knew where the connection was,” Tashed asked, his voice becoming more irritated with each step.”
Vlaric stopped, turning back to glare at the cavalry captain. The torch light reflected in the black-haired man’s eyes, giving them a fiery cast. “I said I memorized the tunnels that my father knew about. There have been a few more dug since I was a child.” The warrior turned and began stalking confidently through the darkened passages again. Tashed’s voice pulled the warrior up short once again.
“Then shouldn’t we be there already?” The tall man bumped his head on a low support beam, cursing vociferously. It was not the first time Tashed’s helmet had bounced off a thick wooden timber, nor was it the first time the man had let loose with a torrent of truly vitriolic expletives. The young captain’s long litany of harsh and imaginative curse words was a bit of a legend in the King’s Army. While the Illyander soldiers were somewhat used to it, each tirade widened the eyes of the men and women from Snowhaven.
Vlaric waited for Tashed to finish his long and colorful speech about the shortcomings of mine construction before he responded. “It is only a bit farther, I promise. Have we taken a wrong turn yet?” he asked. When the Illyander officer did not respond, Vlaric simply nodded his head and continued to lead them down another series of tunnels. After several long, but thankfully silent minutes, Vlaric stopped in the middle of a tunnel and waited, looking around.
“Where’s your confidence now?” Tashed asked, his voice smug.
Vlaric did not respond. He simply pointed at the tunnel wall next to him with the torch in his hand.
Captain Tashed stepped past Nawyn, Parinan and Mashara to stand beside Vlaric. As the tall Aeirsgan looked at the wall, his eyes focused on the irregularities in the passageway, noticing the thick wooden door set into the stone. Nodding to Vlaric, Tashed motioned for his men to come forward.
After several hard shoves, the door eventually opened and a short tunnel was revealed in the torch light, at the end of which was another stout wooden door. This one however, was barred shut by a thick wooden timber. The Illyander soldiers wedged their shields into place beneath the stout oaken beam, using the leverage to pry the bar up and out of its iron brackets. The force required to do so and the rust that fell to the floor with the beam spoke of the door’s disuse.
“Been a while since this has been used, eh?” Tashed asked, looking at Vlaric.
“Thankfully, it has never been used,” the black-haired man responded, pulling a pair of daggers from his belt. In such confined quarters, Vlaric’s two-handed sword would be difficult to use effectively.
“What?” Tashed asked, looking confused. “You said your uncle was killed in a cave-in.”
“No,” Vlaric corrected. “I said he died in this mine. There’s hasn’t been a cave-in here for over a hundred years.”
“Then how did he die?” Tashed asked, though it was obvious he was asking more out of curiosity than concern.
“Fell down a mineshaft,” Vlaric responded nonchalantly. When the cavalry captain didn’t press for more information about his uncle, Vlaric continued. “Once we open that door, we’ll be in a long tunnel. Head left and you should end up back in the mountains and the party of orcs. Head right and it should take you right up underneath Snowhaven.”
“Should?” Tashed asked, his voice surprised and angry once again. “You’re supposed to know these tunnels ‘like the back of your hand.’ You don’t sound too certain.”
Vlaric shrugged. “I’ve never been in this tunnel before, but based on what Parinan and Mashara told me the directions are correct.”
“He’s right,” Parinan confirmed, from his place in the main mining tunnel. “If you smell garbage, you’re headed in the right direction.”
Tashed threw his hands up. “Great, what a battle plan: ‘Go until you smell garbage and then kill all the orcs you see.’” Though he was trying to make light of the situation, the uncertainty in the young captain’s voice was evident.
Taking a few moments to calm down, Tash motioned for all those holding torches to step back around the corner into the mine, so that very little light shone down the small connecting tunnel. Tashed went to the unused, but now unbarred, door and gave it a tug. Resisting at first, he was able to shove open the door a hand’s width and peek through. There was no sign of anyone on the other side.
Tashed waved his men forward, splitting them off from each other as they reached the entrance to the once secret tunnel, so that half of his men went left and the other half took several paces towards Snowhaven and then waited.
Parinan led the warrior and sorcerer pairs down the short connecting passage, waving them by so that they joined the soldiers heading towards the now occupied border town, their home.
Parinan turned after the last of his comrades passed and looked questioningly at Tashed.
“This is where we part ways then,” the captain said, extending a hand to Parinan.
“Wait. What?” the warrior from Snowhaven asked. “I thought we were all headed into Snowhaven.”
“Under the original plan, yes,” Tashed replied. “That didn’t take into account the orcs at the other end of this tunnel,” the Aeirsgan horseman gestured back down the tunnel they should have taken to get to this point. “We’re going to stay here and make sure they don’t come up behind you and either kill you or give you away.”
“I don’t understand,” Parinan said, confused. “Shouldn’t we all be going? The more of us that make it in to Snowhaven, the better chance we have.”
“Not this time,” Tashed explained. “It would be too difficult to hide the movement of this many men inside the town. With a smaller force, you’ll have a better chance.” Parinan made to protest but Tashed cut him off. “My men know where to go; they’
ve studied the map of Snowhaven. They’re good men and good at what they do. Just make sure that you and your sorcerers do their job and we’ll have your town back for you before you know it.”
“What are you going to do then?” Parinan asked.
“We’ll stay right here for a while, make sure you make it in, then head back down the tunnel and take care of those orcs.” The captain’s voice was full of certainty. He was used to giving orders and having them obeyed.
“You sure about that?” the blonde-haired warrior asked, his voice only half concerned. Despite Tashed’s brusque demeanor, Parinan had a grudging respect for the officer.
“Of course I am,” the tall man replied. “I took all my best men for myself.” Tashed let out a little chuckle. “Once we handle the orcs, I’ll launch the signal arrows. That should give you enough time to reach the gates and open them before the army arrives.” Both men knew the timing would be close. If either group was delayed or killed, the entire plan would fall apart. “Then I’ll rejoin the rest of my men and help retake the city.”
Parinan took the Aeirsgan’s offered hand, clasping the man’s forearm firmly. “It has been good knowing you, Tashed. Maybe one day we’ll meet again.” The mission into Snowhaven was a long shot and everyone in the tunnel knew it. Even if they managed to get the gates open, the army would not arrive in time to aid them. The men and women heading into Snowhaven would likely not live to see the town reclaimed.
Tashed returned Parinan’s handshake and turned to leave, but then changed his mind, still grasping the Snowhaven man’s arms. There was a look of perplexity on both their faces. “I have one question though before I go.”
“Sure,” Parinan replied, his face now serious, expecting an inquiry of great import.
“Why does she keep laughing?” Tashed gestured towards Abigale, who was too far away to hear the question.
“What?” Parinan replied in shock.
“Abigale,” Tashed said. “Why does she giggle every time you say my name?”
The stocky blonde warrior from Snowhaven laughed heartily. It was a rich sound, full of life. “Your name,” Parinan replied once he had collected himself. “It’s… well, where we come from…”
“Yes?” Tashed asked, his voice growing impatient.
“In Snowhaven, Tashed… is a girl’s name.”
Chapter 14
The leather and mail clad man rubbed his hands together over the fire, looking around him nervously. His head spun around and he squinted his eyes, looking into the fog.
“Did you hear something?” he asked, immediately realizing the futility of the question. He looked back briefly at the three orcs standing around, their blue skin apparently impervious to the cold. “Damn savages,” he cursed. “You probably didn’t hear anything as much as you idiots like to bounce each other’s heads around.”
One of the blue-skinned creatures looked at the man inquisitively, his features, a horrid cross between an ape and a pig, scrunched up in confusion.
“You don’t have the slightest clue what I’m saying, do you?” he asked, knowing the answer. “Because you’re a big bunch of moronic oafs, aren’t you?” Despite his words, the man made sure to keep his voice neutral. Though most of the orcs didn’t understand Illyander, they definitely understood tone and had no qualms about killing someone over the slightest of insults. The orc who was looking at him stared a moment longer and then dismissed him with a wave of his huge hand. The creature grumbled in his own guttural language to his comrades, all of whom were sitting on the ground as he was, leaning their backs against the wall of a partially burnt down house.
On the other hand, the man did understand the orcish tongue and while he didn’t like what the orc just said about him, he wasn’t about to make an issue out of it. The man turned away from the fire, peering out into the fog.
Parinan waited the span of a pair of heartbeats and then stepped out of the mist, behind the trio of orcs. As he drove his sword through the back of the blue-skinned creature’s neck, he heard similar sounds to his left and right. Behind him he heard the soft twang of half a dozen bowstrings being loosed. As the human man turned around, a look of shock and confusion on his face at suddenly having a handful of arrows sprouting from his back, Parinan saw a figure, clad in a long white cloak step up behind the dying man, his arms mid-swing. Vlaric executed a killing stroke with his two-handed blade, nearly severing the enemy’s head from his body.
At his feet, the orc Parinan had dispatched lay unmoving, thick, dark-red blood pooling around his still form. Hal and Gretta wiped their blades off on the orcs’ clothing. Hal re-sheathed his dagger, retrieving his axe from his belt. Gretta kept her long thin blade out. Parinan turned to the Illyander soldiers, nodding to acknowledge their skilled bow shots, before quietly motioning everyone to continue on their path.
Since they had emerged from the hidden entrance into Snowhaven, the Mother’s luck had been with them. The sorcerers had been able to create a thick fog quickly, working in unison, which hid the Illyanders’ movements through the town. It was a dozen blocks to the southern gates from where they had emerged and the going had been slow. Most of the orcs they avoided, afraid a conflict would alert the Ice Queen’s forces to their presence, but one patrol and now this small group of guards, had had to be dispatched. Luckily, Tashed had not been boasting when he said he had picked the best men for the mission. The skill, stealth and efficiency with which they had dispatched the handful of orcs and the two humans they had killed were truly impressive. The soldiers’ expertise combined with the Snowhaveners’ knowledge of the town had made their mission remarkably successful so far. Parinan held no illusions about how long that would last though. Getting to the southern gate of Snowhaven was one thing; getting the gate open was something entirely different.
Parinan looked back briefly at the man Vlaric had just killed, his body quickly becoming pale, and shook his head. “Why?” he whispered to no one. The blonde-haired warrior was still perplexed by the large number of men who had thrown in with the Ice Queen, betraying their own people.
“What’s that?” Mashara asked, standing beside him, staying close to her partner. The sorceress had a faraway look in her eye, a portion of her attention devoted to keeping the fog dense enough around them to cover their movements.
Parinan shook his head at Mashara and motioned for her to follow the others. Now was not the time to wonder about questions to which he would likely never understand the answers.
A thick bestial shout from out of the fog behind them drew the Illyander’s attention. Though none of them could understand what the orc was yelling, the tone of his voice was unmistakable. The patrol they had had to kill had been discovered. The men and women from Snowhaven looked at each other, alarm evident in their eyes. The soldiers from the King’s Army looked to Parinan, awaiting a command.
“Let’s move, people,” Hal said as quietly as he could. “Nothing’s changed. We just need to get that gate open a little faster. Our blue-skinned friends just moved up the timetable on us.”
As they hustled to the gates, still moving as quietly as their speed would allow, everyone moved into the positions already discussed ahead of time. Five of the soldiers moved to the front, while the other half brought up the rear. In the middle clustered the four sorcerers, protected in the front by Parinan and Vlaric and from behind by Hal and Gretta. All the Illyanders knew that the success of the mission, and ultimately the siege of Snowhaven, depended on the sorcerers, and as such, they were to be protected at all costs.
For the soldiers from the King’s Army, they knew their role when they had taken the mission. Giving their lives for the Kingdom of Illyander on a undertaking they knew to be so crucial was a price they were willing and honored to pay. Parinan couldn’t help but admire these men, though he barely knew them. For the warriors and sorcerers it was different. This was their home and they were its defenders. Dying to protect it was something they were expected to do. Furthermore, they were all sw
orn to their partners. Until death shall part our bond, the words of the oath he took, echoed in his head as he looked to Mashara. She looked back, the expression on her face a perfect representation for the thoughts in his head.
“Brother and sister are we,” she said, as she placed a gentle hand on his cheek. Her voice sad but also thickly laced with pride. They both knew their chances of making it through this day, so neither one said anything more. Mashara gave her partner a soft lingering kiss and then they hurried to keep up with the others.
All around them in the fog, they heard answering yells of rough orcish words, punctuated here and there with a human voice calling out in Illyander. Their luck had run out, the Ice Queen’s army knew they were inside the town walls.
The Illyanders ran, mud and snow kicked up by their rapid pace. Occasionally, there would be a pause as the Illyanders were intercepted by the Empress’ men. Fortunately, however, the thick fog made discerning exactly where the men and women from Snowhaven and their escort were very difficult for the Ice Queen’s troops. Still, every delay was time they could ill afford to lose. Eventually, they would run into a force larger than they were.
“Can we lose this fog?” Vlaric asked, driving his boot into the chest of an orc, so that the dying creature would slide off the end of his lengthy blade.
“No, we can’t,” Parinan said, slamming his shield into the face of a man clad in chainmail wielding a warhammer. The stocky warrior stabbed his opponent’s exposed midsection with his sword before shouldering the man out of the way, continuing their press forward. “It’s the only thing keeping their archers from shooting and the full weight of the Ice Queen’s army from falling on our heads. As long as they can’t see us, we have a chance.”
