Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two) (55 page)

“Hello, Kenn. Circumstances have changed,” Justan said.

Fist grinned.

Chapter Thirty Six

The companions were getting close to the duke's stronghold. They had ridden hard over the last two days. The day before, Gwyrtha had been so antsy that they had continued through the night. Now they figured that they were only a few hours ride from the castle. Finally, with their goal in sight, they stopped for a bit of rest. Zambon and Lenny ate while Qyxal took the time to brush out his tangled hair.

“Elves.”
Lenny shook his head. The dwarf checked his belongings to make sure that they were still securely tied to the horse, paying particular attention to the wrapping around his hammer.

“I don’t get it, Lenny. What’s with that hammer?” Zambon asked, picking a bit of mold off a crusty piece of bread. “You have been so careful with it, always keeping it wrapped up. If I didn't know better, I'd say you have a little dwarf-baby in there.”

“Bertha?”
The dwarf looked at the package tied to his horse suspiciously. “Sometimes I wonder if
bringin
' her was a good idea.”

“What? Is it cursed or something?” Zambon asked.

“Might as well be.
But no, she's just gal-
durn
dangerous. I'll show you.” The dwarf retrieved the package and
unwrapped
the leather that sheathed it. The head of the hammer was flat on both ends and covered in runes. “Bertha is a heat hammer. We use her in the forge when we need to keep the metal hot while
hammerin
' it.
It’s
lots faster than
havin
' to keep
stickin
' the metal in the coals.”

Lenny extended the hammer’s head out to Zambon. “Touch it. Don't rub it now. Just touch it. It'll feel cool.” After Zambon had done so, Lenny picked a twig up off of the ground and brushed it against one end of the hammer’s head. The twig burst into flames and Lenny dropped it quickly to stamp the fire out. “You see, she heats up whatever she rubs on.”

Zambon shrugged. “So why is it so dangerous to use? It sounds like a marvelous weapon to me.”

“Why is it dangerous?” The dwarf gestured wildly as he spoke. “When I'm
swingin
' her around, the
durn
thing's as likely to set
me
on fire as she is the things I'm
fightin
'! But the worst part is that Pappy
Firegobbler
didn't make her with a way to turn her off. If I didn't have her wrapped in firedrake leather, she'd set everything she rubs against on fire the whole trip! The first time I took her out on the road, she set my shirt, my hair, and my
garl-friggin
' horse ablaze!”

“There could be a solution to that.” Qyxal said as he finished combing out his long black hair. He started to braid it back into place “What if y-”

Gwyrtha interrupted the conversation with a roar. She rushed over to Qyxal and growled.

“We need to go. Justan needs us,” the elf said and spryly leapt onto her back.

Lenny and Zambon were quick to follow.

 “Fist, cover his mouth.”

The ogre's giant hand engulfed the lower half of Kenn's face. The dungeon keeper's eyes were wide with fear. Justan stood on the opposite side of the table from Fist and looked down into Kenn's eyes.

“I need some information and if you want to live you are going to give it to me. In a moment, I'm going to tell Fist to let go of your mouth and I am going to ask you some questions. If you yell for the guards, my ogre friend here will snap your neck. If you cooperate, you live.” Justan nodded to Fist and the ogre removed his hand.

Kenn's eyes darted between his captors and he gulped nervously. “It doesn't matter you know. This dungeon is crawling with guards. Even if you were to get past them, my master would stop you.”

“Your master?
The wizard?”

“He is more than any mere wizard.” Kenn said. Some of the fear left his eyes, as if the mention of his master emboldened him. “He will destroy you as easily as blowing out a candle!”

“
That's fine, but for now
I'm
your master, understand?”
Justan sent a mental message and Fist clamped his fingers around Kenn's scrawny neck. The Dungeon Keeper nodded. “Good. Then tell me, where are you keeping Tamboor the Fearless?”

“The Dead One?”
               

Fist knew what Kenn was talking about even though Justan didn't. The ogre nodded and his deep voice rumbled, “Yes. Where is he?”

The Dungeon Master hesitated and Fist began to squeeze.

 “Wait, wait!” Kenn croaked. Fist eased up the pressure. “It's not far from here.
The first corridor on the right.
His cell's near the very end, but it doesn't matter. He'll just kill you. He kills any who walk by his cell. He doesn't eat. He doesn't sleep. He just lies in wait for anyone to pass his door and then he strikes. He's gone mad.”

Justan's heart wrenched with the reminder of the death of Tamboor's family and his face turned red with anger. He lifted the key ring. “So would any good man, Kenn. Which key opens the cell doors?”

One look into Justan's gaze and Kenn became just as scared of Justan as he was of the ogre.
“
Th
-that one.
The long one with the double sided prong.”

“One more question. How can you do this, Kenn? I know you hate me for whatever reason, but how could you tend a dungeon this foul and still live with yourself? How can you work for a man so twisted and evil? Have you any idea what he has done?”

Kenn started to giggle, a high-pitched penetrating laugh that seemed at the same time both giddy and sad.

“Oh, Justan if you only knew! If you only knew the power that stands behind him, you would curl up into a little ball on the floor and wait to die.” He saw the look on Justan's face change and his giggle turned into a snarl. “Don't pity me! I knew what I was doing. I had no choice, but I knew what I was doing. He may own me now but at least I live. I live and I have power here. I can change things!”

Justan shook his head.

“You should have seen this place before I came. Master was letting it be run by a mad half-orc. I have made this dungeon better!”

“So is that what you tell yourself? Does it make you feel better about yourself when the screams of tortured men haunt your sleep? Kenn, I do pity you. Perhaps that is why I don't let Fist kill you right now.” Justan gagged the dungeon keeper with cloth ripped from the dead torturer's trousers. With one last look at Kenn, he turned away. “Let’s go.”

Justan cracked open the door to the torture chamber and looked down the corridor. No guards were visible. He motioned for Fist to follow him. They entered the hallway and Justan locked the door behind them. There was no sense in making it any easier for someone to come along and free the Dungeon Keeper.

Justan resisted a compulsion to burst into the torture chambers and set all of the prisoners free. Their best chance of escape was to find a way to sneak out of the dungeon, fighting as little as possible. If they freed the other prisoners, it would be impossible to do so.

At the same time, the thought of leaving all of these people in their misery didn't feel right. He hesitated for a moment, but the practical side of him won out and as Justan crept down the Corridor of Screams, he forced himself to ignore the moans and cries of pain.

Fist sensed his struggle and placed one large hand on Justan’s shoulder to steady him. Justan could feel the ogre’s mind fumbling with the bond.
We could not protect them.
Fist wasn’t used to mental communication and his lips moved as he sent the thought.
We free Tamboor first. Then we decide.

Justan nodded.
You’re right.
He was glad he wouldn't have to make that decision alone. Tamboor was one of the greatest warriors in the history of the academy. Surely he would know what to do. Justan only hoped that Kenn was wrong and that Tamboor wasn’t completely crazy.

They came to the first intersection in the corridor and made the turn to the right. Justan shuddered. The metallic scent of congealing blood was thick in the air, a stark reminder of the horrors of the night before.

The torches on the walls in this area were spaced farther apart, making it even darker than normal. The ceiling sunk lower in places causing Justan to hunch over as he walked, while Fist was forced to double over quite uncomfortably. To the odd observer, it would seem that the dungeon was sloppily put together. But Justan was sure that Ewzad Vriil knew what he was doing. The wizard had made this place as uncomfortable as possible.

As Justan and Fist quietly padded past rows of cells, the prisoners began to notice them. It was an odd site, a man and an ogre walking without a guard. Not even Ewzad Vriil himself came into the dungeons without a guard. Some of the prisoners stared in astonishment. Some whispered questions, while others reached through the bars and grabbed at them, begging to be freed.

With each person they passed by, Justan became more and more nervous. The calls of the prisoners were getting louder and he knew that at any moment they could bring the guards down on him. Justan's sense of guilt was also growing. Through the bond, he could tell that Fist felt it too.

One particularly strong voice stood out from the rest.
“Stop!”

There was authority in that voice and Justan paused despite himself. The speaker had the ragged beard and sunken cheeks indicative of a long imprisonment, but he carried himself with dignity and his eyes shined with restrained vitality. “Sir, I am Captain Demetrius of King
Muldroomon's
private guard. I demand that you set us free!”

Fist gave his back a nudge,
Move on
.

But Justan felt compelled to respond to the captain. “I'm sorry. I can't.”

“You have the keys, do you not? I see them.” When Justan started to move on, Captain Demetrius called out again. “Wait! Do you simply expect to sneak out of this place with an ogre at your back? There are too many guards. I have been up there. There is no way you can do it alone. Set us free and you have a chance.”

Justan shook his head. “You are unarmed and weak from your captivity. It would be a slaughter.”

The captain laughed. “So you would leave us instead to die like all of those men last night? If we're not eaten by monsters, the best we can hope for is a slow death in this place. I for one would rather die a short death while taking some of the Duke's men with me. Besides, we outnumber them. Every guard that we kill leaves us with another set of weapons.”

Justan looked at Fist.
He's right.

Fist growled and grasped the bars to the captain’s cell. He leaned forward and stared the man in the eye. The captain met his gaze unblinkingly. The moment stretched out between them until Fist turned back to Justan and nodded.

Justan found the key that Kenn had pointed out to him and opened the door. Captain Demetrius stepped out, followed by another man.

“Thank you. You have made the right decision.” Demetrius held out his hand.
“The key please?”

“Wait, I need to release a friend. His name is Tamboor. Do you know where he is? He is supposed to be near the end of this corridor.” The captain shook his head in response.

“The Dead One,” Fist added.

The captain’s eyes widened. “Ah yes, I know of him. From what I understand, he is down a bit further. Please lend me the key now. The quicker we act, the better prepared we will be to make our assault.”

Justan didn't want to give the keys up.

“I'll open the doors.” He started on the next cell and looked up at the ogre. “Go on. Let me know when you find him.” Fist nodded and continued down the corridor.

Justan opened doors and prisoners began milling about in the corridor. Captain Demetrius did his best to take charge. He gathered the freed prisoners together and bade them to keep quiet. If they were to escape, they needed to work together. Evidently the other prisoners had heard of him and most of them listened, but there were some who ignored the King's man and padded down the corridor on their own.