Chapter 22

Day 28:

A dwarf John didn’t recognize shook him awake sometime during the ‘night’. He put fingertips over John’s lips to keep him quiet, but helped him get dressed quickly and made sure John had his ax and knife. Apparently, Dard made sure to give it back before departing. The new dwarf hustled John down another hall, through many rooms, some occupied and some empty. When they got to another sturdy looking door, they were met by another pair of dwarves, these wearing armor identical to the guards he’d seen at the gate when they entered the day prior.

“What is it?” He whispered.

One of the guards stepped forward. “The eldest of Clan Ironcore has charged that you murdered three of his younger clan mates. Though the dead cut-purses were of shady reputation, the clan has enough sway to get you put in jail for a few days. If it were to go all the way to a trial, the wounds and testimony from the Valkyrie would guarantee your victory. Unfortunately, I believe you’ve angered the dung-lord of uptown, Injer the Cruel.”

“So, he’s got somebody already in jail, waiting to kill me, is that it?” John guessed.

“You have the measure of it, yes.” The guard replied.

“So, I need to leave town?” John tossed out.

“We think you must, but the gate to Valkyrie-Home is being watched by those we dare not trust.” The other guard spoke up. “You will have to exit by another route.”

“How do I keep from getting lost, then?” John asked. “I don’t really know my way around down here.”

The dwarf smiled grimly. “There is a tunnel you may take. It leads to a human village. The Dvergyr who was with you used it to come here.”

“Uh, just so you know, he said that orcs are coming over the Rim. That’s where he lived. If you send me there, they’ll kill me.” He protested.

“The tunnel has two exits by the human town.” The guard explained. “One was the secret one the Dvergyr connected to our main trading path. That goes into the town itself. The regular exit is concealed in a Powry clan house, so we may trade through them with the humans. When the Dvergyr’s lord took over and made his castle, he killed the Powry traders living there. All that remains are ruins, outside of the town’s sight. They are unused and abandoned. If you exit through them, you should not be noticed, by man or orc.”

“That’s my only choice?” John asked. “What about ... hey, do you guys have a funeral stone?”

“Nay.” The dwarf replied. “Our honored dead are petrified in the Hall of Heroes. We do not follow human funeral customs.”

“Damn.” John snapped his fingers. “Well, let’s get out of here before they find us, I guess.”

The guards agreed, and the dwarf who’d first awakened John gave him a knapsack with some food and bandages, plus a few medical salves to use as needed. John bowed his thanks. Once the guards checked and the exit was clear, they took him out the door and on the most bewildering, convoluted route he could imagine. They didn’t stick to main thoroughfares, but would detour through what had to be other clans’ living spaces and even several shops. One in particular, with all sorts of crossbows and projectiles caught his eye. He could really use a distance weapon; throwing his ax wasn’t always the best option.

They didn’t tarry, though. Eventually they went out another gate. It looked so much like the first, that if they had lied to him, John would’ve believed it really was the way he’d entered. The guards halted a few paces into the tunnel. This one wasn’t lit by their ‘torches’, but John was given a small stone that glowed about as brightly as a chem-lite (glow stick). It wasn’t much, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“Thank you.” John bowed one more time.

The guards bowed silently back, before retreating behind the closing portal.

“Well,” John muttered to himself, “alone at last.”

He checked his weapons one more time, then started into the darkness.

Walking for miles through the pitch black, deathly silent tunnel with only enough light to barely see his own toes was far from the most enjoyable thing he’d done since getting legs back. The Sight permitted him to see much farther, but it was still an uncomfortable, oppressive silence. Even his advanced hearing only picked up the sound of his feet. His right thigh burned with every step. He checked it as well as he could every so often, and added a little of the medical goop they’d given him just in case. It wasn’t bleeding, the stitches still held, but it hurt like hell. The slash on his thigh rubbed against his belt painfully, though they’d covered those stitches. It did bleed, just not profusely. Even his chest clenched with every breath.

He had no idea how long he walked. Without some form of time keeping, natural or artificial even the most disciplined mind can lose track. He did feel it when the Tooth returned, an eon into the trek. That put him into early afternoon at the least. The overly large corridor was wide enough that John couldn’t see the walls, so if he passed any turn offs or branches that might let him come to the surface elsewhere, he didn’t see them.

He stopped periodically to rest and eat. He rationed what he carried as best he could, but his healing body made his stomach growl incessantly. It was noticeable when the floor ramped upward. Creeping along more cautiously now, he made it to the top without incident. Beside the stone disc ‘door’ was a lever and a quartz crystal embedded in the wall. After wiping the dust from it, he found that the mineral made a sort of ‘periscope’ to see into the ‘room’ beyond. There was good enough light to confirm that nothing lay in wait just outside.

Readying his tomahawk in hand, he gave the lever a hard yank. When it didn’t move, he had to brace both feet on the wall itself and shove/squat with all his might. The metal jerked, dislodging him but the rock circle rolled aside easily. He scrambled back to his feet and inched his way into the room.

The Dwimar guard hadn’t been joking. The Powry clan house was a ruin, with chunks dug from the walls and everything of value missing. All that remained were gaping, ragged windows, wider than they’d probably been originally and stone furniture, most smashed to pieces. Skeleton corpses were all that remained of the inhabitants. Picked clean of any clothing or items, most were broken apart into oddly-dimensioned limbs, skulls and rib-cages scarred by teeth marks. If there’d been a way to close the ‘door’ from the outside, it was long-since gone. Hoping it wouldn’t piss those who’d helped him off, he left the opening alone.

The dwelling had been carved from the rocky hillside itself, and anything providing protection like that from the elements probably had someone, or some-thing living in it. Sure enough, John found the worgh pack in what had been a front room, overlooking the eastern slope of the Rim. An Alpha, larger than any John ever saw in the End, plus two other males and two females. Both were nursing joint litters of four cubs per mother. John found it interesting that the pups faces were smooth, without any spikes, but still scaly. The Alpha and his two males made a deep rumbling growl and stood between John and the young when he got to the room’s entry from deeper inside. He also noted that the males’ faces had much longer, barbed horns than the worghs he’d seen in the End. They possessed the scariest visage of any animal he’d ever seen, hands down.

“Well, shit.” John muttered, staying back from the doorway so they couldn’t flank him.

They faced each other like that for a bit, each side waiting to see what the other would do. John just needed to get past the animals, but there was no way to tell them that. They couldn’t tolerate the threat he represented for too long, but with no way to get around him, seemed reluctant to launch a frontal assault. Smart critters then.

Taking a chance, John backed away a few steps, and they stayed inside their ‘den’. He dropped the knapsack down and dug around semi-blindly, since he had to keep an eye on the worgh. His fingers closed around some mystery meat, dry and hard that the Dwimar had given him. Hoping he wasn’t making a mistake, he tossed the morsel just past the opening into the room beyond.

The Alpha darted forward and snatched it out of the air, gulping it down in one piece.

“Well, shit.” He said again.

He only had so much food, and even less water until he could get outside. He could attack, and probably prevail but he was alone. If he was too seriously wounded, there wasn’t anyone else to patch him up or help him get away. He wanted to lure the males away, so he could run past the females, but that looked unlikely to work given their current attitude. While he debated how best to approach the situation, he heard footsteps crunching the snow and rock on the outside. The Alpha’s nose came up, and with a warning hiss he turned to the outside entrance. The others followed his lead, making a semicircle around the only way inside. They didn’t growl, just waited patiently. John took the chance to move his knapsack up by the inside entrance, but stayed out of sight from the other door.

It took longer than John figured before a shadow darkened the threshold. There was some guttural, deep conversation that he couldn’t understand, but then a head followed a massive ax blade to peek in. For the first time John got a good look at a live orc. The draugyr version didn’t do justice to just how ugly the real ones were. Overly large, pig-like snout with tusks jutting up through a lip-less gash of a mouth. Drool dripped from the thing’s hairless chin. The eyes were deep-set, sunken behind a neanderthal forehead. A mow-hawk of black hair, collected into a ponytail mane curved over his otherwise bald head. He wore a leather and banded metal vest and trousers, with steel-capped, spike-toed boots. A large, leather-gauntleted, three-fingered hand held the haft of a double-bladed ax with a span as large as John’s chest. The guy reminded John of the porcine-looking guards in the third Star Wars movie, only taller than most men and more muscular.

The orc saw the worgh waiting for him, and his eyes gleamed excitedly. He called something over his shoulder before squeezing through the too-small hole. Given the thing’s lack of fear, John assumed the worgh were doomed. Too bad orcs here meant Dard wasn’t lying. Or crazy. Hoping he wasn’t making a mistake, John flung the Tooth at the orc’s unprotected face.

Oh yes! She hissed, lighting the green-skinned giant’s skull up with dark blue-black fire as she thudded into his nose.

Blinded by the crawling flames and blood spurting from his now hot-dog-resembling snout, the orc swung its ax and stumbled right into the worgh. The alligator-nosed beasts proved smarter than John would’ve figured. Instead of trying to gnaw through the metal and thick leather boots, they jumped up to latch onto their foe’s arms. The orc roared, swinging his arms wildly, but they hung on like ticks. John edged his way closer, Gentle Breeze in hand. He hoped they wouldn’t perceive of him as another enemy.

The worgh showed why their tails were so long. They wrapped them around the orc’s legs one by one. Between the flames now consuming their way through his hair and the worgh tying him in knots, the attacker fell to his knees, still struggling. The animals’ thorny faces ripped the orc’s skin to shreds as he wiggled and tried to scrape them off. The Alpha used this opportunity to let go of the arm he’d latched onto, and somehow bounced up to snap his mouth closed on the orc’s exposed throat. That lunge knocked the Tooth loose, leaving only normal-colored flames flickering on their enemy’s head as he crashed to the floor in the corner behind him.

Coming back, catch! The Tooth announced.

John blankly dropped Gentle Breeze and the Tooth’s haft stung into his palm. After a moment’s hesitation to realize what just occurred, he sheathed his knife and grabbed the other hatchet from the floor.

Are there more? She begged. Please let there be more to kill!

John slipped around the thrashing ball of worgh and orc to peer outside. Two other orcs were laughing hysterically at their ‘friend’s’ cries of pain. Both wore identical clothing to the one dying beside the Traveler, but one carried a massive claymore like the one his first draugyr wielded. The other actually carried two blades, both wide and much shorter. Neither’s weapon was to hand, as they doubled over in stitches at the situation.

The building’s placement was far enough away to the northeast, and below the sight line from the tower at Tygus’s fort. John scanned around from his vantage still in the den’s shadows. The two outside were the only foes visible. He chucked the Tooth at Claymore and switching Gentle Breeze to his right, he followed with a throw at Two Swords. With his first attack, the Tooth succeeded in severing the orc’s spine as he leaned forward, holding his belly. She didn’t manage to actually behead the guy, instead biting deep into his torso and lighting his hair on fire too. He didn’t even know what hit him. Just pitched forward onto his face, dead right there (DRT).

Gentle Breeze was far less effective. The tomahawk’s strike slammed into its orc’s shoulder blade, glancing off the leather and metal collar to clatter on the rocks beyond. John was already moving toward his second target, but when he saw the results, diverted to the first corpse and wrapped his fingers around the Tooth’s haft. He yanked his knife up in a reverse grip with his left hand too.