C.P.D. Harris's Blog, page 8

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.43T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

<>

Elves were swift and precise. As Retaak advanced one of them lunged, driving the tip of his blade into the flesh just above the Ogres knee. The attack was surprisingly painful, either using magic or some secret elfen nerve-strike, but he did not falter. He lashed out with his mace, denting the winged dragon-helm of the elf and sening him crashinh to the ground.

Ashoktyaar was already on the other two. The hacked at him with desperation, but their blades were as nothing to the troll. One of the elves ran him through and he twisted, ripping the blade away and then hacking through a hastily raised shield. A slash from the other elf found his throat, spilling blood. The trolls paused, then grinned, launching himself at the elves, his heavy cleavers rising and falling, cleaving through shields and then meat until they were red with blood.

“Well… that was brutal,” said Kuzat.

“How is your throat, brother troll?” asked Retaak, looking to Ashoktyaar.

The Troll, hand pinching the wound closed now merely nodded. Retaak could see now that while blood oozed out from between Ashoktyaar’s fingers it had slowed to a trickle. Retaak’s knee wound bleed longer.

“Retaak…” Uyage’s eyes were glued to the prison cell, her tone spurred him to turn from the carnage.

The prison cell was a wild tangle of trees and bushes bursting from walls and stone. Mushrooms with colourful caps, and bright red flowers, grew under a verdant canopy of leaves. It was impossibly strange, especially so far from the sun. This was why he smelled wood and earth. So thick was the invasion of vegetation that he almost missed the mud covered elven woman staring at them from between the bars. Her brown hair was a cloud of curls with flowers settled in them. Amber eyes stared at them through the mud above smirking lips.

“Albyursia Pástyamóz?” Retaak asked. His elvish was poor but she would recognize her own name. Her eyes widened briefly, and then darted the red ruin on her guards before returning to Retaak.

“I am she. Are you here to kill me?” her voice was calm and strong and she spoke Diguti, the tongue of the Fellspawn, with no accent.

“We are not,” said Retaak. “We have been commanded to take you from this place and bring you back with us, alive and unharmed, to the Twilight Halls of the Fellspawn Warrens in Bemachhorak, where our lord Ushochhushi awaits.”

If she knew Ushochhushi, Albyursia hid recognition of his name very well.

“What is your name, Ogre?”

“Retaak.”

“I am pleased to meet you. Introductions to the rest of your friends will have to wait. More guards are coming.”

Retaak looked to Uyage.

“She’s right,” said Uyage after a moment of listening, sounding somewhat surprised.

“There will be Deathseekers with them, or worse,” said Albyursia. “They will kill me now. Give me whatever device your master gave to you to bind me with and let us be on our way. I would rather live to plead with your Ushochhushi than die to the spears of my own kind now.”

“Ushochhushi is not my master,” growled Retaak.

“Forgive me,” said Albyursia. “I know your language, but my practical experience with the Fellspawn is limited. I meant no offence, Retaak.”

“You don’t care that we killed your guards?” asked Ashoktyaar, ostentatiously jerking his blade to splash blood on the wall.

“They were keeping me prisoner,” said Albyursia. “I have been tortured by these Brouvians, and I was sent here for execution I believe. Elves are no more harmonious among themselves that Fellspawn.”

“Retaak…” warned Uyage.

Retaak held out the collar that Ushochhushi had given them to put on the elf. Albyursia looked at it, sighed, and locked it into place. Retaak let her out of the cell, only belatedly realizing that she was naked, saved for the mud. Uyaashie handed her a cloak and some boots taken from one of the guards.

“Thanks. Always a collar when a nice bracelet would do. Am I right ladies?”

Uyaashie snickered. And then, without a word, Uyage led them away.

<>

 

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.42 T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

<>

Three elves stepped into the intersection, talking amongst themselves. The kept moving, not even glancing down the corridor that the band occupied. Even a casual glance would reveal himself or Ashoktyaar; there was just not enough space for them to hide effectively. His heart was just beginning to slow and his grip on his weapons ease as one of the elves turned and looked directly at him.

Adrenaline shot through his system, and saw Uyage take aim from the shadows. But something stayed his hand. The Elf’s expression showed no alarm, only a brief puzzled look before he laughed and said something to his companions as they moved down the tunnel and turned a corner, voices gradually dwindling. Retaak only relaxed when he could no longer hear them.

“How?” asked Uyage, letting her bow down. “They looked right at you Retaak. There is no way that elf could not have seen you.

“It was Kuzat,” said Uyaashie, smiling at the goblin.

“What did you do?” asked Retaak.

“A bit of magic, a bit of misdirection,” said Kuzat. “I knew that the guards would see you if they looked too closely so I tricked his mind into thinking that you were something harmless that was supposed to be there. A barrel or a door perhaps, his mind made the choice of what to see.”

“A good trick,” said Ashoktyaar. “You saved those elves from a gruesome death.”

“Perhaps,” said Retaak. “He also saved us from being discovered. I know you would love to wade through the blood of our enemies, Berserker, but we have a prisoner to rescue.”

“If you can call delivering her to Ushochhushi a rescue,” said Uyage. “He is well known for his lust for Elf women.”

“I doubt he would give my my freedom and set himself against Greyrock and the Dreadlord’s right hand just to find another slave to rape,” growled Retaak. “Ushochhushi has ambitions beyond Seneschal, he won’t indulge himself blindly until he reaches that apex?”

“Beyond Seneschal?” asked Ashoktyaar.

“Yes,” said Retaak. “It is not unknown for a Dread Lord to succumb to a rival. I believe that this is what Ushochhushi seeks.”

“And yet we are compelled to follow him,” said Kuzat. “And thus to share his fate if he falls.”

“Such is the way of the spawn,” muttered Uyage.

“For now,” said Retaak. “I expect this elf to be very dangerous in some way. I do not know what she has that Ushochhushi wants, but it must be of great importance to his plans.”

“We should move,” said Uyage after a moment. “The longer we spend down here, the more likely the guards will stumble on some sign of our passage.”

Nimble, silent Uyage led them down several passages. The grey stone of the prison was oppressive, eating sound and warmth. They passed cells with sleeping prisoners, some of them spawn, but avoided being seen. As they closed on their goal, the halls became brighter and the cells became both larger and better secured. The smell of stone was replaced with that of wood, though Retaak could see none of it.

They turned down the last corridor, surprising the four guards standing in front of the cell that they sought. One of them reached for a rope on the wall, but Uyage put an arrow through his reaching hand and then fire another into his throat. Retaak and Ashoktyaar charged the remaining elves who shouted and met them with sword and shield.

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Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.41T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

<>

The vaulted ceiling of Greyrock’s dungeons loomed above them as Retaak’s band crept toward their goal. The fitted stone reminded him of the upper reaches of the Fellspawn Warrens, where the Dread Lord’s favourites dwelled. The cells were as ugly as any prison, even if they were more spacious than most.

“Why would they need so many cells?” asked Ashoktyaar, in a hushed whisper.

“Before the first Dread Lord, this fortress was central to the plans of the old elven empire,” said Retaak. “They sought to conquer these lands and take them from the Dwarves and the Human Kingdoms. This fortress housed all of the slaves from their conquests, to be sold and shipped to the four corners of Elvendom.”

“Where did you learn that?” asked Uyaashie, look at Retaak with brows raised over her glasses.

“Yurijak’s History of the Western Realms,” said Retaak.

“Who taught you to read?” asked Uyaashie, pushing up her glasses.

Retaak paused, lost in memory for a moment. The sound of a female’s laughter, mingled with a male’s, both familiar, both loved. The truth of it was lost to him, taken by Waachear and the other paingivers. “It is long past… from my days as a Wildborn.”

Uyage glared at Uyaashie, who blushed and looked down.

“I’m sorry–,” she began.

“Do not be,” answered Retaak. “You did not break me. You did not take my memories. Others bear those responsibilities, my own stubbornness included.”

“We should keep going,” said Kuzat, knuckling Retaak’s leg as he walked past. “They will have patrols down here.”

“Unlucky for them if they run into us,” said Ashoktyaar, hefting one of his cleavers. “These walls will not carry the sounds of fighting very far.”

Retaak grinned. “I would prefer to avoid painting this place with blood just yet.”

“You’re no fun,” said Ashoktyaar. “Must be getting old. Back in the day you never would have turned down a battle.”

“A battle that I could win…” corrected Retaak, still grinning. “Lead on Uyage.”

Uyage nodded and advanced ahead of them. The cell that they were looking for was on the Eastern side Greyrock, on the level above them. How Ushochhushi could be certain that the prisoner was in a specific cell was an interesting puzzle. Retaak could think of many answers as to why a prisoner would need special housing and few of them boded well for the band.

They moved quickly through the blocks of cells, holding pens and around guarded areas. Most of the elves were manning the walls it seemed, but they still came across evidence of patrols.

Suddenly, as they neared their destination. Uyage stopped, and held up a closed fist, warning them to be ready. Retaak heard voices, the musical language of the elves coming from a tunnel beyond the intersection Uyage was hiding at. If the elves were coming toward them, it would be difficult for him and Ashoktyaar to hide.

Uyage notched an arrow in her bow. The others drew their weapons silently. Retaak tensed as the voices seemed to grow louder.

<>

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.40T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

<>

There were only two traps that were not on the map that Ushochhushi had given Retaak. One was a scything blade large enough to behead a bull ogre, activated by passing between two warded stones. The other was a spray of acid activated by a pressure plate. By the time they reached the top of the tunnel it was near midnight.

Retaak turned to Uyaashie. The slender Hob adjusted her glasses as she stepped forward to examine the door. It was large, made from brass and iron with a single lock. It also featured a small opening on the bottom edge, lined with bars, presumably to allow water to drain without opening it.

Uyaashie set her tools on the ground near the door, unrolling a leather cylinder to reveal an array of glittering devices. Retaak recognized only a few of them. Kuzat whistled admiringly. Uyage turned and stalked back down the tunnel to keep watch.

Kneeling before the door, Uyaashie produced what appeared to be a tiny shield and set it in front of the lock. It held to the metal as if glued there. Perhaps it helped to protect her hands. Then she grabbed two simple probes and pushed them through the shield as if it were insubstantial. She began to gently move the probes.

“Don’t make any noise,” she said after a few moments.

Retaak watched as Uyaashie worked patiently with the lock. After a several long minutes she stood up with a satisfied expression on her face.

“The Lock is open,” she said. “The door is still barred from the other side, but I have a solution for that as well.

She produced a vial of bright orange powder and vial of thick blue liquid. She packed the powder in several places around the door frame, pushing it through the crack between the frame and the door with a tiny brush.

“This is a really well-made door,” said Uyaashie as she uncorked the liquid. “Very few spawn could get you through here without alerting half the fortress. Stand back now, the smoke is rather harmful.

With swift precision she administered several drops of the liquid and then scurried back to them, covering her face with a cloth. After a moment Retaak heard a hissing sound and then ugly green smoke began to waft from the door. His eyes watered. It smelled sharp and smokey and burned his lungs even standing back. There was a muffle dthump from the other side of the door and the smoke dissipated,

“Wow,” said Ashoktyaar.

“I know, I got it on the first try!” said Uyasshie, opening the door carefully and grinning back at them. “Welcome to Greyrock, spawn!”

<>

 

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.39T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

<>

The chorus of the latest siege of Greyrock drowned out any sound that Retaak and his band made as they crossed the northeastern section of Oystkivat to the base of the fortress. Retaak had no doubt that some spawn saw them, but as they were dressed as sappers still few would question their presence.

Up close the cliff and the walls of Greyrock itself loomed over them like an angry mountain. The din of battle was worse here as well, with the pounding of rocks and the screams of spawn falling to their death lashing them.

The hidden entrance that they sought was found in a park hidden under a verdat hill in a grove of tall trees with golden bark. Elves loved trees and Retaak could not help but admire their skills with growing things. The Fellspawn only cared for nature insofar as it could be exploited. The beauty of a tree had no utility to his culture, sadly.

“Here.”

Even knowing where the entrance was located, Retaak had trouble spotting it. Uyage found the tunnel entrance, cunningly lost amid some moss and grass, the edges barely visible. Moving a nearby stone caused the tunnel door to unlatch with a click. Hand on his falchion, Retaak waited for the others to gather and then pulled the tunnel door open. He half expected an ambush, but the tunnel was dark and empty, smelling of rock and damp.

“Let me lead,” said Uyage.

Retaak made to hand her the map that Ushochhushi had entrusted him with. She shook her head. “I don’t need it, I remember it all.”

“Do you remember where the first trap is?” asked Retaak.

“The first trap shown on the map is a spear activated by a pressure plate seven yards in,” said Uyage. “But since I have no idea where our patron got the map, or how old it is, I am not going to trust my life to it entirely.”

Retaak chuckled, “Wise.”

The crept into the dark, closing the tunnel behind them. Retaak found it too small to stand up straight, but he was well used to tunnels that were smaller than he was tall from a lifetime spent in the Fellspawn Warrens.

Uyage held up her hands and crept forward, examining the stone. The light was dim, but the orc woman could see well enough to find the pressure plate as it was marked on the map.

“Here it is,” she whispered. “Should I trip it?”

Retaak considered. There was a possibility that the traps were connected to some kind of alarm system, which might prompt the Elves to flood the passage if enough of them were tripped. On the other hand if they had to flee back down the tunnel in a hurry, having all of these traps in their way would be lethal…

“Can we disable the traps without springing them?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Uyage. “It will take time though. Some of the methods used to disable the raps will be less than perfectly effective.”

“I can help with that,” said Kuzat.

“As can I,” added Uyaashie, although with some hesitation. “Especially the wards.”

Retaak nodded. “Do it. I will mark them as well. It should be enough if we have to retreat quickly.”

“If,” snorted Ashoktyaar.

They continued up the tunnel.

<>

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.38T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

<>

They proceeded with caution, moving from building to building, making certain to leave as little evidence of their passage as possible. Not only did Retaak and his companions want to evade the Deathseeker, they also wished to avoid their fellow spawn. Ushochhushi had many enemies, not the least of which was Gurgumaar, the mighty ogre who led the attack on Oystkivat. It was imperative for them to escape with the elf Albyursia Pástyamóz without alerting anyone.

By the time they reached the shadow of Greyrock, the mighty fortress that loomed over the town like an angry giant, the Spawn were laying siege to it. Nimble Goblins scaled the cliffs from which they fortress was carved, braving deadly arrows and boiling oil. Hearty orcs scaled grapnel lines fire up onto the high walls by powerful ballista, racing against the defenders seeking to cut them down. Ogre bulls in siege armour rushed through the gate maze that led up into the fortress, battered ceaselessly through murder holes while they navigated the clever traps set by the elves. A few spawn would make it to the top, Retaak knew, only to be cut down before they could gain a foothold. Greyrock was built to give every advantage to the defender.

“That’s a long way to fall,” said Ashoktyaar, shaking his head. As they watched a steady stream of orcs and goblins seemed to rain down from the walls, dislodged by the defenders.

Retaak winced as he saw one figure, a hob or orc, by the size of it get pushed from the wall by spears; the tiny speck bounced off the walls and the rocky cliff below a dozen times before plunging into the moat below. It was a terrible waste of a warrior strong enough, and courageous enough to make the long climb, even if Gurgumaar did take the names of those who touched the battlements and reward their clans.

“Greyrock is only surpassed by the Dread Lord’s own citadel,” said Uyage. “We have few siege engines that can even damage the walls and our bows do not have the range to even hit the elves up on those battlements.

“If it is so futile, why are we attacking?” asked Uyaashie, frowning through her glasses.

“To Gurgumaar and the spawn who follow him, death in the service of The Dread Lord is its own reward,” answered Kuzat. “It is the ultimate demonstration of loyalty. Their bloodlines are exalted and their deaths honour our master.”

Retaak almost spat at the mention of their master. If the Dread Lord cared to take Greyrock, he could lead the assault himself.

“Why don’t they use the secret tunnels underneath the prison?” asked Uyaashie.

“A good question,” said Retaak. “Ushochhushi is more cunning than Gurgumaar, but the Dread Lord’s Right Hand certainly knows that their are hidden passages into the fortress. He has the resources to pay for the knowledge; I’m sure Wechegak could even sell it to him. But the secret passages are narrow and winding; moving more than a few spawn through them simply invites the elves to flood them. Besides, I think that Gurgumaar chooses those who have the ‘honour’ of attacking the fortress directly as a way of thinning out those who are a threat to him in his own ranks.”

Before he could continue one of the great chains that the spawn were climbing was sundered from the wall. A chorus of shouts and screams cut through the din as hundreds of spawn fell to their deaths at once. Retaak turned away, sickened.

“If the elves discover us in the tunnels we will share the same fate as those fools,” said Uyage after a moment. “The waters will not deposit us gently in the moat. we must hope that our patron’s information is good.”

Retaak nodded. “Enough, this is folly disguised as honour and tragedy as spectacle. It will serve us well as a distraction. Let us be about our task.”

One by one his companions nodded, following him into the shadow of the mighty fortress.

<>

 

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.37T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

<>

Retaak carried Ashoktyaar until the Trolls broken bones were well set. His kind healed rapidly and Ashoktyaar made little noise or complaint while he mended. He did reach for his weapons, however, which Retaak was careful to keep out of his reach; an injured berserker with weapons in hand was a recipe for blood.

Uyaashie trotted beside him, eyes full of concern behind her glasses. “You’ll be alright, won’t he Retaak?”

“Yes,” answered Retaak. “He has taken far worse in his day.”

“Damn, right,” growled Ashoktyaar from his perch on Retaak’s back, breaking into a cough a moment later. The Troll was nearly as tall as the Ogre, but thinner; Retaak had no trouble carrying him.

“Shhh,” hissed Uyage, trailing behind the others. “We’re still being followed.”

“Maybe it’s Kuzat?” whispered Uyaashie.

Uyage shrugged. “It could be, but if it is not him, I would rather know first.”

Retaak nodded. Uyage was level-headed, as always.

Ashoktyaar cackled, “Set me down, Retaak, I have a plan…”

<>

The Troll acted as bait. They left him between two houses, in a doorway alcove. Retaak concealed his bulk near a smashed wall while Uyaashie and Uyage melted into the shadows. Then they waited. If it was Kuzat, he would find a way of communicating with Ashoktyaar unseen. If it was an enemy, he would approach the wounded Troll and they would spring the trap.

Ashoktyaar laid up in the alcove as if he was in a stupor. Retaak had to admit that the Troll was more convincing than he would have expected. His blades were within reach, just inside the shadows.

If it was the Deathseeker following them then their could be trouble, but Uyage seemed certain it was not. She was careful about such things, but part of Retaak wished she was wrong. He had no desire to see his friends hut, but to cross blades with a Deathseeker and live would be a tale to tell. What would he learn from such a dance?

Retaak did not see, so much as sense the coming of the one following them. There was a change in the atmosphere. He concentrated, listening. Was he he hearing something.

Tap, tap, tap-tap. There, he had heard something. He saw Ashoktyaar shift. Then heard a slightly louder tapping. He smiled. Kuzat was alive and communicating with the Troll via the tapping sounds, a language very useful to those who lived in the depths of the Fell Warrens.

Uyage stood, letting herself be seen. Retaak did the same. After a moment a small form appeared on the balcony of an adjacent house.

“Good to see you Kuzat,” said Ashoktyaar as the goblin leapt to the ground, landing with admirable silence.

“You look like the inside of a pig’s arse, ‘shok,” said Kuzat.

“Heh, you look a little worse for wear yourself,” answered the Troll.

As Retaak closed, he could smell burnt cloth and saw that the goblin’s side was burnt. The mage had come close with his fire spells.

“It is good to see you, Kuzat,” he said. “Evading a mage and a Deathseeker takes admirable talent.”

“As you can see, I didn’t evade them entirely,” said Kuzat.

“Hush, I have some ointment for the burns,” said Uyaashie, bending down to minister to him.

They all looked at each other. A smile crept onto Retaak’s face as relief washed over him. He was pleased that his friend had lived. Kuzat laughed softly, soon the others joined him. It was a good moment.

<>

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.36T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

<>

The windows in the cartography room did not have the same narrow frames and iron bars that protected the bottom levels of the tower. Retaak understood; he would not want to view his art, if he were the cartographer, in a room reminiscent of a jail cell. Things of beauty were always better enjoyed in natural light.

This thought flashed through his head as he grabbed Uyaashie, who was still trying to speak and thus surprised enough that her hands did not dart to her weapons, and threw himself through the largest window in the room. The glass gave way as his forearm crashed into it, shattering despite its thickness. Retaak’s next step carried him and Uyaashie out into the air. As he passed the threshold there was a strangely disorienting feeling as the room they had been in seemed to shift in perspective; the magic that made it bigger on the inside that out playing havoc with his senses.

Retaak landed on his feet, the tremendous muscles of his legs absorbing most of the fall. He grunted and fell back on his posterior, rolling awkwardly over one of his weapons, cradling Uyaashie to protect her from harm.

He heard Ashoktyaar land beside him, wincing at the sound of something breaking.

After regaining his breath, Retaak stood and placed Uyasshie on the ground. The Hob woman, produce a wicked looking knife, glaring at him.

“Later,” he said, looking up. He saw Uyage framed in the window, unfocused, parts of her seeming larger than they should be as the magic of the room warped his perception.

Uyage’s bowstring sang, then she looked down at him and jumped. Retaak planted himself and caught her in his arms. She was heavier than Uyaashie, but he did not falter, earning a rare smile from the taciturn orc. It quickly faded.

“We need to move, Retaak,” she said. “The mage is coming up behind him and I’m not certain a jump from that height means anything to a Deathseeker.”

Retaak nodded. Has Ashoktyaar not been poisoned he might have tried to fight the two elves. He would love telling Ushochhushi that he too had slain a Deathseeker. The frown would almost be worth the injuries he sustained.

“Oh, Dread Lord watch over us,” said Uyaashie.

Retaak turned. The Hob was kneeling next to Ashoktyaar, whose leg had splintered on impact with the ground; a bone was sticking through the skin between the knee and the ankle. The flesh around the wound flailed like hungry maggots, trying to knit together.

“I forgot to roll,” said Ashoktyaar, looking embarrassed.

Retaak chuckled, kneeling beside Uyaashie. He reached out and grabbed the trolls broken leg, roughly setting the bone to allow for proper healing.and then picking him up.

Uyage fire three more arrows in quick succession. “Go!” she roared.

Retaak began to run down a nearby alley, carrying the troll on his back. They could not afford to give the mage a clear target. Uyage and Uyaashie ran after them. They move closer to the sounds of fighting and looting, hoping that the two elves would be dissuaded from following. Retaak moved as fats as he could, only stopping when he was certain that they were somewhat safe. He looked to Uyage for confirmation.

“The elves did not follow us out of the district,” she said. “But someone else had picked up our trail. Be ready.”

<>

Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.35T)

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

<>

“Wait!” said Ashoktyaar. “What if we are going about this wrongly?”

“We don’t have time,” warned Retaak.

“Hear him out Retaak,” chided Uyaashie.

“What is most precious to a cartographer?” asked the Troll.

“His maps,” said Uyaashie, shrugging. “That is why he protects them with so many map cases and safes. What of it, berserker?”

“A craftsman’s most precious possessions are not the things that he has made, but the tools that he uses to make them,” said Ashoktyaar, wagging a finger.

Retaak laughed, walking over to the ornate desk that dominated one side of the room. It was made of Purplewood with a perfectly smooth polished top of darkest obsidian. Each side was lined with locked drawers. “Smart thinking, Ashoktyaar.”

Uyaashie rushed over to them. pulling out her kit. She quickly picked the top two locks, but had trouble with the third.

“We are running out of time,” shouted Uyage from below.

Muttering dire oaths Uyaashie pulled out tow vials from her kit, and a small amount of green material. She rolled the green material in her fingers and Retaak realized that it was some kind of putty. She stuffed it in the keyhole. Then she added a drop from one of the vials to the material and picked up the other.

“Cover your noses,” she said, taking a cloth from her belt and placing it over her face. Then she squeezed a tiny drop of amber liquid from the second vial into the putty-filled lock. Even through his pinched nostrils the smell that emanated from the reaction made Retaak’s stomach heave. Ashoktyaar merely laughed evilly; trolls could endure any stench.

The lock sizzled and bubbled as the metal melted. The mixture dissolved quickly, however, and did not damage to the wood. No damage save the lingering smell, perhaps.

Uyasshie smiled triumphantly, reaching to pen the drawer.

“Allow me,” said Ashoktyaar, stepping in front of her.

Uyaashie began to protest, but as the Troll opened the drawer there was mechanical clicking sound and a dozen needles buried themselves in his skin.

“Poison?” asked Retaak.

“Oh no,” said Uyaashie.

“Yes, good stuff too,” said Ashoktyaar, belching. “Did not account for Troll though.”

Retaak smiled. The spread of the needles ensure that anyone standing behind the desk, even a swift move like Uyaashie would have been hit. Most poisons just gave Trolls gas though.

Ashoktyaar belched again as Uyasshie smiled up at him and then began rummaging through the drawer.

Uyage burst into the room. “They’re downstairs!” she said. Turning and firing an arrow in one swift motion.

Retaak looked at Ashoktyaar. “Can you fight, yet?”

The Troll held up his hands, indicating he was not at his best. Then belched again.

“How about falling,” Retaak asked Ashoktyaar.

The Troll gave him a thumbs up, belching again.

“I found it!” said Uyaashie, holding up a scroll case.

“Enjoy your moment of triumph before this Deathseeker guts you, Hob,” growled Uyage, firing three arrows in rapid succession. Her bowstring sang, but her expression showed only frustration.

“Do you have what you need?” asked Retaak.

“Yes,” said Uyaashie, eyes widening as she realized that they were doomed.

“Good, because we have to jump out the window right now if we want to live,” said Retaak.

“You’re not ser–“

But Retaak was already moving.

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Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.34T)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.

It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.

Here is the first post from this series.

Here is last week’s entry.

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For a moment after walking into the tower, Retaak was disoriented. The vaulted ceiling of the chamber seemed impossibly high and the walls did not line up with his impression of the building.

“It is bigger on the inside here,” said Uyaashie, noting his discomfort.

“Elf magic,” spat Uyage. “I will keep watch by the door, Retaak.”

“Fine. What are you looking for here, Uyaashie?”

The Hob woman adjusted her glasses, peering down her nose at him. “A map, actually. The owner of this house knows the location of something that Wechegak seeks. He would not tell me more than this.”

Retaak nodded. “I don’t see any maps here, lets move quickly. The presence of a Deathseeker and an Archmage bodes ill.”

They mounted the stairs, moving up floor by floor. The first floor was guest rooms, some of which had maps on the walls, but Uyaashie took a quick glance at each of them and shook her head. The next floor was a sitting room, which featured an enormous map painted on the walls. It was beautifully painted and precisely detailed. Retaak stopped to stare in wonder; there were many places that he had never seen or heard of on this map.

“That’s not it,” said Uyaashie.

The next floor was a study. Retaak’s jaw dropped when he saw that the walls were covered in maps and each of the many shelves held cylindrical containers of the type that elves used to store precious maps.

“Fuck,” muttered Ashoktyaar. “How are we going to find it in here?”

Uyaashie looked around and frowned. “Wechegak gave me a device which could help to find the map, though he also warned me against using it.”

“Why?” asked Retaak.

“He didn’t say. The map is very valuable though, it will be in a safe place, likely under lock and key.”

Retaak grunted, and began looking around. He hated the idea of pulling the wondrous maps off the walls to find some safe, so he left that to Ashoktyaar and searched the bookcases.

“If it were me I would just hide it in one of these map tubes and leave it in with the others,” muttered Retaak after a few minutes of searching. “No one who does not understand the filing system would ever find it.”

“Agreed,” growled Ashoktyaar, ripping down a stunning map of the mountains to the West.

“Hurry, the explosions have stopped,” came Uyage’s voice from below them.

Retaak grimaced. Deathseeker be damned, he would hunt down the elves if they had killed Kuzat. Until he was certain he would cling to the hope that the wily goblin had made his escape.

“Enough,” said Uyaashie. “It is time to use Wechegak’s device to find the map, Retaak, I don’t see any other choice.”

“Are you certain that he did not tell you what the device was?”

“No, he said to open it here if I could not find the map quickly,” answered Uyaashie, looking nervous.

“It’s bomb,” said Retaak. “If it were used for finding what we are looking for he would have had you use it immediately. Think about it, Uyaashie.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Perhaps he does not want anyone else to have the map?”

“… That’s paranoid,” responded Uyaashie. “I’m going to use it.”

“Don’t,” said Retaak, holding up his hand as Uyaashie lifted the device.

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