A Quick Sun Rises (39 page)

He stopped just inside the tunnel next to the large oak door that was propped open and dismounted tying off his horse’s reins on a steel ring set in the stone wall just below a burning torch. Ranse paused long enough for Jack to give instructions. “Get everyone to the top and I’ll fire the stairs once the last of them are through.” Ranse just nodded, kicking his horse forward. Erl curled up next to Jack’s horse who, though battle trained was still not too happy about having a wolg so close as it rolled its eyes and snorted.

A long line of weary soldiers trotted into the tunnel, none without some type of wound, their faces still flushed from battle. Jack watched them as they passed, when he caught sight of one face he recognized. “Aye there, Jack,” an unkempt and foul looking man called out as he approached. “I see that ya still keep company with that mangy flea bag o’ yours do ya?”

“He’s a might cleaner and better company than the likes of you, Quin,” he countered gruffly, but good naturedly. “Where’s your master gotten off to?”

“Wess? He stopped to close the door and keep the riff raff from comin’ in.”

“Looks like he missed one,” Jack argued, as Quin passed.

“I suppose he done that indeed,” Quin agreed, and then moved up the tunnel.

More battle weary men filed by, their faces grim, their hands twitching slightly as evidence that the rush that takes a man during a fight had still not completely left them. These were good men all. Though not the type to invite to the table where proper folk ate, they were the cream, as it were, when it came to a fight. And a fight is all that was left for any of them now.

Soon there appeared a gap in the line. Jack waited expectantly as slow minutes passed before finally another rider appeared on the stairs. The faces and gear changed to that of the unmistakable Tjal-Dihn. Though happy for their assistance and well aware that had they not come when they did many of the men that had just passed him would have, in all likelihood, been left on the field to be gathered later for the cook fires, he felt a shiver of apprehension as to how he was to keep peace when the days passed with all of them tucked tightly and close in the castle. The treaty between men and Tjal was shaky at best and it wouldn’t take much to ignite the tinder of their pride when close quarters were forced upon them.

“
T’oben’djen keah jal
,” Jack said with a slight bow as the first Tjal passed. His eyes were hard set, flashing a deadly look that might have caused a lesser man to soil his trousers. But Jack merely acknowledged the next rider knowing that courage was more respected in Tjal society than apologetics or weakness. He continued to greet them as they passed. Some returned his gesture with a slight nod or a word, but most merely ignored him as they filed up the stairway. It was clear that they had all preferred the freedom of the battlefield and felt it had been too early to come in from play.

Jack’s face lit up considerably as Jne suddenly appeared among her countrymen. He’d hoped to find her in their ranks but had not wanted to hold too tightly to hope should he be disappointed. “Jack!” she cried, dismounting quickly and then throwing her arms around him. Jack stood stiff still, uncertain how to respond to a Tjal woman pressing herself against him in a bear hug. Suddenly pulling away, she eyed him and then abruptly demanded to know if Thane were in the keep.

Jack shook his head. “He’s not yet returned, I’m afraid.” He could see some of the light pass out of her eyes. “But,” he quickly reassured, “I’m sure he’s just a day or two behind in getting here.”

Jne sighed, staring at Erl for a moment before reaching down to scratch him behind the ear. “Yes, he will come,” she stated with finality and a hint of trouble should he not obey her words.

Soyak, seeing that they weren’t going to be moving anytime soon, dismounted and pulled their horses to the side to allow the others to pass. Jack immediately addressed her in the same manner as he had the others knowing that Jne would not make introductions. Another of the Tjal-Dihn intricacies of honor and pride that demanded he introduce himself first and ask for her name.

“I am Soyak,” she responded with a slight grin, pleased at the honor Jack had bestowed upon her by following their customs. Never in his life had Jack seen a Tjal at such an advanced age but he was able to hide his shock very smoothly, which most certainly save him a duel to the death.

“What are our numbers?” Jne asked.

He knew she was taking about those who could carry a sword and fight as her concern for the refugees extended only as far as that they stay out of the way and leave those who were able to the battle. “Not quite two thousand by my reckoning. Half dwarf half men and then what you brought with you. Any chance their may be more Tjal coming?”

Jne shrugged. “One can never say what another will do, but runners have been sent to the closest
Tja
. There is good chance many others will seek out the fighting as well.”

Jack nodded, happy with the news but aware of the too many variables that might make it mute when it came to the actual fighting. Zadok’s horde was no less than ten thousand strong with the added destructive power of his dragons. Should Thane not be able to retrieve the arrows he sought, they had no hope of survival. For the moment they were safe in the mountain fortress of Bedler’s Keep, but how long could they hold out against a siege? He shook his head as the last of the Tjal riders passed into the tunnel.

“What?” Jne asked, watching him.

“They won’t set up a siege to wait us out. Zadok faces the same problems as we do when it comes to feeding his army. They’ll only last so long on the dead left on the battlefield. Not to mention that whatever power Zadok is exerting upon them to keep them from turning on each other will certainly wane should too many days pass in boredom. No, he will have to attack, and I fear that his dragons will be the ones to lead the assault.”

Just then a crash echoed up the stairway follow by growls and the sound of feet ascending the stairs. “They’ve broken through!” called out Soyak, her swords already in her hands, a smile creasing her wrinkled face.

Wess suddenly appeared, racing up the stairway and calling out to them. “Set fire to the stairs and seal the door! They’ve broken through!”

Just behind him came the lumbering forms of two rock trolls followed close behind by goblins and orcs eager to reach the keep’s interior. Before Jack could say a word, Soyak and Jne had raced down the steps to meet them, their swords flashing in a syncopated dance that cut down the trolls, one of them falling and somewhat blocking the way while the other teetered off the edge of the stairs and fell headlong toward the jagged rocks below. The goblins were hampered at first by the large body blocking their way on the stairs but Jne and Soyak jumped over it to reach the enemy dispatching four more as they continued down.

“Take the horses and get up,” Jack shouted at Wess who hesitated at first, not wanting to be left out of the action. “I’ll fire the stairs,” Jack shouted. “There’s not else for you to do but to get in my way!”

Wess nodded, and grabbed the reins to the other three horses, kicking his own forward into the tunnel. Jack turned back and yelled at Jne and Soyak while grabbing the torch from its sconce. “Get back! I’m going to fire the stair!”

Reluctantly, Jne and Soyak disengaged themselves from the battle and stepped lightly over the fallen bodies they’d left in their wake and raced up the stairs. The enemy followed, though not as quickly as they stumbled over their fallen comrades cursing the bodies for blocking the way.

“Have a taste of this,” Jack spat, lowering the torch to the steps just past the tunnel entrance. Nothing happened. Glancing up at an approaching troll, he set the fire on the wood once more but he couldn’t get it to catch. “It won’t start!”

“There!” Soyak yelled, as Jne rushed passed her to meet the oncoming threat. Jack followed her finger pointing up to a trough running along the wall twenty feet above the stairs. “Must be oil to start the fire!”

Jack put the torch back into its sconce and looked around. “There must be a lever or something,” he called out, but Soyak was already by Jne’s side killing the enemy as fast as they came. It really was too easy with the small amount of space on the stairs but slowly they were being pushed back, step by step as the attack continued to press them. Soon they would be at the tunnel and passed the oak door. They could close it behind them, but without firing the stairs, they would just knock it in like they had done with the other. They had to burn off the stairs.

Jack moved his hands along the stone wall, willing himself to find a catch or something, cursing the builders all along at having hidden the main security measure for the keep. Erl growled making him aware that the fighting was getting dangerously close though he could almost feel it as Jne and Soyak continued to take on the enemy. Soon they would be forced to retreat into the tunnel and closed the door behind them or be overrun.

Then it hit him. “You horse’s patute!” he berated himself. Grabbing the ring where he’d tied his horse not minutes before, he gave it a tug and it slid slightly out of the wall toward him. “Into the tunnel!” he cried, and then waited only long enough to see the two Tjal disengage before pulling with all his strength. There was a split second of resistance and then it released and he could hear the cries of surprise as the oil drained out all over the enemy filling the stairs. Handing the torch to Jne, she rushed forward, dispatching a goblin as she did so and then tossed the flame into the air. Turning, she raced back up the tunnel and through the oak door just as Jack was swinging it shut. A scream of terror and a whoosh of hot air carrying the stench of burnt flesh was shut off as the heavy oak door was closed and the thick bars set in place.

Chapter Thirty-One 

It was dark when his eyes flittered open once more. Though the moaning sound of the passing wind called out in lonely retreat, it didn’t chill him as he would have expected. Taking stock of his surroundings, he quickly discovered that he was covered in a downy embrace. Memory rushed back, as did the pain that was still demanding recognition as it pounded at his skull like two great fists. Raising a hand to his face, he gingerly touched his nose, wincing as he did so. His sudden movements brought a disapproving gurgle from deep in the throat of his protective guardian.

Pushing aside the great wing that had sheltered him from the cold, he let the mountain winds have him, tickling a shiver through his body as he breathed deep the frigid air. His nose was still sore and mercilessly clogged with dried blood, but the pounding in his head had subsided to a distant rumble leaving his stomach more at ease as well. Gaining his bearings as best he could, he looked to the east and caught the slightest twinkle of the early morning light seeping over the horizon in a slow, but deliberate fashion. So, he’d been out for at least a day, if not longer. His stomach grumbled, as if in response, and he felt comfort that it did so out of hunger rather than an angry need to empty itself.

Tchee rose up next to him, stretching her great wings and then flapped them briefly before tucking them back against her side and calling out in an angry screech.

Teek shook his head at the sound, recognizing the chastisement. “And what did you expect me to do?” he almost shouted in defense. “He would have killed you.”

Tchee groaned in her chest, still unwilling to let him off so easy.

“We both would have died,” he said more quietly. “Because you were protecting me and so couldn’t fight back.”

Tchee stood up straight, her majesty suddenly embraced by the first rays of sunlight.

“Never again,” Teek said as he reached for his pack. Unstrapping the great axe that was still tied to the back, he released it and let it clang to the ground. “This is not a Waseeni weapon. I was foolish to think I could make it into one.” Drawing his bloodstained dagger, he wiped it as clean as he could in a small clump of dewy grass that clung to a crack in the rock. Taking the sheath from his waist, he secured it to his leg and then used a piece of the strap that had once held the axe to tie off the sheath’s bottom as well. Then, grabbing his blowgun from his pack, he loaded a dart. “This is more accurate,” he said, placing the pack on his back and then climbing up onto Tchee. “No longer will the Waseeni be the people of the swamplands.” Tchee flapped her wings and began to rise. “From now on, we are the terrors of the air!” he cried, shouting to the morning skies as he ascended to meet them.

* * *

Zadok peered through the stemmed crystal at the crimson wine that looked too much like blood for Resdin’s tastes. Resdin gnawed on a chicken leg having avoided the meat that Zadok seemed to relish so rare and then tossed the bone over his shoulder. A young girl, having seen no more than twelve winters, scurried over to pick it from the lush carpets that blanketed the ground. She was a gift from the great capitol city that now stood in ruins, as were the other slaves that were stationed about anxiously waiting to serve their new master.

They were in a cavernous tent that was large enough to give the feel of being in a great hall; one of the trophies Zadok had taken from Calandra when he’d finally departed. It had belonged to a spice merchant who had obviously done extremely well in his trade, most likely gaining most of his fortune by dealing in illegal substances. A great table was placed in the middle that stretched out to a ridiculous length considering that Zadok and Resdin were the only two seated at it. Filled with delicious meats, pastries, breads, and vegetable dishes that were in quantity to feed a great banquet, the two lone eaters picked at their meals as if having no appetite at all. The food would be tossed out, deemed too great in worth for the likes of his Calandrian slaves who watched pitifully with the sunken eyes of the malnourished.

Four others occupied space to Zadok’s left, all hooded and menacing, with an aura of darkness surrounding them that seemed to keep even the light of the many candles perched about the tent from reaching them.

“And so,” Zadok’s grating voice hissed as he swirled the wine in his glass. “You are telling me that on the eve of my greatest victory, the hidden entrances that I mapped out so carefully for you to use have all been sealed off!” His voice grew in crescendo to the near scream of a madman, as he brought his glass down hard, its contents washing over the side. “My army,” he continued, his ranting voice maintaining its volume as spittle escaped his lips, “will not remain interested for long if they are forced to mill about on the valley floor with nothing but each other to fill their time!”

Resdin smiled, as he leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. He enjoyed seeing Zadok’s pets being brought to task. But the four hooded figures seemed unmoved by their master’s ranting while the on looking slaves could not seem to calm shaking bodies. “Let
us
be about it then, milord,” one of the hooded figures hissed. “They are no match for our power. Even locked away in their
mighty fortress
,” he sneered.

“NO!” Zadok shouted, his hand banging the table, disrupting his wine glass completely. One of the slaves vomited from fear while another simply crumpled to the carpeted floor. Zadok visibly forced the calm back into his face and his voice. Finally, he spoke, a shallow, rasping whisper of a voice. “Wargon,” he called and one of the hooded figures bowed slightly, his arms stretching out to his sides in obeisance. “I presume that the men of the keep have not let themselves be completely holed up in their rock cell. There is certainly another way in and I assume that you will not disappoint me in finding out where it lay.”

“My only purpose is to serve you, milord,” Wargon answered, the contempt in his voice not quite completely masked.

“Never fear, my pets,” Zadok continued, his voice turned to honey. “You will have your play when the victory is assured and my army is reading to be dispersed.”

* * *

Jack looked out over the vast army below that was a mass of bodies seeming without any order or discipline. Cook fires were beginning to pop up all over the field and soon the fetid scent of burned flesh would rise on the wind to torment the men in the keep with the knowledge that their fallen comrades made up a good portion of the enemy’s meal. Jne approached him waiting for the answer to her question as they both turned their eyes to the distant Underwoods forest. Erl slept comfortably curled up on the floor.

The balcony could hardly be called such as its great size and expanse was really just a huge gap in the keep’s outer wall. With a rock railing to keep the careless from teetering off the edge, the opening permitted an unobstructed view from the north to the south allowing those in the room a bird’s eye image of the battlefield. The room itself was yawning with thick columns rising up to the distant ceiling its walls curving in a circular pattern with doors cut in at disparate locations that lead to varying wings of the keep. Few candles were lit giving it a dark and foreboding feel.

“He will come,” Jack insisted. “And you know as well as I that there is no point in you getting lost in the wood trying to chase him down.”

Soyak’s voice drifted out from the near darkness behind them. “He is right, young one. In such a place you could cross mere feet from each other and be none the wiser.”

Jne sighed, knowing all along they were both right. She didn’t actually plan to leave and go after Thane, but she needed them to tell her what she already knew. Her blades were already wet with blood and she knew they would taste more before it was all over, she just wished to have him with her so they could fight together like the great romantic stories of her youth.

One of the doors burst open and all turned to the gruff sounds of Helgar’s voice as he and Bardolf, followed closely by Rangor, entered the grand room. “Me axe be not sated with the blood o’ the enemy as of yet, Master Jack,” he bellowed as the three of them came out of the shadows to join them on the balcony. “And though we be folk o’ the mountain, I tend to be findin’ the sweet savor o’ revenge upon those responsible for killin’ me da.”

“My lord, Helgar,” Jack said, using the dwarf king’s title as appropriate with a soothing voice to make an attempt at calming his rage. “We all have lost in this war and desire nothing more than to sooth our grief with the blood of the enemy, but, as you can well see,” he motioned his hand toward the vast numbers below, “we can’t afford to throw ourselves at our adversary head on.”

“That might be so,” Helgar conceded, “but me people already be gettin’ itchy fingers and scratchy feet for the work o’ the battlefield.”

“We quite agree with you, master dwarf,” Soyak broke in. “As our swords still hunger to sup from the corpses of the enemy. Not to mention, unlike our friends of the mountain, our people cannot abide the close walls of a keep such as this one, preferring the open air of the plains as our bed and the stars in the heavens our blanket.”

“And that is all well and good,” Jack huffed, a slight edge to his voice. “But none of us will be served by throwing our lives away for not in one glorious frontal attack. We are far out numbered and, against Zadok’s dragons, have less than inferior weapons to do more than lay down and die at this point.”

“And how will that be ever changin’?” Helgar demanded. “It be far better to be dyin’ in a fight with the enemy than to be starved out behind a rock wall.”

“I don’t think that will be an option for us,” Jack soothed. “The enemy is even more impatient than any of us for the battle to commence. They will manage a siege much worse than we.”

Erl suddenly growled low in his throat. “He’s right,” Ranse’s voice spoke from the dark as he and Jace materialized from behind a distant pillar, followed by Tryg who remained aloof and well distant from the others, especially Erl who seemed to focus his distaste on the young Waseeni boy. “Our enemy’s army,” Ranse continued, “will turn on itself in quick measure while we stand aside and watch.”

“Aye,” Helgar breathed disappointedly, “that be the truth of it for certain. But I fear that you have forgotten the true threat that be those flying rats.”

“He hasn’t used them so far except in the end as if trying to drive us into the keep,” Ranse offered.

Jack’s face turned dark. “But why would he do that?”

Tryg’s voice suddenly broke from the shadows. “Like sheep in a pen,” he said and then brought a hand to his mouth as if he’d meant the comment only for himself. The others stared at him for a moment before Jack finally broke the hush that had fallen.

“He’s right! We’ve been corralled like sheep with nowhere to go.”

“But why do that?” Jne asked. “Why, when he has the strength in numbers and the ability to destroy us all with his dragons alone?”

“Revenge,” Tryg whispered as if the answer were obvious, again his voice carrying more than he’d hoped.

Jack eyed the young Waseeni boy, the hackles on his back rising with Erl’s as a strange feeling came over him as it seemed to always do when he dealt with Tryg.

“The whys be unimportant,” Helgar barked, “when the whats and the hows still be unanswered. We can be thinkin’ o’ that when the war be done and we be left with the cleanin’ of blood from our axes while drinkin’ a pint of ale. For now, all I wants to be knowin’ is which way to be goin’ to get me some more orc guts to be splattered on me axe.”

All eyes turned when a door shut along the west wall. Wess sauntered through the columns and into the light, his face grim though his demeanor was relaxed. “Now, that won’t be as easy as you might like, master dwarf,” he spoke, bowing slightly to Helgar and then coming to rest next to Jack. “Have you all forgotten that the stairs have been torched, affectively barring our enemies from entrance, while at the same moment, keeping us safely locked away in the keep?”

“And what of that?” Soyak demanded, her hands twitching some as if the walls themselves were suddenly closing in around them.

Jack held up and hand, flashing Wess a withering look. “What my friend has so conveniently forgotten in his moment of tongue wagging is the fact that the stairs are not the only entrance to the keep. That is to say, there are other ways out. Other, undisclosed ways to exit the keep.”

Tryg suddenly stepped forward but then stopped as if he’d moved without wanting to.

“And where might those exits be?” Helgar asked.

“I know of them,” Jack said, hesitant to reveal too many of the keep’s secrets.

“And what if you should fall?” Soyak stated the obvious concern that was passing through everyone else’s mind at that moment.

As if to confirm Soyak’s concern, a loud screamed echoed through the chamber as a large figure dropped down from the sky above and landed on the balcony’s edge just to Jack’s right. The clattering of swords pulled from scabbards reverberated off the walls like an echo of the screech that had preceded the great bird’s arrival. Tryg quickly slipped back into the shadows, his eyes burning with hatred, all other eyes focusing on their perceived attacker as Teek slipped easily from Tchee’s back. A collective sigh seemed to breathe life back into the group as the quick shot of adrenalin dissipated through their blood and was brushed away with pounding hearts.