CHAPTER 2

For several hours the three trudged wearily through the muck. They traveled north along the road, but very slowly. The driving rain made it difficult enough, however, the wind was much worse. At times the wind pushed against them so hard that they had to drop to their knees and huddle up to prevent themselves from being blown away. So they only traveled as the wind would allow. It was well into the middle of the night, nearly dawn, when they finally reached their destination, a forest that ran on either side of the road.

“Since you know the area Hunter, you take the lead!” Wolfan screamed at the top of his lungs to be heard over the howling wind.

Nodding in agreement, the ranger left the road and turned west, into the forest. Wolfan and Angar followed him closely as not to get lost. Once they got into the thick of the trees, the rage of the storm lessened. Even with this blessing, it was still very dark and easy to get separated. Several times Wolfan thought he had lost Angar only to turn and find him still there. Looking at the half-dwarf, Wolfan could see a faint red glow from under his hood. A tell-tale sign of his infravision. Relieved that Angar was behind him and not in front, he hurried to catch up to Hunter.

The ranger led them on a twisting and winding route through the forest. Eventually they reached a small gully with a small hill on one side and a high ridge on the other. Turning to Wolfan, Hunter pointed up the ridge.

“Your monster lair is on the other side of this ridge. We’ll climb up this side and have a peek before going in. I’ll go up first. It’s steep, so be careful.”

The others merely nodded in accord as Hunter started up the ridge. He scrambled up it effortlessly, almost as if he were a monkey. The two following had a more difficult time of it, but their perseverance, and in Angar’s case, brute strength, won out. Once they reached the top, they joined Hunter who was laying on the ground peering carefully over the edge.

On the other side, the ridge fell down into a clearing. In the middle of this clearing sat a small cave that rose out of the ground with a few rocks strewn about it. A few feet back from this the treeline started again. Fortunately for the companions, the rain seemed to have completely stopped now. It was still dark and difficult to see, which made it hard for the two humans to make anything out.

“Can you see anything,” Wolfan asked no one in particular.

“No… wait!” Hunter hissed. He squinted his eyes and remained very still for a few moments. The others stared at him expectantly as they waited breathless in anticipation. But they were quickly disappointed as the ranger visibly relaxed.

“Thought I saw something,” he mumbled.

“So, what now? Are we just supposed to sit up here and wait in the mud and the cold?!? Why don’t we just go in?” Angar asked, his frustration and anger was beginning to rise.

“We don’t go in until we’re sure there is something there,” Hunter replied in a hushed tone.

With an incredulous look, Angar shot back, “You mean you don’t know if we’re even in the right place!?!”

“I knew of this place and it makes sense for them to use it as their lair. Although, with the rain, it makes sense for them to have retreated into the trees in case of flooding. Patience, stout one. The rain is over and they shall return soon.”

“Why you arrogant…”

With a quick shush, Wolfan quieted them down as their voices were becoming a little too loud and agitated.

“We’ll settle this later,” Angar said in an angry whisper. Hunter let a little smirk of amusement cross his face as he settled down in the mud and waited.

It didn’t take much longer before they were rewarded with some actual movement from the trees. Wolfan and Hunter couldn’t quite make it out from their vantage point, but Angar could. His infravision allowed him to see clearly in the dark and what he saw made his blood boil. It was a humanoid creature that stood as tall as a man. It was dressed in tattered clothing with bits and pieces from various armor over that. It was hairless and had thick, orange colored skin. It carried a rusty sword and had to be the ugliest thing the half-dwarf had ever seen! Soon, more of the vile things began to emerge from the forest.

He couldn’t contain himself any longer! Angar leapt to his feet, his battle lust awakened anew! With a cry of, “Orcs!” he rushed down the ridge and into the fray. Climbing to their feet and drawing their weapons, Wolfan and Hunter slid down the slope after him.

Angar hit the bottom of the slope in a dead run. As soon as he touched flat ground, he ripped his battleaxe from his back, tearing asunder the leather straps that had secured it. Screaming in rage, he rushed the first orc he saw. That orca was quickly joined by another as they braced themselves for the maddened half-dwarf’s charge. But nothing could prepare them for the furious onslaught that met them. Raising their weapons in defense, the orcs left themselves open to a lower attack they weren’t expecting. With one mighty swing, Angar cleaved both of them in two at the waist. A look of surprise was etched onto their grotesque faces as their blood bathed Angar from head to toe. He reveled in it as an expression of maddened glee came over his face as he went on to his next victims.

Wolfan and Hunter came down the slope with less haste than the half-dwarf, but with no less enthusiasm for the fight. The ranger didn’t hesitate for a second. He immediately joined the fight by watching Angar’s back as two orcs tried to sneak up on him from behind. Swinging his shortsword with precision, Hunter easily split the skull of the first orc wide open. The second orc, realizing its peril, lunged at the ranger. In one quick spin, Hunter withdrew a dagger from his belt and plunged it into the creature’s throat, severing its jugular. Removing the blade, the ranger moved on as great spurts of blood gushed forth from the creature’s neck. Clutching at the wound, the orc gurgled its last breath and fell to the ground quite dead. The ranger stepped over the bodies of dead orcs and advanced after Angar.

The mercenary, however, wasn’t nearly as eager to join the fight just yet. Seeing things were well in hand, Wolfan hung back by the cave entrance and observed the prowess of his companions. He noted well the differing styles of the two. The ranger was cool and calculating, a methodical fighter, whereas the half-dwarf was reckless and insane. Not even caring for his own safety.

As if to confirm this observation, Angar threw his battleaxe at an orc several feet away. The weapon spun through the air with ease, causing a slight whistling noise. Hearing this, the orc target looked up long enough to feel the axe cut through its neck, cleanly severing its head from its shoulders. Seeing the half-dwarf weaponless, three orcs smiled in glee thinking him defenseless as they advanced on him from behind.

Seeing Angar’s plight, Hunter tried to reach him, but another orc leaped into his path, cutting him off. The ranger quickly dispatched this new threat and was about to rush to Angar’s aid, but there was no need. Weaponless, but not defenseless, Angar spun around to meet the creatures head on. The orcs rushed him with their weapons raised high, poised for killing blows. With his massive hands, Angar caught two of them by their faces. The third he kicked roughly in its balls, dropping it to the ground in pain. Squeezing his fists, he began to crush the squirming orcs skulls with his bare hands! Squealing in fear, they dropped the small hatchets they were clutching and began to hammer the obscenely strong half-dwarf with their fists. They couldn’t even faze him in his bloodlust as their blows became weaker and weaker until they suddenly went limp as their skulls caved in from the pressure and popped!

Angar had to shake the orc corpses free from his hands as his fingers had become indented into their skulls. Retrieving the dropped hatchets, Angar put them to good use, carving up the third orc into little pieces. Taking a moment to examine the weapons, he found they were finely crafted and much too good for such slimy things. Tucking them into his belt, he looked for another foe. But the orcs had had enough. Grunting something in their guttural language, the remaining creatures retreated into the trees. Roaring in rage, Angar crashed into the forest after them.

Hunter just shook his head in amazement as he watched Angar go. Not nearly as eager to chase after already routed orcs in the dark, the ranger sheathed his sword and began to look over the corpses. He could find nothing of value on any of the foul creatures, so he settled for just retrieving his dagger. He tried to find the half-dwarf’s weapon, but couldn’t spot it anywhere on the ground. Knowing the battleaxe had been thrown, he began to look over the treeline. Spotting it embedded in a tree up to the hilt, he trotted over and tried to pull it free. It wouldn’t budge. The weapon was in too deep and Hunter hadn’t the necessary strength to free it. Just then a thrashing in the brush to his left caused him to jump. His hand on his hilt, Hunter was about to attack, but it was only Angar returning. The grim expression of satisfaction on his face told the ranger that not a single orc had escaped alive. He joined the ranger at the tree and effortlessly pulled his axe free with one jerk. Noticing the broken strap on his back, Hunter set about repairing it.

While the two were otherwise occupied, Wolfan snuck unnoticed into the cave. Finding a fairly dry torch just inside the entrance, the mercenary produced some flint and went about lighting it. After a few failed attempts, the torch finally caught and blazed to life. Waving it in front of him, the mercenary slowly descended into the darkness.

It turned out to be nothing more than a hole in the ground and not a true ‘cave’ at all. It wasn’t that far underground and there was some water covering the floor, only about ankle deep. There was one large chamber with a couple smaller chambers in the back. Painted on the wall in several spots were depictions of a severed shield. Perhaps this was some sort of clan emblem, he thought. Strewn about the main chamber were several broken pots of various sizes and many bones from small animals and men alike. The whole place stunk of rot, mold, and decay, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

Seeing nothing of significance in the main chamber, he strode to the back to check the smaller chambers. The first one he looked in had an open doorway. On the floor were some skins that were laid out in a crude sleeping arrangement. The other chamber held more promise, though, as there was a large bear skin hanging over the doorway. Ripping it down, he entered the room.

Inside, it was quite spacious. From the look of things, this must have been the orc chieftain’s room. There were some nice things laid out and even an actual bed in one corner. At the foot of the bed, in one big pile, was the orc’s loot. Wolfan moved to the pile and began to sort through it. There were several rusted swords and daggers and a few scraps of molded leather armor, but nothing of real value. Not finding what he was after, he was about to give up when a glint of light caught his eye.

Reaching into a pile of moldy, rotted leathers, he pulled out a thin piece of metal. It was completely rust free, as if it were brand new despite the years it spent in this damp, dark hole. Brushing off the layer of dust that was on it, he examined his find. It was a length of blade. In fact, it was the top half of a sword blade and it even retained its razor edfe. Holding the torch close, he found strange runes marking both sides of the blade. He smiled in triumph. It was indeed what he had sought. From under his breastplate, he produced a cloth with which he carefully wrapped his prize in, then replaced it back under his armor. Satisfied with his find, he left the orc hole and returned to the fresh air of the forest. He emerged just as Hunter and Angar were about to enter.

“I found what we’re after. There’s nothing else of value down there. Just a lot of junk,” Wolfan told them.

“And just what exactly were we after?” Hunter asked.

“Don’t worry. I’ll explain once we rejoin the others. Let’s get out of this foul place so we can rest and get a hot meal. I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.”

Angar heartily agreed for he worked up quite an appetite slaughtering the orcs. So the three left the forest satisfied with their work, but not completely with the lack of information.

The trek back to the ‘Bloated Merchant’ took a surprisingly short time. Without the storm slowing them down, they could set quite a brisk pace on the way back. When tgey returned, the morning was a few hours old. The clouds had broken and the sun was shining through the holes in them. They were a little dusty, but none the worse for wear. Wolfan and Hunter entered the inn easily enough, but Angar was a different story. He was still covered in dried orc’s blood and stank mightily. The burly barkeep refused to let the half-dwarf enter until he bathed.

Not wanting trouble, Wolfan exchanged a few words with the barkeep and pressed a couple more gold coins into his palm. The barkeep disappeared into the building. In a few moments he returned with a couple of stable hands. Both stable hands each carried two large buckets. Angar knew what they intended and was about to protest, but was cut short by the mercenary’s words.

“Oh, take it like a man, Angar. You could use the bath. Besides, the sooner you’re clean, the sooner you can eat. Come on, Hunter.”

Slapping the ranger on the shoulder, Wolfan disappeared inside. Hunter struggled with his need for food over his need for amusement, but his hunger won as his belly rumbled. With a wave and a sly wink, he too went inside.

Angar was about to storm after him, but the sour-faced barkeep got in his way. With a stern look, he pointed back towards the well and waited. Not wanting to offend the source of his meal, Angar turned and stormed to the well, grumbling all the way. The barkeep made the half-dwarf pump his own water out of the well. Once the buckets were full, the true humiliation began as the stable hands doused him with bucket after bucket of water and began to scrub him down with horse brushes.

Inside, Wolfan and Hunter found Amalee and Quicken already seated around a table that had a fine feast spread out on it. They threw their cloaks onto an adjacent table and sat down to eat. The table that Amalee had put Quicken through had already been cleaned up. Only a little debris remained on the floor. Quicken didn’t look too bad from the punch. There was a wet towel wrapped around his head, however, for it ached terribly. There were no words spoken as the mercenary and ranger tore into the succulent food with wild abandon. Some raised voices from outside, most notably the half-dwarf’s, interrupted their morning meal as Angar burst in still sopping wet. He threw himself into a chair and tore into the food not caring how wet and soapy he was. The angry barkeep approached from behind, intending to throw the half-dwarf out. Wolfan quickly waved him away indicating it was all right. Fuming, the barkeep stormed into the kitchen. Wolfan reminded himself to pay the barkeep handsomely for his tolerance, then returned to his food.

They ate in silence for a while, until Angar suddenly rose from his chair and started to recount their battle in gory detail for the elf and thief. He embellished quite a bit on his role, making it sound as if the humans with him did nothing but cower in fright as he slaughtered the mighty army of a thousand orcs. When he finished, he sat back down and began to consume even greater quantities of food.

Amalee was quite disgusted with the table. Pushing away tge fruit she had been eating, she rose and left the inn for some fresh air. Feeling equally queasy, Quicken joined her, but kept a respectful distance not wanting to be knocked again.

Wolfan and Hunter both finished what they could and left the rest for Angar to pig out on. They went upstairs to their respective rooms and to the baths that had been drawn for them. Once tgey had cleaned up, they went back downstairs to join the others outside. Even Angar had finished eating, leaving a great mess on the table, and joined them.

All together in the yard now, Hunter asked again what they had gone after.

“What exactly were we after back there? What was this ‘ancient artifact’ piece we had to get?”

The others all turned attentively and curiously to Wolfan as he explained.

“What we were after was this,” he said as he produced the cloth the blade was wrapped in. Carefully, he unwrapped it revealing the blade half. He held it out for them to inspect. Quicken tried to touch it, but Wolfan slapped his hand away. With much care and respect, he reverently rewrapped the artifact and replaced it securely back beneath his breastplate. Before anyone could question him further, the mercenary continued.

“I know what you’re all thinking, and no, you’re not done with me yet. Remember, there are more pieces to be found and I need all of your help to find them. Now, the next…”

“Excuse me, but what’s so important about this particular blade,” Quicken interrupted with. “I’m guessing its from a sword, but so what. Is it magical or something? And why’s it so important?”

The others all mumbled their agreement with the thief’s line of questioning. Everyone, that is, except for the elf. She hung at the back of the group out of sight and only half-heartedly listening. Almost as if she were bored with the discussion or maybe she already knew the answers. No one else noticed as they were too busy trying to get answers.

“All right then. It is a magical artifact. It once belonged to a warriormage and is quite powerful.”

“A ‘warriormage’, huh?” Angar snorted. “There’s no such thing. They’re a myth.”

“No, they were real, once. There were quite a few of them a thousand years ago, but they died in that war. And there hasn’t been one found or seen since.”

“Is that a fact? I think you’re holding out on us! What’s really going on? Why does your King want it so badly he would drag us out of prison to get it? Well!” Angar demanded.

A little flustered, Wolfan searched for the right words to respond, but he didn’t have to. Amalee spoke up in his place.

“He speaks truthfully. Warriormages did once walk this plane and they did die defending the freedoms of all races in the ‘War of the Darhrk’ a thousand years ago. As to why this sword needs to be found, I do not know. I am here as a courtesy to help and am not privy to such knowledge. Does that satisfy you… dwarf?”

Angered by what he considers a derogatory term, Angar was about to argue with her, but was cut off by Wolfan.

“You see. I’m not lying to you or hiding anything from you. I was hired to find all the pieces of the sword and that is all. What the King wants with them, I do not know. All I know is that I want to finish this task quickly so I can be paid as I suspect the rest of you want the same thing. And, yes, you will be paid along with your pardons. Except, of course, our even friend.”

He bowed his head in apology and thanks to the elf, then continued.

“Our next goal is far from here, so we must set out immediately. It is an ancient library that once held the other half of the blade on display. The problem is, it was destroyed by an earthquake a few centuries ago. The lower levels, however, are intact but they’ve sunken further below ground. And, they’re probably infested with monsters, but there shouldn’t be anything we can’t handle. I have maps of the layout of the library in my saddlebags so we should be in and out pretty quickly. Any questions?”

“Now I see why we were chosen. It’s because we’re disposable. Who would miss some criminals,” Quicken griped.

“There will be none of that talk, am I understood?” Wolfan barked at the thief. “Besides, think of all the gold you’ll get if you survive.”

The thief’s eyes lit up at the thought of the gold. But then he registered the mercenary’s words.

“What do you mean, ‘if we survive’?”

Ignoring the thief, Wolfan spoke to Hunter.

“Go get my horse from the stable while I pay the barkeep.”

The ranger nodded and headed for the stable as Wolfan settled up their tab. When he came back out, he didn’t see his horse anywhere. Instead, he saw Hunter standing with the others. Over his shoulders were slung the mercenary’s saddlebags. Puzzled, he strode to the ranger and questioned him.

“I thought I told you to get my horse. Where is it?”

“That horse is going nowhere. The poor beast needs to rest for several days. You pushed him too hard in coming here, nearly to death,” the ranger stated sternly.

There was a look of defiance in his eye as he stared down the mercenary. A tension rose between the two until it was broken by Wolfan slapping Hunter on the shoulder and chuckling.

“I guess we’re all walking from here. It’s going to take at least a week, maybe two, so make sure you have everything.”

It didn’t take long for them all to pack. All they really had was the clothes on their backs and their weapons. Amalee was the only one who had to retrieve her weapons from the inn. She emerged with a quiver of arrows at her hip and a fine wood bow across her back. She joined the others as they went through the gate and stepped out onto the road.

“This would be a little easier if we had a wizard with us,” Quicken whined.

Almost in response to his words, a queer cloud suddenly rose up off the road to the south. It wasn’t so much a cloud of dust as it was made up of mud. As it got closer, they could hear a great thundering of hooves. Then, it was upon them! The cloud had traveled unbelievably fast and nearly ran them over, but it stopped just shy of the companions.

When the mud and dust cleared, they could see what had caused the cloud. It was a team of five horses led by a sixth. None of the beasts were even breathing hard for they were magical in nature. Each of the animals carried saddlebags full of varying supplies.

Standing astride the lead horse clutching tge reins so tightly her knuckles were white, stood a diminutive figure. It was a young woman of no more than nineteen years. She was dressed in a white robe that was fastened at the waist by a belt with many pouches hanging all around it.

The young woman finally managed to release the reins from her deathtrap. She jumped down to the ground with ease and shook the dust and dirt from her short, dark brown hair. She looked the companions over for a moment. Spotting Wolfan, she rushed up to him excitedly. Producing a rolled up parchment from her belt, she held it out to him a little timidly. Looking her up and down, he took the parchment.

“Who are you?” he queried.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was sent to bring you some transport. My master thought you could use it.”

“That’s all well and good, but, again, I ask who you are. And, who your master might be?”

“I’m sorry. I’m always doing that. I’m Gramian’s apprentice.”

“And your name?”

“I’m sorry, again. My name is Leah, Leah Ronda. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to apologize so much.”

“I’m sort… Oops, sorry about that,” she said a little embarrassed as she blushed noticeably.

“No problem,” Wolfan practically snickered as he eyed her suspiciously. “Gramian’s apprentice, eh? I didn’t know he had one.”

Before Leah could respond, Quicken interjected with, “Who’s Gramian?”

“Court wizard,” Wolfan responded as he continued to eye the young apprentice.

Feeling a little uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she responded.

“I am his apprentice. I just came into his service a couple of months ago. But I do know things, I can help,” she said bravely, and more than a little excitedly, as a small lump settled in her throat.

“No, you’re going back. I don’t need some rank amateur getting in the way. Now, get on your horse and return to the castle.”

“I can’t. The horses are linked together. They can’t be separated. Please, don’t make me walk back,” she pleaded. “I really can help, I know lore, I can…”

Grasping desperately for a convincing argument, she spotted the horses from the corner of her eye.

“… I conjured the horses,” she blurted out. “So you see, I can help. Please, let me come.”

Wolfan considered her plea for a moment. He still didn’t believe she spoke truthfully, but he kept his doubts to himself.

“All right, you can come,” he finally replied, reluctantly. “Since you did conjure the horses, you must have some power and competence. And if Gramian sent you, he must think you’re ready for this.”

Extending his hand, he added, “Welcome aboard.”

She gasped his hand in gratitude then threw herself on him in an enthusiastic hug. Wolfan gently removed her from his person. A little embarrassed, Leah nearly apologized, but restrained herself. Instead, she turned and mounted one of the other five horses, leaving the lead one for Wolfan.

“Mount up,” Wolfan commanded.

The others all went to a horse and mounted it. Except for Angar. He stood next to his mount, eyeing it nervously.

“What’s the problem, need a boost?” Quicken taunted.

“I don’t like horses,” Angar grumbled back.

“Tough, get over it. We’re not leaving you behind. Now, get on,” Wolfan ordered as he crossed over to his mount. Tucking the parchment into his belt for later, he easily pulled himself up into the saddle.

Still grumbling complaints under his breath, Angar clumsily pulled himself onto the horse. He settled in awkwardly as he took the reins tightly in his hands.

Seeing everyone mounted, Wolfan called over to Leah, “How do these work?”

“Theyball follow the lead horse. Wherever you guide your mount, the others follow,” she replied.

“Got it.”

Satisfied that everyone was properly mounted, Wolfan spurred his horse into action. The others swiftly followed as they sped away from the inn and towards impending peril.