Invasion (15 page)

“All right, let’s get moving.” Sarai led the women out of the large sewing room and along a short hallway. As she got to the first door and went to open it she berated herself.

It was locked.

“Can someone please go back and get the keys from the dead orc guard?” A woman ran off and so she waited and kept a firm vigil down the hall.

All remained quiet.

The orcs had more to worry about than them. The woman returned jangling the keys by her side, so Sarai put a finger up to her lips to silence her. The woman closed her hand over the keys and went bright red from embarrassment.

When Sarai got the keys she tried each one in the lock. On her third attempt she heard the satisfying click as she turned the key full circle. She pushed the door open and held her sword up at the ready as she pounced into the room.

No orc guards were present, just a bunch of wide-eyed women.

“Come on. It’s time to break free.” The women continued to stare at her. “Now! Men are dying with every second we delay.”

The women jumped to their feet and hurried over to her.

“Wait. Grab whatever you can use as a weapon and follow us.” Sarai turned and rushed back out into the hallway and went to the next door.

She received similar reactions in every room she went but eventually she had all the women from the Textiles Mill following her and the few orcs they did come across were quick to run away.

It had taken longer than she would have liked but finally she stepped out onto the street with a horde of women in tow. To her left a great battle took place near the Weaponsmith.

As she led the women toward the battle, the orcs turned and fled in their direction. The men and dwarves pursued them. It didn’t take her long to work out what that meant for them. All of a sudden they had fifty orc guards charging right at them. This had been the very confrontation she wanted to avoid, but if they turned and ran the orcs would soon catch them and they’d be slaughtered.

Her mind raced.

The women wouldn’t be able to stand their ground against such a charge. Across the street lay the apartment complexes but they wouldn’t have enough time to run up the stairs leading to the terraces.

“Back into the building,” she ordered.

The women turned at once and started running back into the Textiles Mill. Sarai soon realised that the orcs would be upon them before they all made it back inside.

“Keep watch behind you and be ready to turn and fight,” she yelled.

Women started screaming and pushed and shoved in an attempt to make it into the building.

Sarai sighed.

These women were not warriors and when put to it, they would protect their own lives above others. What else could she expect?

“Stop pushing. It’ll make it worse.” She glanced behind — the orcs were almost upon them. “Turn and fight ladies. There is no other choice.”

Some listened immediately. Others took a little longer to respond as they were more interested in getting away. But when they heard the screams of dying women and the clash of metal on metal, they did turn and bore any weapon they had at their disposal — mainly knives and daggers they found in the orc guards’ rooms.

Sarai managed to block the first attack but she screamed as the vibration from the blow ran up her arm and almost caused her to lose her grip on the sword. She didn’t stand a chance of getting her blade in place to deflect the second swing and was sure she was about to die.

A whip swung in from her right hand side and wrapped around the attacking orc’s arm causing him to drop his weapon. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Sarai jabbed her sword with both hands, putting the full weight of her body behind it. The blade cut through leather, flesh, bone and sinew as it plunged into the orc’s body. Sarai retracted the blade fast before she lost her grip on it as the orc collapsed.

“Work together as a team. United we can defeat them.” Sarai nodded thankfully to Helen as she shouted the words. Another orc went down to her left but the woman who struck the killing blow froze.

Sarai got her sword in place just in time to deflect a blow that would have impaled the women. A third woman came in from the other side and plunged her dagger into the orc’s kidney. The orc growled in pain and belted the women’s arm away, leaving the dagger buried deep in his flesh. Sarai swung her sword with all her might and sliced open the orc’s leather armour along with his stomach and all its contents.

“It’s them or us,” she screamed at the pale woman. “Pull yourself together or die where you stand.” Her words were harsh but she had to shake the woman out of her state or she’d prove to be a liability for the rest of them.

Sarai turned back to her right in time to witness an orc plunge his blade into Helen’s heart. Helen turned to Sarai with eyes wide open and then coughed up a mouthful of blood and fell to her knees. Sarai screamed out in defiance and swung her sword down hard, cutting the orc’s hand off above the wrist. Her blade cut like a hot knife through butter and threw off sparks as she continued her swing and made contact with the pavement.

The orc kicked her in the side, knocking all the wind out of her and hurtling her to the ground. She banged her knee hard on the road but otherwise rolled with the momentum and jumped back up to her feet with sword at the ready. There was no pursuit though as the orcs searched for an escape.

There was none.

The pursuing men and dwarves had used the time to surround the group and in no time at all they had cut down every last one of them. Sarai limped to Helen’s fallen form and collapsed to her knees. She sobbed uncontrollably as she threw herself across Helen’s still body.

She had done this. She was responsible for the death of all the women in this street as she had pushed them to follow her. How many more would die before they made it out? How much more blood would she have on her hands?

“Ay, you must be Sarai,” said a gruff voice from behind her. “I’m Thirak.”

Chapter 15

Slaughter in the Slaughterhouse

Peering through the vent, Gerard counted twenty armed guards in the large room, but judging from the voices there were many more out of view.

“We sit tight until reinforcements come. Then we’ll make all these slaves pay for their foolishness,” he heard one of them say.

“The Supreme Mistress herself will come and sort ’em out,” said another.

“Na, I heard she was out of the city at the moment — checkin’ on the Black Skull’s northern border or somethin’,” said a third orc in high tones.

“We’ll have this problem well in hand before she returns,” barked the first voice.

He judged that his group still outnumbered them but they were not warriors. What he wouldn’t give to have Jeff by his side right now. That thought spurred him on knowing his best friend was in dire peril and needed him. He crept back up the stone duct to where the slaves were waiting.

“There are thirty or more guards in a room up ahead,” he whispered, “they are waiting for reinforcements which likely aren’t too far away. Time is on their side. Surprise is on ours. I’ll drop into the room first but I’ll need you all to hurry after me and take full advantage of that surprise. The more we can kill before they have a chance to organise themselves the better. Are you with me?”

A few head nods and mumbles of affirmation were the only response he received, so he turned around and led the way.

When he reached the vent again he peered through to get a good sense of the guards positioning and then turned around so that his legs were facing the grill. With a sudden kick, Gerard smashed the grill open. Before it had even clanged to the floor he moved, propelling himself out of the crawl space and landing heavily into the room.

The nearest orc turned at the commotion but died before he reacted to the threat. Gerard moved further into the room to allow space for the slaves landing behind him.

The next orc managed to draw his sword but Gerard struck him down in an instant. By the time he reached the third orc the element of surprise had gone. The orc had his sword in place to block Gerard’s attack and countered with his own. Gerard proved too quick for the strike, turning side on to dodge it before plunging his sword deep into the orc’s belly.

Noise filled the room as it became crowded and the fighting intensified. The orcs were trying to group together but Gerard cut a line through the centre followed closely by the slaves sensing their freedom and fighting fiercely for it.

“Work together,” shouted Gerard. “The numbers are in our favour.”

His words spurred them on and the guard numbers soon thinned. Gerard fought his way towards the leader, figuring he’d be the most skilled fighter in the room. Orcs continued to die by his hand as he developed his rhythm. Either his practice sessions with Sylestra had greatly increased his swordsmanship or the guards weren’t as well trained as he imagined they would be, for he cut them down with relative ease. Perhaps it was a little of both. It stands to reason that the best fighters would have been in the army and not the compound guard. He hoped his deduction was accurate and that the army was far away.

It wasn’t long until the guard leader stood in front of him — an orc a good many inches taller than Gerard’s massive six foot seven frame. His chest puffed out with his shoulders held back and his sword by his side. He scowled as Gerard closed in on him and readied his sword.

“The Supreme Mistress will have you begging for mercy for years before she finally allows your sacrifice.” The orc guard feinted to his left, retreated and then jabbed to the right. Gerard did not fall for the feint and so pushed the orc’s sword out wide with ease.

The orc rode the momentum, spun a full circle and brought his sword to bear on Gerard’s right. Gerard was too quick for that and took a step back out of range and stepped in again behind the swing with a jab of his own. It pierced the orc’s armour and drew blood but appeared to be only a superficial injury as the orc stood back and swatted Gerard’s sword away.

“She’ll have to catch me first,” said Gerard with a smile.

“Fool! Do you really think you can hide from her? She has eyes everywhere.” The orc went into a quick, but basic, high-low attack routine obviously hoping to catch Gerard off his guard.

Gerard didn’t fall for that ploy and so parried each strike without a problem.

“Good, she can watch you die then.” Gerard countered with his own routine which pushed the orc back a few steps and unbalanced him. The orc’s eyes opened wide moments before Gerard’s sword plunged into his neck. The gurgling noise as the orc choked on his own blood ceased a short time after he hit the floor. Gerard looked around the room in time to see the last few orc guards overwhelmed.

The room fell silent as the men took stock of the situation.

“Tend to our wounded as best you can.” Gerard turned to the men closest to him. “I want five men to come with me as we search these rooms for any bandages or potions we can use.”

He led the five into the nearest room, a large kitchen that still had food spread out over the benches in various stages of preparation. A wood fired oven was lit against the far wall, a stove either side with unlit timber underneath them. In one corner sat a water pump with a pail positioned under it.

Gerard turned to a slave. “Take water and food to the injured. See if you can find a cloth or something to help clean the wounds and any material that can be torn up and used as bandages.”

The slave got to work straight away.

“The rest of you with me.” He hurried off to the next room which turned out to be a storage room full of crates and barrels. He left another slave there to rummage around. Meanwhile he led the rest in the direction he figured the locked door to be.

As he walked along the passageways he checked each room that he passed for any enemies, but none were present. It seemed as though the rest had all gathered in that one room. Many had likely fled or gone off to fetch help.

Voices echoing along the stone halls told him the position of the slaves. The large double doors came into sight with the two locking timbers in place.

“Quickly, help me with these timbers.” Gerard ran for the doors.

A few paces away from them a stone door slid back on his right and a group of guards charged out. Gerard’s quick reflexes saved him as he dropped to his knees to dodge the swing aimed at his neck. He jarred his knee badly as a result but he figured that to be better than being dead — an unfortunate fate suffered by the slave behind him.

Gerard jumped back to his feet, turned around and summed up the situation quickly. They were outnumbered a little over three-to-one as the ten guards materialised and he being the only trained fighter — they didn’t stand a chance against this ambush.

Gerard jabbed his sword into the side of an orc guard that was busy fighting one of the two remaining slaves.

“Get to that door and drop those timbers,” he shouted. “I’ll keep them off you.”

He went into a flurry of motion, ducking and weaving, parrying and attacking with a view to keeping the orcs as distracted as possible. The other slave received a vicious blow to his arm but managed to hold onto his sword. With his weakened grip he wouldn’t last much longer and so Gerard fought his way over to the slave, killing another orc as he went. In so doing though he allowed an orc guard to pursue the slave he sent to the door.

“Watch your back,” he shouted.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that the slave had managed to drop a timber but he had to draw his weapon to contend with the incoming threat.

Gerard used a sweeping kick to bring the orc down that was about to finish the other slave and retrieved a dagger from the orc he had just killed. He stood, turned on his heel, took aim and threw it with all his might. He made the mistake of watching the trajectory of the thrown weapon to ensure it hit its target and as a result proved too slow to deflect an incoming strike.

The blade ripped his light clothing with ease and slashed painfully across his chest. Had he not rotated his body at the last minute it could well have been a killing blow. His only satisfaction with the manoeuvre was that his dagger had sunk deep into the shoulder of the orc by the door and the stifled roar soon after told him the slave had finished the job.

Off balance and in pain as a result of his lapsed concentration, Gerard found himself on the back foot as two orcs pursued him aggressively. The other slave had managed to kill the orc he had tripped and he now stood toe to toe with another so six remained, but both him and the fighting slave were badly wounded.

A loud thud on the stone floor behind him gave him relief as he realised the other slave must have dropped the second locking timber. The doors swung wide and moments later the hallway became crowded with the freed slaves. The remaining orcs were soon overwhelmed with no further loss of slaves. Gerard examined his wound and realised if he did not treat it soon he would pass out from loss of blood. The slave’s wounded arm would also require immediate attention, so he led them all back to the room where he had left the others.

Seeing him so wounded, a slave rushed over to him with a fresh damp rag and cleaned his wound.

“It’ll be easier if we remove your shirt,” said the slave.

Gerard unbuttoned his shirt and the slave helped him slide it back over his arms.

“Take a seat.” The slave slid out a wooden chair for him.

Gerard sat and allowed the slave to wash his wound, grimacing with the pain. Once the wound had been cleaned, the slave got Gerard to hold the damp rag firmly against it while he retrieved cloth to bandage it up.

“We found a whole crate of new clothing in that storage room.” The slave ripped up shirts, tied them together and wrapped the makeshift bandage tightly around Gerard’s chest. “That should slow the bleeding for now. I must stitch that wound though. We are still searching for a needle and thread but have come up empty so far.”

“Thank you. It’ll do for now,” said Gerard.

“So now what?” asked a slave coming over to him. “We still can’t get out of this building, let alone the compound and then we have the city to deal with — and what then? Have you thought about where we can go that the Supreme Mistress will not find us?”

“We have started working on a way out. Others will be here soon to speed it along. Then yes we will have the city to deal with but I believe it is sparsely protected at the moment. Once out of the city I know where we must go to be safe, you’ll just have to trust me on that.”

“And if you die? What then? This secret place dies with you?” The slave raised his voice and gestured wildly attracting the attention of all the others in the room.

“Many others know where we must go and they will lead you there if I should fall.” Gerard spoke softly to try and calm the agitated slave and any who may agree with him.

“You are going to get us all killed. We would have been better off to stay here and keep working.”

“If you truly believe that then maybe you should go back to your station and keep working. They would have no proof that you were involved and so may not even punish you.” Gerard noticed the slave’s face relax. “That goes for any of you. If you wish no further part in this escape, by all means go back to work and remain a slave til the day you are sacrificed. I know what I’d prefer — a chance at freedom.”

A hush came over the large group as they considered his words.

“I’m with Gerard,” shouted the slave that had tended to his wound. “A life of freedom is worth the risk of a premature death. If we all stick together we can break free. Look at what we have already achieved.”

A cheer went up from those that supported the slave’s words. That cheer proved infectious as more and more joined in.

When the noise died down, Gerard rose and allowed his booming voice to carry around the room and along the hall where the slaves were still crowded. “I need a group to go back to the main door of this building. Try to find a way to break it down but at the very least, be there to welcome the others and to show them where we are. The rest of us who are able will break off into groups and search the rest of this building for enemies, a way out, or anything we can use now or on our coming journey.” Gerard set about segregating them and giving them assignments. He needed to keep them occupied. He hoped the dwarves weren’t too far away.