by RG Long
The entire city was the same dark stone as the walls, which gave Blume an eerie feeling. Like there was something to dread about the place she didn't quite comprehend. Every so often, the guards of Enoth would pass in their shining breastplates and purple cloaks. Interspersed between them, however, were elves robed all in black. These were new sights to Blume. She had seen the yellow clad priests who had come with the others to Lone Peak. Black was a color she had not seen often among the elves.
She wanted to ask what Silverwolf thought of the different robed elves, but thought better of it.
Stealth. That was their mission. Though, how Silverwolf knew where to go was beyond Blume's comprehension. They had followed wheels’ tracks from the slave cart they had spied the three prisoners in. Looking down at the street now, Blume only saw the smooth dark stones that lined their way.
No tracks were going to be discovered there, Blume thought. But on they went. Amrolan walked quieter than Blume thought possible in all his armor. The usual metallic clinking she associated with anyone wearing as many plates of protection as he did was absent with his light-footed tread.
Silverwolf led them up a single flight of stairs, and then to a back alley. It was there that she finally spoke.
“If I'm not back in two hours, get out of the city and find the bear. Otherwise, stay here and wait for my call,” she instructed them as she pulled up a gray hood over her head. “Two short whistles followed by a longer note. Tap twice on something nearby to let me know you're not dead.”
Without further teaching, she quickly darted into another alley and vanished.
“Must be exhausting being so secretive,” Blume said with a huff.
Amrolan made no comment about that.
“These are barracks,” he said, pointing to a building across from them. While they were hidden in an alley behind some store or merchant, across the street from their position was a building with the nine stars of the empire surrounding a sword and shield. “The guards of the city must be based here.”
Blume squinted her eyes to see better through the dark of the alley and the torchlight that illuminated the entrance to the barracks. A wall the height of two elves surrounded the structure. Solid metal doors served as the only way in or out. At either end of the front walls were two small guard towers. Both had torches lit inside them and elves stood with bows by their sides.
Inside the wall, a tall circular tower rose above the outer court. Small slits shone with pale light at least three stories up. The lights flickered with the passing of a guard inside or the small breeze that blew through the city.
“I'm trying to decide if I'll feel bad if she gets caught,” Blume muttered. Just then she saw a cart rolling down the street, pulled by some beast of burden, that had gotten spooked. It was going much too fast for it to be by the design of the owner. Three elves were running after the cart, which appeared to be carrying several barrels of something. The cart went out of Blume's sight past the alley and a loud smashing sound told her it had either turned over or run into something. Guards from the entryway to the barracks looked at the chaos and even began walking over to see what the fuss was all about.
Then Blume saw it. If she had not been watching the door intently, the blur of gray she knew to be Silverwolf would have passed her eyes without recognition.
“She's inside,” Amrolan said, sounding quite impressed.
“Two hours,” Blume replied, remembering Silverwolf's instructions. “Wonder what we should do while we wait?”
As if in reply to her question, a door to a shop opened and light filled the alleyway. A small elven boy held a bucket whose contents he had intended to throw into the street. Instead, he gawked at the two who were crouching down right behind his steps. A startled cry escaped his lips. Blume grabbed Amrolan's hand and ran. The pair smashed into a stack of wooden crates and they went toppling over as they hopped over them and fled to the next alley over.
Not exactly as smooth as the assassin.
STREETS AND ALLEYS raced by them as they sprinted away. Blume knew they weren't being careful about being seen, but prayed that their quickness would make up for their lack of silent travel. After several turns and dead sprints, Blume looked back to see if they were being followed. It wasn't the boy that scared her. She knew he had just reacted out of fear of seeing someone when he expected an empty alley. It was the fact those guards had gone to see what happened to the cart. She had visions of being captured while guards came to see what the fuss was about.
Panting, she pulled Amrolan to a halt. He hardly seemed out of breath, but stopped for her sake at least. Blume looked left and right, trying to tell where the main street of the second level was. She couldn't make out where they were or where they should head in order to find the main street. It was what her ears heard, however, that guided her next action.
The sound of marching feet coming down the street told her they needed to be heading in the opposite direction. To her left, the echoing noise of many boots touching road at the same time made her choose to go right. Darkness covered their path forward. While no street lamps could be found or torches lit, Blume took Amrolan down the path she thought best.
Without a word of argument or advice to head in a different direction, the elf followed Blume. She didn't think it strange at all, having led others into and away from danger many other times. The fact that he was so much older than she, and much better armed and trained didn't cross her mind at all.
And, perhaps, it was just that Silverwolf wasn't with them.
They ran until it was difficult for Blume to make out the difference between road and building. The darkness they were heading into seemed to be growing, despite the fact that they were in a large city. No matter which way she turned, the sound of boots seemed to follow them. Blume, at last, glimpsed two torches that stood outside an unarmed gate ahead.
Better in there than outside and in the open, Blume thought.
Together, they darted inside the gate. Her only thought was to get far enough into whatever it was they were entering so they could be out of sight of any guards marching by. It appeared, however, that as soon as they entered the gate, a set of stairs ran down to another level. Blume remembered the stairs leading up to the level the barracks were on being lined with torches and having a wide berth. These stairs were both more dimly lit and quite narrower.
Perhaps there was more than one way to get up and down, Blume reasoned.
And so down the stairs they went.
It didn't take long for Blume to realize that they had gone down far many more stairs than they had gone up. Every ten steps a piece of Rimstone on the wall lit the way for them. Its magical glow made for an eerie descent.
“Where do you think these go?” Blume asked in a whisper.
“Remember when I did not tell you the proper meaning of the name of this city?” Amrolan answered her. “It's best we continue that at the moment. Be on guard.”
The fact that he might know more about the city than she did suddenly occurred to her.
“Why have you been letting me lead this whole time?” she asked. “DO you know your way around the city?”
Amrolan shuddered.
“I have never once been inside Horritoft. I honestly hoped I never would enter these walls. The innocence of your ignorance has guided us well.”
He then muttered something Blume didn't catch. While she didn't like being called ignorant, she was glad to know why he was letting her lead. So, she kept on.
“People don't make one entrance into a place without another exit,” she said as they climbed down even more stairs. “There has to be another way out. It doesn't sound like we'll be safe outside for a while.”
Finally, after losing count of how many stairs they had actually used, the pair came to a wide room with several doors. The room itself was rectangular and very plain. No fancy adornments or ceilings were used to make the chamber fairer on the eyes. Simple Rimstone lights stood by each door. At the end of the h
all, another open portal seemed to lead on. Blume took a few paces forward to see that the passage continued going down, this time in a spiral.
“We've got to be below the plains now,” she said softly.
Then, behind her and up the way they had come, came the sound of feet walking. Not boots like outside in the streets, but softer and more padded shoes. Blume also heard the soft brushing of fabric on floor, like a robe.
“This way,” Blume said as quietly as she could, making her way to the last door on the left. For the first time, Amrolan hesitated. The moment didn't last long, however, for he was listening to the padding of feet as well.
With ease, Blume opened the door and shut it again behind her once Amrolan had come through. The light inside this chamber was much brighter than the one they had just exited. Which would have offered Blume a sense of comfort had she not turned around and seen three very tall, masked, shirtless elves wielding vicious looking whips. Each wore a pair of black trousers and some type of chain around their waist.
The room they were in was obviously some type of torture chamber. Chains hung from the walls. Flails lined every empty space. A dark stain laid heavy on the floor and led to the room's only outlet: a drain in the middle.
Blume prepared to open the door and fly from the place as quickly as her feet could carry her. Without her magic, what could she possibly do to defeat these stout warriors? Even Amrolan seemed poised to escape, backing towards the door.
But then she saw limp figures with arms held high in chains behind the elven torturers. Their clothes were ragged, their bodies drooped as they hung in place, ready for a beating that had not yet started. But that wasn't what made Blume stay when she felt every fiber in her being telling her to run.
It was the faces she recognized.
21: Fight, Flee, Fire
In the bravest act she had ever committed, Blume drew the blade Silverwolf had given her as they entered the city. It was as long as her forearm and extremely sharp. Silverwolf told her it was the blade she valued the least among all her others.
“Still, don't cut your own foot off,” the assassin had told her. “And don't lose it.”
That was the least of her worries now, as three whips rose in unison. Amrolan acted before any of the rest of them had time to make a move. He dove headlong into one of the three, the weight of his body and his armor causing the elf to crash into the wall the prisoners were chained to. While one went to the aid of his comrade, the third turned his attention on Blume. His whip came crashing down in the spot where she had stood a breath ago.
It snapped thin air.
Blume rolled towards the elf as he raised his whip over his head, but not in time to deflect the stab she delivered to his thigh. A muffled yell escaped his mask. With his free hand, he reached down and grabbed Blume by the hair. She yelped in pain and cut again with the knife, this time aiming for the arm that grabbed at her. Another yell told her she had hit her mark. The grip loosened on her hair and she pulled free.
But not in time to escape a kick to her gut that made her gasp for breath. She hit the floor hard, unable to keep her balance. Her hands hit the stone and slipped on the now very slick surface. The elf was bleeding profusely from his wound, but that did not lessen his attempt to give Blume back as much as she gave him. She scrambled across the floor, trying to get away from the elf that was clawing after her, refusing to give into his wound.
She felt a searing pain wrap around her ankle. Looking back, she saw the whip had lashed across the bare flesh exposed by her dress. Reacting to the pain more than anything, she brought her knees up and kicked off hard from the ground. In doing so, she launched herself into a standing cabinet that must have been very top heavy. The furniture wobbled for a moment, and then toppled over, spilling its contents on top of the elf who was chasing after her.
Recognizing the danger, Blume rolled left. Not seeing the peril, the elf tried to chase after her but was struck down by several sharp looking blades, a white spear, and heavy maces that spilled out of the cabinet. Rolling out of a bottom shelf came something that looked very familiar to Blume. It was a red orb attached to an ornate golden handle: Jurgon's wand.
Grabbing the Rimstone, she stood to her feet despite the pain in her legs. Amrolan was fighting off two elves at once, but struggling to keep himself standing amidst the flurry of attacks that came his way. Without thinking, Blume held her halfling friend's wand up and words of Speaking flew from her mouth.
She had intended to send a small blast of energy to take care of one of the elves. Instead, the huge ball of energy that burst from the wand sent the two elves and Amrolan hurtling into the place where the room's wall had once been. Blume's magic had decimated the wall. Not wanting to waste any time, Blume ran over to the familiar faces.
“Ealrin!” she said, finding her friend's eyes wide in disbelief. The eyes that stared at her were bloodshot, tired, and weak. But they were the eyes of one alive.
“Blume?” he said weakly. “How...?”
“No time,” she replied, looking at the chains that held her friend to the wall. “Where are the keys?”
“There,” came a gruff voice from the man next to Ealrin. Holve Bravestead was looking worse for the wear. He was pointing to a spot on the ground a few paces away. Among the wreckage of the wall and weapons, a metal ring on the floor held a dozen or so keys. Blume scooped them up and, in a matter of moments, had unlocked Ealrin and Holve.
“Where's Jurgon?” she asked, looking around the room as if she may have missed his small form in the confusion.
“We need to go,” Holve said weakly, but with determination in his voice. “They'll be here any moment.”
“They?” Blume asked. Then she shook her head. She wanted to see her friend, the one she had spent so much time with on walls practicing magic at Lone Peak. His absence made her more uneasy than the room full of torture devices.
“Where's Jurgon?” she demanded.
“No time,” Holve urged, pointing them through the rubble with a white spear he had grabbed from the pile of weapons Blume had sent tumbling from their cabinet. She recognized it as his trusty weapon of choice.
He didn't meet her gaze.
Then a groan came from the pile. Amrolan was struggling to his feet. He seemed shaky, but not damaged. The other two elves Blume had blasted through the wall, however, lay quite motionless.
Holve trained his spear on the armored elf, but Blume jumped between them.
“No!” she said. “He's a friend! He helped us!”
“Us?” asked Holve. Then he shook his head as if this weren't the time for more questions. Indeed, Blume could hear shouts coming from beyond the door to the large chamber.
“Alright,” Holve said, taking charge and ahold of the elf's arm. “Up the stairs.”
Blume went to grab Ealrin's hand. It felt cold but familiar. Looking into his eyes, she saw pain inexpiable. Without asking the thousands of questions that were pouring into her mind, the two followed Holve and Amrolan. The next room over that Blume had given them an entry into had many benches, an odd statue and, most thankfully, a set of stairs that led up. Before any more shouts were heard or elves were seen, the party was up the portal and out of sight.
THEY EMERGED SOMETIME later, in a more lit section of the city. This, Blume thought, was not the blessing they needed. Now that they had found their friends, they needed to leave and do so quickly. But how?
She looked around to see if she could spot anything familiar. The main street wound through the buildings and stores of whatever level they had come out on. Blume looked until she saw, to her amazement, the same stars encircling a sword and shield design that had adorned the barracks.
“We're on the second level,” she told Holve. “That's the barracks over there. Follow the back alley there to get to the stairs that lead down to the lower level, then out.”
The city was abuzz with soldiers marching in every direction. Their stealth mission had obviously been detected. Th
ey were just about to make their way towards the alley when a low whistle came into Blume's ears. Two short notes, followed by a long one.
“Just a minute,” she said, looking around her. Finding an empty crate, she knocked twice. Breathing hard, she looked around. The streets and alleyways were empty. No guards marched in these back roads. Not yet at least.
How long would it take for them to begin the search of every part of the city?
Then a shadowy figure dropped down from above them and put a blade to Holve's neck.
“Hey, ugly,” she said with a smirk. She dropped the knife quickly as Holve gave her a look that quelled even the playful assassin. She turned to look at the company.
“I was going to tell you they weren't in the barrack's prison cell,” she said looking back and forth between Ealrin and Holve. “But you not only found that out, you let the entire city know we were here.”
Blume rolled her eyes and held Ealrin's hand tightly. He squeezed her hand back. Even though she looked at him thoughtfully, he didn’t' return her gaze. Silverwolf raised an eyebrow at Amrolan.
“You look terrible,” she said, looking at his beat-up appearance.
“Uh,” Blume started. Holve cut across her.
“We need to get out of the city,” he said with urgency. “How are we going to do it?”
Silverwolf sighed deeply.
“Am I the only one here who thinks?” she said, stretching her arms over her head. “Hey, pointy ears, can you get your bear to cause a distraction at the main gate?”
“Bear?” Holve asked, looking perplexed.
“Certainly,” Amrolan replied, massaging his forearm. He closed his eyes and mouthed silently. In a few moments, they heard a roar from outside the city walls, dim but strong.
